Moving In
Title: Moving In
Fandom: Heroes
Rating|Genre: pg-13 | slash, fluff
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Summary: What do people do when they are in love? They start living together, of course! And Peter couldn’t care less about what other people think about it.
Word count: 983
Spoilers|Warnings: No
Notes: So, have you seen any flying pigs lately? Because this is Petlar fluff and yes, this is still me writing this. There’s a first time for everything, right? ;) Written for heroes_contest and oneshot challenge #34, “Choosing a side”. (Hmm... if I write Petlar fluff, does that mean that someone who doesn't usually is going to write Benetrelli fluff??)
They had been through a lot together, to say the least. When Peter thought about it, most of his actions seemed to have been linked with that guy. He had been chasing him, disliking him, fearing him. Escaping him, talking to him, fighting him. Hating him, hunting him, wanting to hurt him. And they had been stuck behind a wall together. Nothing in that succession of necessary actions had felt like much of choice but after all, acting is always choosing.
And then the process began to forgive him, and to understand him, to like him even.
That’s when it began to be complicated in an entirely different way. Peter thought about the choices he had made in his life. Things that had to do with his family, and with putting his complete faith in strangers, and with trusting, ultimately, in the simple fact that as long as he did the right thing it was going to be alright.
But there were always choices to make and he was getting tired of it.
Being gay was not a choice. Not when the force that drew the two of them together was stronger than anything or anyone he had ever fought. No, you don’t get to choose who you desire, who makes your heart beat faster, you can’t choose not to need this person in your life.
You can, however, choose to be with him or not.
“But Peter”, some people (like his mom) complained, “he is still Sylar, after all.”
“But mom”, he said, “there is something called forgiveness, after all. And there’s love.”
“Oh Peter”, she sighed, “love is over…”
“Love is everything”, he cut her off, and there was nothing more to say; the choice was made.
And yet it wasn’t over. Because when all was said and done and they had come that far (from looks to touches to kisses - it had taken them a while to get there - from kisses to making out - to get to that stage hadn’t taken them that many days - and eventually from making out to having sex to spending whole days and nights together), there were still choices to make.
Peter’s apartment hadn’t been the most inviting and cosy place until then. If anyone had told him last year who was going to make it look more like a home, then he would have punched them. But everything the place needed (just like Peter) was a loving touch by someone who couldn’t wait to move in.
And then it began.
Should the couch be on this side of the living room or that side? Should the bookshelves be made of dark, warm mahogany or should they be painted white? They made lists for everything: the ‘pros’ on the left side of the paper and the ‘cons’ on the right side. (RUGS, pro: rugs make a home more cosy, they keep your feet warm, a touch of color on the floors is nice -- con: it’s easier to clean without them, you can slip on them, you have to wash them if you spill.’) And, of course, choosing colors, and arguing about lots of cushions and pillows on the bed (pro: soft! nice! cuddly!) or no such thing at all (con: silly! annoying! in the way!). And so on. And so on.
But they got through it and they could finally start living together and there were no more choices to make.
Both of them were very tired after a long day of moving boxes (and making love on the floor), moving furniture (fucking on a table), painting a wall (splashing color on each other), taking down a closet (just a quickie there) and putting up pictures (and kissing). Both of them looked forward to sleeping in their new bed and they were too tired to want to do anything more than to sleep. (Probably for the first time since they began ‘sleeping’ together.)
“Um, Peter?”
“Yeah, what?”
Where did that frown between those sexy eyebrows come from? he wondered. It was not an ‘I want you now’ frown or not even a ‘cut the crap and listen to me’ frown, it was more like… well, it was something else. A troubled frown, it was.
“If you don’t mind… that’s my side.”
Peter sat up in the bed and stared at his lover.
“What do you mean, ‘your’ side? Since when do you care? I always sleep on the left side of the bed!”
“So do I.”
Peter swept his hair out of his face and tried to think it through. What kind of ridiculous discussion was that, anyway?
“I haven’t noticed that before.”
“Well, but it happens to be true, and I have never noticed that you sleep on the left side.”
“But that’s what I do!”
Peter thought about it, and realized that the only possible explanation had to be that they were usually too exhausted from lovemaking so that they didn’t really care about the side. But now that they were just plain exhausted and didn’t want to do anything more than to sleep, little things like sides were suddenly important.
“Um, okay”, he said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll sleep on the left side of the bed tonight and then it’s your turn tomorrow. Okay?”
“No, that’s not okay!”
They stared at each other and were pretty upset for a moment, before they began laughing. They couldn’t stop. They both laughed so much it hurt.
And then they kissed.
And then they made love.
And then, Peter snuggled up right next to his lover - who had finally given in to Peter’s demands and was dozing off on the right side of the bed, and that meant they were leaving the left side of the bed cold and empty.
I don’t care, he thought. He had chosen to be as close as possible to the man he loved, and it was the side he was always going to choose.
.
Fandom: Heroes
Rating|Genre: pg-13 | slash, fluff
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Summary: What do people do when they are in love? They start living together, of course! And Peter couldn’t care less about what other people think about it.
Word count: 983
Spoilers|Warnings: No
Notes: So, have you seen any flying pigs lately? Because this is Petlar fluff and yes, this is still me writing this. There’s a first time for everything, right? ;) Written for heroes_contest and oneshot challenge #34, “Choosing a side”. (Hmm... if I write Petlar fluff, does that mean that someone who doesn't usually is going to write Benetrelli fluff??)
They had been through a lot together, to say the least. When Peter thought about it, most of his actions seemed to have been linked with that guy. He had been chasing him, disliking him, fearing him. Escaping him, talking to him, fighting him. Hating him, hunting him, wanting to hurt him. And they had been stuck behind a wall together. Nothing in that succession of necessary actions had felt like much of choice but after all, acting is always choosing.
And then the process began to forgive him, and to understand him, to like him even.
That’s when it began to be complicated in an entirely different way. Peter thought about the choices he had made in his life. Things that had to do with his family, and with putting his complete faith in strangers, and with trusting, ultimately, in the simple fact that as long as he did the right thing it was going to be alright.
But there were always choices to make and he was getting tired of it.
Being gay was not a choice. Not when the force that drew the two of them together was stronger than anything or anyone he had ever fought. No, you don’t get to choose who you desire, who makes your heart beat faster, you can’t choose not to need this person in your life.
You can, however, choose to be with him or not.
“But Peter”, some people (like his mom) complained, “he is still Sylar, after all.”
“But mom”, he said, “there is something called forgiveness, after all. And there’s love.”
“Oh Peter”, she sighed, “love is over…”
“Love is everything”, he cut her off, and there was nothing more to say; the choice was made.
And yet it wasn’t over. Because when all was said and done and they had come that far (from looks to touches to kisses - it had taken them a while to get there - from kisses to making out - to get to that stage hadn’t taken them that many days - and eventually from making out to having sex to spending whole days and nights together), there were still choices to make.
Peter’s apartment hadn’t been the most inviting and cosy place until then. If anyone had told him last year who was going to make it look more like a home, then he would have punched them. But everything the place needed (just like Peter) was a loving touch by someone who couldn’t wait to move in.
And then it began.
Should the couch be on this side of the living room or that side? Should the bookshelves be made of dark, warm mahogany or should they be painted white? They made lists for everything: the ‘pros’ on the left side of the paper and the ‘cons’ on the right side. (RUGS, pro: rugs make a home more cosy, they keep your feet warm, a touch of color on the floors is nice -- con: it’s easier to clean without them, you can slip on them, you have to wash them if you spill.’) And, of course, choosing colors, and arguing about lots of cushions and pillows on the bed (pro: soft! nice! cuddly!) or no such thing at all (con: silly! annoying! in the way!). And so on. And so on.
But they got through it and they could finally start living together and there were no more choices to make.
Both of them were very tired after a long day of moving boxes (and making love on the floor), moving furniture (fucking on a table), painting a wall (splashing color on each other), taking down a closet (just a quickie there) and putting up pictures (and kissing). Both of them looked forward to sleeping in their new bed and they were too tired to want to do anything more than to sleep. (Probably for the first time since they began ‘sleeping’ together.)
“Um, Peter?”
“Yeah, what?”
Where did that frown between those sexy eyebrows come from? he wondered. It was not an ‘I want you now’ frown or not even a ‘cut the crap and listen to me’ frown, it was more like… well, it was something else. A troubled frown, it was.
“If you don’t mind… that’s my side.”
Peter sat up in the bed and stared at his lover.
“What do you mean, ‘your’ side? Since when do you care? I always sleep on the left side of the bed!”
“So do I.”
Peter swept his hair out of his face and tried to think it through. What kind of ridiculous discussion was that, anyway?
“I haven’t noticed that before.”
“Well, but it happens to be true, and I have never noticed that you sleep on the left side.”
“But that’s what I do!”
Peter thought about it, and realized that the only possible explanation had to be that they were usually too exhausted from lovemaking so that they didn’t really care about the side. But now that they were just plain exhausted and didn’t want to do anything more than to sleep, little things like sides were suddenly important.
“Um, okay”, he said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll sleep on the left side of the bed tonight and then it’s your turn tomorrow. Okay?”
“No, that’s not okay!”
They stared at each other and were pretty upset for a moment, before they began laughing. They couldn’t stop. They both laughed so much it hurt.
And then they kissed.
And then they made love.
And then, Peter snuggled up right next to his lover - who had finally given in to Peter’s demands and was dozing off on the right side of the bed, and that meant they were leaving the left side of the bed cold and empty.
I don’t care, he thought. He had chosen to be as close as possible to the man he loved, and it was the side he was always going to choose.
.