Ficcage
Title: Your Beauty is Not Just a Mask
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar
Summary: Based on this prompt for the kink meme: Peter attends a costume party and dances with a mysterious masked man who he later finds out is Sylar.
Warnings: M/M romance, unbeta'd, a little bit OOC? Maybe?
Notes: I must confess, I listened to "El Tango de Roxanne" like this whole time. And also I maybe have ripped off a similar fic of mine for this. Shhh.
Edit: In case you want to read the fic I wrote last year kind of like this, here it is: Tricks and Treats.
Soft violin music is streaming in to the room Peter is sitting in, from the main ballroom, and he sighs and glances at his reflection in the mirror again. His hair is still in place, cut and styled back in sleek lines; His "costume" consists of a black tux with a light blue tie and white boutonniere. Since it's a masked ball, he found an old mask that a cousin brought back for him from Vienna, white with gold outlines.
He adjusts it carefully and stands up, smoothing out the lines of his waistcoat before disappearing into the main ballroom, all opulence and frivolity. How his mother was able to talk him into attending the event (it's a charity event, they always are) was completely beyond him, and how he ended up going stag was even more mysterious.
But, here he is, walking in the room, illuminated by several chandeliers, and feeling just a little bit ridiculous. A quick stop to the bar for a glass of wine makes him feel a bit more in character, but he realizes quickly that everyone seems to be dancing, waltzing around the wooden floor in delicate swirling patterns.
He spots a lone young woman, sitting by herself to the side, and ends up asking her to dance. After a few dances with her, and another girl (her friend, it turns out), Peter decides he'll probably leave, but midway through the final dance, a hand taps on his shoulder. He releases the girl he's dancing with, thinking the tall, lean man standing in front of him wants to dance with her, but instead, he slides an arm around Peter's waist and pulls him close.
At first, Peter's surprised, but after the few glasses of wine he's had, he decides to just go with it. After all, he's wearing a mask and the room is pretty dark. Plus, all of the guests seem to have followed his lead, taking advantage of the open bar and losing their inhibitions. So, he goes with it, clasping his hand together with the stranger's, letting him lead Peter around the room as they dance with the other guests.
Peter takes the opportunity to observe his new dance partner's appearance, noticing with a weird sense of foreboding that he seems...familiar. He's tall, almost a foot taller than Peter, with broad shoulders and long, long legs. His dark hair is slicked back in a style similar to Peter's, and he's wearing an immaculate black suit with a black dress shirt and a crimson red tie and matching boutonniere.
His mask, Peter notices, is a similar dark red, covering his entire face from the upper lip up. There are devil horns carved into the top of the mask, something the casual observer might miss.
"You're a good dancer," Peter murmurs, leaning his head forward to catch the man's attention, and he responds by quirking his lips just noticeably.
"Do you talk?" Peter tilts his head playfully, giving the hand he's holding a squeeze, and the stranger seems to consider for a moment before speaking in a Boston accent.
"Only when I have something to say," he smiles, and a shiver runs up Peter's spine. There is definitely something wrong here, but he has no idea what it is.
"Well, then, can I ask why you picked this particular costume?"
Peter motions towards the devil horns and the man shrugs one shoulder, musing quietly, "I used to be a pretty bad guy."
The empath considers this new information for a moment before sliding his free hand up to gently brush at the other man's neck.
"But you're not anymore?"
The stranger tilts his head downward, ghosting his lips across Peter's ear, and whispers, "No, but I can be persuaded otherwise."
The way the man said it, it sounded like his accent was gone, like it was...
Peter jerks back into reality and leans back, clear shock displayed on his face as he surveys the person in front of him.
"You're not-" he tries to say, but before he can get the sentence out, the music stops and everyone pulls away from their partners, clapping. In the confusion, Peter lost track of the stranger, and ends up alone. Luckily, right before the other man got away, Peter was able to search him for abilities, and take one.
There was no doubting who he was just dancing with, now.
He uses the telepathy he stole to find him, in a hotel room a floor above the ballroom.
"Sylar," he says, when the other man opens the door, still wearing his mask.
"Peter," he greets, holding the door open so his guest can come inside. The minute the door is shut, Peter is in front of him, undoing the tie on his mask and letting it fall to the ground, joining his own mask, which he discarded when he came in.
Sylar tries to say something, but Peter is already standing on tip toe, kissing him and pulling the knot out of his tie.
"You could have just told me you wanted to see me," he mumbles, once he's pulled away, and Sylar just smiles in reply.
"But what's the fun in that?"
His fingers stray to Peter's tie, and he cocks his head to one side, as if remembering something.
"You were wearing this color when we first met."
It's a statement, not a question, and Peter nods, looking up at the other man with an unreadable expression.
"Peter-" Sylar breaks the silence, but Peter just shakes his head and holds a hand up.
"We already went over this. You've changed, and I know that. Can't we- I don't know, try this out?"
Peter can feel Sylar's gaze on him, heavy and unchanging, until finally, finally, he reaches a hand up and slides it around the other man's neck, giving an affection squeeze.
"I was hoping you would say that."
He lets Peter push him against the wall, and the party continues on downstairs, completely oblivious to the encounter going on above.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar
Summary: Based on this prompt for the kink meme: Peter attends a costume party and dances with a mysterious masked man who he later finds out is Sylar.
Warnings: M/M romance, unbeta'd, a little bit OOC? Maybe?
Notes: I must confess, I listened to "El Tango de Roxanne" like this whole time. And also I maybe have ripped off a similar fic of mine for this. Shhh.
Edit: In case you want to read the fic I wrote last year kind of like this, here it is: Tricks and Treats.
Soft violin music is streaming in to the room Peter is sitting in, from the main ballroom, and he sighs and glances at his reflection in the mirror again. His hair is still in place, cut and styled back in sleek lines; His "costume" consists of a black tux with a light blue tie and white boutonniere. Since it's a masked ball, he found an old mask that a cousin brought back for him from Vienna, white with gold outlines.
He adjusts it carefully and stands up, smoothing out the lines of his waistcoat before disappearing into the main ballroom, all opulence and frivolity. How his mother was able to talk him into attending the event (it's a charity event, they always are) was completely beyond him, and how he ended up going stag was even more mysterious.
But, here he is, walking in the room, illuminated by several chandeliers, and feeling just a little bit ridiculous. A quick stop to the bar for a glass of wine makes him feel a bit more in character, but he realizes quickly that everyone seems to be dancing, waltzing around the wooden floor in delicate swirling patterns.
He spots a lone young woman, sitting by herself to the side, and ends up asking her to dance. After a few dances with her, and another girl (her friend, it turns out), Peter decides he'll probably leave, but midway through the final dance, a hand taps on his shoulder. He releases the girl he's dancing with, thinking the tall, lean man standing in front of him wants to dance with her, but instead, he slides an arm around Peter's waist and pulls him close.
At first, Peter's surprised, but after the few glasses of wine he's had, he decides to just go with it. After all, he's wearing a mask and the room is pretty dark. Plus, all of the guests seem to have followed his lead, taking advantage of the open bar and losing their inhibitions. So, he goes with it, clasping his hand together with the stranger's, letting him lead Peter around the room as they dance with the other guests.
Peter takes the opportunity to observe his new dance partner's appearance, noticing with a weird sense of foreboding that he seems...familiar. He's tall, almost a foot taller than Peter, with broad shoulders and long, long legs. His dark hair is slicked back in a style similar to Peter's, and he's wearing an immaculate black suit with a black dress shirt and a crimson red tie and matching boutonniere.
His mask, Peter notices, is a similar dark red, covering his entire face from the upper lip up. There are devil horns carved into the top of the mask, something the casual observer might miss.
"You're a good dancer," Peter murmurs, leaning his head forward to catch the man's attention, and he responds by quirking his lips just noticeably.
"Do you talk?" Peter tilts his head playfully, giving the hand he's holding a squeeze, and the stranger seems to consider for a moment before speaking in a Boston accent.
"Only when I have something to say," he smiles, and a shiver runs up Peter's spine. There is definitely something wrong here, but he has no idea what it is.
"Well, then, can I ask why you picked this particular costume?"
Peter motions towards the devil horns and the man shrugs one shoulder, musing quietly, "I used to be a pretty bad guy."
The empath considers this new information for a moment before sliding his free hand up to gently brush at the other man's neck.
"But you're not anymore?"
The stranger tilts his head downward, ghosting his lips across Peter's ear, and whispers, "No, but I can be persuaded otherwise."
The way the man said it, it sounded like his accent was gone, like it was...
Peter jerks back into reality and leans back, clear shock displayed on his face as he surveys the person in front of him.
"You're not-" he tries to say, but before he can get the sentence out, the music stops and everyone pulls away from their partners, clapping. In the confusion, Peter lost track of the stranger, and ends up alone. Luckily, right before the other man got away, Peter was able to search him for abilities, and take one.
There was no doubting who he was just dancing with, now.
He uses the telepathy he stole to find him, in a hotel room a floor above the ballroom.
"Sylar," he says, when the other man opens the door, still wearing his mask.
"Peter," he greets, holding the door open so his guest can come inside. The minute the door is shut, Peter is in front of him, undoing the tie on his mask and letting it fall to the ground, joining his own mask, which he discarded when he came in.
Sylar tries to say something, but Peter is already standing on tip toe, kissing him and pulling the knot out of his tie.
"You could have just told me you wanted to see me," he mumbles, once he's pulled away, and Sylar just smiles in reply.
"But what's the fun in that?"
His fingers stray to Peter's tie, and he cocks his head to one side, as if remembering something.
"You were wearing this color when we first met."
It's a statement, not a question, and Peter nods, looking up at the other man with an unreadable expression.
"Peter-" Sylar breaks the silence, but Peter just shakes his head and holds a hand up.
"We already went over this. You've changed, and I know that. Can't we- I don't know, try this out?"
Peter can feel Sylar's gaze on him, heavy and unchanging, until finally, finally, he reaches a hand up and slides it around the other man's neck, giving an affection squeeze.
"I was hoping you would say that."
He lets Peter push him against the wall, and the party continues on downstairs, completely oblivious to the encounter going on above.