Wall Verse, Chapter 19, The Talk
The next day they went to the park, which was again Sylar's idea. He seemed to have a lot of ideas recently on what to do, Peter reflected, but they were all things Peter liked doing, so he went along happily. They spent an hour or so playing Frisbee, easily long enough to get bored at it, before retiring to sit on the lip of a fountain. Peter took a long drag out of his bottle of water that Sylar had kindly brought in a big picnic basket he'd scrounged up somewhere. The 'date-like' aspect of this was large in Peter's mind.
Time to start putting my cards on the table and see what happens. "I like you, Sylar."
The other man blinked at him uncertainly for a while, but it was an odd statement to throw out there so Peter didn't mind the pause. He'd expected it. Finally Sylar replied, "I like you, too, Peter."
"Good." Peter gave him a small smile and went back to looking ahead at the empty park. "The other day you asked what kind of relationship we had. I dunno. I think 'it's complicated' is probably the most accurate right now. What kind of relationship do you want?"
Sylar blinked a lot now, and paled. He pulled his feet in under him and swallowed. He looked afraid. He said, "Wh- um, whatever you want, Peter."
Peter gave Sylar a long look. Not the answer I was looking for. Well, maybe it's not a fair question. 'Whatever I want' - what do I want? Maybe that's as good a starting point as any for talking about it. "I'd like … for you to be nice to me. Don't hit me anymore. I want to be nice to you. I want to be a good guy …" He trailed off softly and looked at his water bottle, elbows on his knees, holding the bottle in both hands. He turned it this way and that, watching the water sloshing around.
"You are a good guy, Peter," Sylar said quietly with a raw quality to his voice. Peter looked at him and Sylar added guiltily, "I'm not."
'I'm not the savior kind.' Yeah, I get that. But I've seen two futures now where you were good. "You keep saying that. Sylar … you can be."
The man hung his head. "Peter, I slugged you last week."
Yeah, you've done a lot of shit. Like I don't know that. "Don't change the subject," Peter said with a little smile. Sylar glanced over at him and blew out air, rolling his eyes a little. Peter went on, "Do you want to be a good guy?"
Sylar grimaced now and raked his hand through his hair, standing up and pacing in agitation. "Peter, what I want has never had anything to do with it!"
Peter stood as well. "It matters to me," he said strongly.
Sylar turned and gave him a very confused look that wavered in and out of hurt and angry.
Peter wasn't sure why he was getting that expression, so he restated, "Whether or not you want to be a good person - if that's what you're trying to do - that matters to me. Do you understand?"
Sylar's expression cleared, but he frowned and grumbled, "Fine, it matters to you. Doesn't change what I've done."
Yeah, but it might change what you do. "I've done a lot of messed up stuff too, Sylar, and you still seem to think I'm an okay person."
Sylar didn't even bother to snort. "Peter, you've done nothing." He looked away in contempt.
Peter moved closer, reaching out to touch Sylar's elbow. "How many people have you killed? Fifty? A hundred maybe? I killed SIX BILLION, Sylar!" The killer jerked around at the sudden heat and intensity in Peter's voice. "Six. Billion. And I was lucky enough to be able to come back in time and stop it, but doing that meant I sacrificed someone I'd fallen in love with." He exhaled sharply. "Maybe I didn't kill all of them with my bare hands, or look into every one of their faces, but you're not the only one aware of how easily abilities can make things spiral out of control. I wasn't even under the effect of mind control or whatever. I was just stupid!" Peter practically spit the last word.
Sylar regarded Peter for a few moments like he'd grown a second head, then quietly walked back over to the fountain and sat down. Peter blinked at the ground. Guess that was a little over the top. Rein it in, Peter. He walked over to return to his own seat, speaking more calmly now. "If you tell me that you're going to try to be a good person, then I will be there for you, for as long as you need."
Sylar's head snapped around to stare at Peter, eyes wide.
Don't know why he looks all surprised at that.
Sylar stumbled out, "Why would you do that?"
Because you're a human being, dammit! Because I don't want any of what you've done before to happen again. Because I want you to save Emma and be able to have a little boy and this time he won't get killed and … Peter sighed. "Because I like you." Love you, maybe, but that might freak you out if I go blurting something like that out.
"Okay," Sylar said weakly.
That's not really an 'okay, I want to be a good person', but I think this might work better if I act like it is. Peter nodded decisively. "I'll help you. Tell me what you need, if you know, and I'll try to help. I've had your ability. I know it messes a person up."
"I don't have it now," Sylar squawked, obviously catching Peter's assumption. He looked half-terrified by the direction the conversation had ended up going.
Peter made a soothing gesture. "I know. I know that. Listen, we've … I'm … I shouldn't be so pushy, especially with you. Let's just … do something else for a while." He gestured at the picnic basket. "What else do you have in there?"
Sylar gazed at him for several seconds more, slowly processing that the impromptu grilling or character assault or whatever that was Peter had been doing was over, or at least being put on hold for the moment. He breathed deeply and pulled the basket closer to him. He opened it and pulled out a handful of comic books. "I … I found these. Thought you might want to read them. I brought a book for me, in case we just wanted to … you know, read."
Peter's expression softened and he took them. "Hey, thanks. That's great. I'd love to."
"And I brought some food and a sheet, in case we wanted to … um …" He stared blankly at the basket, still very thrown by things.
Peter saved him with, "In case we wanted to sit on the grass like normal people and enjoy lunch?"
"Yes, exactly," Sylar said, lifting his head and perking up.
"That sounds awesome," Peter said. "Let's do it."
The sheet, as it turned out, was for a double bed. It seemed plenty big until you had two good-sized men sprawling out on it. Or it would have seemed that way, if Sylar would have laid down on it. He looked over the dimensions and said, "I think I'll just sit over here."
Sylar, we fucked already. Being all distant now is … you know, he did freak out and run off and we never even got any clothes off. Remember all that stuff I was telling myself about going slow? Very gently Peter hazarded, "Hey, can I talk you into something?"
"Yeah," Sylar looked at him unsuspecting.
"Could you lie down here, face away from me, and I'll do the same, and we'll put our backs together?"
Sylar looked from Peter to the middle of the sheet several times, face blank. "Touching?"
'Touching?' No, Sylar, we'll be like four feet apart from each other and maybe we should build a fucking brick wall between us just in case …! "Yes." Peter smiled a little and dipped his head. "Please?"
"Of- Yes. Of course." Sylar swallowed and laid himself out, wearing a wondering expression.
Peter settled in behind him, wriggling a little to get his back flush with the other man's. "Thank you," he murmured. Sylar stayed very still for several minutes before finally pulling his book over to him and beginning to read.
Peter put down the last comic and sighed. It was nice to feel Sylar breathing behind him. It stirred other thoughts. "What can I do with you?" he asked quietly.
Sylar was quiet for a moment, before saying simply, "Anything."
"Anything at all?" You're either joking, unrealistic, or have no idea of your own limits. Or maybe what you mean is I can do anything and you don't promise to respond well to it?
"Yes," Sylar said, voice tight, "anything at all."
Peter turned in place and slipped his arm around Sylar's waist, feeling the man tense all over. He rested his forehead against Sylar's back and sighed, spooning against him and holding the man to him. After a very long minute, Sylar rested his hand over Peter's and pressed it lightly against himself, giving a wordless approval to the position. Peter relaxed, holding him, and fell asleep.
Sylar was almost drunk on the contact. The feeling of having Peter draped around him was delicious. He could feel the warmth of Peter's breath against his back - a spot of heat, then it dissipated, then heat again. It was the intimate rhythm of another body against his and truthfully, he'd never had the pleasure. It was better than sex. Less concentrated, perhaps, but certainly no less incredible.
Peter had slept with him before, on the couch in his apartment, but they hadn't been this close or comfortable, and more importantly, he was pretty sure Peter hadn't cleaved to him intentionally. Sylar had perved on the other man, slipping up on him after he was already asleep and so tired that he didn't wake. Peter had leaned his head on his shoulder and then later on his lap, but in neither case had one of them really held the other like this. Sylar would have rather had their positions reversed. He had this hind-brain ticking feeling that Peter was on the verge of humping him, but since that clearly wasn't a danger given Peter's soft snoring, the position instead had a constant, low-level sense of sex with it.
'Anything at all' - I'd expected him to do something a little more … difficult to handle. And probably less enjoyable.
Peter shifted slightly with a low moaning sound that suddenly sharpened to "Ow!" They both jumped. Peter yanked his hand back from around Sylar's waist.
Not able to see what was going on, Sylar twisted to face him. Peter was holding his injured cheek and blinking sleepily. Sylar told him, "I'm sorry for hitting you last week." He reached up and very lightly touched the bruised flesh. It didn't feel quite right. "It's been quite a while. This shouldn't be hurting very much."
"Mm, broke it," Peter muttered, carefully repositioning his head, pillowing it on one arm while the other slid around Sylar's waist to the small of his back. Peter tugged them together even more intimately than he had before, groins flush with one another.
Sylar's eyes flew wide and his breath quickened, but honestly Peter seemed to be going back to sleep. "Will you sleep with me tonight?" Sylar blurted out suddenly, feeling like an idiot for exposing himself like that the second the words left his lips.
"Huh?" Peter blinked up at him slowly and smiled, shutting his eyes again. "Sure. Love to."
Shit, shit, shit. I told him he could do anything to me. Then I asked him to fucking sleep with me! He's going to … oh god, can I hold it together? It's just sex. That's all. He'll fuck me and he'll go to sleep, right? That's it? I can handle that. I can do it. Afterward it will be just like this. Just … just like this. Slowly Sylar slipped his arm around Peter's shoulders and then scooted his upper body in close like their lower bodies were. He sighed and relaxed, because there was no danger here. It felt almost like he was holding Peter to him in a continual, loving embrace, protecting him or comforting him maybe. Just like this.