Okay, so these are all a little longer than drabble length. Oops. But thanks to everyone who donated a prompt.
Title: Neon Charms
Characters: Matt/Mohinder, Molly
Rating: PG at most
Word count: 421
Summary: For
kleenexcow, who wanted M3 on vacation. Sorry darlin, but you (and they) got Coney Island instead. Is set post-Powerless, but has no spoilers.
ETA: Also, what Matt says about the condos is true: there are hugely controversial plans in the works for a Coney Island makeover. Boo!
There is something so strangely nostalgic about Coney Island. It's a weird blend of the different decades, with its sideshows, skeeball and air rifle games, boardwalk, and burlesque shows. The different layers of its history stand next to each other, jostling for elbow room. It reminds Mohinder vaguely of Bangkok and Brighton Beach in England, where the new and the old and the utterly tacky all sit comfortably in the same city.
It's early May, but summer seemed inclined to show up early this year. The week has been sunny and warm. The boardwalk is busy with people determined to enjoy the amusements while they can, before the weather changes, or the park itself does.
"One of the other detectives was telling me that the park might not be here in another year," Matt tells Mohinder, as they wait for food off a street vendor. "There's plans to bury it under a bunch of condos or something. Thought we should get in and see it while we could."
Besides, he adds silently, I thought we could all use a vacation.
Mohinder agrees with the second statement. It's been a rough couple of months.
Matt hands Mohinder a carton of French fries, vinegar and grease spotting the cardboard sides, then drops a vegetarian hotdog into Molly's hands. They manage to find a bench that's unoccupied by a family, sleeping bum, or teenagers making out.
"I don't want the park to change," Molly says decisively. "I like it just how it is."
Mohinder wonders what the park looks like for her. Obviously, it's not the same as the one he's seeing; cigarette butts and plastic wrappers roll along the splintered planks of the boardwalk. There's tattered buskers playing music in front of boarded-up storefronts, and men advertising for sideshows and burlesques. It's not particularly wholesome, has none of the glitz or magic of Disneyland. (He's never been, but Molly's told him all about it. In great detail.)
Still, Astroland has its charms. They play skeeball, and Matt wins Molly a cheap stuffed bear at the air rifle range. There's bumper cars, and an altogether harrowing ride on the rickety old roller coaster. Afterwards, Molly demands to be taken on the ferris wheel. They manage to get a car just as the sun is setting, and get to watch the boardwalk light up in neon. Molly sits between the two of them, laughing and pointing at the tiny people below them. Matt reaches an arm around her to touch Mohinder on his back, thumb moving lightly along his spine.
It's a good day, and a memory that Mohinder will hold onto when everything goes to hell again.
***
Title: Good, Bad, Better, and Best
Characters: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 520
Summary: For
plotbunny_tiff, who gave me a series of phrases: body language, surprise, writhe, hiccup, snag, and "Is that so?"
"This was a bad idea," Mohinder says. He hiccups as he pushes the glass of whiskey away from him. "Really bad."
"Are you kidding me? This was a great idea," Matt says. And it was; Mohinder is hilarious when he's drunk.
Mohinder tries to stand, and fails. The surprise on his face when he falls back into his seat makes Matt laugh even harder.
"Are you laughing at me?" He says, all pretend-insulted. At least, Matt thinks he's pretending. He's smiling as he says it, at any rate.
"I'm definitely not laughing with you."
Mohinder slumps backwards in his chair. "You're a terrible person, Matthew Parkman. Getting me drunk and then laughing at me. For shame."
"If you were laughing at yourself, then I'd be laughing with you. So I'm only terrible because you take yourself too seriously. You've only got yourself to blame."
Mohinder's brows furrow as he tries to figure that out. He points an unsteady finger at Matt. "There's a flaw in that logic, but I can't seem to find it."
He tries to stand again, almost makes it this time before he has to grab onto the kitchen table for balance. The table wobbles, the whiskey in Matt's glass almost spills, and he has to grab Mohinder's arm before everything topples over.
Through some weird trick of gravity, Mohinder ends up in Matt's lap. He's giggling like a maniac.
Matt wishes he could get this on tape. "You are such a light weight."
Mohinder nods, then snags Matt's glass. He swallows the rest of the whiskey in it, then sets it carefully back on the table. He's still in Matt's lap, and showing none of the nervousness the other man is starting to feel. His body language suggests instead that this is exactly where he belongs.
He turns back to Matt, looking at him for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he touches Matt's face, hand slightly unsteady. His fingers are cold on Matt's suddenly burning skin.
"Have I ever told you that you have..." Mohinder moves his fingers over the arch of Matt's cheekbone. "...Very nice bone structure?"
Matt raises his eyebrows. He swallows before he says, "Is that so?"
Mohinder nods, his face serious as he says, "Very nice." His fingers move over Matt's lower lip, and then his mouth follows his hand, and they're kissing. Oh god, Matt thinks. He hears an echo of the same in Mohinder's thoughts. Oh god, oh god, oh-
Matt's brain may be stuck on repeat, but his body knows what to do without it. He moves his hands onto Mohinder denim-clad thighs, rubs his thumbs against sharp hip bones, then moves his hands up beneath the other man's shirt. He shifts Mohinder's weight so that the other man is straddling his hips. It's all Matt can do not to writhe underneath the other man's weight.
Mohinder breaks the kiss, moving back. "Oh, god. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" He takes a shaky breath. "This is a bad idea."
Matt pulls Mohinder back against him. "Are you kidding me? This is the best idea ever."
***
Title: Summer in the City
Characters: Mohinder, Matt, Molly
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 233
Summary: For
rosiecotton95, who wanted something with ice cream.
Summer in Brooklyn means nearly unbearable heat. It rises up off the asphalt, makes their building feel like an oven. The heat gets worse with each flight of stairs, and by the time you reached Mohinder's six-floor walk up, you were drenched in sweat.
Inside, every window was open, and fans sat in most of the sills. The air conditioner was shoddy at best, and circulation in the apartment was non-existent.
Still, the three of them survive somehow. Molly builds forts out of sheets in the living room, where it's coolest, and sleeps in them for a week at a time. Mohinder breaks out some of the clothing he brought from India, the light cottons and silks that had been left in the closet before now. Matt wears gym shorts around the house, and has been known to take two showers a day to stay cool.
Then Matt finds a special deal on Ben & Jerry's at the store, and comes home with eight pints. Mohinder makes a few sputtering, indignant sounds; eight pints of ice cream goes beyond exorbitant, and straight into the boundaries of madness. Then Matt sends him an image of some creative ways of eating ice cream - most of them involving a lot naked skin, and mango sorbet (which is his favorite) slowly melting on it.
Suddenly, Mohinder hopes the heat wave holds on for a bit longer.
***
Title: After Midnight
Characters: Matt, Mohinder (mentions of Matt/Janice)
Rating: PG at most
Word count: 722
Summary: A suitably angsty Patsy Cline song fic for
crystal_mk Mohinder comes home late one night. The apartment is dark, no light from either his bedroom or Molly's. He drops his bag onto one of the chairs and walks wearily towards the living room.
The empty couch stops him. He starts to move towards Molly's room, wondering if Matt had fallen asleep in there again, then catches sight of Matt's profile outside on the fire escape. He walks over there instead, and gradually becomes aware that he can hear music.
He opens the window and leans out. Sure enough, Matt is sitting on a chair from the kitchen, with a half-empty six pack and a tiny CD player next to him. The music coming from the speakers is pitched low, crooning and sighing words that are almost inaudible over the sounds of the traffic below.
"Hi," Mohinder says.
"Hey," Matt answers. He takes a long drink from the bottle in his hand. "You're home late."
"Work was hell," Mohinder says. He contemplates telling Matt more (he has plenty of things he could vent about at the moment, as Bob's bureaucratic bastardry is limitless), but considers the beer, the music, and the curious look on Matt's face. He decides Matt can probably do without his complaining.
"I'll come back inside in a little while. I'll try not to wake you," Matt says. He's staring off into the distance, towards the lights of Manhattan.
"Actually, do you mind if I join you?"
Matt looks over at him in surprise, then shrugs. "Sure. Pull up a chair."
Mohinder ducks back inside to grab another chair from the kitchen, and he and Matt maneuver it out together. Matt opens another beer and hands it to him, and they both lean back against the brick as they drink. Mohinder listens to the music that is playing so soft from the little stereo.
"I've loved and lost again
Oh, what a crazy world we're livin in
True love has no chance to win
I've loved and lost again..."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a country western fan."
Matt shrugs. "I have my moments." He looks over at Mohinder. "You don't mind, do you?"
Mohinder shakes his head. He actually doesn't like most of the country he's heard, but this isn't terrible. It's just lonesome. He wants to ask Matt what's wrong, but thinks it might be better to let Matt tell him in his own time.
They drink in silence for a while, listening to the music and traffic and voices intermingle. The song changes, and as if waiting for that cue, Matt speaks again.
"Janice had her baby yesterday," he says. "Her mom called and told me."
"Ah," Mohinder says. He's heard about Janice's mother. That couldn't have been a pleasant conversation.
"It was pretty awful," Matt says in agreement. He's still staring out into space; Mohinder wonders if he's even aware that he just read his mind.
Matt takes a long drink from his beer. "So I thought I'd deal with this in a typical manly way."
He points at the empty beer bottles on the metal grid by their feet. "Beer."
Then gestures to the stereo. "Patsy Cline."
Then points to himself. "And a shitload of self-pity. And I know it's really self-indulgent, but-"
"I'd say the occasion warrants it," Mohinder said.
Matt sighs, slumping back in his chair. "Thanks."
Mohinder isn't sure what to do now. Should he badmouth Janice? He's only ever met her once, but it was unpleasant enough to give him a lasting impression. Or should he try and give Matt some kind of relationship advice? He's not really all that qualified. The last action he got was with Eden, a thousand years ago, and it was just a kiss. Not to mention that she was lying to him.
"You don't have to do anything," Matt tells him. "Though your beer is going to get flat if you don't drink it."
He manages half a smile as he says it. Maybe Mohinder's done enough. They both lean back against the brick and watch the movements of the city below them.
"And as the skies turn gloomy
Night blooms whisper to me
I'm lonesome as I can be
I go out walking after midnight, out in the moonlight
Just hoping you may be
Somewhere out walking, after midnight, searching for me..."
***
Title: No Quarter!
Characters: Matt, Mohinder, Molly
Rating: Hopelessly G
Word count: 295
Summary: For
rogueslayer452, who wanted a pillow fight. A warning for fluff would be redundant.
Mohinder can hear the shouts in the hall. He cocks his head, listening. He can hear both Molly and Matt's voice, and while they're loud, they don't sound angry. He unlocks the door, and opens it to find...
Molly. With a manic grin on her face and a pillow clutched in her hand.
Matt. Wearing a similar grin, and also carrying a pillow.
The apartment. In a state of disaster.
"What in the name of-"
"Mohinder!" Molly screams. She leaps over an upturned chair and hides behind him. "You have to save me!"
"Nobody can save you," Matt says, stalking towards the two of them. He swings the pillow menacingly. Mohinder wouldn't have believed one could swing a pillow with any kind of threat behind it (it's a pillow, after all, not a morning star), but Matt is managing nicely. "I'll get you, my pretty," he says, doing a fair Wicked Witch impression. "And your little Indian scientist too."
Molly apparently gives up on her defensive position, and instead launches herself at Matt. She manages to get him in the face with her pillow, but then he catches it on the second swing and starts bopping her on the head with it. There's a chaos of shrieks and giggles and pillows and flailing limbs. Mohinder can only watch in amusement, and wonder how much sugar the two of them consumed in his absence.
"Wait!" Matt suddenly cries. "I have an idea!"
"What is it?!" Molly asks, her tone just as loud.
"We should team up against Mohinder."
"What?!" Mohinder says.
"Yes!" Molly shouts. She scrambles up and then relaunches herself at Mohinder, shouting an eight-year-old's version of a battle cry. Matt follows right behind her, pillow already swinging.
There's not even a chance of escape.
***
Title: Five People That Babysat Molly Walker
Characters: Matt/Mohinder, Molly, Maya, Peter, Elle, Sandra Bennet, and an OC.
Rating: PG
Word count: 596
Summary: For
hanuushe, who wanted to know who the M3 babysitter was.
1. Diana Benazzi. She was Molly's regular babysitter until Sylar and Maya showed up. The only reason she was still alive, Mohinder believed, was that Sylar hadn't wanted to scare Maya off before Mohinder got home. That was the last time they hired a teenage girl from the neighborhood.
2. Maya Herrerra. She had nowhere to go, and couldn't exactly get a job elsewhere. So she became an almost de facto nanny after being resurrected in Mohinder's lab. Matt was never entirely comfortable with having an accidental killer babysit Molly, even if the medications were working. Thankfully, it didn't last long. Maya left them after a few weeks to join a convent in the Lower East Side.
"She left us for God?" Matt said, after Mohinder showed him the note she'd left for them. "There's a joke in that somewhere, I think."
3. Peter Petrelli. "If it wasn't for me, you would have released a super-plague" made for excellent blackmail, so Matt called him when he and Mohinder needed a "Grownups Only" night. For once, they actually felt confident about leaving Molly alone. It was like having Superman watching your kid, without the spandex. Of course, they never realized that Peter might need protection from Molly.
"What the hell happened to you?" Mohinder asked, when he and Matt got home from the movie. Peter's face was covered in glitter, his nails had been painted a garish red, and his hair had been spiked into an uneven mohawk.
"I got a makeover." He waited until their laughter died down, then said, "You guys owe me so bad."
4. Elle Bishop. Once. They billed the Company for the damage to the apartment. (In Elle's defense, how could she know that electrocuting a pan of Jiffy-Pop would start a fire?)
5. Sandra Bennet. It was awkward, to say the least. Between the two of them, they'd fatally shot her husband and her daughter, and that isn't the sort of thing a woman forgives easily. They would never have asked if it weren't a matter of life and death. But it was, so they suffered her chilly glares as they dropped Molly off, kissed her goodbye, and went off to save the world or die trying.
Thankfully, it was the former. They got back the next night, exhausted and probably traumatized for life, but alive. After checking in on Molly, who had fallen asleep on Claire's bed, Sandra made them all some tea.
"I'm guessing, since you two aren't taking Molly and running for the hills, the world hasn't ended?" Sandra asked. Her tone was surprisingly gentle.
"Not this time," Matt said. He meant the words to be lighter, but they just sounded resigned. There always seemed to be another catastrophe looming on the distance.
"That's good." She petted Mr. Muggles, who was watching the two men from her lap. "Molly's a good girl," she said. "She was worried about the two of you."
"Thank you again for taking care of her," Mohinder said. He shared a slightly confused look with Matt.
Sandra took a sip of her tea, waving Mohinder's thanks away. "Molly's a treat. Reminds me of Claire at that age."
She offered them the fold-out couch to sleep on, and they gratefully took her up on it. Undressed and curled up next to Matt, Mohinder asked, "What was that about? I thought she hated us. And with good reason."
Matt slung an arm around Mohinder's waist, pulling him closer. "Molly's convinced her that we're good fathers. That makes a big difference."
***
Title: In Sickness and Health
Characters: Matt/Mohinder, Molly
Rating: PG-13, for a bit of discussion
Word count: 899
Summary: For
orangethorne, who wanted a fic based on her most excellent dream.
"Ugggggggghhh," Matt groaned, as much as he could around the thermometer in his mouth. "This sucks."
"Stop talking," Mohinder said. "Or the reading won't be accurate."
Matt kept his mouth closed the next time he groaned in misery. He felt like crap. Crap that had been run over by a really big truck. Twice.
"You're funny when you're sick," Molly said, watching them from the doorway.
"Yeah, well... You're funny-looking," Matt responded lamely, then started coughing. Just as well; any other comeback he could think of was probably going to be equally pathetic.
Before she had a chance to reply, Mohinder's hand was reaching towards his face, pulling the thermometer out from between Matt's lips.
"One hundred and one. Congratulations, you're officially sick."
Can you hear this, Matt? Mohinder projected. A little too loudly, frankly, for Matt's aching head.
"Yeah. That means it's just the flu, right?" He started coughing again, curling up from the force of it. God, he hated being sick. His chest hurt. His head hurt. Everything just ached, and it was impossible to get comfortable.
"Probably. Or it's some entirely new plague that doesn't effect abilities," Mohinder said lightly. "I'll call the station for you, and walk Molly to school."
"I'm almost eleven," she said. "I can get there on my own-"
"No," the two of them responded in chorus. Molly sighed in disgust and left the room.
"Thanks," Matt mumbled. He shifted around in the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. It wasn't happening.
"I'll stop by later. Bring you some juice and things."
"Sure," Matt said. He could feel himself drifting off again.
"In the meantime, hold off on taking any Tylenol. You should let the fever go on for a while."
"Uh huh."
"Don't forget to keep hydrated."
"Hmm."
"...Are you falling back asleep?"
"Mm."
There was a short, breathy laugh, and then the feeling of cool fingers against his face. "Feel better," Mohinder said, just before Matt dropped off entirely.
***
Hours later, Matt woke up to the same feeling of a cool hand against his temple. He opened his eyes and saw Mohinder sitting on the bed next to him.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Matt turned over so that he was facing him. "Like shit. I think I just had a dream that we were in the Little Mermaid."
Mohinder laughed. "Tell me I wasn't the crab."
There was a joke in there, but Matt was too sick to find it. "I think you were the seagull. I was that fish sidekick. And Angela Petrelli was the sea witch."
Mohinder snorted. "Do I even have to ask who the mermaid was?"
"This is why I hate having fevers. All the weirdest parts of my subconscious come out to play." Matt coughed again. It was starting to hurt, like someone was punching his diaphragm every time he coughed.
That sounds bad, he overheard.
"It feels worse."
Mohinder smiled again. "I don't know how the nurses put up with you after Kirby Plaza. You're an awful patient."
"And you're not a real doctor," Matt answered grumpily. "Guess that makes us even."
Mohinder rolled his eyes. "No sponge baths for you, then."
"I take it back," he said, moving his head onto Mohinder's thigh. "You're an excellent doctor. The best in the business."
Mohinder ran his hand through Matt's hair. "Flattery gets you everywhere. Here, take your shirt off."
Matt tried to wiggle out of his shirt without sitting up. "Wait, you want to give me a sponge bath now? Or is this sex?"
"Neither. I'm putting Tiger Balm on your chest. It should help with the cough and congestion." He pulled out a small jar from his messenger bag on the floor.
"Tiger what?" Matt asked, finally getting free of his t-shirt. He dropped it on the floor. "Is this some Ayurvedic Indian thingy?"
Mohinder shot him a look. "Chinese thingy, actually. I picked it up from a pharmacy near the lab."
Matt rolled onto his back. "Fine. Do me, doctor."
Mohinder snorted and shook his head, smiling at Matt as he got the jar open. He rubbed some of the greasy substance onto his hands, then bent over and ran his hands across Matt's chest. Matt shut his eyes, inhaling the pungent, spicy smell of the balm, enjoying the feeling of Mohinder's hands on his skin. Soon, his skin grew warmer; hard to tell if it was from Mohinder's hands or from the stuff he was spreading on his chest.
"That feels good," Matt said.
"I'm glad," Mohinder said.
"I would totally be hard right now if I weren't all loopy and feverish."
Mohinder laughed again. "I'd have to wash my hands first. Trust me when I say that you don't want this on anything sensitive."
Matt raised an eyebrow at him. "You speaking from experience?"
Matt couldn't help overhearing the quick memory that sprang out of Mohinder's mind.
"Ohmygod! You used it as..." He started giggling before he could finish. It was almost like something out of Jackass.
"Matt!" Mohinder shouted. His dark skin concealed the blush a little, but Matt could still see the embarrassment on his face.
"Sorry, sorry." The giggling led quickly into a coughing fit, which hurt like hell but was totally worth it.
"Just for the record," Mohinder said, "I was fourteen, very horny, and very stupid."
Matt finally managed to get both his laughter and his coughing under control. "Just keep your hands above my waist, all right?"
***