Wall Verse Chapter 5, More Drabbles
A/N: For vivihanna. Thanks for perking me up this morning.
Sylar emerged from the tent, watching as Peter finished stretching that enticing body of his and turned to face him.
The empath asked, "So, what do you want to do for breakfast?"
Impulsively, Sylar blurted out, "You." The second the word left his mouth he regretted it, but there was no way to take it back. He waited for the inevitable shutdown.
But Peter only grinned, blushed and murmured, "Well, I was talking about what we might eat- um, food, you know?"
Sylar relaxed and stood taller, realizing Peter wasn't closing the door on that possibility - not at all.
Peter sank down gratefully on Sylar's couch. Two long days of constant activity with very little sleep in between had taxed even his reserves. Sylar was talking, but Peter was already drowsing. Maybe he could just take a little rest here before heading off to his own apartment.
Snippets of dreams flashed behind his eyes. In his dream, he was a boy again and his big brother settled on the couch next to him, slowly draping an arm over his shoulders. Peter turned his head to rest on Nathan's chest, feeling his warmth. He slept peacefully in that protective embrace.
Sylar's arm was killing him, but he'd sooner it fell off than move and risk waking his companion. Peter snuggled against him like, Sylar assumed, a lover might. Or a child wanting to be comforted. Being alone in this world had to be tough on an empath. Peter had lost all of his people and been thrown together with his brother's killer. It was cruel, in a way, that the only person he could take comfort from was Sylar. The watchmaker felt profoundly sorry for that. He wished, that for Peter's sake, he could be Nathan for a little while.
Peter woke gradually with his head on Sylar's thigh, drool dampening his cheek. He sat up woozily, but Sylar slept on even after his hand, which had been on Peter's shoulder, fell to his side. It was morning. Peter blinked, clearing his eyes. Sylar was still a killer, but suddenly he was so much more than that: he was human, frail and strong at the same time. He'd made mistakes, but so had Peter. Maybe they could forgive each other and be something other than enemies. Peter dared to pray it was possible.
He set about making breakfast for them.