Fic: Spiked
Title: Spiked
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: G
Summary: Sylar discovers a flaw in his plan. (For the mylar_fic Holiday Contest. Prompt: "Spiked Eggnog")
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Fluff, Humor, Slash, Drinking, Drabble
"Oh gods!" Mohinder grimaced, his nose wrinkling in distaste as the creamy white liquid slid down his throat. "How much rum did you put in this?"
Sylar frowned, eyeing the now empty bottle of Southern Comfort questioningly, wondering momentarily if he had purchased too strong of a proof. "Not that much," he lied easily.
The Indian coughed as he gently placed his now empty glass down with a soft clink. "It's strong!"
"No, it isn't," Sylar scoffed, rolling his eyes with mock indignation at Mohinder's comment. "You just have a low tolerance for alcohol."
"Oh really?" Mohinder snapped, grabbing another glass and pouring the holiday drink in it. "You drink it then."
Sylar hesitated for just a moment, wondering if his rapid regeneration would act quickly enough that he wouldn't feel the burn at all. He had never been a very big drinker - as Gabriel Gray, ginger ale was the most daring thing he’d be willing to consume - and the idea of taking a swig of his own spiked eggnog did not sit well with him. Yet the man pushed those thoughts aside. After all, the longer he waited, the more he assured Mohinder's assumptions.
Sylar held his breath as he took a long gulp of the rum filled eggnog. He had to resist the urge to gag as the intense flavor smacked his taste buds with a bitter spark. The serial killer grimaced, swallowing the burning hot liquid and realizing he had been far too liberal with the rum.
"Jinkies!" he gagged, placing the glass down on the counter with a slight thud.
"You see!" Mohinder cried, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. "Even you think it's too strong and you have your damned rapid regeneration to keep you sober. You were clearly trying to spike my eggnog and... Did you just say 'jinkies'?"
"No."
"But I could have sworn that I heard-"
"I didn't say 'jinkies!'" he barked, although the killer knew that the pink blush coloring his pale cheeks gave him away.
"You're such a geek!" the geneticist giggled and Sylar had to wonder if Mohinder had been sneaking drinks behind his back because there was no way the other man would actually giggle in front of him if he was sober. The Indian had a too eager grin pulling at his lips as he picked up the glass Sylar had pushed away and handed it back to him. "Take another drink! I want to hear what you say."
Sylar frowned, cocking his head curiously at the other man's uncharacteristic behavior. "Are you making fun of the way I drink?"
"Yes."
His frown deepened. This was not exactly what he had had in mind when he had spiked Mohinder's drink. He had wanted to get the other man drunk enough to give him some sloppy, drunken, pre-Christmas sex (since Mohinder was being very stingy with his body lately). Instead, the Indian was laughing at him and trying to get him drunk (although that was an impossible task and they both knew it). Yet he couldn't resist Mohinder, especially when he was tipsy and smiling so brightly, as if they had not spent the better half of their yearlong acquaintanceship as on again off again mortal enemies.
He sighed, before taking another gulp of the cream colored drink. "Ugh!" he shuddered. "Oh golly!"
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: G
Summary: Sylar discovers a flaw in his plan. (For the mylar_fic Holiday Contest. Prompt: "Spiked Eggnog")
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Fluff, Humor, Slash, Drinking, Drabble
"Oh gods!" Mohinder grimaced, his nose wrinkling in distaste as the creamy white liquid slid down his throat. "How much rum did you put in this?"
Sylar frowned, eyeing the now empty bottle of Southern Comfort questioningly, wondering momentarily if he had purchased too strong of a proof. "Not that much," he lied easily.
The Indian coughed as he gently placed his now empty glass down with a soft clink. "It's strong!"
"No, it isn't," Sylar scoffed, rolling his eyes with mock indignation at Mohinder's comment. "You just have a low tolerance for alcohol."
"Oh really?" Mohinder snapped, grabbing another glass and pouring the holiday drink in it. "You drink it then."
Sylar hesitated for just a moment, wondering if his rapid regeneration would act quickly enough that he wouldn't feel the burn at all. He had never been a very big drinker - as Gabriel Gray, ginger ale was the most daring thing he’d be willing to consume - and the idea of taking a swig of his own spiked eggnog did not sit well with him. Yet the man pushed those thoughts aside. After all, the longer he waited, the more he assured Mohinder's assumptions.
Sylar held his breath as he took a long gulp of the rum filled eggnog. He had to resist the urge to gag as the intense flavor smacked his taste buds with a bitter spark. The serial killer grimaced, swallowing the burning hot liquid and realizing he had been far too liberal with the rum.
"Jinkies!" he gagged, placing the glass down on the counter with a slight thud.
"You see!" Mohinder cried, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. "Even you think it's too strong and you have your damned rapid regeneration to keep you sober. You were clearly trying to spike my eggnog and... Did you just say 'jinkies'?"
"No."
"But I could have sworn that I heard-"
"I didn't say 'jinkies!'" he barked, although the killer knew that the pink blush coloring his pale cheeks gave him away.
"You're such a geek!" the geneticist giggled and Sylar had to wonder if Mohinder had been sneaking drinks behind his back because there was no way the other man would actually giggle in front of him if he was sober. The Indian had a too eager grin pulling at his lips as he picked up the glass Sylar had pushed away and handed it back to him. "Take another drink! I want to hear what you say."
Sylar frowned, cocking his head curiously at the other man's uncharacteristic behavior. "Are you making fun of the way I drink?"
"Yes."
His frown deepened. This was not exactly what he had had in mind when he had spiked Mohinder's drink. He had wanted to get the other man drunk enough to give him some sloppy, drunken, pre-Christmas sex (since Mohinder was being very stingy with his body lately). Instead, the Indian was laughing at him and trying to get him drunk (although that was an impossible task and they both knew it). Yet he couldn't resist Mohinder, especially when he was tipsy and smiling so brightly, as if they had not spent the better half of their yearlong acquaintanceship as on again off again mortal enemies.
He sighed, before taking another gulp of the cream colored drink. "Ugh!" he shuddered. "Oh golly!"