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Character: Sylar/Peter
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 805
Rating: PG
Notes: Another missing scene from the Wall.
Prompt: I Think I'm Paranoid by Garbage for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
I feel like a stalker. Wait I am a stalker, a hunter, a murderer, a predator, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to me that I’m hyper aware of everything Peter does even when he’s asleep. It’s three in the morning. The bright light of the full moon filling the apartment, casting crisp shadows and etching my reality is shades of white and gray. It’s cold, and I can’t sleep.
Too many nightmares have filled the past few nights. The last with Nathan’s corpse telling me to leave his brother alone was enough to keep me from doing more than pretend to sleep for Peter’s benefit. His worry for me was almost painful. Painful because I know it’s only a matter of time before he tells me he hates me, or he says something vicious.
Anyone who thinks Peter Petrelli is stupid or gentle doesn’t know the man I’m trapped with. He’s a Petrelli. He’s a wolf. A cub that wags his tail, but he’s still got sharp teeth and they can tear into my flesh all the way to the bone. I’d be covered in scars and stitches like Frankenstein if my immortality didn’t protect me.
It’s the only one of my abilities that works here, and that frustrates me almost as much as my unwelcome roommate. I’d love nothing better than to bash him into the wall, watching him twitch in place while I strip off his clothes and see how much he likes having his soul flayed apart.
The sound of his breath catching draws me from my dark thoughts. I climb off of the sofa, tugging my t-shirt on to fight some of the chill in the air. He’s curled into a ball on the bed, his hands kneading into a pillow, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. He’s so deep into the nightmare that he doesn’t instantly awake when I approach.
“Where…. Where….” He chokes out, and I can feel his fear like I’ve been hit with a sodden towel. “Nate…”
I was about to reach for him. My hand is inches from his ankle when he calls for his brother. Christ, that is a dream I can’t wake him up from. Any dream of his fucking brother will be precious to him, whether it’s a nightmare or not. He’ll turn it around in his mind, making it into sunshine and rainbows, where they were eating hot dogs at a ballgame while Nathan was home on leave, instead of a nightmare like mine with rotting zombie Nathan threatening to devour me.
If I wake him up, I’ll be taking Nathan away from him again.
“Don’t.” Another whimper shatters the silence.
His distress is making it hard for me to breathe. We’ve become so much a part of each other’s existence that I can’t keep his emotions from leaking between the chinks in my armor of indifference.
For a brief moment I wish I could become Nathan, that it could be his brother’s face when he wakes up. But I can’t. Even if I had my powers, I’ll never wear Nathan’s skin again. Enough of his memories cloud mine. I feel like emotional stew most of the time, and having Peter screaming at me for accidentally remembering one of the bits of Nathan inside of me is bad enough. When or if we ever get free, I doubt I’ll ever use that ability again. I hate it. It drove me more insane than I already was.
“Peter?” I can’t watch him suffer like this though. He woke me up from my nightmare with Nathan. I owe him this much at least. “Peter you’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.”
He squirms away from my touch, scooting against the headboard and then blinks his eyes at me. I can see the trails of tears on his cheeks. His arm comes up, and he scrubs at his eyes like a little boy. Another of Nathan’s shadows flickers behind my eyes of him waking up Peter when he was a kid, tossing and turning in his sleep.
“Sylar.” There’s no venom when he says my name for a change just a hiccup that hides a sob. “Thanks. I couldn’t wake up.”
Taking a chance, I sit down on the edge of the bed, reaching out I brush his hair out of his face. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you. I heard you call for Nathan.” I wince waiting for him to hit me or snap at me.
“I was. It wasn’t good.” His fingers brush over the back of my hand that I haven’t quite pulled away yet. “Thanks. Want to have some tea? I don’t think I’m sleeping anymore tonight.”
“Sure Peter. I’ll go make us some.” I give him a small smile and headed for the kitchen.
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 805
Rating: PG
Notes: Another missing scene from the Wall.
Prompt: I Think I'm Paranoid by Garbage for
scifi_musesI feel like a stalker. Wait I am a stalker, a hunter, a murderer, a predator, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to me that I’m hyper aware of everything Peter does even when he’s asleep. It’s three in the morning. The bright light of the full moon filling the apartment, casting crisp shadows and etching my reality is shades of white and gray. It’s cold, and I can’t sleep.
Too many nightmares have filled the past few nights. The last with Nathan’s corpse telling me to leave his brother alone was enough to keep me from doing more than pretend to sleep for Peter’s benefit. His worry for me was almost painful. Painful because I know it’s only a matter of time before he tells me he hates me, or he says something vicious.
Anyone who thinks Peter Petrelli is stupid or gentle doesn’t know the man I’m trapped with. He’s a Petrelli. He’s a wolf. A cub that wags his tail, but he’s still got sharp teeth and they can tear into my flesh all the way to the bone. I’d be covered in scars and stitches like Frankenstein if my immortality didn’t protect me.
It’s the only one of my abilities that works here, and that frustrates me almost as much as my unwelcome roommate. I’d love nothing better than to bash him into the wall, watching him twitch in place while I strip off his clothes and see how much he likes having his soul flayed apart.
The sound of his breath catching draws me from my dark thoughts. I climb off of the sofa, tugging my t-shirt on to fight some of the chill in the air. He’s curled into a ball on the bed, his hands kneading into a pillow, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. He’s so deep into the nightmare that he doesn’t instantly awake when I approach.
“Where…. Where….” He chokes out, and I can feel his fear like I’ve been hit with a sodden towel. “Nate…”
I was about to reach for him. My hand is inches from his ankle when he calls for his brother. Christ, that is a dream I can’t wake him up from. Any dream of his fucking brother will be precious to him, whether it’s a nightmare or not. He’ll turn it around in his mind, making it into sunshine and rainbows, where they were eating hot dogs at a ballgame while Nathan was home on leave, instead of a nightmare like mine with rotting zombie Nathan threatening to devour me.
If I wake him up, I’ll be taking Nathan away from him again.
“Don’t.” Another whimper shatters the silence.
His distress is making it hard for me to breathe. We’ve become so much a part of each other’s existence that I can’t keep his emotions from leaking between the chinks in my armor of indifference.
For a brief moment I wish I could become Nathan, that it could be his brother’s face when he wakes up. But I can’t. Even if I had my powers, I’ll never wear Nathan’s skin again. Enough of his memories cloud mine. I feel like emotional stew most of the time, and having Peter screaming at me for accidentally remembering one of the bits of Nathan inside of me is bad enough. When or if we ever get free, I doubt I’ll ever use that ability again. I hate it. It drove me more insane than I already was.
“Peter?” I can’t watch him suffer like this though. He woke me up from my nightmare with Nathan. I owe him this much at least. “Peter you’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.”
He squirms away from my touch, scooting against the headboard and then blinks his eyes at me. I can see the trails of tears on his cheeks. His arm comes up, and he scrubs at his eyes like a little boy. Another of Nathan’s shadows flickers behind my eyes of him waking up Peter when he was a kid, tossing and turning in his sleep.
“Sylar.” There’s no venom when he says my name for a change just a hiccup that hides a sob. “Thanks. I couldn’t wake up.”
Taking a chance, I sit down on the edge of the bed, reaching out I brush his hair out of his face. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you. I heard you call for Nathan.” I wince waiting for him to hit me or snap at me.
“I was. It wasn’t good.” His fingers brush over the back of my hand that I haven’t quite pulled away yet. “Thanks. Want to have some tea? I don’t think I’m sleeping anymore tonight.”
“Sure Peter. I’ll go make us some.” I give him a small smile and headed for the kitchen.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 01:34 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 01:44 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:12 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:18 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:25 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:27 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:29 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:30 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:39 am (UTC)From:Goes to show that the fire and brimstone you grew up on was way wrong.
No wonder you're so bent out of shape all the time.
Oh wait....You don't seem to be so much anymore. You do seem to take a lot of showers now.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 04:46 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 06:34 am (UTC)From:I hope your writer's block goes away soon.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-12 08:48 pm (UTC)From: