Fic: Down Feathers
Title: Down Feathers
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Zane!Sylar
Rating: PG
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. Prompt: pillow fight (Word Count: 1,536)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Road Trip, Slash
Arthur's Note: Originally I was not going to do this prompt, but gaiafaye insisted, so this is for her. (And no, I still have not gotten bingo. It's harder than you'd think :P)
It had all started off as a way to break the ice, a toast to the beginning of what looked like a promising new partnership and, on Mohinder's end, to someone finally believing in him instead of simply writing off his theories as nonsense and laughing in his face. Yet somehow one small drink with dinner had quickly turned to a round of shots and soon both Mohinder and Zane had put a hefty dent into the fairly large bottle.
Mohinder grimaced as he fought against the strong urge to burp and the even stronger urge to laugh at himself. He had never been very good at holding his liquor and whenever he had too much to drink he would always get a bad case of the giggles, a fact made all the more embarrassing by the way his cheeks were quickly turning a deep shade of red.
"What's funny?" Zane asked, his own voice hitching with uncertain laughter.
"Nothing." Mohinder giggled as he cupped his hand over his mouth just as a burp erupted from his lips. It was suddenly impossible to fight against the laughter welling up in his throat. "I'm sorry," he sniggered. If he weren't so intoxicated he would have found the whole situation incredibly embarrassing, but right now it all seemed absurdly hilarious.
"I think you've had a bit too much to drink," Zane laughed as he shifted from his current sitting position. The two of them had started off sitting on Mohinder's bed, but had decided to eat their dinner on the floor to avoid getting any food on the sheets. It had been a reasonable suggestion, but in their current state, it suddenly didn't seem like such a great idea. Zane staggered as he struggled to get to his feet, knocking over the Bacardi bottle that had been resting between the two of them. Zane watched dully as the contents of the bottle spilled onto the floor before bursting into laughter at the sight. "Okay, I guess I've had a bit too much myself."
"We should call it a night," Mohinder suggested, although he made no move to get up. He felt quite dizzy himself and was certain that he would only end up unintentionally knocking over a few things if were to even attempt to stand.
Mohinder sighed, fixing his gaze on the far wall with the intention of trying to regain his balance as well as his sobriety. Somehow he felt sure that by simply sitting back and waiting a few minutes the effects of the rum would quickly evaporate from his system, yet as he watched the paint chipped motel wall ripple and shift he began to realize it would take more than a few minutes before he could start to feel like himself again.
He only realized that he'd been staring at the wall for a bit too long when he heard the clink of the glass bottle against the wooden nightstand. Mohinder looked up sluggishly to see Zane clumsily twisting the cap back onto the rum bottle, a task that seemed to require the man's full concentration.
"I should..." Zane began, but stopped as if suddenly disliking whatever it was that he had been about to say. He frowned, rubbing his face before turning his gaze towards Mohinder. "Uh, do you need a hand?"
Mohinder hesitated, momentarily forgetting why it was that he had wanted to stay on the floor. Yet even as he tried to remember, the sight of Zane's offered hand was enough of an incentive for Mohinder to take it, allowing the other man to help him to his feet. He groaned, his legs feeling very numb and unstable under his own weight, and it was no surprise that both he and Zane, who was having just as difficult of a time trying to find his own center of gravity, both ended up tripping over their own two feet. The two tumbled, falling onto the mattress gracelessly.
The springs groaned loudly under their weight, and, needless to say, the sheets and pillows rumpled in the process. Mohinder exploded into a fit of giggles as he pushed at Zane's broad shoulders, but the other man, who had landed on top of him, was too busy laughing himself to respond. "Get off! You're heavy," Mohinder chuckled, grabbing one of the pillows and playfully swatting at Zane's shoulder.
A few feathers came flying out as the down pillow made contact with Zane's firm side. The taller man laughed as he straightened himself just to grab another pillow and bring it down on Mohinder.
If his mind wasn't so rum soaked, Mohinder would have thought that this was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen. Two full grown men, drunk and giggling and hitting each other with pillows. All the same he had no desire to put a stop to this as he retaliated in kind, hitting Zane square in the face with his own pillow. They bopped and thwapped each other until there were little white feathers everywhere -- littering the bedspread and dingy carpet like a blanket of freshly fallen snow -- and the two pillows were nearly flat from the resulting after math (this was definitely going to hike up the room fee).
Mohinder laughed until his stomach ached and tears leaked from the sides of his eyes. He giggled, burying his face in the feather covered sheets as he tried to wiggle out from underneath Zane's sturdy body, yet it suddenly occurred to him that he was now the only one laughing.
He took in several deep calming breaths before opening his eyes to look up at Zane who was hovering over him, his deep brown eyes staring down at him intensely. Mohinder had a feeling he knew exactly what Zane was thinking and it made him smile. "You can kiss me if you like," Mohinder said, reaching his hands up to frame Zane's face, encouraging the musician to close the space between them.
Zane looked ready to kiss him; his eyes were lidded and unfocused as if in a haze and his lips were pursed adorably as he slowly leaned down. Mohinder tilted his chin forward, waiting for lips to meet his, but it seemed that this small gesture was enough to lift the fog that had settled over Zane's mind.
"No," Zane breathed, backing away quickly. "No I can't."
Mohinder frowned as Zane scrambled away from him, going to sit on the far corner of the bed as if suddenly afraid of Mohinder. "It's alright," Mohinder began carefully. He didn't understand what was happening and he had a feeling that he wouldn't have been able to even if he were completely sober. "You can kiss me. It's alright."
Zane's entire face was as red as a tomato. He shook his head slowly, his eyes focused on the feather speckled bedspread as he refused to meet Mohinder's gaze. "No. No, I can't," he said again, his words making Mohinder feel frustrated and angry. Zane liked him didn't he? They got on well and... They'd been flirting hadn't they? In the car and during lunch and dinner and just now... hadn't they been flirting? "I can't kiss you when you're drunk," Zane said finally. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Oooh," Mohinder said, dragging the single syllable word out as understanding slowly dawned on him. A lazy smile spread across his features as he crawled closer to Zane, shortening the distance between them. "You don't have to worry about taking advantage of me," he joked, batting his eyelashes playfully. "I may be drunk, but I'm no naive virgin. I like you Zane, I really do."
The other man flinched as if the compliment had hurt him worse than if Mohinder had flat out refused him. Zane turned to him then, his eyes nearly as red as his cheeks had been as he gazed at Mohinder. There was something sad and lonely about his stare as his hand slowly went to cup the Indian's dark cheek. For a moment, Mohinder felt certain they would kiss now, but instead, Zane just continued to stare at him before whispering something that sounded like "I should never have done it."
Mohinder blinked. That didn't sound right, but he was certain that's what he had heard. "What?" he asked, just as Zane began to slip away, sliding off of the bed morosely.
"I should go back to my room," Zane announced, brushing off a few stray feathers as he headed towards the door. "I'll, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
"Zane wait," Mohinder called out suddenly, not at all sure what he wanted to say. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but he was sober enough now to be embarrassed at the idea of having rubbed the other man the wrong way. Had he come on too strong? Was his misreading Zane's signals? Whatever it was it was clearly his fault. "I'm... I'm sorry-"
"It's not you, Mohinder," he interrupted as he walked towards the door. "It's me. Goodnight."
The Indian frowned as Zane slipped out the door, allowing a quick blast of cold night air to enter the motel room, before disappearing into the night.
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Zane!Sylar
Rating: PG
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. Prompt: pillow fight (Word Count: 1,536)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Road Trip, Slash
Arthur's Note: Originally I was not going to do this prompt, but gaiafaye insisted, so this is for her. (And no, I still have not gotten bingo. It's harder than you'd think :P)
It had all started off as a way to break the ice, a toast to the beginning of what looked like a promising new partnership and, on Mohinder's end, to someone finally believing in him instead of simply writing off his theories as nonsense and laughing in his face. Yet somehow one small drink with dinner had quickly turned to a round of shots and soon both Mohinder and Zane had put a hefty dent into the fairly large bottle.
Mohinder grimaced as he fought against the strong urge to burp and the even stronger urge to laugh at himself. He had never been very good at holding his liquor and whenever he had too much to drink he would always get a bad case of the giggles, a fact made all the more embarrassing by the way his cheeks were quickly turning a deep shade of red.
"What's funny?" Zane asked, his own voice hitching with uncertain laughter.
"Nothing." Mohinder giggled as he cupped his hand over his mouth just as a burp erupted from his lips. It was suddenly impossible to fight against the laughter welling up in his throat. "I'm sorry," he sniggered. If he weren't so intoxicated he would have found the whole situation incredibly embarrassing, but right now it all seemed absurdly hilarious.
"I think you've had a bit too much to drink," Zane laughed as he shifted from his current sitting position. The two of them had started off sitting on Mohinder's bed, but had decided to eat their dinner on the floor to avoid getting any food on the sheets. It had been a reasonable suggestion, but in their current state, it suddenly didn't seem like such a great idea. Zane staggered as he struggled to get to his feet, knocking over the Bacardi bottle that had been resting between the two of them. Zane watched dully as the contents of the bottle spilled onto the floor before bursting into laughter at the sight. "Okay, I guess I've had a bit too much myself."
"We should call it a night," Mohinder suggested, although he made no move to get up. He felt quite dizzy himself and was certain that he would only end up unintentionally knocking over a few things if were to even attempt to stand.
Mohinder sighed, fixing his gaze on the far wall with the intention of trying to regain his balance as well as his sobriety. Somehow he felt sure that by simply sitting back and waiting a few minutes the effects of the rum would quickly evaporate from his system, yet as he watched the paint chipped motel wall ripple and shift he began to realize it would take more than a few minutes before he could start to feel like himself again.
He only realized that he'd been staring at the wall for a bit too long when he heard the clink of the glass bottle against the wooden nightstand. Mohinder looked up sluggishly to see Zane clumsily twisting the cap back onto the rum bottle, a task that seemed to require the man's full concentration.
"I should..." Zane began, but stopped as if suddenly disliking whatever it was that he had been about to say. He frowned, rubbing his face before turning his gaze towards Mohinder. "Uh, do you need a hand?"
Mohinder hesitated, momentarily forgetting why it was that he had wanted to stay on the floor. Yet even as he tried to remember, the sight of Zane's offered hand was enough of an incentive for Mohinder to take it, allowing the other man to help him to his feet. He groaned, his legs feeling very numb and unstable under his own weight, and it was no surprise that both he and Zane, who was having just as difficult of a time trying to find his own center of gravity, both ended up tripping over their own two feet. The two tumbled, falling onto the mattress gracelessly.
The springs groaned loudly under their weight, and, needless to say, the sheets and pillows rumpled in the process. Mohinder exploded into a fit of giggles as he pushed at Zane's broad shoulders, but the other man, who had landed on top of him, was too busy laughing himself to respond. "Get off! You're heavy," Mohinder chuckled, grabbing one of the pillows and playfully swatting at Zane's shoulder.
A few feathers came flying out as the down pillow made contact with Zane's firm side. The taller man laughed as he straightened himself just to grab another pillow and bring it down on Mohinder.
If his mind wasn't so rum soaked, Mohinder would have thought that this was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen. Two full grown men, drunk and giggling and hitting each other with pillows. All the same he had no desire to put a stop to this as he retaliated in kind, hitting Zane square in the face with his own pillow. They bopped and thwapped each other until there were little white feathers everywhere -- littering the bedspread and dingy carpet like a blanket of freshly fallen snow -- and the two pillows were nearly flat from the resulting after math (this was definitely going to hike up the room fee).
Mohinder laughed until his stomach ached and tears leaked from the sides of his eyes. He giggled, burying his face in the feather covered sheets as he tried to wiggle out from underneath Zane's sturdy body, yet it suddenly occurred to him that he was now the only one laughing.
He took in several deep calming breaths before opening his eyes to look up at Zane who was hovering over him, his deep brown eyes staring down at him intensely. Mohinder had a feeling he knew exactly what Zane was thinking and it made him smile. "You can kiss me if you like," Mohinder said, reaching his hands up to frame Zane's face, encouraging the musician to close the space between them.
Zane looked ready to kiss him; his eyes were lidded and unfocused as if in a haze and his lips were pursed adorably as he slowly leaned down. Mohinder tilted his chin forward, waiting for lips to meet his, but it seemed that this small gesture was enough to lift the fog that had settled over Zane's mind.
"No," Zane breathed, backing away quickly. "No I can't."
Mohinder frowned as Zane scrambled away from him, going to sit on the far corner of the bed as if suddenly afraid of Mohinder. "It's alright," Mohinder began carefully. He didn't understand what was happening and he had a feeling that he wouldn't have been able to even if he were completely sober. "You can kiss me. It's alright."
Zane's entire face was as red as a tomato. He shook his head slowly, his eyes focused on the feather speckled bedspread as he refused to meet Mohinder's gaze. "No. No, I can't," he said again, his words making Mohinder feel frustrated and angry. Zane liked him didn't he? They got on well and... They'd been flirting hadn't they? In the car and during lunch and dinner and just now... hadn't they been flirting? "I can't kiss you when you're drunk," Zane said finally. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Oooh," Mohinder said, dragging the single syllable word out as understanding slowly dawned on him. A lazy smile spread across his features as he crawled closer to Zane, shortening the distance between them. "You don't have to worry about taking advantage of me," he joked, batting his eyelashes playfully. "I may be drunk, but I'm no naive virgin. I like you Zane, I really do."
The other man flinched as if the compliment had hurt him worse than if Mohinder had flat out refused him. Zane turned to him then, his eyes nearly as red as his cheeks had been as he gazed at Mohinder. There was something sad and lonely about his stare as his hand slowly went to cup the Indian's dark cheek. For a moment, Mohinder felt certain they would kiss now, but instead, Zane just continued to stare at him before whispering something that sounded like "I should never have done it."
Mohinder blinked. That didn't sound right, but he was certain that's what he had heard. "What?" he asked, just as Zane began to slip away, sliding off of the bed morosely.
"I should go back to my room," Zane announced, brushing off a few stray feathers as he headed towards the door. "I'll, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
"Zane wait," Mohinder called out suddenly, not at all sure what he wanted to say. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but he was sober enough now to be embarrassed at the idea of having rubbed the other man the wrong way. Had he come on too strong? Was his misreading Zane's signals? Whatever it was it was clearly his fault. "I'm... I'm sorry-"
"It's not you, Mohinder," he interrupted as he walked towards the door. "It's me. Goodnight."
The Indian frowned as Zane slipped out the door, allowing a quick blast of cold night air to enter the motel room, before disappearing into the night.