Three Little Words [Peter/Sylar]
Title: Three Little Words
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Peter Petrelli / Sylar
Rating: G
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Words: 1200
Summary: "All it takes is three little words!"
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Peter's face was illuminated by the glow of the television screen. He was slumped down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was a mess, but he didn't care at all. The room was dark, and the moon outside the window was doing nothing to lighten it up. The only bit of luminance that pierced through the darkness was the movie on the screen.
Peter was only devoting half of his attention to the film. The other half was focused intently on the erratic bangs and ticks coming from the next room. Sylar had been in there almost all day, breaking things just so he could fix them again. It was an annoying habit, but Peter didn't try to stop him. He knew it was what was keeping him sane.
Neither man had slept at all in days. Sylar had been occupied with his reparations in the room across the hall. Peter had been laying in this exact spot, watching whatever came on the screen. He was tired, he was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come.
The odd time he had managed to drift off, he was always startled awake by horrible dreams. All of them involving Sylar. But they weren't the usual dreams. They weren't the vengeful scenes he used to play out in his mind. They were...just different. Sylar would get killed, or Sylar would be hurt, and those images, Peter could deal with. It was his reaction to these scenarios that plagued him day and night. He would wake up cold and shaking, terrified, afraid. He would feel physically ill at the thought of losing Sylar. He couldn't stand seeing him get hurt, even if it was all just in his head. And Peter felt startled by these feelings. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this compassion or connection to Sylar after...all that had happened.
So, instead of risking having those dreams, Peter stayed awake, eyes locked on the television. Half of the time, they were completely unseeing, only catching random scenes and phrases. But right now, the black and white film had his full attention.
"You do love him, don't you?" Asked the blonde in the old fashioned cheerleader uniform.
"Well of course I do!" Replied the equally spirited brunette, with a pained expression.
"Well, how's he ever gonna know that? You've got to tell him, that's how!"
"It isn't so Simple, Debbie-Sue!"
"Of course it is, Martha! All it takes is three little words!"
Peter sighed and lifted the remote, shutting off the television. The room was thrown into darkness, and the silence was deafening. Until he heard a small clattering crash come from the room next to his, followed by Sylar's mumbled curses. He stayed still for a long time, realizing that this was the first time in three days that the television was off. He put all his focus onto the sounds coming through the wall. He pictured the way Sylar would be sitting, hunched over the desk, probabaly with a pile of watches and clocks next to him on the floor. All of them, of course, would be running perfectly. Peter heard some shuffled sounds, and he bit his lip as the words ran through his head.
All it takes is three little words!
Peter inhaled deeply, and sat upright, swinging his feet down to the floor. He didn't move again for a few moments. Instead, he thought over his dreams. He thought about the many ways he had seen Sylar die. Accidents, murders, illnesses. And he knew all too well that any number of those dreams could become a reality at any time. Peter wasn't going to let that happen without Sylar knowing how he felt.
Peter hated the way that his steps seemed so slow, and time seemed to stop once he got to Sylar's door. It had taken less than twelve steps, but a different thought ran through Peter's mind with each one. The door was slightly ajar, and the light from inside was spilling out into the hall. Peter brought his hand up to knock on the wall beside the doorframe. He heard Sylar gasp slightly, before telling him to come in.
Peter pushed the door open, and stepped inside slowly. He wanted more than anything to look away from Sylar's face, to break their eye contact, but he didn't. He knew that this would be one of the most important moment of their friendship, and he wanted to make sure that it was treated as seriously as it was. He jammed his hands into his pockets and stood still momentarily, before crossing the room. He leaned down slightly, and put his hands on the desktop, suddenly warmed by Sylar's interested gaze.
"Sylar" Peter began, hearing his own voice tremble slightly.
Sylar bit his lip and swallowed hard, catching that Peter's words were going to be serious. Peter took one last shaky breath before spilling the words he needed Sylar to hear. Those three little words that had been lingering between them for so long.
"I forgive you."
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Peter Petrelli / Sylar
Rating: G
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Words: 1200
Summary: "All it takes is three little words!"
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Peter's face was illuminated by the glow of the television screen. He was slumped down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was a mess, but he didn't care at all. The room was dark, and the moon outside the window was doing nothing to lighten it up. The only bit of luminance that pierced through the darkness was the movie on the screen.
Peter was only devoting half of his attention to the film. The other half was focused intently on the erratic bangs and ticks coming from the next room. Sylar had been in there almost all day, breaking things just so he could fix them again. It was an annoying habit, but Peter didn't try to stop him. He knew it was what was keeping him sane.
Neither man had slept at all in days. Sylar had been occupied with his reparations in the room across the hall. Peter had been laying in this exact spot, watching whatever came on the screen. He was tired, he was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come.
The odd time he had managed to drift off, he was always startled awake by horrible dreams. All of them involving Sylar. But they weren't the usual dreams. They weren't the vengeful scenes he used to play out in his mind. They were...just different. Sylar would get killed, or Sylar would be hurt, and those images, Peter could deal with. It was his reaction to these scenarios that plagued him day and night. He would wake up cold and shaking, terrified, afraid. He would feel physically ill at the thought of losing Sylar. He couldn't stand seeing him get hurt, even if it was all just in his head. And Peter felt startled by these feelings. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this compassion or connection to Sylar after...all that had happened.
So, instead of risking having those dreams, Peter stayed awake, eyes locked on the television. Half of the time, they were completely unseeing, only catching random scenes and phrases. But right now, the black and white film had his full attention.
"You do love him, don't you?" Asked the blonde in the old fashioned cheerleader uniform.
"Well of course I do!" Replied the equally spirited brunette, with a pained expression.
"Well, how's he ever gonna know that? You've got to tell him, that's how!"
"It isn't so Simple, Debbie-Sue!"
"Of course it is, Martha! All it takes is three little words!"
Peter sighed and lifted the remote, shutting off the television. The room was thrown into darkness, and the silence was deafening. Until he heard a small clattering crash come from the room next to his, followed by Sylar's mumbled curses. He stayed still for a long time, realizing that this was the first time in three days that the television was off. He put all his focus onto the sounds coming through the wall. He pictured the way Sylar would be sitting, hunched over the desk, probabaly with a pile of watches and clocks next to him on the floor. All of them, of course, would be running perfectly. Peter heard some shuffled sounds, and he bit his lip as the words ran through his head.
All it takes is three little words!
Peter inhaled deeply, and sat upright, swinging his feet down to the floor. He didn't move again for a few moments. Instead, he thought over his dreams. He thought about the many ways he had seen Sylar die. Accidents, murders, illnesses. And he knew all too well that any number of those dreams could become a reality at any time. Peter wasn't going to let that happen without Sylar knowing how he felt.
Peter hated the way that his steps seemed so slow, and time seemed to stop once he got to Sylar's door. It had taken less than twelve steps, but a different thought ran through Peter's mind with each one. The door was slightly ajar, and the light from inside was spilling out into the hall. Peter brought his hand up to knock on the wall beside the doorframe. He heard Sylar gasp slightly, before telling him to come in.
Peter pushed the door open, and stepped inside slowly. He wanted more than anything to look away from Sylar's face, to break their eye contact, but he didn't. He knew that this would be one of the most important moment of their friendship, and he wanted to make sure that it was treated as seriously as it was. He jammed his hands into his pockets and stood still momentarily, before crossing the room. He leaned down slightly, and put his hands on the desktop, suddenly warmed by Sylar's interested gaze.
"Sylar" Peter began, hearing his own voice tremble slightly.
Sylar bit his lip and swallowed hard, catching that Peter's words were going to be serious. Peter took one last shaky breath before spilling the words he needed Sylar to hear. Those three little words that had been lingering between them for so long.
"I forgive you."