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Tittle: You Selfish Prick!
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Ranting: R for language and violence
Character: Sylar/Peter
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1030
Notes: Missing scene from 'the Wall'. SPOILERS FOR THE WALL.
Verse: the wall - that I'm writing withfutureboyscout
Prompt: The next thing I knew they were dead on the floor, Dark Lady would never turn a card up anymore.for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Ever since that stupid wall popped up things have changed. Peter’s cockier. Instead of looking at me like I’m a monster out of the Iliad, he’s looking at me like I’m a pathetic loser. It makes me want to rip his face off. I’m Sylar. I killed his brother! And once I figure out how to get out of here, I’ll be killing him too after he watches me run his mother through a wood chipper.
If Parkman thought locking me up in here was going to get me to play nice, he was wrong, hopefully dead wrong. Oh yes Fatman, I am coming for you too. I think I’ll take your power, and I’ll make you think the bricks are donuts. I’ll watch while you shatter your jaw trying to eat them.
Now if only Puppytrelli could figure out how to get us out of here, which is sure as hell not going to be from him spending day and night beating on the bricks.
I liked it better alone. It was quieter. I could think.
Before I had the whole world to explore, everyone was gone, but I could go anywhere I wanted. Now I’m trapped in this wall, and it’s getting smaller and smaller by the hour. Being near Peter is making my skin twitch. The first month when he gave me the silent treatment was nirvana compared to now.
It’s not only the exploration. It’s the resources. There’s only so much food now, and although Mr. Tight Ass thinks he doesn’t need to eat or sleep, because this isn’t real, he still does. He doesn’t have that stack of bottled water to wash his pretty hair. Not that it wouldn’t be nice if he bathed before he came home stinking, covered in sweat with his shirt glued to his body.
The sun’s boring into my shoulders as I slip into the convenience store that I’ve been pilfering from. I grab a Hersey Bar on my way past the counter, tearing the covering off with my teeth, and shoving the chocolate into my mouth. That one goes down quickly, but the second I eat slower, eyes closed while I savor each little bit. I’m licking my lips when I hear the Italian Eagle Scout come in behind me.
“Find something good, asshole?” He asks elbowing me on his way to the cold case. He reaches inside, bending over and his shirt rides up out of the waistband of his jeans, showing me a flash of skin. “Don’t worry. I don’t want any of your candy. I came here for this.”
I watch as he pulls out the last beer in the box we’re trapped in. It’s frosty, and I watch as he wipes the bottle over his forehead. Then with a grin he pulls the rest of his shirt free to wrap it around the mouth of the bottle to take off the top.
“I wanted that!” I tell him, dropping my backpack on the floor. “Why should you get the last beer?”
“Because I’m the one who fucking worked for it, Sylar. You on the other hand spend all day and night with your watches and books, while I try to get us out of here. So lazy ass, this beer is mine.” He bites his lip as he twists the cap off, then flicks it at me before taking a long drink. “Besides you’re immortal. You won’t feel the buzz, but I will. So you have no need for it.”
That doesn’t matter. This is my place. This is my nightmare. Supposedly it’s my mind, why the fuck does he get to have the last beer? I don’t even like beer, and it pisses me off. When he tilts the bottle back for his second drink, I barrel into him, driving him into the glass of the cold case. He hits with a grunt, and the bottle spins out of his hand and lands in a froth of foam on the floor. Peter’s fist connects with my jaw, while I grab a fistful of his hair and twist. I’m on top of him, using my height and weight to my advantage.
“Should have had this fight at the Home Depot, but we can’t since we’re stuck in here! So no nail guns for you this time.”
“Don’t need it.” Peter hits me in the face again, and I can feel my lip split the taste of blood makes me see red. When he drives his knee up into my crotch I lose all reason.
I take his head in both hands, as I gasp in pain and beat it into the floor. “I’m going to kill you. Finish what I started. No more of you!”
Peter screams and bucks up against me trying to get me off of him. He wraps his hands around my throat, thumbs digging under my Adam’s apple while he tries to make me let go, but I can’t. I’m irate. I’m so out of control that I couldn’t stop if I wanted too.
One more time I pound his head into the floor, and this time there is a splatter of his blood to go with it. Peter goes limp beneath me; his eyes roll back in his head as his fingers release my neck.
“Kill you!” I’m panting. I let him go, sitting up, still straddling him and look at the blood on my hands. My fingers are coated in it, Peter’s blood and Peter’s hair twined around them.
“Why aren’t you healing?” I look down at him, terrified of what I’ve done. I haven’t been this afraid since I killed Trevor all those years ago. “Peter? You can’t die on me, please. Peter!”
I watch him from the other side of the store, waiting for him to wake up. I don’t know what to do. He’s the nurse. I’m the serial killer. He can’t die. I need him.
“You stupid fuck,” he says hours later, as he rolls over and gets slowly to his feet. He walks out without another word.
It doesn’t matter. Those three words were all I needed to hear. Now I can breathe again.
Author:
thewatchmakerRanting: R for language and violence
Character: Sylar/Peter
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1030
Notes: Missing scene from 'the Wall'. SPOILERS FOR THE WALL.
Verse: the wall - that I'm writing with
futureboyscoutPrompt: The next thing I knew they were dead on the floor, Dark Lady would never turn a card up anymore.for
scifi_muses Ever since that stupid wall popped up things have changed. Peter’s cockier. Instead of looking at me like I’m a monster out of the Iliad, he’s looking at me like I’m a pathetic loser. It makes me want to rip his face off. I’m Sylar. I killed his brother! And once I figure out how to get out of here, I’ll be killing him too after he watches me run his mother through a wood chipper.
If Parkman thought locking me up in here was going to get me to play nice, he was wrong, hopefully dead wrong. Oh yes Fatman, I am coming for you too. I think I’ll take your power, and I’ll make you think the bricks are donuts. I’ll watch while you shatter your jaw trying to eat them.
Now if only Puppytrelli could figure out how to get us out of here, which is sure as hell not going to be from him spending day and night beating on the bricks.
I liked it better alone. It was quieter. I could think.
Before I had the whole world to explore, everyone was gone, but I could go anywhere I wanted. Now I’m trapped in this wall, and it’s getting smaller and smaller by the hour. Being near Peter is making my skin twitch. The first month when he gave me the silent treatment was nirvana compared to now.
It’s not only the exploration. It’s the resources. There’s only so much food now, and although Mr. Tight Ass thinks he doesn’t need to eat or sleep, because this isn’t real, he still does. He doesn’t have that stack of bottled water to wash his pretty hair. Not that it wouldn’t be nice if he bathed before he came home stinking, covered in sweat with his shirt glued to his body.
The sun’s boring into my shoulders as I slip into the convenience store that I’ve been pilfering from. I grab a Hersey Bar on my way past the counter, tearing the covering off with my teeth, and shoving the chocolate into my mouth. That one goes down quickly, but the second I eat slower, eyes closed while I savor each little bit. I’m licking my lips when I hear the Italian Eagle Scout come in behind me.
“Find something good, asshole?” He asks elbowing me on his way to the cold case. He reaches inside, bending over and his shirt rides up out of the waistband of his jeans, showing me a flash of skin. “Don’t worry. I don’t want any of your candy. I came here for this.”
I watch as he pulls out the last beer in the box we’re trapped in. It’s frosty, and I watch as he wipes the bottle over his forehead. Then with a grin he pulls the rest of his shirt free to wrap it around the mouth of the bottle to take off the top.
“I wanted that!” I tell him, dropping my backpack on the floor. “Why should you get the last beer?”
“Because I’m the one who fucking worked for it, Sylar. You on the other hand spend all day and night with your watches and books, while I try to get us out of here. So lazy ass, this beer is mine.” He bites his lip as he twists the cap off, then flicks it at me before taking a long drink. “Besides you’re immortal. You won’t feel the buzz, but I will. So you have no need for it.”
That doesn’t matter. This is my place. This is my nightmare. Supposedly it’s my mind, why the fuck does he get to have the last beer? I don’t even like beer, and it pisses me off. When he tilts the bottle back for his second drink, I barrel into him, driving him into the glass of the cold case. He hits with a grunt, and the bottle spins out of his hand and lands in a froth of foam on the floor. Peter’s fist connects with my jaw, while I grab a fistful of his hair and twist. I’m on top of him, using my height and weight to my advantage.
“Should have had this fight at the Home Depot, but we can’t since we’re stuck in here! So no nail guns for you this time.”
“Don’t need it.” Peter hits me in the face again, and I can feel my lip split the taste of blood makes me see red. When he drives his knee up into my crotch I lose all reason.
I take his head in both hands, as I gasp in pain and beat it into the floor. “I’m going to kill you. Finish what I started. No more of you!”
Peter screams and bucks up against me trying to get me off of him. He wraps his hands around my throat, thumbs digging under my Adam’s apple while he tries to make me let go, but I can’t. I’m irate. I’m so out of control that I couldn’t stop if I wanted too.
One more time I pound his head into the floor, and this time there is a splatter of his blood to go with it. Peter goes limp beneath me; his eyes roll back in his head as his fingers release my neck.
“Kill you!” I’m panting. I let him go, sitting up, still straddling him and look at the blood on my hands. My fingers are coated in it, Peter’s blood and Peter’s hair twined around them.
“Why aren’t you healing?” I look down at him, terrified of what I’ve done. I haven’t been this afraid since I killed Trevor all those years ago. “Peter? You can’t die on me, please. Peter!”
I watch him from the other side of the store, waiting for him to wake up. I don’t know what to do. He’s the nurse. I’m the serial killer. He can’t die. I need him.
“You stupid fuck,” he says hours later, as he rolls over and gets slowly to his feet. He walks out without another word.
It doesn’t matter. Those three words were all I needed to hear. Now I can breathe again.
