Assent (7/?)
Title: Assent (7/?)
Pairing: Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2705
Rating: R for language (future chapters will be rated M)
Warning(s): I don't own Heroes. Spoilers through end of Season 3 to be on the safe side. Future-fic, technically.
A/N: Sorry for the long update time. Real life + sickness + not happy with my writing = delay.
When Claire began to wake, she replayed the events of the night before in her mind several times over. Remembering what she found out about her little stay with the Company, the feelings of sadness and betrayal were overshadowed by the want to destroy, much to her surprise. She knew she should be furious at Sylar for forcing her to unleash on him, but damned if it didn't work. She hoped he'd keep his promise about gloating. The pain and heartache were still there (she was sure it would always be) but it wasn't nearly as paralyzing this morning. Perhaps it was merely too early. And as for Sylar...
Disgust. Violation. Hatred. Those were all the things she should be feeling for him right now but didn't. His honesty wasn't unexpected. The admissions that came with his honesty were. Very much so. Gratitude, empathy and a twinge of reverence were in her heart and head for him right now. She wouldn't have thought it possible ten years ago. Then again, ten years ago she would have said the odds of her father betraying her were nil. Fuck, she would've said that a month ago. It used to be Noah protecting her, vowing to end Sylar. But the heat on her back was proof Sylar was protecting her now.
As her brain slowly started to wake more, she realized his arm was slung over her body, his hand on top of hers, their fingers intertwined. The heat from him seemed to radiate through her back and out of her chest and she was not in any rush to move away from him. She shifted her leg and felt the soft fabric on the back of her knees. A pillow. She smiled to herself. Who knew he was such a gentleman. But lucidity was still dancing behind her still closed eyes and it beckoned for pure sensations and not logic. So, as gently as she could she moved the pillow, pushing her body into his, sighing softly as she felt an even warmer heat spread through her lower half. She questioned if the cause was only akin to his body heat. She accepted the fact that at this moment, she didn't care.
Her eyes opened and the room came into focus (as well as her mind) and she was already mourning the illogical feelings she was just enjoying. Yet, a funny thing happened. They didn't disappear. Sylar's words were ringing in her ears more clearly now, and she heard what he was telling her despite not actually saying it out loud. It hit her then, harder than she ever expected it to, that she felt exactly the same. Only it would have probably taken her decades to seek him out.
Claire was, and had been, the loneliest she had ever felt in her entire life. The feelings manifested right when she finished school and started teaching. The few friends she had made started to slip away and soon the only real human connections she made were with her students and her mother. She still spoke to her brother and her father but nowhere as near as much as Sandra. After her mother died, she started to turn down the few invitations she received for faculty outings and the occasional requests for dates. Her time was spent either with her kids or planning things for them. She had turned into a social hermit. It was only now that she admitted to herself the reasoning behind it. Why get attached to someone when they will ultimately die on you? Her students loved her, and she them, but after nine months she would let them go, only seeing them in between classes as they moved on from grade to grade and eventually left. This way was what she wanted. The connection ended on her terms, not theirs. Or God's. She choose to let them go, not forced to watch them grow old and die. Perhaps this was her subconscious was trying to protect her from dealing with the pain altogether.
But here she was with a man who would be around as long as she would. A man who was more like herself than she ever wanted to admit. A misunderstood freak who was manipulated and betrayed even more than herself. He had terrorized her, caused her so much pain and stole from her. Eternity was a long time to hold on to a grudge. Especially one geared toward the only other person who would be there with her when the world ended. He had told her that she would come to forgive him. Maybe even love him. She had told Sylar that day he killed Nathan that she would hate him forever. It hadn't even been 20 years. While she may have forgiven him, they had a long way to go before she would love him.
She couldn't kid herself over the probability. The odds of it were too great. She was too young and impulsive and disgusted back then to think otherwise. He was too crass, selfish and insane to try and change her mind. But thinking of her life then and how she lived now... well, she was walking, talking proof that people change, regardless if they want to or not. He had told her last night that something changed in him. His actions and demeanor seemed testament to that. He said he had stopped killing. For good? She doubted it. But he genuinely seemed to be trying. But still, even without the whole “serial killer” aspect, he really could be an egotistical, insufferable ass. A very sexy egotistical, insufferable ass...
She moved her hips slightly in frustration of the situation and he let out a small sigh and gripped her hand a little tighter. The sensation shot through her and the only thing she could think of was getting that sound out of him again. Being careful not to wake him completely, she slowly rolled her ass against his crotch. Just like she hoped, he let out another sigh. Moving again, she gently turned to her other side and was now facing him. He looked so peaceful like this, dead asleep and less threatening. His arm was still around her and she couldn't help but snuggle closer the him, her head under his chin and her face in his chest. The hair there tickled her cheek slightly but in this moment she didn't care. She let a hand creep up and she ran her fingers through the dark, wispy hairs there. He sighed, the air rushing from his nostrils and hitting the top of her head, sending a shiver down her spine.
He shifted in his sleep, rolling to his back but Claire didn't move. His arm was no longer cradling her but she remedied that by sliding between his other arm and laying her head back on his chest. She smiled when she felt his hand lazily rub her back. Maybe he was dreaming. Not being able to stop herself, she slung one of her legs up and laid it on his upper thigh. He let out an odd snore and she tried to suppress a laugh. That's when she felt him twitch against her leg. She was sure she blushed for a moment but then the overwhelming desire to touch him arose. She knew very well that she wouldn't act on the thought but she had to do something to make up for it. Sitting up on her elbow, she studied his face. His thick, dark eyebrows. The dark fan of lashes that twitched slightly in sleep. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his lips. Those lips were slightly parted and without thinking (or perhaps after thinking too much) she kissed him.
It was innocent, almost chaste, when her lips brushed against his. She pulled back slightly and saw as he, still asleep, licked his lips. Before she knew it her mouth was against his again, the contact lingering a little longer than before. That's when she felt him start to kiss her back. She opened her eyes just in time to see him open his and everything seemed to stop for a second. Her heart was beating fast, her palms sweaty and for one of the first times in her life she honestly didn't have a clue what to do. He blinked a few times, his eyes taking in the room around him at first before settling back on her.
“Well,” he said softly, “That's a hell of a way to wake up.”
Claire could practically feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I didn't meant to wake you.”
He frowned. “I'm sure you didn't. You could've just prodded me in the ribs and slapped me in the face a little if you wanted me to get up.” His tone was almost bitter and it wasn't undetected by her.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that,” she said, pulling away from him and pushing herself toward the edge of the bed.
“No, you shouldn't have. It wasn't very nice.”
“Not nice? All I did was peck you on the lips. It was barely anything,” she spat.
“Your perception of things is much different than mine,” he said low.
A sudden rush of annoyance and anger swelled in her gut. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He sat up and sat on his edge of the bed, opposite of her. “Nothing. Just forget it. It's too early for this.”
“No. What the hell was so wrong about a little kiss?”
He didn't say anything.
“Well?” she prodded.
“Drop it, Claire.”
“Fuck that. Tell me. Last night you were all about telling me everything. Now you wanna keep secrets?”
“A man can't be a completely open book.”
“Bullshit.” She was getting angrier by the second. “Oh, I get it. It's me. I guess I just misunderstood what you told me last night.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“It doesn't matter,” she said, getting off the bed to sort through her new clothes for something to wear.
“No, what do you mean 'misunderstood'?”
She shook her head. “See, it's not so fun when someone doesn't explain things you want to know is it, smartass?”
He let out an aggravated sigh. “Fine, you wanna know what's wrong with 'a little peck on the lips'? It would never be 'just a little peck” for me. And I'd rather not have it at all than to be teased.”
She dropped the shirt she had been holding. She turned to face him but he was still sitting on the bed, his back to her. So that was it. She did understand what he had said last night. She just misunderstood him this morning. He thought she was teasing him. She walked around the bed and stood right in front of him. He hung his head low.
“I didn't do that to tease you.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I don't know, because I wanted to?”
She saw him shudder slightly. He looked up at her then. “You aren't lying.”
“Why would I-”
She barely registered that he had moved. Her eyes were closed and his mouth was on hers and all her thoughts seemed to stop in that moment. She felt one hand cup around her jaw, the other around her neck, his finger brushing against her ear and she almost lost her balance. His lips seemed to burn hers like fire and in her mind the only way to quench the flame was with even more of him. She was the first to part her lips, flicking her tongue over his bottom lip. He responded with his own tongue invading her mouth, flicking and curling and dancing around her own. Her hands snaked around his waist and her fingers danced up his ribs and she smiled into his mouth when she felt him jump.
“Who knew? Big, bad Sylar is ticklish” she whispered.
He attacked her with more force, his kisses running from her mouth to her cheeks, down the length of her jaw and the side of her neck. She couldn't help but let out a moan right into his ear and her nails scratched across his stomach. She trailed across his navel and she felt that trail of hair that led past where she couldn't see and ran her fingers down the length of it. But something clicked in her mind and her logic finally entered the picture. Just as she was about to stop herself before things got too heavy, he pulled away first. She knew somehow that he was thinking the same thing.
“That...uh. That was...yeah” he said, clearing his throat. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were a little glazed over. “Anyway, we, uh, we should get moving.”
He started to gather his clothes and belongings. She couldn't help but notice his movements were rather stiff and he was trying his best not to look at her. A wave of guilt ran over her then and she silently wished she wouldn't have kissed him while he slept, regardless of how good the aftermath of it felt. He said it would never be just a peck to him. He would rather have nothing at all than to be teased. She shouldn't have pressed him to admit that. There were so many thoughts running through her head. Too much information to process. This was not the time for this. Any semblance of romance sprung from a situation like this could only lead to trouble. It wasn't fair to him.
No, she would set those thoughts and feelings aside. For now. They had all the time in the world to figure this out. She had to focus on the most important thing. Retribution. The Company's end. Destroying what they took from her. Watching the life leave Noah's eyes. Once that was done, maybe then she could focus her full, undivided attention to Sylar. Maybe once this was far enough behind her, she could learn to love him. Or would she even have to learn? Would it happen naturally? His hands fit so well within her own. His lips pressed against hers perfectly. Within the span of two days, her perception of him had flipped completely. Was it happening already? She sat down on the bed and allowed her mind to run through all the nervous, exciting, wonderful, terrifying thoughts of him and her and what they could and could never be. Better to allow herself to mentally dump everything for a bit instead of forcing them out until the point of eruption. She had to have clear head for the days ahead. She couldn't fuck it up.
She watched Sylar go into the bathroom to change and she was even more grateful that he was who he was. It was clear to her that he was fighting a similar battle with himself. Only she was confident that when they finally met Noah face to face, he would keep his composure and keep his cool until the job was done. She knew for a fact he would not allow her to fail or falter. He would make sure she did everything she needed to. He walked back into the room, fully dressed in dark jeans and a black button up shirt. He may have claimed he had been changed but his fashion sense was the same as it ever way. For reasons unknown to her, this made her smile.
She grabbed her own clothes and headed to the bathroom. Before she shut the door, she turned to him.
“Sylar,” she began. “Thank you. You couldn't have convinced me last night but after waking up this morning, I see why you forced me to do what I did. I appreciate it.”
He finally met her gaze, giving her a half-smile and a nod. Her stomach gave a violent jolt as she shut the door. She allowed one last thought on the matter and herself and him.
It was happening now.
Pairing: Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2705
Rating: R for language (future chapters will be rated M)
Warning(s): I don't own Heroes. Spoilers through end of Season 3 to be on the safe side. Future-fic, technically.
A/N: Sorry for the long update time. Real life + sickness + not happy with my writing = delay.
When Claire began to wake, she replayed the events of the night before in her mind several times over. Remembering what she found out about her little stay with the Company, the feelings of sadness and betrayal were overshadowed by the want to destroy, much to her surprise. She knew she should be furious at Sylar for forcing her to unleash on him, but damned if it didn't work. She hoped he'd keep his promise about gloating. The pain and heartache were still there (she was sure it would always be) but it wasn't nearly as paralyzing this morning. Perhaps it was merely too early. And as for Sylar...
Disgust. Violation. Hatred. Those were all the things she should be feeling for him right now but didn't. His honesty wasn't unexpected. The admissions that came with his honesty were. Very much so. Gratitude, empathy and a twinge of reverence were in her heart and head for him right now. She wouldn't have thought it possible ten years ago. Then again, ten years ago she would have said the odds of her father betraying her were nil. Fuck, she would've said that a month ago. It used to be Noah protecting her, vowing to end Sylar. But the heat on her back was proof Sylar was protecting her now.
As her brain slowly started to wake more, she realized his arm was slung over her body, his hand on top of hers, their fingers intertwined. The heat from him seemed to radiate through her back and out of her chest and she was not in any rush to move away from him. She shifted her leg and felt the soft fabric on the back of her knees. A pillow. She smiled to herself. Who knew he was such a gentleman. But lucidity was still dancing behind her still closed eyes and it beckoned for pure sensations and not logic. So, as gently as she could she moved the pillow, pushing her body into his, sighing softly as she felt an even warmer heat spread through her lower half. She questioned if the cause was only akin to his body heat. She accepted the fact that at this moment, she didn't care.
Her eyes opened and the room came into focus (as well as her mind) and she was already mourning the illogical feelings she was just enjoying. Yet, a funny thing happened. They didn't disappear. Sylar's words were ringing in her ears more clearly now, and she heard what he was telling her despite not actually saying it out loud. It hit her then, harder than she ever expected it to, that she felt exactly the same. Only it would have probably taken her decades to seek him out.
Claire was, and had been, the loneliest she had ever felt in her entire life. The feelings manifested right when she finished school and started teaching. The few friends she had made started to slip away and soon the only real human connections she made were with her students and her mother. She still spoke to her brother and her father but nowhere as near as much as Sandra. After her mother died, she started to turn down the few invitations she received for faculty outings and the occasional requests for dates. Her time was spent either with her kids or planning things for them. She had turned into a social hermit. It was only now that she admitted to herself the reasoning behind it. Why get attached to someone when they will ultimately die on you? Her students loved her, and she them, but after nine months she would let them go, only seeing them in between classes as they moved on from grade to grade and eventually left. This way was what she wanted. The connection ended on her terms, not theirs. Or God's. She choose to let them go, not forced to watch them grow old and die. Perhaps this was her subconscious was trying to protect her from dealing with the pain altogether.
But here she was with a man who would be around as long as she would. A man who was more like herself than she ever wanted to admit. A misunderstood freak who was manipulated and betrayed even more than herself. He had terrorized her, caused her so much pain and stole from her. Eternity was a long time to hold on to a grudge. Especially one geared toward the only other person who would be there with her when the world ended. He had told her that she would come to forgive him. Maybe even love him. She had told Sylar that day he killed Nathan that she would hate him forever. It hadn't even been 20 years. While she may have forgiven him, they had a long way to go before she would love him.
She couldn't kid herself over the probability. The odds of it were too great. She was too young and impulsive and disgusted back then to think otherwise. He was too crass, selfish and insane to try and change her mind. But thinking of her life then and how she lived now... well, she was walking, talking proof that people change, regardless if they want to or not. He had told her last night that something changed in him. His actions and demeanor seemed testament to that. He said he had stopped killing. For good? She doubted it. But he genuinely seemed to be trying. But still, even without the whole “serial killer” aspect, he really could be an egotistical, insufferable ass. A very sexy egotistical, insufferable ass...
She moved her hips slightly in frustration of the situation and he let out a small sigh and gripped her hand a little tighter. The sensation shot through her and the only thing she could think of was getting that sound out of him again. Being careful not to wake him completely, she slowly rolled her ass against his crotch. Just like she hoped, he let out another sigh. Moving again, she gently turned to her other side and was now facing him. He looked so peaceful like this, dead asleep and less threatening. His arm was still around her and she couldn't help but snuggle closer the him, her head under his chin and her face in his chest. The hair there tickled her cheek slightly but in this moment she didn't care. She let a hand creep up and she ran her fingers through the dark, wispy hairs there. He sighed, the air rushing from his nostrils and hitting the top of her head, sending a shiver down her spine.
He shifted in his sleep, rolling to his back but Claire didn't move. His arm was no longer cradling her but she remedied that by sliding between his other arm and laying her head back on his chest. She smiled when she felt his hand lazily rub her back. Maybe he was dreaming. Not being able to stop herself, she slung one of her legs up and laid it on his upper thigh. He let out an odd snore and she tried to suppress a laugh. That's when she felt him twitch against her leg. She was sure she blushed for a moment but then the overwhelming desire to touch him arose. She knew very well that she wouldn't act on the thought but she had to do something to make up for it. Sitting up on her elbow, she studied his face. His thick, dark eyebrows. The dark fan of lashes that twitched slightly in sleep. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his lips. Those lips were slightly parted and without thinking (or perhaps after thinking too much) she kissed him.
It was innocent, almost chaste, when her lips brushed against his. She pulled back slightly and saw as he, still asleep, licked his lips. Before she knew it her mouth was against his again, the contact lingering a little longer than before. That's when she felt him start to kiss her back. She opened her eyes just in time to see him open his and everything seemed to stop for a second. Her heart was beating fast, her palms sweaty and for one of the first times in her life she honestly didn't have a clue what to do. He blinked a few times, his eyes taking in the room around him at first before settling back on her.
“Well,” he said softly, “That's a hell of a way to wake up.”
Claire could practically feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I didn't meant to wake you.”
He frowned. “I'm sure you didn't. You could've just prodded me in the ribs and slapped me in the face a little if you wanted me to get up.” His tone was almost bitter and it wasn't undetected by her.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that,” she said, pulling away from him and pushing herself toward the edge of the bed.
“No, you shouldn't have. It wasn't very nice.”
“Not nice? All I did was peck you on the lips. It was barely anything,” she spat.
“Your perception of things is much different than mine,” he said low.
A sudden rush of annoyance and anger swelled in her gut. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He sat up and sat on his edge of the bed, opposite of her. “Nothing. Just forget it. It's too early for this.”
“No. What the hell was so wrong about a little kiss?”
He didn't say anything.
“Well?” she prodded.
“Drop it, Claire.”
“Fuck that. Tell me. Last night you were all about telling me everything. Now you wanna keep secrets?”
“A man can't be a completely open book.”
“Bullshit.” She was getting angrier by the second. “Oh, I get it. It's me. I guess I just misunderstood what you told me last night.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“It doesn't matter,” she said, getting off the bed to sort through her new clothes for something to wear.
“No, what do you mean 'misunderstood'?”
She shook her head. “See, it's not so fun when someone doesn't explain things you want to know is it, smartass?”
He let out an aggravated sigh. “Fine, you wanna know what's wrong with 'a little peck on the lips'? It would never be 'just a little peck” for me. And I'd rather not have it at all than to be teased.”
She dropped the shirt she had been holding. She turned to face him but he was still sitting on the bed, his back to her. So that was it. She did understand what he had said last night. She just misunderstood him this morning. He thought she was teasing him. She walked around the bed and stood right in front of him. He hung his head low.
“I didn't do that to tease you.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I don't know, because I wanted to?”
She saw him shudder slightly. He looked up at her then. “You aren't lying.”
“Why would I-”
She barely registered that he had moved. Her eyes were closed and his mouth was on hers and all her thoughts seemed to stop in that moment. She felt one hand cup around her jaw, the other around her neck, his finger brushing against her ear and she almost lost her balance. His lips seemed to burn hers like fire and in her mind the only way to quench the flame was with even more of him. She was the first to part her lips, flicking her tongue over his bottom lip. He responded with his own tongue invading her mouth, flicking and curling and dancing around her own. Her hands snaked around his waist and her fingers danced up his ribs and she smiled into his mouth when she felt him jump.
“Who knew? Big, bad Sylar is ticklish” she whispered.
He attacked her with more force, his kisses running from her mouth to her cheeks, down the length of her jaw and the side of her neck. She couldn't help but let out a moan right into his ear and her nails scratched across his stomach. She trailed across his navel and she felt that trail of hair that led past where she couldn't see and ran her fingers down the length of it. But something clicked in her mind and her logic finally entered the picture. Just as she was about to stop herself before things got too heavy, he pulled away first. She knew somehow that he was thinking the same thing.
“That...uh. That was...yeah” he said, clearing his throat. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were a little glazed over. “Anyway, we, uh, we should get moving.”
He started to gather his clothes and belongings. She couldn't help but notice his movements were rather stiff and he was trying his best not to look at her. A wave of guilt ran over her then and she silently wished she wouldn't have kissed him while he slept, regardless of how good the aftermath of it felt. He said it would never be just a peck to him. He would rather have nothing at all than to be teased. She shouldn't have pressed him to admit that. There were so many thoughts running through her head. Too much information to process. This was not the time for this. Any semblance of romance sprung from a situation like this could only lead to trouble. It wasn't fair to him.
No, she would set those thoughts and feelings aside. For now. They had all the time in the world to figure this out. She had to focus on the most important thing. Retribution. The Company's end. Destroying what they took from her. Watching the life leave Noah's eyes. Once that was done, maybe then she could focus her full, undivided attention to Sylar. Maybe once this was far enough behind her, she could learn to love him. Or would she even have to learn? Would it happen naturally? His hands fit so well within her own. His lips pressed against hers perfectly. Within the span of two days, her perception of him had flipped completely. Was it happening already? She sat down on the bed and allowed her mind to run through all the nervous, exciting, wonderful, terrifying thoughts of him and her and what they could and could never be. Better to allow herself to mentally dump everything for a bit instead of forcing them out until the point of eruption. She had to have clear head for the days ahead. She couldn't fuck it up.
She watched Sylar go into the bathroom to change and she was even more grateful that he was who he was. It was clear to her that he was fighting a similar battle with himself. Only she was confident that when they finally met Noah face to face, he would keep his composure and keep his cool until the job was done. She knew for a fact he would not allow her to fail or falter. He would make sure she did everything she needed to. He walked back into the room, fully dressed in dark jeans and a black button up shirt. He may have claimed he had been changed but his fashion sense was the same as it ever way. For reasons unknown to her, this made her smile.
She grabbed her own clothes and headed to the bathroom. Before she shut the door, she turned to him.
“Sylar,” she began. “Thank you. You couldn't have convinced me last night but after waking up this morning, I see why you forced me to do what I did. I appreciate it.”
He finally met her gaze, giving her a half-smile and a nod. Her stomach gave a violent jolt as she shut the door. She allowed one last thought on the matter and herself and him.
It was happening now.