"I should probably be shot for this."
Dear god, what's this? A creative effort? Impossible!
No, just very, very unlikely. It's been a crappy day. I decided to stay home and try to delay the inevitable workload that's coming up. It didn't work. I'm stuck worse than before. XD Oh, well.
Title: Watching
Fandom: Heroes
Ship: Sylar/Peter, onesided.
Summary: Sylar likes watching Peter.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: No spoilers, but Sylar's one creepy SOB.
Sylar enjoyed watching Peter.
He would always seem to rush about when he was nervous, hurriedly moving around the room and making the occasional wild gesture when talking. He had a habit of closing his eyes and nodding reluctantly when he didn't quite want to agree with someone, but quite obviously wanted to move the conversation along. He still tried to brush that bit of fringe behind his ear when he was distracted, even though it was long gone, and he always frowned when he realized that it wasn't there.
He would forget the little things; the date, the keys to his apartment. He was right handed, but had a tendency to try to use his left when he tried to use telekinesis, something Sylar could only guess had to do with his own personal preference and Peter’s unusual empathic ability.
Peter would always smile when someone mentioned Nathan, just a little quirk of a smile on his lips. He'd put on his watch before his shirt and would struggle with his sleeve when it hooked onto the metal.
He was addicted to warmth; he would lean into Sylar’s embrace, pressing against as much skin as he could. He would flinch away whenever Sylar dropped his own body temperature by several degrees, and he couldn’t help but curl in towards him when he slept.
His heartbeat was constantly changing, a strange but familiar rhythm that, no matter what, always remained very much Peter.
When he dreamed, he would get a worried sort of frown on his face and his eyes would twitch. Occasionally, he would mumble something incoherent when he was stuck in a nightmare, twisting anxiously in the sheets until Sylar whispered soothing words into his ear, gently running a hand through his hair or down his back-whichever seemed to feel more right for the moment.
He slept in, waking only after the sun had risen, hurriedly getting up and running though the shower. Breakfast was quick, simple, and varied from morning to morning.
He couldn’t drink his coffee black.
There were those moments, when Peter would pause as one of Sylar’s powers touched his own, and he would have to try to control it. He always managed, in the end, though Sylar had to move away sometimes. But Peter never really thought of it, just shrugged it off as his own lack of control.
Sylar almost wished, every now and then, that Peter would notice him. That he’d turn around at the right moment and see him standing there, across the street, watching. That’d he’d wake up from his nightmares instead of leaning into Sylar’s touch and going back to his usual peaceful sleep, that he would somehow see the killer when he unlocked the door each night and casually laid down in the bed with him, watching Peter as he slept on, completely unaware of his presence.
But those thoughts were always quickly thrown away, because Sylar knew that if Peter ever found out, he wouldn’t be very rational about the whole thing, and he would probably have to kill him.
And Sylar enjoyed watching Peter, so that simply wouldn’t do.