Step on a Butterfly - Heroes - Mohinder/Sylar
Title: Step on a Butterfly
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 530
Rating: R
A/N: Written for comment_fic.
Summary: With a newly acquired ability to time-travel, Sylar makes some changes.
Step on a butterfly and the whole world changes, that's what they say - and with the time-traveller's powers at his fingertips, Sylar makes sure to stomp on a lot of bugs. He twists the past to his every whim. Twists, tweaks, tramples, tugs, tunes, tampers.
Changes.
When he returns to the present - his present - it is the same. On the surface. The same car is waiting outside the same hotel room. His clothes haven't changed, but that is to be expected as he was travelling in them. He flexes his hands. Everything feels the same - but there is one difference.
In the en-suite bathroom, the shower is on. He can hear the pattering of the water against the tiles, obstructed only by the mass of a human body. It makes his eyes narrow. Maybe this isn't his hotel room at all. Navigation is difficult: he found that out after he'd accidentally landed in seventeenth century France the first time around. That's one experience he isn't in a hurry to repeat.
Tilting his head to the side in curiosity, Sylar steps forward. His hand is open, palm facing the door, ready to fight and kill if that's what needs to be done. Changing the past is far from an exact science.
The bathroom door isn't locked, but even that isn't as surprising as the sight that waits for him inside. Mohinder, nude under the stream of the shower. The water is hot enough that steam rises around him and the mirror above the sink has misted over. The glass screen that prevents water from spilling onto the ground has misted as well, but Sylar can still see enough of Mohinder's dark skin and lithe body to feel the harsh stirring of lust. It's been a long time since his road trip with Mohinder, since the scientist trusted him enough to let him look at him like this. He feels light-headed.
It only gets worse when Mohinder peers around the screen to look at him, his black hair dripping. There are still some suds of shampoo clinging to it and Sylar's struck with the intense desire to step in there and help him wash it clean; to be gentle as he looks after him. To be caring.
Where did that come from?
"Gabriel, are you coming in or not?" Mohinder asks, smiling. "I'll use all the hot water if you're not careful. I won't even feel guilty."
He's smiling; he's using that fake name; he's looking at Sylar with trust and devotion and love.
Everything changes, Sylar reminds himself as he peels the clothes from his body in a desperation rush; he can't even feel angry or embarrassed when Mohinder laughs at his haste, because it's a wonderful sound and it's all for him. Under the hot stream - too hot, far too hot - he claims Mohinder in a kiss, though he knows it won't be long until that is far from being enough. Feeling his naked body pressed against Mohinder's, Sylar has no choice but to smirk: if this is the consequence for stepping on butterflies, he thinks he's going to throw the time-travelling rule book out the window.
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 530
Rating: R
A/N: Written for comment_fic.
Summary: With a newly acquired ability to time-travel, Sylar makes some changes.
Step on a butterfly and the whole world changes, that's what they say - and with the time-traveller's powers at his fingertips, Sylar makes sure to stomp on a lot of bugs. He twists the past to his every whim. Twists, tweaks, tramples, tugs, tunes, tampers.
Changes.
When he returns to the present - his present - it is the same. On the surface. The same car is waiting outside the same hotel room. His clothes haven't changed, but that is to be expected as he was travelling in them. He flexes his hands. Everything feels the same - but there is one difference.
In the en-suite bathroom, the shower is on. He can hear the pattering of the water against the tiles, obstructed only by the mass of a human body. It makes his eyes narrow. Maybe this isn't his hotel room at all. Navigation is difficult: he found that out after he'd accidentally landed in seventeenth century France the first time around. That's one experience he isn't in a hurry to repeat.
Tilting his head to the side in curiosity, Sylar steps forward. His hand is open, palm facing the door, ready to fight and kill if that's what needs to be done. Changing the past is far from an exact science.
The bathroom door isn't locked, but even that isn't as surprising as the sight that waits for him inside. Mohinder, nude under the stream of the shower. The water is hot enough that steam rises around him and the mirror above the sink has misted over. The glass screen that prevents water from spilling onto the ground has misted as well, but Sylar can still see enough of Mohinder's dark skin and lithe body to feel the harsh stirring of lust. It's been a long time since his road trip with Mohinder, since the scientist trusted him enough to let him look at him like this. He feels light-headed.
It only gets worse when Mohinder peers around the screen to look at him, his black hair dripping. There are still some suds of shampoo clinging to it and Sylar's struck with the intense desire to step in there and help him wash it clean; to be gentle as he looks after him. To be caring.
Where did that come from?
"Gabriel, are you coming in or not?" Mohinder asks, smiling. "I'll use all the hot water if you're not careful. I won't even feel guilty."
He's smiling; he's using that fake name; he's looking at Sylar with trust and devotion and love.
Everything changes, Sylar reminds himself as he peels the clothes from his body in a desperation rush; he can't even feel angry or embarrassed when Mohinder laughs at his haste, because it's a wonderful sound and it's all for him. Under the hot stream - too hot, far too hot - he claims Mohinder in a kiss, though he knows it won't be long until that is far from being enough. Feeling his naked body pressed against Mohinder's, Sylar has no choice but to smirk: if this is the consequence for stepping on butterflies, he thinks he's going to throw the time-travelling rule book out the window.