Snapshots of What Could Be or What Could Have Been
Fic: Snapshots of What Could Be or What Could Have Been
Rating: PG to NC-17
Characters: Peter/Sylar (or Sylar/Peter, if you like), Emma, Edgar, Angela Petrelli
Summary: A series of one shot snippets dealing with different realities of Peter Petrelli and Gabriel Gray.
Notes: I'm so jet lagged, holy fuck. I'm falling asleep writing this but I wanted to finish. So if this is weird, I'm sorry.
Peter has Sylar right where he wants him: Naked, sprawled across his bed, with a still partially clothed Peter straddling him.
For good measure, Peter gives a slow roll of his hips and earns a drawn out moan in return. He smiles and leans down to give the other man a kiss when suddenly, there's a sharp knock at the door.
"They'll go away," he breathes into the space between them, not wanting to break the contact, when Sylar replies, "It's your mom."
Peter swears and sits back, running a hand through his hair.
"Are you fucking with me?"
Sylar slides his hands up on to Peter's hips and gazes up at him with a slightly quirked eyebrow.
"Well, not yet," he muses, "Although I'm sure we've gotten to third base by now."
Peter rolls his eyes and punches the other man's arm lightly.
"Can you be serious for once? I don't want my mom to find out like this."
Sylar's about to say something when the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock is heard.
"Shit!" Peter acts quickly, getting off Sylar and hurrying to pull some pants and a hoodie on. He heads out of the bedroom, turning to shut the doors behind him.
"Stay here," he commands, and Sylar actually salutes in acknowledgement.
Peter's just made it to his hallway when his mom walks in.
"Why didn't you answer when I knocked?" she asks, and Peter tries to act a little disoriented.
"Sorry, I was...sleeping. Working late."
She smiles and reaches up a hand to pat her son affectionately on the cheek.
"I'll leave you to get your rest." She turns and heads back to the door, but not before calling over her shoulder, "Do give Gabriel my regards."
She's out the door before Peter can reply, but he doesn't need to turn around to hear Sylar laughing his ass off in the other room.
Fuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kung fu Fighting? Really?"
Peter glares out of the side of his eye as he continues eating his cereal. Sylar had stolen his iPod from him and was currently thumbing through his music, and making fun of almost absolutely everything in it.
"I don't have to defend my taste in music to you."
"Of course you do, just like you have to defend your hairstyle and your choice in clothes."
Peter frowns.
"What's wrong with my clothes?"
Sylar doesn't answer, but instead, turns back to the mp3 player in his hand.
"You have every single Bon Jovi album ever made? That's a little excessive."
Peter pouts and goes back to munching his cereal, looking straight down and ignoring his roommate's teasing.
It goes on much the same way through the rest of the songs, until suddenly Sylar stops and quirks an eyebrow.
"Adam Lambert? Half your top songs are his. What's the deal?" He leans forward and gazes at Peter intently. "Do you have a crush on him?"
Peter sets his spoon down and meets the taller man's gaze.
"I just like his voice, that's all."
Sylar nods, as if he understands, before setting Peter's iPod down in front of him and calmly folding his hands.
"So...if I said I wanted you to dress up like him for me...would you do it?"
Peter almost chokes, but luckily, nothing's in his mouth at the moment.
"What?"
Sylar's gaze remains strong, so Peter swallows and thinks about it.
"Which video?"
"His first one."
Peter bites his lip and thinks for a moment.
"What are you doing later tonight?"
Sylar slides a hand over Peter's and leers.
"Hopefully, you."
"Hmm," Peter muses, leaning forward until his nose is almost touching the other man's. "I think that can be arranged, then."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What's this?" Emma asks, holding up a crinkled piece of paper, covered in scribbles.
Peter looks up and smiles at the sight, as if remembering something.
"Just some list Gabe and I have going."
She looks down at it and reads some of it out loud.
"Ninjas, ghost hunters, lion tamers, burlesque dancers, private detectives, scuba divers, motorcycle mechanics...What are all these things?"
She looks up and Peter shakes his head lightly and chuckles.
"It's just an inside joke between him and I. We were joking we needed to get new jobs and this is a list of the only jobs we could think of."
She looks at her friend incredulously.
"I really hope you're not serious about any of these."
He shrugs.
"Well, you know, there's just too much stress with being a paramedic and a watch maker, respectively. Too much drama. We might run away to the North Pole and become polar bear researchers." His eyes light up and he holds up a finger.
"That's a good one," he murmurs, taking the list from Emma and scribbling it down.
She smiles and shakes her head in amusement. Oh, those crazy boys.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They've been stuck in the nightmare for years. Four years, to be exact, together, alone. But Sylar won't tell Peter that, because Peter doesn't want to hear it.
But he knows, he keeps track, and every day, he feels more and more like an intruder in Peter's mind. He can feel things that he knows Peter hadn't meant for him to know, and although it does make him feel guilty, he can't help but feel interested at these latest developments.
So one day, sometime shortly after their sort-of truce, Sylar's sitting on the ground next to Peter as they take a break from hitting the wall. Peter takes a sip of a water bottle, and Sylar makes sure the other man has swallowed before asking his question.
"How long have you been in the closet?"
Peter doesn't react as he thought he would. Instead, he just turns warily to look at the other man and sighs.
"On and off since high school." There's a pause before a dangerous spark flares in Peter's eyes. "And you?"
The words cut deep, but Sylar isn't all too surprised. Peter has been in his head, after all.
"All of my life," he sighs, and Peter hands him the water bottle. He takes a healthy swig and hands it back.
"Does your mom know?"
Peter closes his eyes and leans his head back, but doesn't avoid the question.
"I think she suspects it. But she's in denial, just like always. Can't ruin her perfect world, now can I?"
Sylar shifts so he's facing Peter.
"If we get out of here, you should tell her, Peter. You can't keep living like this."
Peter's eyes open, slowly and carefully, and he looks so tired.
"Like how?"
Sylar gesticulates vaguely.
"I know you're not happy. You drown yourself in your job, you avoid your family, you have essentially no friends, and you hide who you are in almost every way possible." He shifts so he's just a little bit closer to the other man, but not too much to appear threatening. "Are you happy?"
Peter's eyes lock with his for a moment, but before he can say anything, strong arms pull him into an embrace. Sylar expects Peter to hit him or shove him off, but this time, Peter just slumps into the touch and sighs.
"What I want doesn't matter."
Sylar squeezes a little tighter, before releasing Peter.
"It does matter, but you won't let yourself realize that. And I'm sorry for that." He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"I hope someday you do realize it."
He turns and walks away before Peter can catch up to him and hit him for touching him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lights are too bright and the music is too loud for Sylar's taste, but he's got better things to worry about right now.
Such as, why Peter is currently in some nineties themed gay bar in Soho, sitting at the bar and drinking what looks like a red martini.
He stomps over and crosses his arms.
"I met a nice guy, Ned or Neal, or something. Beautiful blue eyes, in a suit," Peter says, out of the blue, setting his glass down. "He offered to buy me a drink."
"So why didn't you take him up on the offer?" Sylar challenges, feeling just a little stupid for following Peter there.
Peter looks up at him and shrugs.
"I told him I was waiting for someone." His eyes don't leave the other man's face, so Sylar doesn't look away, either.
"Meaning me?" Sylar lets his hands slip down to his sides. "How did you know I'd follow you?"
Peter stands up so their chests are touching.
"Because I know you, and I know you wouldn't have made any move if you weren't jealous."
Sylar's silence tells him he's right and he smirks.
"Let's go," he smiles, tugging the other man's arm and getting him to follow him out of the club.
Later that night, after Sylar has marked Peter everywhere with bites and bruises, he takes the chance to sit up and glare.
"You're a manipulative son of a bitch, Peter Petrelli," he growls, and Peter simply smiles knowingly and tugs him down for a kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter opens a package that's been sitting on the counter. It's his new passport. He opens it up to take a look and his brows shoot up in disbelief.
"My passport says I'm a girl!*" he groans, and Sylar laughs and sits up.
"Are you serious?"
He starts to laugh, hard, and Peter frowns and snatches his passport back.
"It's not funny."
Sylar starts to laugh even harder.
"Oh, yes it is," he manages to spout out between bouts of laughter, and Peter growls in frustration.
"We'll see how funny it is when I'm fucking you into the mattress later tonight."
That gets Sylar to shut up. He looks up expectantly at the other man.
"Is that a promise or a threat?"
Peter strides over and straddles the taller man, rocking forward just enough to elicit a hitch of breath from Sylar.
"Both," he purrs, and leans in to nip at his captive's neck.
Looks like tonight will be coming sooner than he intended.
(*This literally did happen on the show. There's a screen shot somewhere.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Emma's been having a bad day. She's reapplied to the residency program and the nerves are getting to her, she spilled her coffee, and what's worse is she thinks she forgot her mom's birthday.
She tries to hide it but she should know Peter would figure it out, especially with his empathetic nature.
So she's not surprised that during her lunch break Gabriel comes over to visit her. She smiles hello, turning to grab her lunch from behind her desk, and when she turns back around, she's greeted with the lovely sight of Gabriel, wearing a Deerstalker cap and holding a pipe to his mouth. Peter, standing next to him, has adopted a bowler hat and a fake mustache. In his hand is a cane.
She bursts into laughter at the absurdity of the situation, and only starts to laugh harder when Gabriel pipes up (in a horrendous British accent), "I say."
Peter replies, "Indeed," and she starts to cry she's laughing so hard.
She has to steady herself on her desk when Gabriel blows on his pipe and bubbles start to come out.
When she finally starts to calm down, she smiles and wipes the tears away.
"You guys are the best," she sighs, leaning in to hug each one in turn. "Thank you."
"It's the least we can do, Emma," Peter smiles back, and nods his head in the direction of the break room.
"Lunch?"
Gabriel holds up a five dollar bill.
"I'll give you this if you eat lunch dressed like that."
Peter smiles and grabs it from him.
"Deal."
Emma giggles and follows her friends into the other room, happy to have had a break from her day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a loud bang and Sylar glances up from the kitchen just in time to see Peter's blue shirted figure walk by very quickly, into the living room and heading towards the bedroom.
Peter hasn't even stopped into to say hello or put his bag down, something he does every night, and something seems off. Gabriel quickly stands up and makes to follow his friend.
He stops him before he can disappear into the bedroom and gasps at the sight he's greeted with. Peter has a swollen eye, a bloody lip and his shirt is ripped.
"Peter," he whispers, moving a hand to lightly touch at Peter's lip. Peter flinches away and tries to move around him.
"What happened?" he demands, pulling Peter's wrist to get him back to standing in front of him. The younger man avoids his gaze, looking off at something else.
"I fell."
Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up and he can't help the disbelieving huff from escaping from his throat.
"You expect me to believe that?"
Peter's eyes meet his sternly.
"Well your lie detector didn't go off so I must be telling the truth."
While that's true, Gabriel still doesn't believe it.
"You beat it, somehow. I don't know how, but that doesn't matter."
He holds up the hand whose wrist he was currently clutching, examining the bloody knuckles and the bruises forming on the other man's arm.
"Jesus Peter, did you get in a fight? Who hurt you?" Anger starts to flood into his bloodstream and he suddenly very much wants to find out who did this to Peter. His Peter.
Peter tries to tug his arm away but Gabriel's grip holds tight.
"It's nothing, it's really nothing," he stammers, but one look at Gabriel's concerned gaze and he can't help but stop fighting.
"On my way home from work I saw a woman getting mugged and tried to stop it."
Gabriel's tight grip on his wrist starts to loosen but he steps a little closer to Peter, eyes just as worried as ever.
"Fuck, you could have been killed, Pete. You're lucky."
Peter tries to shrug it off like it's nothing but he knows it's not. He leans in and lets Gabriel hug him gingerly.
"Will you let me clean you up?" Gabriel whispers into Peter's hair, and at Peter's slow nod, he leads Peter into the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit.
As he starts to clean some of the cuts on Peter's face, Peter's eyes flicker up to meet his.
"I wasn't lying. I did fall, when they hit me."
Gabriel's movements falter for a moment before he carefully continues his ministrations, smiling softly.
"Leave it to you to beat my ability, Pete."
Peter sighs and tries not to wince as the antiseptic burns. He so did not deserve someone who so obediently put up with his idiocy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter was tired and sore, but that's how he felt most days, so today wasn't much of a difference. However, he was feeling a little...different. Interesting. He thought perhaps he knew the reason, but he wasn't sure.
So when he comes home from work and Gabriel hands him a steaming cup of coffee, he can't help but sigh and lean against the counter.
"I could kiss you for this," he breathes, bringing the cup to his mouth for a quick sip, pleased to notice that it's not too hot.
Gabriel watches him, closely, looking a little bit like he wants to say something. After a long pause, he quietly asks, "But you wouldn't."
Peter swallows quickly and looks up to meet the other man's gaze. He wasn't expecting that, but he wasn't discouraging it, either. In fact, he was hoping it would happen.
"I never said that."
Gabriel takes a careful, measured step forward.
"So what's stopping you?"
Peter shrugs playfully.
"Right this second, this cup of coffee."
Gabriel reaches over, takes it from Peter, and sets it on the counter behind them.
"And now?" he prompts, moving forward so their chests are now touching. His hands slide up to grip Peter's hips and Peter is more than happy to slide his own hands up to clutch into the taller man's hair.
"Nothing."
Sylar leans in until their lips are almost touching.
"Good."
He closes the distance between them and Peter eagerly kisses back, feeling the strange uncertain feeling melting inside his chest. When he pulls back, he can't help the smile that's spreading across his face.
"Race you to the bed?" he asks, and before Gabriel can reply, he's slipped from the other man's grasp and has made it halfway through the living room when an invisible force stops him.
Strong arms come up behind him and pick him up, twirling him around once for good measure before continuing the journey towards the French doors that lead to his bedroom.
"Nuh uh Peter, you're not getting away that easily," Gabriel tsks, but his voice hitches as Peter wraps both arms around his neck and starts sucking a mark on to his neck.
It's a miracle they even make it to his bed at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Good morning," Edgar greets, smiling cheerily at his guests, who were currently seated at a kitchen table in his trailer.
Sylar looks in good spirits, but Peter looks like he's seen better days. He's wearing sunglasses indoors, which is a bad sign.
"I will never drink again," Peter bemoans, and Sylar laughs.
"I'm so glad I have healing right now," he muses, and earns what Edgar assumes is a glare from his friend, although it's hard to tell from behind sunglasses.
"I hate you so, so much right now," Peter groans, burying his face into his arms.
"You're just saying that," Sylar soothes, rubbing light circles into Peter's back, but Peter pushes him off.
"I do mean it, you dick. I can't believe you let me drink so much last night."
Edgar chuckles as he watches his two friends interact with each other. They didn't see each other often since he took over the carnival, but when he did, they usually had a bit of fun.
"You insisted you were going to out drink Edgar, who was I to stop you?"
Peter lifts his head and frowns.
Edgar leans forward.
"Would now be a good time to tell you I metabolize alcohol incredibly quickly?"
Peter's jaw drops.
"You can't get drunk either?"
Edgar shakes his head.
"Fraid not."
Peter stands up suddenly, swaying slightly at the movement, before tugging the hood of his sweater up.
"I'm going to go die. I hope you two are proud of yourselves."
He leaves the trailer with a dramatic slam of the door and Edgar chuckles, turning to Sylar.
"It was fun though."
Sylar nods.
"Maybe next time we should cut him off before he gets bad."
Edgar doesn't want to, since Peter is just so much more fun drunk, but he nods his head begrudgingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter's sitting on the kitchen table, legs dangling over the sides of the table, while Sylar flips through the mail, throwing out the junk mail. A radio he salvaged from a junk shop is sitting on the counter, playing some local pop radio station that Peter had tuned it to.
Peter sings along quietly to the song, some song by Lady Gaga, and after a pause, Peter stops singing and turns to his roommate.
"How can you not like this song?" he asks, and Sylar just lifts up his shoulders and makes to stand next to Peter.
"You didn't go on a road trip with Maya like I did. God, the way she said her brother's name...or even my name. Annoying" He frowns. "Too many bad memories."
Peter nods, suddenly turning serious.
"I hear you. You never spent as much time with Adam Monroe as I did."
Peter's gaze seems far away, and Sylar pauses a moment before deciding that it's now or never.
"Peter, forgive me if I'm completely out in left field here, but...did you fuck Adam Monroe?"
Peter looks up a little surprised but relaxes.
"Yeah, I did."
Sylar can almost hear the unspoken addendum to the sentence, and prompts, "But?"
Peter turns down to look at his fingers fiddling with each other in his lap.
"He just did it to get my trust. He was using me."
Sylar watches Peter for a moment, feeling sadness and anger build up in his chest. He knew all about that whole situation from Nathan's memories that still linger in his mind, and he can't believe that it happened.
"I know how you mean." He takes a step closer to the seated man, hoping the proximity will comfort him.
"It seems like everyone was just trying to use me, too. Elle, my mother, Angela, Noah, Samuel..." he looks down and sighs.
"Maybe I deserve to be abused and mistreated, but you don't, Peter."
Peter's gaze turns to look up at Sylar, but Sylar interrupts anything he was going to say.
"What Adam did to you is horrible and if he wasn't a pile of dust right now, I'd make him pay myself. But I can't, and I guess even if he was here I couldn't do it. I don't want to disappoint you." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I disappoint everyone else."
He looks up carefully from underneath his brow, adding, "But not you, Peter. Never you, I promise."
Peter's gaze softens, from a worried tone to a more serene one, and he reaches his hands out to tug Sylar's out from his pockets.
"Well, I'd better return the favor then."
He leans forward and plants a single kiss on the taller man's lips, pulling away almost reluctantly.
Sylar smiles, pulling Peter into a careful hug, and they stay like that for a while, ignoring the radio playing on behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's hot. It's really fucking hot outside.
In their hotel room, Sylar is sprawled on top of the covers, bare except for a meager pair of boxer shorts. In a similar state, Peter is wearing just his usual pair of incredibly snug boxer briefs.
He's standing in the bathroom, pouring cold water from a bottle on to himself, and through the open door, Sylar can see the other man's reflection bouncing off the mirror in the hallway and can't take his eyes away.
Christ, Peter was gorgeous no matter what he did.
"Is there anything you do that's not sexy?" he asks, when Peter catches him watching him.
Peter leans against the door frame and smirks at him through the doorframe, reflection to reflection.
"I'm sure there are a few things. But I'm glad to see that my misery is so wonderful for you."
Sylar unabashedly rubs a hand down across his cock, becoming harder and harder the longer he watches Peter.
"You're perfect. Come here," he prompts, but Peter shakes his head.
"Not in this heat."
Sylar sits up and makes to get off the bed.
"Don't make me come after you," he fake threatens, and Peter's eyes widen.
He tries to shut the bathroom door but Sylar is much too quick, pushing the door in and shoving Peter against the sink, crushing their bodies together. While his mouth works to claim Peter's mouth, he uses his hands to tug Peter's briefs down just enough so he can cup the other man's bare ass, pulling him flush towards him.
Peter must get the hint because he mimics the other man's actions, pushing the remaining fabric out of the way. When their cocks finally slide together, Peter's hips stutter and he can't help but long, drawn out moan.
They rut together clumsily, slicked with precome and sweat, until Peter picks up one of Sylar's hands and brings it to his mouth, sucking eagerly. Sylar gets the hint, taking his fingers from the other man's mouth and pushing them up inside of him, scissoring and stretching, adding more fingers until Peter was pushing back.
"If you don't hurry up," Peter groans, shifting a little, "I'm going to come all over the floor."
Gabriel reaches his non-sticky hand up to push his clinging bangs off his forehead, nodding.
"How do you want to do this?"
He barely has time to ask before Peter pulls him over to some towels he had folded on the floor. Kneeling, he leans his chest against the cool side of the tub, and inhales sharply when Sylar pushes into him unexpectedly.
"Oh fuck, like that," Peter breathes, head hanging low.
Sylar can feel Peter's back sticking to his chest, their skin slipping past each other, and he knows that this is not going to last much longer. He draw his hips back, slamming them quickly against Peter's, hand snaking around to join Peter's on the other man's cock, already leaking heavily.
He jerks his hand hard, moving it in time with his hips and it just feels so good but it's so hot outside and so stifling and he can feel sweat beading down his back and he knows this isn't helping but fuck Peter feels so good around his cock.
"I'm going-" Sylar's breath hitches as Peter pushes his hips back against him. "-Going to come. Do you-"
Peter's hand, the one holding on to the edge of the tub, tightens.
"God, yes, come inside me," he groans, and the wanton tone in the other man's voice makes Sylar give a final thrust before pushing all the way in and holding Peter close to him as he comes. The sudden sensation of being filled must have been enough for Peter, because barely a few seconds later his hips stutter and he comes all over his hand.
Sylar pulls out reluctantly and sits back, hand gently rubbing circles into Peter's hips since it was too hot to actually cuddle. Peter sighs, enjoying the movement, but suddenly flinches.
"I think a nice, cold shower is in order," he begins, making to stand up, only to shift uncomfortably. Sylar's about to ask what's wrong when his eye catches the minute movement of his own come sliding down Peter's leg. For some reason, the sight is enough to start to get him hot and bothered again, and he notices Peter is acting the same way.
"...Shower. We'll do this in the shower," Peter volunteers, and they almost trip crawling into the tub and turning it on.
Hot days weren't all bad, really.
Rating: PG to NC-17
Characters: Peter/Sylar (or Sylar/Peter, if you like), Emma, Edgar, Angela Petrelli
Summary: A series of one shot snippets dealing with different realities of Peter Petrelli and Gabriel Gray.
Notes: I'm so jet lagged, holy fuck. I'm falling asleep writing this but I wanted to finish. So if this is weird, I'm sorry.
Peter has Sylar right where he wants him: Naked, sprawled across his bed, with a still partially clothed Peter straddling him.
For good measure, Peter gives a slow roll of his hips and earns a drawn out moan in return. He smiles and leans down to give the other man a kiss when suddenly, there's a sharp knock at the door.
"They'll go away," he breathes into the space between them, not wanting to break the contact, when Sylar replies, "It's your mom."
Peter swears and sits back, running a hand through his hair.
"Are you fucking with me?"
Sylar slides his hands up on to Peter's hips and gazes up at him with a slightly quirked eyebrow.
"Well, not yet," he muses, "Although I'm sure we've gotten to third base by now."
Peter rolls his eyes and punches the other man's arm lightly.
"Can you be serious for once? I don't want my mom to find out like this."
Sylar's about to say something when the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock is heard.
"Shit!" Peter acts quickly, getting off Sylar and hurrying to pull some pants and a hoodie on. He heads out of the bedroom, turning to shut the doors behind him.
"Stay here," he commands, and Sylar actually salutes in acknowledgement.
Peter's just made it to his hallway when his mom walks in.
"Why didn't you answer when I knocked?" she asks, and Peter tries to act a little disoriented.
"Sorry, I was...sleeping. Working late."
She smiles and reaches up a hand to pat her son affectionately on the cheek.
"I'll leave you to get your rest." She turns and heads back to the door, but not before calling over her shoulder, "Do give Gabriel my regards."
She's out the door before Peter can reply, but he doesn't need to turn around to hear Sylar laughing his ass off in the other room.
Fuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kung fu Fighting? Really?"
Peter glares out of the side of his eye as he continues eating his cereal. Sylar had stolen his iPod from him and was currently thumbing through his music, and making fun of almost absolutely everything in it.
"I don't have to defend my taste in music to you."
"Of course you do, just like you have to defend your hairstyle and your choice in clothes."
Peter frowns.
"What's wrong with my clothes?"
Sylar doesn't answer, but instead, turns back to the mp3 player in his hand.
"You have every single Bon Jovi album ever made? That's a little excessive."
Peter pouts and goes back to munching his cereal, looking straight down and ignoring his roommate's teasing.
It goes on much the same way through the rest of the songs, until suddenly Sylar stops and quirks an eyebrow.
"Adam Lambert? Half your top songs are his. What's the deal?" He leans forward and gazes at Peter intently. "Do you have a crush on him?"
Peter sets his spoon down and meets the taller man's gaze.
"I just like his voice, that's all."
Sylar nods, as if he understands, before setting Peter's iPod down in front of him and calmly folding his hands.
"So...if I said I wanted you to dress up like him for me...would you do it?"
Peter almost chokes, but luckily, nothing's in his mouth at the moment.
"What?"
Sylar's gaze remains strong, so Peter swallows and thinks about it.
"Which video?"
"His first one."
Peter bites his lip and thinks for a moment.
"What are you doing later tonight?"
Sylar slides a hand over Peter's and leers.
"Hopefully, you."
"Hmm," Peter muses, leaning forward until his nose is almost touching the other man's. "I think that can be arranged, then."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What's this?" Emma asks, holding up a crinkled piece of paper, covered in scribbles.
Peter looks up and smiles at the sight, as if remembering something.
"Just some list Gabe and I have going."
She looks down at it and reads some of it out loud.
"Ninjas, ghost hunters, lion tamers, burlesque dancers, private detectives, scuba divers, motorcycle mechanics...What are all these things?"
She looks up and Peter shakes his head lightly and chuckles.
"It's just an inside joke between him and I. We were joking we needed to get new jobs and this is a list of the only jobs we could think of."
She looks at her friend incredulously.
"I really hope you're not serious about any of these."
He shrugs.
"Well, you know, there's just too much stress with being a paramedic and a watch maker, respectively. Too much drama. We might run away to the North Pole and become polar bear researchers." His eyes light up and he holds up a finger.
"That's a good one," he murmurs, taking the list from Emma and scribbling it down.
She smiles and shakes her head in amusement. Oh, those crazy boys.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They've been stuck in the nightmare for years. Four years, to be exact, together, alone. But Sylar won't tell Peter that, because Peter doesn't want to hear it.
But he knows, he keeps track, and every day, he feels more and more like an intruder in Peter's mind. He can feel things that he knows Peter hadn't meant for him to know, and although it does make him feel guilty, he can't help but feel interested at these latest developments.
So one day, sometime shortly after their sort-of truce, Sylar's sitting on the ground next to Peter as they take a break from hitting the wall. Peter takes a sip of a water bottle, and Sylar makes sure the other man has swallowed before asking his question.
"How long have you been in the closet?"
Peter doesn't react as he thought he would. Instead, he just turns warily to look at the other man and sighs.
"On and off since high school." There's a pause before a dangerous spark flares in Peter's eyes. "And you?"
The words cut deep, but Sylar isn't all too surprised. Peter has been in his head, after all.
"All of my life," he sighs, and Peter hands him the water bottle. He takes a healthy swig and hands it back.
"Does your mom know?"
Peter closes his eyes and leans his head back, but doesn't avoid the question.
"I think she suspects it. But she's in denial, just like always. Can't ruin her perfect world, now can I?"
Sylar shifts so he's facing Peter.
"If we get out of here, you should tell her, Peter. You can't keep living like this."
Peter's eyes open, slowly and carefully, and he looks so tired.
"Like how?"
Sylar gesticulates vaguely.
"I know you're not happy. You drown yourself in your job, you avoid your family, you have essentially no friends, and you hide who you are in almost every way possible." He shifts so he's just a little bit closer to the other man, but not too much to appear threatening. "Are you happy?"
Peter's eyes lock with his for a moment, but before he can say anything, strong arms pull him into an embrace. Sylar expects Peter to hit him or shove him off, but this time, Peter just slumps into the touch and sighs.
"What I want doesn't matter."
Sylar squeezes a little tighter, before releasing Peter.
"It does matter, but you won't let yourself realize that. And I'm sorry for that." He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"I hope someday you do realize it."
He turns and walks away before Peter can catch up to him and hit him for touching him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lights are too bright and the music is too loud for Sylar's taste, but he's got better things to worry about right now.
Such as, why Peter is currently in some nineties themed gay bar in Soho, sitting at the bar and drinking what looks like a red martini.
He stomps over and crosses his arms.
"I met a nice guy, Ned or Neal, or something. Beautiful blue eyes, in a suit," Peter says, out of the blue, setting his glass down. "He offered to buy me a drink."
"So why didn't you take him up on the offer?" Sylar challenges, feeling just a little stupid for following Peter there.
Peter looks up at him and shrugs.
"I told him I was waiting for someone." His eyes don't leave the other man's face, so Sylar doesn't look away, either.
"Meaning me?" Sylar lets his hands slip down to his sides. "How did you know I'd follow you?"
Peter stands up so their chests are touching.
"Because I know you, and I know you wouldn't have made any move if you weren't jealous."
Sylar's silence tells him he's right and he smirks.
"Let's go," he smiles, tugging the other man's arm and getting him to follow him out of the club.
Later that night, after Sylar has marked Peter everywhere with bites and bruises, he takes the chance to sit up and glare.
"You're a manipulative son of a bitch, Peter Petrelli," he growls, and Peter simply smiles knowingly and tugs him down for a kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter opens a package that's been sitting on the counter. It's his new passport. He opens it up to take a look and his brows shoot up in disbelief.
"My passport says I'm a girl!*" he groans, and Sylar laughs and sits up.
"Are you serious?"
He starts to laugh, hard, and Peter frowns and snatches his passport back.
"It's not funny."
Sylar starts to laugh even harder.
"Oh, yes it is," he manages to spout out between bouts of laughter, and Peter growls in frustration.
"We'll see how funny it is when I'm fucking you into the mattress later tonight."
That gets Sylar to shut up. He looks up expectantly at the other man.
"Is that a promise or a threat?"
Peter strides over and straddles the taller man, rocking forward just enough to elicit a hitch of breath from Sylar.
"Both," he purrs, and leans in to nip at his captive's neck.
Looks like tonight will be coming sooner than he intended.
(*This literally did happen on the show. There's a screen shot somewhere.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Emma's been having a bad day. She's reapplied to the residency program and the nerves are getting to her, she spilled her coffee, and what's worse is she thinks she forgot her mom's birthday.
She tries to hide it but she should know Peter would figure it out, especially with his empathetic nature.
So she's not surprised that during her lunch break Gabriel comes over to visit her. She smiles hello, turning to grab her lunch from behind her desk, and when she turns back around, she's greeted with the lovely sight of Gabriel, wearing a Deerstalker cap and holding a pipe to his mouth. Peter, standing next to him, has adopted a bowler hat and a fake mustache. In his hand is a cane.
She bursts into laughter at the absurdity of the situation, and only starts to laugh harder when Gabriel pipes up (in a horrendous British accent), "I say."
Peter replies, "Indeed," and she starts to cry she's laughing so hard.
She has to steady herself on her desk when Gabriel blows on his pipe and bubbles start to come out.
When she finally starts to calm down, she smiles and wipes the tears away.
"You guys are the best," she sighs, leaning in to hug each one in turn. "Thank you."
"It's the least we can do, Emma," Peter smiles back, and nods his head in the direction of the break room.
"Lunch?"
Gabriel holds up a five dollar bill.
"I'll give you this if you eat lunch dressed like that."
Peter smiles and grabs it from him.
"Deal."
Emma giggles and follows her friends into the other room, happy to have had a break from her day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a loud bang and Sylar glances up from the kitchen just in time to see Peter's blue shirted figure walk by very quickly, into the living room and heading towards the bedroom.
Peter hasn't even stopped into to say hello or put his bag down, something he does every night, and something seems off. Gabriel quickly stands up and makes to follow his friend.
He stops him before he can disappear into the bedroom and gasps at the sight he's greeted with. Peter has a swollen eye, a bloody lip and his shirt is ripped.
"Peter," he whispers, moving a hand to lightly touch at Peter's lip. Peter flinches away and tries to move around him.
"What happened?" he demands, pulling Peter's wrist to get him back to standing in front of him. The younger man avoids his gaze, looking off at something else.
"I fell."
Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up and he can't help the disbelieving huff from escaping from his throat.
"You expect me to believe that?"
Peter's eyes meet his sternly.
"Well your lie detector didn't go off so I must be telling the truth."
While that's true, Gabriel still doesn't believe it.
"You beat it, somehow. I don't know how, but that doesn't matter."
He holds up the hand whose wrist he was currently clutching, examining the bloody knuckles and the bruises forming on the other man's arm.
"Jesus Peter, did you get in a fight? Who hurt you?" Anger starts to flood into his bloodstream and he suddenly very much wants to find out who did this to Peter. His Peter.
Peter tries to tug his arm away but Gabriel's grip holds tight.
"It's nothing, it's really nothing," he stammers, but one look at Gabriel's concerned gaze and he can't help but stop fighting.
"On my way home from work I saw a woman getting mugged and tried to stop it."
Gabriel's tight grip on his wrist starts to loosen but he steps a little closer to Peter, eyes just as worried as ever.
"Fuck, you could have been killed, Pete. You're lucky."
Peter tries to shrug it off like it's nothing but he knows it's not. He leans in and lets Gabriel hug him gingerly.
"Will you let me clean you up?" Gabriel whispers into Peter's hair, and at Peter's slow nod, he leads Peter into the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit.
As he starts to clean some of the cuts on Peter's face, Peter's eyes flicker up to meet his.
"I wasn't lying. I did fall, when they hit me."
Gabriel's movements falter for a moment before he carefully continues his ministrations, smiling softly.
"Leave it to you to beat my ability, Pete."
Peter sighs and tries not to wince as the antiseptic burns. He so did not deserve someone who so obediently put up with his idiocy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter was tired and sore, but that's how he felt most days, so today wasn't much of a difference. However, he was feeling a little...different. Interesting. He thought perhaps he knew the reason, but he wasn't sure.
So when he comes home from work and Gabriel hands him a steaming cup of coffee, he can't help but sigh and lean against the counter.
"I could kiss you for this," he breathes, bringing the cup to his mouth for a quick sip, pleased to notice that it's not too hot.
Gabriel watches him, closely, looking a little bit like he wants to say something. After a long pause, he quietly asks, "But you wouldn't."
Peter swallows quickly and looks up to meet the other man's gaze. He wasn't expecting that, but he wasn't discouraging it, either. In fact, he was hoping it would happen.
"I never said that."
Gabriel takes a careful, measured step forward.
"So what's stopping you?"
Peter shrugs playfully.
"Right this second, this cup of coffee."
Gabriel reaches over, takes it from Peter, and sets it on the counter behind them.
"And now?" he prompts, moving forward so their chests are now touching. His hands slide up to grip Peter's hips and Peter is more than happy to slide his own hands up to clutch into the taller man's hair.
"Nothing."
Sylar leans in until their lips are almost touching.
"Good."
He closes the distance between them and Peter eagerly kisses back, feeling the strange uncertain feeling melting inside his chest. When he pulls back, he can't help the smile that's spreading across his face.
"Race you to the bed?" he asks, and before Gabriel can reply, he's slipped from the other man's grasp and has made it halfway through the living room when an invisible force stops him.
Strong arms come up behind him and pick him up, twirling him around once for good measure before continuing the journey towards the French doors that lead to his bedroom.
"Nuh uh Peter, you're not getting away that easily," Gabriel tsks, but his voice hitches as Peter wraps both arms around his neck and starts sucking a mark on to his neck.
It's a miracle they even make it to his bed at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Good morning," Edgar greets, smiling cheerily at his guests, who were currently seated at a kitchen table in his trailer.
Sylar looks in good spirits, but Peter looks like he's seen better days. He's wearing sunglasses indoors, which is a bad sign.
"I will never drink again," Peter bemoans, and Sylar laughs.
"I'm so glad I have healing right now," he muses, and earns what Edgar assumes is a glare from his friend, although it's hard to tell from behind sunglasses.
"I hate you so, so much right now," Peter groans, burying his face into his arms.
"You're just saying that," Sylar soothes, rubbing light circles into Peter's back, but Peter pushes him off.
"I do mean it, you dick. I can't believe you let me drink so much last night."
Edgar chuckles as he watches his two friends interact with each other. They didn't see each other often since he took over the carnival, but when he did, they usually had a bit of fun.
"You insisted you were going to out drink Edgar, who was I to stop you?"
Peter lifts his head and frowns.
Edgar leans forward.
"Would now be a good time to tell you I metabolize alcohol incredibly quickly?"
Peter's jaw drops.
"You can't get drunk either?"
Edgar shakes his head.
"Fraid not."
Peter stands up suddenly, swaying slightly at the movement, before tugging the hood of his sweater up.
"I'm going to go die. I hope you two are proud of yourselves."
He leaves the trailer with a dramatic slam of the door and Edgar chuckles, turning to Sylar.
"It was fun though."
Sylar nods.
"Maybe next time we should cut him off before he gets bad."
Edgar doesn't want to, since Peter is just so much more fun drunk, but he nods his head begrudgingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter's sitting on the kitchen table, legs dangling over the sides of the table, while Sylar flips through the mail, throwing out the junk mail. A radio he salvaged from a junk shop is sitting on the counter, playing some local pop radio station that Peter had tuned it to.
Peter sings along quietly to the song, some song by Lady Gaga, and after a pause, Peter stops singing and turns to his roommate.
"How can you not like this song?" he asks, and Sylar just lifts up his shoulders and makes to stand next to Peter.
"You didn't go on a road trip with Maya like I did. God, the way she said her brother's name...or even my name. Annoying" He frowns. "Too many bad memories."
Peter nods, suddenly turning serious.
"I hear you. You never spent as much time with Adam Monroe as I did."
Peter's gaze seems far away, and Sylar pauses a moment before deciding that it's now or never.
"Peter, forgive me if I'm completely out in left field here, but...did you fuck Adam Monroe?"
Peter looks up a little surprised but relaxes.
"Yeah, I did."
Sylar can almost hear the unspoken addendum to the sentence, and prompts, "But?"
Peter turns down to look at his fingers fiddling with each other in his lap.
"He just did it to get my trust. He was using me."
Sylar watches Peter for a moment, feeling sadness and anger build up in his chest. He knew all about that whole situation from Nathan's memories that still linger in his mind, and he can't believe that it happened.
"I know how you mean." He takes a step closer to the seated man, hoping the proximity will comfort him.
"It seems like everyone was just trying to use me, too. Elle, my mother, Angela, Noah, Samuel..." he looks down and sighs.
"Maybe I deserve to be abused and mistreated, but you don't, Peter."
Peter's gaze turns to look up at Sylar, but Sylar interrupts anything he was going to say.
"What Adam did to you is horrible and if he wasn't a pile of dust right now, I'd make him pay myself. But I can't, and I guess even if he was here I couldn't do it. I don't want to disappoint you." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I disappoint everyone else."
He looks up carefully from underneath his brow, adding, "But not you, Peter. Never you, I promise."
Peter's gaze softens, from a worried tone to a more serene one, and he reaches his hands out to tug Sylar's out from his pockets.
"Well, I'd better return the favor then."
He leans forward and plants a single kiss on the taller man's lips, pulling away almost reluctantly.
Sylar smiles, pulling Peter into a careful hug, and they stay like that for a while, ignoring the radio playing on behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's hot. It's really fucking hot outside.
In their hotel room, Sylar is sprawled on top of the covers, bare except for a meager pair of boxer shorts. In a similar state, Peter is wearing just his usual pair of incredibly snug boxer briefs.
He's standing in the bathroom, pouring cold water from a bottle on to himself, and through the open door, Sylar can see the other man's reflection bouncing off the mirror in the hallway and can't take his eyes away.
Christ, Peter was gorgeous no matter what he did.
"Is there anything you do that's not sexy?" he asks, when Peter catches him watching him.
Peter leans against the door frame and smirks at him through the doorframe, reflection to reflection.
"I'm sure there are a few things. But I'm glad to see that my misery is so wonderful for you."
Sylar unabashedly rubs a hand down across his cock, becoming harder and harder the longer he watches Peter.
"You're perfect. Come here," he prompts, but Peter shakes his head.
"Not in this heat."
Sylar sits up and makes to get off the bed.
"Don't make me come after you," he fake threatens, and Peter's eyes widen.
He tries to shut the bathroom door but Sylar is much too quick, pushing the door in and shoving Peter against the sink, crushing their bodies together. While his mouth works to claim Peter's mouth, he uses his hands to tug Peter's briefs down just enough so he can cup the other man's bare ass, pulling him flush towards him.
Peter must get the hint because he mimics the other man's actions, pushing the remaining fabric out of the way. When their cocks finally slide together, Peter's hips stutter and he can't help but long, drawn out moan.
They rut together clumsily, slicked with precome and sweat, until Peter picks up one of Sylar's hands and brings it to his mouth, sucking eagerly. Sylar gets the hint, taking his fingers from the other man's mouth and pushing them up inside of him, scissoring and stretching, adding more fingers until Peter was pushing back.
"If you don't hurry up," Peter groans, shifting a little, "I'm going to come all over the floor."
Gabriel reaches his non-sticky hand up to push his clinging bangs off his forehead, nodding.
"How do you want to do this?"
He barely has time to ask before Peter pulls him over to some towels he had folded on the floor. Kneeling, he leans his chest against the cool side of the tub, and inhales sharply when Sylar pushes into him unexpectedly.
"Oh fuck, like that," Peter breathes, head hanging low.
Sylar can feel Peter's back sticking to his chest, their skin slipping past each other, and he knows that this is not going to last much longer. He draw his hips back, slamming them quickly against Peter's, hand snaking around to join Peter's on the other man's cock, already leaking heavily.
He jerks his hand hard, moving it in time with his hips and it just feels so good but it's so hot outside and so stifling and he can feel sweat beading down his back and he knows this isn't helping but fuck Peter feels so good around his cock.
"I'm going-" Sylar's breath hitches as Peter pushes his hips back against him. "-Going to come. Do you-"
Peter's hand, the one holding on to the edge of the tub, tightens.
"God, yes, come inside me," he groans, and the wanton tone in the other man's voice makes Sylar give a final thrust before pushing all the way in and holding Peter close to him as he comes. The sudden sensation of being filled must have been enough for Peter, because barely a few seconds later his hips stutter and he comes all over his hand.
Sylar pulls out reluctantly and sits back, hand gently rubbing circles into Peter's hips since it was too hot to actually cuddle. Peter sighs, enjoying the movement, but suddenly flinches.
"I think a nice, cold shower is in order," he begins, making to stand up, only to shift uncomfortably. Sylar's about to ask what's wrong when his eye catches the minute movement of his own come sliding down Peter's leg. For some reason, the sight is enough to start to get him hot and bothered again, and he notices Peter is acting the same way.
"...Shower. We'll do this in the shower," Peter volunteers, and they almost trip crawling into the tub and turning it on.
Hot days weren't all bad, really.