Pillow Fight Club
Title: Pillow Fight Club
Characters: Peter, Sylar
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word count: 1200
Setting: The Wall
Author's Notes: This will probably be part of Wall Verse Shorts at some point. Inspired by this.
Sylar was deep in the book he was reading, sitting on a frumpy couch they'd pulled into the facilities room some weeks earlier. Peter was wandering around fitfully, filled with a restless energy that Sylar had noticed came over the medic from time to time. Usually this preceded some 'project' of Peter's, generally another ill-fated attempt to 'get out', however ludicrous Sylar thought that was. Sylar was still of the opinion that whatever had happened to warp reality, it did not involve himself being bested by Matt Parkman in a battle of wits. There were so many possibilities more likely than that.
And so he read his story, hoping Peter would burn off his energy on something a little more practical, or better yet, just calm the fuck down. Sylar was doing his best to ignore him, which wasn't too hard as he was getting to the really good part in the book.
Peter scuffed Sylar's foot as he walked by. Sylar glanced at him and pulled up his feet. He was all leg at times and he would agree that they were sticking out a long way from the couch. But it was a huge room. What the hell is Peter doing needing to walk around over here? he groused mentally. Peter had walked out of the room, so Sylar shook his head and went back to reading. A few minutes later, Peter came in with a couple pillows, which he tossed on the couch, again hitting Sylar in the process. Sylar gave them a perplexed look. Peter poked him in the shoulder, kind of hard, while Sylar was examining the new additions to the couch. "Hey!" Sylar objected, but Peter was already on the move again, acting like he'd done nothing at all.
Weirdo. Sylar rubbed his shoulder and found his place again in the text. He looked at the pillows once more, wondering what they were there for. He supposed he could lie on them. Yes, that was probably it. Peter was being oddly considerate, as he often was. Really a weirdo. He returned to reading.
Bonk! Something small and light hit Sylar right on the head. He jumped and nearly dropped the book, looking up to see Peter smirking at him and a ping-pong ball bouncing, then rolling away from him across the carpeted floor. Sylar stared, not sure at all what this was about. Is Peter saying he wants to play ping-pong? "What's going on?"
Peter shrugged. "Nothing." He turned and walked off to the other end of the big room, shuffling papers on the piano, acting disinterested. Sylar gazed after him for a while, unsettled by not knowing what was going on with Peter. Not that that was new - it was a constant feature of dealing with the Italian. Peter was mostly consistent, but it was like there were things he didn't even think through and instead just did when the fancy struck him, like a reflex or an instinct. It was irritating as hell to Sylar, who desperately wanted everything (and everyone) to make sense.
Finally he went back to his story. Minutes passed. Peter trolled around the rest of the room, dusting now, not that the room needed it. There were no spiders to create cobwebs, though dust did at times accumulate. At least Peter was busy doing something other than - Bonk! Sylar jumped again as a second ping-pong ball bounced off his skull. He bared his teeth and barely restrained himself from seething and snapping 'What the hell?' at Peter. It wasn't a harmful attack - what Peter was doing - but it was annoying. And frustrating because Sylar couldn't understand why it was being done. Is this some sort of passive aggressive dominance display? Proving he can tease me and I can't do anything to him? He's got another thing coming if that's what he thinks!
Peter reached down to his pocket and pulled out another ping-pong ball. Sylar glared death at him. Peter's grin widened with joy and mischief. He tossed the ball up and down slowly a few times, enjoying Sylar's undivided attention, clearly daring him to do something about it. Sylar glanced down at his book. As he'd expected, there was a flash of motion from Peter. Sylar's hand whipped up and caught the ball even as his head was jerking back in case he missed. Sylar rose to his full height, glowering. He crushed the tiny plastic ball in his hand and threw it down disdainfully at Peter's feet.
"Woo!" Peter hooted derisively at him, of all things, looking utterly unimpressed. Peter laughed at him and that ran all through Sylar.
Sylar turned back to the couch to set his book down. He was going to do something about this and he was going to do it now, but he hadn't quite decided what to do. Apparently, Peter had had more than one ping-pong ball on his person though. Bonk! Sylar finished putting his book down without reaction, then whirled on Peter and lunged at him with an enraged snarl. But just as Sylar had been expecting the ball earlier, Peter was expecting the attack. Peter made an excited yelp and leaped away, hotly pursued. He dodged, he ducked and Sylar's fingers scrabbled against Peter's shirt once but didn't get a grip. Peter raced back towards the other end of the room and grabbed one of the pillows, spinning and throwing it in Sylar's face.
Sylar caught it reflexively, but kept coming on. Peter fell on the couch, snatching up the other pillow and swinging it just as Sylar loomed over him, fist balled. Peter isn't getting away this time! No more of - Whump! A pillow to the face knocked Sylar aside a little, but it didn't keep him from connecting with his swing. He caught Peter across the forehead though instead of the face, jogging Peter's head back instead of smashing in his face.
"Ow! No fists!" Peter barked out and for a moment, Sylar was confused as to why Peter would even imagine he got to dictate what form of punishment Sylar inflicted for Peter being an ass. The confusion made Sylar hesitate. Peter pulled his pillow back, getting a good grip on it, with both hands. Peter looked up into Sylar's face with a growing uncertainty, like this was the first time he realized that Sylar didn't know what the fuck was going on. Sylar looked at the pillow he was still holding in his off hand.
Oh. A moment passed and Sylar's mood shifted suddenly, from angry to amused. Oh! It is on! It is so on!