Five Days of a Kidnapping - Heroes - Mohinder/Sylar
Title: Five Days of a Kidnapping
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 750
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For 25fluffyfics 'Holiday' prompt. Each section is 150 words.
Summary: "Mohinder's skin looks beautiful in this sunlight, warm and healthy despite the bruises Sylar accidentally inflicted."
Day One
Mohinder's skin looks beautiful in this sunlight, warm and healthy despite the bruises Sylar accidentally inflicted. His eyes are squinted against the harsh glare of the sun through the car window: Sylar thinks that he ought to remember to grab some sunglasses for him at the next shop they pass by. Making a mental note of that, he brushes the sweat from his forehead and keeps driving.
"Are you okay?" he asks after several silent miles, with a faint glance towards his passenger.
He receives an angry grunt as an answer. The brush with the police as they'd been leaving New York behind had been a little too close for comfort. Mohinder's hardly spoken since, fuming and plotting quietly. Sylar expects his near-silence will be broken soon with a furiously animated outburst. After that it will fade and they can go back to normal - or whatever 'normal' is these days.
*
Day Two
They stop at a gas station and Sylar is careful to keep Mohinder close by his side. With the occasional tug and pull at his arm with his telekinesis, he can ensure that there will be no messy escape attempts. A bathroom stop and two iced drinks later and they should be ready to leave - but Mohinder's gaze lingers on the payphones nearby. "Can I call them?" he asks, looking directly at Sylar with hope instead of fear. "Please. I need to talk to Molly."
He shouldn't let him. "Will that make you happy?" he asks.
Mohinder frowns, watching him with those dark, insightful eyes. "No," he says, "But it might help."
So Sylar nods, because he wants to see Mohinder's wide smile again - yet knowing it's the brat that prompts that expression leaves him longing to melt the phone away as Mohinder clutches it too tightly in his hand.
*
Day Three
He can feel the way that Mohinder shifts nervously under his gaze. Stopped at a red light with his finger tapping on the sun-heated steering wheel, he sneaks unsubtle glances at Mohinder and the angry set of his jaw.
"You're watching me," Mohinder says between parched lips.
"Yeah."
"I'd rather you didn't."
Sylar's hands tighten on the wheel and he wants to keep staring anyway. The droplets of sweat on Mohinder's forehead are enchanting; he imagines what it would be like to lean across and lick them away, but he won't. That would be one long step too far. He may be a serial-killing monster, but he's determined not to be anything worse than that.
He looks away, back to the road, and is glad when the traffic light turns green. Driving is a distraction. It's irritating and impossible, but it's worth it when he hears Mohinder sigh, "Thank you."
*
Day Four
"What is it you want, Sylar?" Mohinder asks, glaring out of the window of their motel room. "Is it the list? You've already had the cure for your illness. I don't know…"
Sylar listens to the sound of his hushed breathing - focuses harder, listens to the sound of his heart beating, the blood rushing in his veins - and wishes he had an answer. "I want…" he says, but he shakes his head. He wants things he can't name. He wants Mohinder to look at him like he looked at Zane: like he was extraordinary. Like he was somebody, somebody important. He wants dark eyes heavy with lust and he wants a bright smile directed at him, hands on his skin, a hungry mouth coaxing moans from his lips.
His wants are real, are human - and they make him weak.
"I don’t want anything," he insists eventually. The lie tastes bitter.
*
Day Five
He watches the door of the bathroom close behind Mohinder as his leg jitters nervously - he waits for only a second before he stands again, walks, leaves. Quietly.
Opens the car door.
Sits.
Puts the key in the ignition.
His hand lingers, frozen. His mother would have shuddered in disgust if she'd known of the thoughts he'd entertained about Mohinder Suresh, if she'd known of the images that haunted him when he thought of sweaty skin and slick, wet lips. Happily ever after whispers in his mind, hoping that maybe this could work, maybe Mohinder could forgive him, maybe he could give up killing.
And that's where those thoughts end - because as much as he wants Mohinder, he needs the tingle of new abilities more. He gives one last glance towards the gas station, and whispers a hollow goodbye: he turns the key, and all that's left is dust.
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 750
Rating: PG-13
A/N: For 25fluffyfics 'Holiday' prompt. Each section is 150 words.
Summary: "Mohinder's skin looks beautiful in this sunlight, warm and healthy despite the bruises Sylar accidentally inflicted."
Day One
Mohinder's skin looks beautiful in this sunlight, warm and healthy despite the bruises Sylar accidentally inflicted. His eyes are squinted against the harsh glare of the sun through the car window: Sylar thinks that he ought to remember to grab some sunglasses for him at the next shop they pass by. Making a mental note of that, he brushes the sweat from his forehead and keeps driving.
"Are you okay?" he asks after several silent miles, with a faint glance towards his passenger.
He receives an angry grunt as an answer. The brush with the police as they'd been leaving New York behind had been a little too close for comfort. Mohinder's hardly spoken since, fuming and plotting quietly. Sylar expects his near-silence will be broken soon with a furiously animated outburst. After that it will fade and they can go back to normal - or whatever 'normal' is these days.
*
Day Two
They stop at a gas station and Sylar is careful to keep Mohinder close by his side. With the occasional tug and pull at his arm with his telekinesis, he can ensure that there will be no messy escape attempts. A bathroom stop and two iced drinks later and they should be ready to leave - but Mohinder's gaze lingers on the payphones nearby. "Can I call them?" he asks, looking directly at Sylar with hope instead of fear. "Please. I need to talk to Molly."
He shouldn't let him. "Will that make you happy?" he asks.
Mohinder frowns, watching him with those dark, insightful eyes. "No," he says, "But it might help."
So Sylar nods, because he wants to see Mohinder's wide smile again - yet knowing it's the brat that prompts that expression leaves him longing to melt the phone away as Mohinder clutches it too tightly in his hand.
*
Day Three
He can feel the way that Mohinder shifts nervously under his gaze. Stopped at a red light with his finger tapping on the sun-heated steering wheel, he sneaks unsubtle glances at Mohinder and the angry set of his jaw.
"You're watching me," Mohinder says between parched lips.
"Yeah."
"I'd rather you didn't."
Sylar's hands tighten on the wheel and he wants to keep staring anyway. The droplets of sweat on Mohinder's forehead are enchanting; he imagines what it would be like to lean across and lick them away, but he won't. That would be one long step too far. He may be a serial-killing monster, but he's determined not to be anything worse than that.
He looks away, back to the road, and is glad when the traffic light turns green. Driving is a distraction. It's irritating and impossible, but it's worth it when he hears Mohinder sigh, "Thank you."
*
Day Four
"What is it you want, Sylar?" Mohinder asks, glaring out of the window of their motel room. "Is it the list? You've already had the cure for your illness. I don't know…"
Sylar listens to the sound of his hushed breathing - focuses harder, listens to the sound of his heart beating, the blood rushing in his veins - and wishes he had an answer. "I want…" he says, but he shakes his head. He wants things he can't name. He wants Mohinder to look at him like he looked at Zane: like he was extraordinary. Like he was somebody, somebody important. He wants dark eyes heavy with lust and he wants a bright smile directed at him, hands on his skin, a hungry mouth coaxing moans from his lips.
His wants are real, are human - and they make him weak.
"I don’t want anything," he insists eventually. The lie tastes bitter.
*
Day Five
He watches the door of the bathroom close behind Mohinder as his leg jitters nervously - he waits for only a second before he stands again, walks, leaves. Quietly.
Opens the car door.
Sits.
Puts the key in the ignition.
His hand lingers, frozen. His mother would have shuddered in disgust if she'd known of the thoughts he'd entertained about Mohinder Suresh, if she'd known of the images that haunted him when he thought of sweaty skin and slick, wet lips. Happily ever after whispers in his mind, hoping that maybe this could work, maybe Mohinder could forgive him, maybe he could give up killing.
And that's where those thoughts end - because as much as he wants Mohinder, he needs the tingle of new abilities more. He gives one last glance towards the gas station, and whispers a hollow goodbye: he turns the key, and all that's left is dust.