Character: Sylar/Peter
Genre: slash
Author:
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sylarFandom: Heroes
Word count: 520
Rating: PG
Prompts: Meme #10 It hurts when I do that for
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a_muse_memeNotes: Can't seem to get away from the Wall.
“If you don’t stop doing that, Peter, I’m going to kill you.” My head was throbbing, and my stomach was trying to tell me that I was a starfish. It wanted to be outside of my body, and as much as I’d already thrown up I was surprised that it wasn’t floating in the toilet at the apartment.
Peter didn’t hear me. How could he through the fall of that fucking sledge hammer? He raised it over his shoulder and took yet another mighty swing, and the clang of bricks and steel echoed through the alley and between the buildings. The pain in my head spiked, and I seriously considered taking one of the spare hammers and using it on his fucking head. The problem with that was that I’d a – be alone and b – it’d be too noisy.
“Peter! Stop!” I trudged closer. Each clang and bang making me grit my teeth as I latched onto his shoulder to stop him. “Please.”
“Sylar? What the hell?” He turned, letting the hammer fall to the pavement that was as unmarked or damaged as the god forsaken Wall. “You look like shit.”
“Shit’s lucky then.” I let go of him and turned to lean against the bricks, fighting the urge to throw up all over him. Although that would be a great way to get him to stop this colossal waste of time for a few hours of blessed quiet. “I feel like it too.”
His concern melted away to be replaced by a big smile, and he let out a snort of a laugh. “You’re hungover! Oh shit! I didn’t think. I mean we sort of have regen here, and you didn’t drink as much as I did. But seriously? You’re hungover? What did you have two beers?”
“Two beers and half a bottle of tequila.” What the hell was I thinking? Peter wasn’t a drunk, but he had more experience, as usual, and tolerance than I did. “Did you forget the tequila discussion?”
“Oh no, I remember that.” He nodded, and I could swear there was an evil glint in his eyes. “I remember me daring you to swallow the worm. You know, I think it’s funny that someone who gets off on digging through someone’s warm brain would be grossed out about eating a little worm that’s been pickled in tequila forever. It’s germ free, you know.”
That did it. I rushed from the wall and grabbed onto the dumpster as I threw up. It hurt. I hated puking, and I hated Peter for making me do it. He’d been the one who brought the fucking tequila home, and he was the one pounding on the Wall, making my head hurt worse.
“I’m sorry, Sylar.” I stiffened when I felt his hand rubbing between my shoulder blades, and then he pressed one of his bottles of water into my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you home. I promise no more noise for the rest of the day.”
“Good,” I said. I finished rinsing my mouth, spitting that onto the pavement with the vomit. “Because if you did, I’d have to reconsider this entire friendship/roommate thing.”
