Fic
Fic: I Couldn't Feel, So I Tried to Touch.
Rating: PG-13, for some swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, mentions of Samuel Sullivan and Matt Parkman.
Summary: Based on this prompt at the promptfest: the sylar tatto in "let it bleed" is Peter face instead Claires. Basically, an AU that goes to the end of season 4.
Warnings: Spoilers for everything Heroes ever, and this is unbeta'd.
Notes: So I couldn't have done this without my bestie CJ, and also, I stole that title from the song "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen (never mind every time I hear it I think of Watchmen). Also sometimes this dissolves into OOC. Forgive the fluffyness.
For the fiftieth time in an hour, Sylar was looking at the mysterious tattoo that had appeared on his forearm. Of all the people in the world for him to have to find, destiny...or whatever...picked Peter fucking Petrelli.
Considering the last time they saw each other, Peter had nailed him to the floor and proceeded to try and rape his mind, yeah, they weren't on the best of terms. Apparently killing someone's brother does that to you, who knew?
He's been moping on a roof, just across the way from Peter's apartment, for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do, when finally, he takes a breath and heads downstairs (the old-fashioned way; no need to arise suspicion by flying across). Then, very casually, he goes into Peter's apartment building and up the stairs, stopping at the front door he knows so well, even though he really has only been there once or twice.
Listening carefully, he doesn't notice much movement, so he reaches a hand up and knocks on the door. He hums to himself as he waits for the door to open.
When it does, finally, he's greeted with the sight of Peter in an incredibly well fitted white tshirt and wrinkled black pants. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days and his hair is a mess.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, carefully, and Peter doesn't even blink.
"Using the front door? That's a novel idea, for you," he replies, before stepping back and letting the taller man inside.
"Well, I was just thinking, why beat around the bush? I need something." He rolls up his sleeve and shows Peter the mark on his arm. "I need you."
For a split second, the empath's eyebrows rise to his forehead, looking down surprised at the image of himself underneath Sylar's flesh.
"Did you get a tattoo of my face on your arm?"
Sylar rolls his eyes.
"You know that compass that keeps showing up on your arm? It's like that."
As if to verify this for himself, Peter tentatively reaches over and grabs the other man's arm, carefully inspecting the ink before looking up.
"What does it mean?"
Sylar looks around Peter, at the blank wall that once held newspaper clippings of the medic's achievements, and shrugs, lifting up one shoulder.
"I was hoping you could tell me, actually."
For a long silence, neither of them moves, before Peter motions towards his kitchen and they end up sitting at his kitchen table, mugs of coffee in front of them.
"You know, I've been dreaming about you," Peter muses, stirring some sugar into his coffee, and Sylar stops mid sip to look at him.
"What kind of dreams?"
Peter shoots him a look, a look that says, Don't go there, but elaborates anyway.
"Dreams of the future. I knew you were going to come here, and I was going to help you."
This new bit of information surprises Sylar, but he nods his head once and then levels his gaze straight at Peter's eyes, making the other man flinch just slightly.
"Why do you think I can't kill anyone anymore?"
Peter watches him for a moment, thinking, before leaning forward until his face is only a few inches away.
"Maybe the guilt finally caught up with you," he practically seethes, and Sylar raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe. Samuel said I'm lonely, that I need a friend."
Peter looks down at the image on Sylar's arm, a mix of disgust and bewilderment on his face.
"Am I supposed to be your friend?"
His tone of voice actually makes the taller man laugh out loud, and he tries to ignore the weird feeling brewing in his chest.
"I doubt even you could forgive me for my sins, Peter."
Sylar sits back in his chair and contemplates the pattern on the table in front of him before an idea comes to him.
"I have this ability, it can tell people their deepest desires," he begins, and Peter looks up, definite interest on his face. "Even the things they don't know. What if you took it from me, and used it to tell me what I need to know?"
Peter's eyes narrow, but he nods in agreement, and before he can do anything, Sylar is covering his hands with his own, watching as the red spark passes between them.
"Did I mention," Sylar muses, once Peter has tugged his hands away, "That erotic touch works the best?"
The other man doesn't even flinch as he just calmly stands up, walks to the other side of the table, and tugs up Sylar by the collar of his coat. With reflexes Sylar has experienced first hand before, he's being turned around and shoved against the counter. Deft fingers undo the buttons on his coat and shirt before he even has a chance to slide his arms around Peter's waist, reveling in the feeling of being touched with an emotion that wasn't violent.
Peter, like he is in most things, is to the point and brash, grabbing handfuls of Sylar's hair and tugging him forward so he can spread dark bites all over the other man's neck, until his healing makes them disappear. Peter frowns and cranes his neck, standing on tip toe until he can press his lips against Sylar's.
They kiss and rut against each other for what must be a few minutes but seems like forever, and then Peter stops moving and shoves himself away, looking debauched and absolutely wonderful to Sylar.
"You're thinking if you didn't have your powers, then you could live a normal life," Peter says, at last, and Sylar thinks about it for a moment before reaching up to button up his shirt and coat.
"Thank you, Peter."
He turns and heads for the door, silently hoping Peter will stop him.
He doesn't.
Sylar finds himself at Matt Parkman's house, Peter finds himself getting his ma's dreaming ability back, and the next thing they know, they're crossing paths in a nightmare.
"This isn't what I had in mind when I said you should change," Peter sighs, walking down the deserted street. Sylar walks forward, meeting him in the middle, reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder.
"Are you real?"
The empath shoots him a look and he drops his hand, looking guilty.
"I had another dream with you in it. You're going to help me stop Samuel and save Emma. Got it?" Peter raises his eyebrows and waits for the response, and Sylar's eyes search his face before he begins to speak, timidly.
"Peter, there's no one else here. It's just us. Everyone else is dead."
Matt's suggestion must have done quite a number on the former killer, and Peter tries to explain to him about the nightmare a million times before one day they stumble into a wall that's suddenly there.
"This is new," Sylar mumbles, reaching out to touch the bricks in front of him.
"This is the wall Parkman was building in his basement," Peter replies, mimicking his companion's movement. "Maybe if we break it down, we can get out of here."
Sylar doesn't believe it, but he humors Peter, bringing him water and talking to him, and eventually, Peter stops rolling his eyes and glaring and ignoring him, and opts to talk back instead. Sylar apologizes for everything, including Nathan, but Peter doesn't want to listen. He changes the subject, or ignores him, or goes off to brood somewhere.
Sylar quickly learns to stop talking about it.
Sometime around the four year mark, Peter turns to Sylar.
"Out of all the people in the world, why was I the one that had to help you?"
Sylar chuckles, making Peter furrow his brow in confusion, but when the other man turns his head, Peter can't help notice the smile gracing his lips.
"Our destinies are intertwined Peter, always have been."
A beat.
"So...I couldn't get rid of you even if I wanted to?"
Sylar watches him carefully, head tilted just a little to the side.
"Does that mean you don't want to get rid of me, then?"
Peter smiles at him, knowingly, before getting up and standing back at the wall, sledgehammer poised to strike. He manages to hit the wall a couple times before Sylar stands up and stands next to him.
"You know I've changed, Peter. Tell me you know that."
Peter pauses, looking down at the ground for a moment, before looking up again. His eyes seem a little wet and he swallows before replying.
"I know. I know you've changed."
He turns his attentions back to the wall, slamming his hammer into the bricks one last time before a huge crack appears. The two of them are stunned, but then, Sylar grabs the other sledgehammer and they're both hitting at it until suddenly, a blinding light envelopes them and Peter wakes up on the floor of Matt's basement, sore and stiff. He listens behind the wall, and the sudden sound of breaking makes him move away, bracing himself as brick dust flies everywhere and Sylar emerges, covered in dust and looking just as worse for wear.
"How long has it really been?" he asks, and Peter glances down at his watch.
"A day? Maybe?"
The look on the other man's eyes is haunting, and Peter can't help but feel drawn to it as he asks, "Does that make it any less real?"
Peter wants to answer, he wants to say no, but he can't find words, and he just smiles and replies, "Come on, let's go save Emma."
Trying to convince Matt to let them out of his house was a little difficult, as was taking out Eli and his clones, but they make it through, trying to brush off the comments from Eli and the weird looks from Matt.
After the whole ordeal at the carnival, Peter is relieved to see that Sylar really has changed, and when they're hiding out at Peter's apartment after Claire's jump, he can't help the smiles and laughter that are coming from his own mouth as he and Sylar- no, Gabriel- tease each other playfully over breakfast one morning.
"You know," Gabriel begins, leaning forward just a tad, "Samuel told me I'd find love and forgiveness at the carnival." He waits until he has Peter's undivided attention before adding, "I think he was right."
Peter quirks an eyebrow, leaning forward as well.
"You found love and forgiveness at the carnival? How so?"
"I found you, didn't I?"
Peter tries to reply, he really does, but it's hard to do when you're being kissed so tenderly that you can't help but kiss back.
"Hmm," Gabriel muses, pulling back to gauge Peter's reaction. "I love you, Peter."
Peter is shocked. He was not expecting that (although to say he wasn't hoping for it would be a lie).
"Really?"
Gabriel smiles, but his eyes don't match the sentiment. They seem unsure. He nods his head.
"I really do. You saved me, and helped me when no one else would." He stands up and moves until he's in front of Peter. "Plus, you're really fucking gorgeous."
The man in question flushes a little, staring down at the table before standing up until he's chest to chest with his friend.
"That's rather convenient, then, since I love you, too."
They try to not go so fast after that confession, they really do, but after years and years of pent up sexual tension between them, they're ready to resolve that shit.
"I think Matt hates us," Peter sighs later, sprawled across the bed on his stomach, busily peppering kisses on Gabriel's stomach.
Gabriel scoffs.
"There's a news flash. What did we do this time?"
"Mmm," Peter moves so he can rest his chin on the other man's side. "Maybe the reason he kept looking at us weird when we were in his kitchen was because he could read our minds."
"And then what, he was mad that we totally ruined his little Poeian plan? I do think I got the good end of the deal."
He accentuates his point by rubbing his hand affectionately in Peter's hair, and Peter sighs in contentment and turns his head to the side, closing his eyes.
"We should send him some flowers."
Gabriel considers the idea.
"We should send flowers to Samuel, since inking me was the best thing he ever did."
He doesn't get a reply, and he smiles fondly when he realizes Peter has fallen asleep. He reaches over and turns of the light, snuggling in to follow.
A few days later, the secretary at the new company stares in confusion at a bouquet of flowers that have been delivered to the front desk, with a simple card that says, To Samuel, thanks for trying. You were right about one thing. -G and P
When asked about it, Samuel just shakes his had and chuckles, mumbling, "I should have seen that coming."
Although honestly, no one did.
Rating: PG-13, for some swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, mentions of Samuel Sullivan and Matt Parkman.
Summary: Based on this prompt at the promptfest: the sylar tatto in "let it bleed" is Peter face instead Claires. Basically, an AU that goes to the end of season 4.
Warnings: Spoilers for everything Heroes ever, and this is unbeta'd.
Notes: So I couldn't have done this without my bestie CJ, and also, I stole that title from the song "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen (never mind every time I hear it I think of Watchmen). Also sometimes this dissolves into OOC. Forgive the fluffyness.
For the fiftieth time in an hour, Sylar was looking at the mysterious tattoo that had appeared on his forearm. Of all the people in the world for him to have to find, destiny...or whatever...picked Peter fucking Petrelli.
Considering the last time they saw each other, Peter had nailed him to the floor and proceeded to try and rape his mind, yeah, they weren't on the best of terms. Apparently killing someone's brother does that to you, who knew?
He's been moping on a roof, just across the way from Peter's apartment, for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do, when finally, he takes a breath and heads downstairs (the old-fashioned way; no need to arise suspicion by flying across). Then, very casually, he goes into Peter's apartment building and up the stairs, stopping at the front door he knows so well, even though he really has only been there once or twice.
Listening carefully, he doesn't notice much movement, so he reaches a hand up and knocks on the door. He hums to himself as he waits for the door to open.
When it does, finally, he's greeted with the sight of Peter in an incredibly well fitted white tshirt and wrinkled black pants. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days and his hair is a mess.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, carefully, and Peter doesn't even blink.
"Using the front door? That's a novel idea, for you," he replies, before stepping back and letting the taller man inside.
"Well, I was just thinking, why beat around the bush? I need something." He rolls up his sleeve and shows Peter the mark on his arm. "I need you."
For a split second, the empath's eyebrows rise to his forehead, looking down surprised at the image of himself underneath Sylar's flesh.
"Did you get a tattoo of my face on your arm?"
Sylar rolls his eyes.
"You know that compass that keeps showing up on your arm? It's like that."
As if to verify this for himself, Peter tentatively reaches over and grabs the other man's arm, carefully inspecting the ink before looking up.
"What does it mean?"
Sylar looks around Peter, at the blank wall that once held newspaper clippings of the medic's achievements, and shrugs, lifting up one shoulder.
"I was hoping you could tell me, actually."
For a long silence, neither of them moves, before Peter motions towards his kitchen and they end up sitting at his kitchen table, mugs of coffee in front of them.
"You know, I've been dreaming about you," Peter muses, stirring some sugar into his coffee, and Sylar stops mid sip to look at him.
"What kind of dreams?"
Peter shoots him a look, a look that says, Don't go there, but elaborates anyway.
"Dreams of the future. I knew you were going to come here, and I was going to help you."
This new bit of information surprises Sylar, but he nods his head once and then levels his gaze straight at Peter's eyes, making the other man flinch just slightly.
"Why do you think I can't kill anyone anymore?"
Peter watches him for a moment, thinking, before leaning forward until his face is only a few inches away.
"Maybe the guilt finally caught up with you," he practically seethes, and Sylar raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe. Samuel said I'm lonely, that I need a friend."
Peter looks down at the image on Sylar's arm, a mix of disgust and bewilderment on his face.
"Am I supposed to be your friend?"
His tone of voice actually makes the taller man laugh out loud, and he tries to ignore the weird feeling brewing in his chest.
"I doubt even you could forgive me for my sins, Peter."
Sylar sits back in his chair and contemplates the pattern on the table in front of him before an idea comes to him.
"I have this ability, it can tell people their deepest desires," he begins, and Peter looks up, definite interest on his face. "Even the things they don't know. What if you took it from me, and used it to tell me what I need to know?"
Peter's eyes narrow, but he nods in agreement, and before he can do anything, Sylar is covering his hands with his own, watching as the red spark passes between them.
"Did I mention," Sylar muses, once Peter has tugged his hands away, "That erotic touch works the best?"
The other man doesn't even flinch as he just calmly stands up, walks to the other side of the table, and tugs up Sylar by the collar of his coat. With reflexes Sylar has experienced first hand before, he's being turned around and shoved against the counter. Deft fingers undo the buttons on his coat and shirt before he even has a chance to slide his arms around Peter's waist, reveling in the feeling of being touched with an emotion that wasn't violent.
Peter, like he is in most things, is to the point and brash, grabbing handfuls of Sylar's hair and tugging him forward so he can spread dark bites all over the other man's neck, until his healing makes them disappear. Peter frowns and cranes his neck, standing on tip toe until he can press his lips against Sylar's.
They kiss and rut against each other for what must be a few minutes but seems like forever, and then Peter stops moving and shoves himself away, looking debauched and absolutely wonderful to Sylar.
"You're thinking if you didn't have your powers, then you could live a normal life," Peter says, at last, and Sylar thinks about it for a moment before reaching up to button up his shirt and coat.
"Thank you, Peter."
He turns and heads for the door, silently hoping Peter will stop him.
He doesn't.
Sylar finds himself at Matt Parkman's house, Peter finds himself getting his ma's dreaming ability back, and the next thing they know, they're crossing paths in a nightmare.
"This isn't what I had in mind when I said you should change," Peter sighs, walking down the deserted street. Sylar walks forward, meeting him in the middle, reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder.
"Are you real?"
The empath shoots him a look and he drops his hand, looking guilty.
"I had another dream with you in it. You're going to help me stop Samuel and save Emma. Got it?" Peter raises his eyebrows and waits for the response, and Sylar's eyes search his face before he begins to speak, timidly.
"Peter, there's no one else here. It's just us. Everyone else is dead."
Matt's suggestion must have done quite a number on the former killer, and Peter tries to explain to him about the nightmare a million times before one day they stumble into a wall that's suddenly there.
"This is new," Sylar mumbles, reaching out to touch the bricks in front of him.
"This is the wall Parkman was building in his basement," Peter replies, mimicking his companion's movement. "Maybe if we break it down, we can get out of here."
Sylar doesn't believe it, but he humors Peter, bringing him water and talking to him, and eventually, Peter stops rolling his eyes and glaring and ignoring him, and opts to talk back instead. Sylar apologizes for everything, including Nathan, but Peter doesn't want to listen. He changes the subject, or ignores him, or goes off to brood somewhere.
Sylar quickly learns to stop talking about it.
Sometime around the four year mark, Peter turns to Sylar.
"Out of all the people in the world, why was I the one that had to help you?"
Sylar chuckles, making Peter furrow his brow in confusion, but when the other man turns his head, Peter can't help notice the smile gracing his lips.
"Our destinies are intertwined Peter, always have been."
A beat.
"So...I couldn't get rid of you even if I wanted to?"
Sylar watches him carefully, head tilted just a little to the side.
"Does that mean you don't want to get rid of me, then?"
Peter smiles at him, knowingly, before getting up and standing back at the wall, sledgehammer poised to strike. He manages to hit the wall a couple times before Sylar stands up and stands next to him.
"You know I've changed, Peter. Tell me you know that."
Peter pauses, looking down at the ground for a moment, before looking up again. His eyes seem a little wet and he swallows before replying.
"I know. I know you've changed."
He turns his attentions back to the wall, slamming his hammer into the bricks one last time before a huge crack appears. The two of them are stunned, but then, Sylar grabs the other sledgehammer and they're both hitting at it until suddenly, a blinding light envelopes them and Peter wakes up on the floor of Matt's basement, sore and stiff. He listens behind the wall, and the sudden sound of breaking makes him move away, bracing himself as brick dust flies everywhere and Sylar emerges, covered in dust and looking just as worse for wear.
"How long has it really been?" he asks, and Peter glances down at his watch.
"A day? Maybe?"
The look on the other man's eyes is haunting, and Peter can't help but feel drawn to it as he asks, "Does that make it any less real?"
Peter wants to answer, he wants to say no, but he can't find words, and he just smiles and replies, "Come on, let's go save Emma."
Trying to convince Matt to let them out of his house was a little difficult, as was taking out Eli and his clones, but they make it through, trying to brush off the comments from Eli and the weird looks from Matt.
After the whole ordeal at the carnival, Peter is relieved to see that Sylar really has changed, and when they're hiding out at Peter's apartment after Claire's jump, he can't help the smiles and laughter that are coming from his own mouth as he and Sylar- no, Gabriel- tease each other playfully over breakfast one morning.
"You know," Gabriel begins, leaning forward just a tad, "Samuel told me I'd find love and forgiveness at the carnival." He waits until he has Peter's undivided attention before adding, "I think he was right."
Peter quirks an eyebrow, leaning forward as well.
"You found love and forgiveness at the carnival? How so?"
"I found you, didn't I?"
Peter tries to reply, he really does, but it's hard to do when you're being kissed so tenderly that you can't help but kiss back.
"Hmm," Gabriel muses, pulling back to gauge Peter's reaction. "I love you, Peter."
Peter is shocked. He was not expecting that (although to say he wasn't hoping for it would be a lie).
"Really?"
Gabriel smiles, but his eyes don't match the sentiment. They seem unsure. He nods his head.
"I really do. You saved me, and helped me when no one else would." He stands up and moves until he's in front of Peter. "Plus, you're really fucking gorgeous."
The man in question flushes a little, staring down at the table before standing up until he's chest to chest with his friend.
"That's rather convenient, then, since I love you, too."
They try to not go so fast after that confession, they really do, but after years and years of pent up sexual tension between them, they're ready to resolve that shit.
"I think Matt hates us," Peter sighs later, sprawled across the bed on his stomach, busily peppering kisses on Gabriel's stomach.
Gabriel scoffs.
"There's a news flash. What did we do this time?"
"Mmm," Peter moves so he can rest his chin on the other man's side. "Maybe the reason he kept looking at us weird when we were in his kitchen was because he could read our minds."
"And then what, he was mad that we totally ruined his little Poeian plan? I do think I got the good end of the deal."
He accentuates his point by rubbing his hand affectionately in Peter's hair, and Peter sighs in contentment and turns his head to the side, closing his eyes.
"We should send him some flowers."
Gabriel considers the idea.
"We should send flowers to Samuel, since inking me was the best thing he ever did."
He doesn't get a reply, and he smiles fondly when he realizes Peter has fallen asleep. He reaches over and turns of the light, snuggling in to follow.
A few days later, the secretary at the new company stares in confusion at a bouquet of flowers that have been delivered to the front desk, with a simple card that says, To Samuel, thanks for trying. You were right about one thing. -G and P
When asked about it, Samuel just shakes his had and chuckles, mumbling, "I should have seen that coming."
Although honestly, no one did.