![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Character: Sylar/Peter
Genre: Slash
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1300
Rating: R
Prompt: Meme #3 - It was a dark and stormy night -![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
a_muse_meme
Notes: Post series Petlar. For my Petersempath_peter, vampire_peter and did_not_take.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Rain was cascading against the windows of our apartment. Peter was watching it come down, and I was watching him. It’d been days since we’d gone to church, so he could confess his sins. Days where I hadn’t shared my power with him although that was what he wanted me to do.
I was afraid of how it would change him, and no matter what he said, I knew that he was scared too. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt that could have passed for his work clothes if EMT was printed on the back of it. His dark hair was wet from the shower, and he smelled of soap as I wrapped my arms around him from behind and brushed my lips over the nape of his neck.
“Are you ready?” I asked him, my voice nearly silenced by the thunder that rattled the window. It was the perfect weather for me to turn my angel into a demon. God knew I couldn’t do this on a bright sunny day.
“I’ve been ready since Sunday, Sylar.” Peter put his arms over mine and leaned back against me. His hair clung to my cheek and chin as he tilted his head back to give me an awkwardly aimed kiss. “I think I’ve been ready since the day you asked to be honest. Putting it off isn’t helping one way or the other.”
“I know.” He turned around, still staying close enough for me to feel his heat through my clothing. “No more me worrying about what might happen to you. It’s time to take the fork in the road and do it.”
Peter’s fingers laced together behind my neck as he pulled me down to share a real kiss, tasting of his cinnamon toothpaste and the flavor that was uniquely his. He trusted me to help him do the right thing, and that meant the world to me. I’d never been good with trust, but I trusted him. Trust, love and forgiveness were the foundation of our friendship of our relationship.
“Then stop thinking,” he teased, reaching up to yank on my hair. “No thinking, no brooding. I know it’s hard for you.”
“You have no idea.” I kissed his forehead and then his eyelids. “But you will.” I took his hands in mine and tugged him over to the sofa. We sat together. Still close enough to share the air we were breathing as I felt the pull of his copying power send a tingle through the skin of my arm. It spread as he searched for what he wanted, pins and needles sparking along the nerves and then a flash as he found my real power. Before he’d skirt around that one, avoiding its tainted touch, but not this time, he wanted it now, and he’d have it.
He gasped, his grip tightening as my power became his. I tried not to panic as he let go of me, shifting back several inches while he put his head in his hands. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
There was no sudden awakening of my intuitive aptitude. It had always been there. It made me a good student. It made me good at puzzles and machines. It grew stronger as I got older. I’d always craved knowledge, but the hunter didn’t hit until after Chandra pulled the blindfold off and made me see that I was special, waking up the sleeping dragon in my soul.
“Are you all right?” I asked, placing my hand on his stomach. I could feel his muscles tense and then relax from my familiar touch.
“Yeah.” He nodded, opening his eyes and then quickly shut them again. “Christ it’s making my ears ring.”
“I think that’s the thunder, Peter.” It wasn’t, but I’d tell him anything to make him feel better. “Let me get you a bottle of water. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
“A couple of aspirin wouldn’t be a bad idea either,” he called after me, his voice sounded strained. I didn’t feel the hunger from him, not yet anyway, but I knew that I would.
My hands were trembling as I snatched a bottle of water from the refrigerator. On a whim I grabbed a couple of peaches from the bottom drawer. Since our time behind the Wall, we always made sure that we had a full refrigerator instead of the water, mustard and spoiled Thanksgiving leftovers that had been in it when Peter brought me home with him. With the aspirin and water in one hand, and the peaches in the other, I settled onto the coffee table between Peter’s knees.
“Here, babe.” I liked calling him babe. I’d never done that with anyone before not that there was really anyone before Peter. “Take those.”
“And call you in the morning?” He joked and offered me a watery smile as he popped them into his mouth and washed them down. “It’s not so bad. I mean it’s not the first time I’ve had it, but it is different this time.”
“That might be because you don’t have a ton of other powers, or your own mimicry fighting it.” I handed him the peach and bit into mine, licking the juice from my lips and chewed it slowly. It was sweet, cool and ripe, but until I knew that Peter was going to be all right I couldn’t enjoy how good it was. “No plans to cut my head open or beat the shit out of me?”
“Not yet.” He chuckled, looking a little more like the real Peter, but I could see the brightness in his eyes. He was becoming aware of the possibilities, the flood of information that I had grown used to processing. It drove me away from contact with people, heightening the neurotic behavior that I’d picked up from my mother long before the hunger made me its bitch.
He might not be able to mimic abilities with his innate empathic mimicry anymore, but I hoped to hell that his basic empathy would be able to fight that urge to slink into the shadows that I’d had and fought everyday. I couldn’t imagine Peter not being social. I might be afraid of dying alone, but Peter thrived on interaction with humanity. He needed the emotional and physical contact like I needed knowledge and power.
“That’s already an improvement then.” I looked around the apartment. “Not that we have anything heavy enough for you to crack my skull open out here. Should I get a lock for the hall closet? I wouldn’t want you to suddenly feel the need and get your baseball bat or the iron.”
“I’m going to be OK, Sylar. You won’t let me drown in it anymore than I let you.” Peter scooted closer and pressed his forehead against mine. “Be happy not scared, please.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one encouraging you?” I asked as I shifted, so that our knees were touching too.
“Yeah, but I’m better at it than you are. I even went to school for it.”
“As if you needed school to learn how to be a caring human being, Peter. If I’d gone to those classes, I’d’ve failed.”
“You’re not that fucked up.” He thought the best of me. I loved him for that.
“No, but I am broken, even though you are fixing me.”
“Yeah, I can figure you out now.” He suddenly smiled, and I forgot about my fear and the storm raging outside and in his mind at the sight of it. “Maybe it’s my turn to figure you out and fix you, Sylar.”
“You…” I wanted to say that he’d already done that, but I couldn’t. His mouth was on mine, keeping me from saying another word.
Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Slash
Author:
sylar Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1300
Rating: R
Prompt: Meme #3 - It was a dark and stormy night -
a_muse_memeNotes: Post series Petlar. For my Peters
empath_peter, vampire_peter and did_not_take.Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Rain was cascading against the windows of our apartment. Peter was watching it come down, and I was watching him. It’d been days since we’d gone to church, so he could confess his sins. Days where I hadn’t shared my power with him although that was what he wanted me to do.
I was afraid of how it would change him, and no matter what he said, I knew that he was scared too. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt that could have passed for his work clothes if EMT was printed on the back of it. His dark hair was wet from the shower, and he smelled of soap as I wrapped my arms around him from behind and brushed my lips over the nape of his neck.
“Are you ready?” I asked him, my voice nearly silenced by the thunder that rattled the window. It was the perfect weather for me to turn my angel into a demon. God knew I couldn’t do this on a bright sunny day.
“I’ve been ready since Sunday, Sylar.” Peter put his arms over mine and leaned back against me. His hair clung to my cheek and chin as he tilted his head back to give me an awkwardly aimed kiss. “I think I’ve been ready since the day you asked to be honest. Putting it off isn’t helping one way or the other.”
“I know.” He turned around, still staying close enough for me to feel his heat through my clothing. “No more me worrying about what might happen to you. It’s time to take the fork in the road and do it.”
Peter’s fingers laced together behind my neck as he pulled me down to share a real kiss, tasting of his cinnamon toothpaste and the flavor that was uniquely his. He trusted me to help him do the right thing, and that meant the world to me. I’d never been good with trust, but I trusted him. Trust, love and forgiveness were the foundation of our friendship of our relationship.
“Then stop thinking,” he teased, reaching up to yank on my hair. “No thinking, no brooding. I know it’s hard for you.”
“You have no idea.” I kissed his forehead and then his eyelids. “But you will.” I took his hands in mine and tugged him over to the sofa. We sat together. Still close enough to share the air we were breathing as I felt the pull of his copying power send a tingle through the skin of my arm. It spread as he searched for what he wanted, pins and needles sparking along the nerves and then a flash as he found my real power. Before he’d skirt around that one, avoiding its tainted touch, but not this time, he wanted it now, and he’d have it.
He gasped, his grip tightening as my power became his. I tried not to panic as he let go of me, shifting back several inches while he put his head in his hands. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
There was no sudden awakening of my intuitive aptitude. It had always been there. It made me a good student. It made me good at puzzles and machines. It grew stronger as I got older. I’d always craved knowledge, but the hunter didn’t hit until after Chandra pulled the blindfold off and made me see that I was special, waking up the sleeping dragon in my soul.
“Are you all right?” I asked, placing my hand on his stomach. I could feel his muscles tense and then relax from my familiar touch.
“Yeah.” He nodded, opening his eyes and then quickly shut them again. “Christ it’s making my ears ring.”
“I think that’s the thunder, Peter.” It wasn’t, but I’d tell him anything to make him feel better. “Let me get you a bottle of water. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
“A couple of aspirin wouldn’t be a bad idea either,” he called after me, his voice sounded strained. I didn’t feel the hunger from him, not yet anyway, but I knew that I would.
My hands were trembling as I snatched a bottle of water from the refrigerator. On a whim I grabbed a couple of peaches from the bottom drawer. Since our time behind the Wall, we always made sure that we had a full refrigerator instead of the water, mustard and spoiled Thanksgiving leftovers that had been in it when Peter brought me home with him. With the aspirin and water in one hand, and the peaches in the other, I settled onto the coffee table between Peter’s knees.
“Here, babe.” I liked calling him babe. I’d never done that with anyone before not that there was really anyone before Peter. “Take those.”
“And call you in the morning?” He joked and offered me a watery smile as he popped them into his mouth and washed them down. “It’s not so bad. I mean it’s not the first time I’ve had it, but it is different this time.”
“That might be because you don’t have a ton of other powers, or your own mimicry fighting it.” I handed him the peach and bit into mine, licking the juice from my lips and chewed it slowly. It was sweet, cool and ripe, but until I knew that Peter was going to be all right I couldn’t enjoy how good it was. “No plans to cut my head open or beat the shit out of me?”
“Not yet.” He chuckled, looking a little more like the real Peter, but I could see the brightness in his eyes. He was becoming aware of the possibilities, the flood of information that I had grown used to processing. It drove me away from contact with people, heightening the neurotic behavior that I’d picked up from my mother long before the hunger made me its bitch.
He might not be able to mimic abilities with his innate empathic mimicry anymore, but I hoped to hell that his basic empathy would be able to fight that urge to slink into the shadows that I’d had and fought everyday. I couldn’t imagine Peter not being social. I might be afraid of dying alone, but Peter thrived on interaction with humanity. He needed the emotional and physical contact like I needed knowledge and power.
“That’s already an improvement then.” I looked around the apartment. “Not that we have anything heavy enough for you to crack my skull open out here. Should I get a lock for the hall closet? I wouldn’t want you to suddenly feel the need and get your baseball bat or the iron.”
“I’m going to be OK, Sylar. You won’t let me drown in it anymore than I let you.” Peter scooted closer and pressed his forehead against mine. “Be happy not scared, please.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one encouraging you?” I asked as I shifted, so that our knees were touching too.
“Yeah, but I’m better at it than you are. I even went to school for it.”
“As if you needed school to learn how to be a caring human being, Peter. If I’d gone to those classes, I’d’ve failed.”
“You’re not that fucked up.” He thought the best of me. I loved him for that.
“No, but I am broken, even though you are fixing me.”
“Yeah, I can figure you out now.” He suddenly smiled, and I forgot about my fear and the storm raging outside and in his mind at the sight of it. “Maybe it’s my turn to figure you out and fix you, Sylar.”
“You…” I wanted to say that he’d already done that, but I couldn’t. His mouth was on mine, keeping me from saying another word.
Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.
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no subject
Date: 2012-05-29 07:16 am (UTC)From:Waiting patiently for the next installment, as always!