“but you are the music” ,G, prompt: “Can you hear me, Mohinder?”spoileralertNovember 29 2007, 15:40:21 UTC
"Can you hear me, Mohinder?" Because Peter can hear the world. The space, the limits, the boundaries and openings, the thousands upon thousands of beings and creatures and beasts, every sound echoed in the tiny infinite space that keeps them apart thumps and thuds and beats wildly in Peter's head. Or maybe it doesn't, but it sure seems that way.
And when he finally hears what he wants, what he's been waiting for...then there is nothing else. Mohinder's voice is smooth and cool and rough and warm. It's everything Peter tried hard to remember and everything he'd forgotten but always knew he missed.
Peter smiles, crooked and relieved and for this moment his life is going right. In this moment, he feels closer than any time they'd touched. He sighs into the phone.
"Enough", PG, prompt: "You've changed"rhea_carlysseNovember 29 2007, 23:41:41 UTC
He looks older. His features hardened, full of angles; stare made of stone. Mohinder wants to stop looking, wants to stop feeling as if something were pressing against his chest until he could no longer breathe
( ... )
"Tradition," G, prompt: "Mistletoe"eonismNovember 30 2007, 16:44:48 UTC
“It’s a tradition.”
“You’re mad, you know that.”
A lopsided smirk. “I’ve heard as much, yeah.”
“I don’t see the point. It’s a parasitic plant...what’s it even supposed to symbolise?”
“I don’t know - stuff. Look, your people put flowers on cows, mine put up parasites in the house. Just humor me.”
“Okay, first of all, that is a gross misconception - ”
“Look, whatever. Just, shut up for two seconds.”
Mohinder sighed and closed his eyes at the feel of dry lips and the taste of red wine. When he opened them again Peter was practically beaming.
“Heh.” The flush of their faces must’ve been from the cold outside, or the wine. Definitely the wine.
Mohinder straightened, cleared his throat, and looked to see if anyone else from the Christmas party - namely Nathan, or Hiro, because he certainly couldn’t keep a secret - was looking. When they weren’t he cleared his throat again.
“Well. Are there any other traditions you have here that I should know about?”
"Lessons", G, "Reasons why the boys never wear protection"rhea_carlysseNovember 30 2007, 20:08:25 UTC
The fist hits his jaw before he can even see it coming. Not hard enough to make him bleed; enough to make him stagger, his lower lip stinging.
“You okay?” of course, Peter is by his side faster than lightning. He places a hand on his elbow, steading him; a worried look on his face. “You should have ducked that,” he adds, but he doesn’t stop trying to lift his chin to inspect the bruise.
Mohinder frowns. I’ve been doing karate since I was eight, he said. Black belt, first Dan, he said. And Mohinder thought it would be nice to learn not to be on the receiving end of a fight for once in his life. Apparently, the learning process is long. And tedious. And painful
( ... )
"Empty," PG, prompt: broken glass (f!Mohinder/f!Peter)takethesky87December 6 2007, 03:20:33 UTC
Eyes closed, tie trailing over gray, he lay on the cold floor as though sleeping. His glasses had fallen away from his face, frames bent and cracked like broken limbs, a fissure blooming over one lens as frost would over a windowpane. When Peter rested his hand on Mohinder’s cheek, he felt the emptiness emanating from dark skin; and when he placed Mohinder’s head in his lap and touched the curls, the emptiness moiled in his own chest
( ... )
Comments 15
Because Peter can hear the world. The space, the limits, the boundaries and openings, the thousands upon thousands of beings and creatures and beasts, every sound echoed in the tiny infinite space that keeps them apart thumps and thuds and beats wildly in Peter's head.
Or maybe it doesn't, but it sure seems that way.
And when he finally hears what he wants, what he's been waiting for...then there is nothing else. Mohinder's voice is smooth and cool and rough and warm. It's everything Peter tried hard to remember and everything he'd forgotten but always knew he missed.
Peter smiles, crooked and relieved and for this moment his life is going right. In this moment, he feels closer than any time they'd touched. He sighs into the phone.
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“You’re mad, you know that.”
A lopsided smirk. “I’ve heard as much, yeah.”
“I don’t see the point. It’s a parasitic plant...what’s it even supposed to symbolise?”
“I don’t know - stuff. Look, your people put flowers on cows, mine put up parasites in the house. Just humor me.”
“Okay, first of all, that is a gross misconception - ”
“Look, whatever. Just, shut up for two seconds.”
Mohinder sighed and closed his eyes at the feel of dry lips and the taste of red wine. When he opened them again Peter was practically beaming.
“Heh.” The flush of their faces must’ve been from the cold outside, or the wine. Definitely the wine.
Mohinder straightened, cleared his throat, and looked to see if anyone else from the Christmas party - namely Nathan, or Hiro, because he certainly couldn’t keep a secret - was looking. When they weren’t he cleared his throat again.
“Well. Are there any other traditions you have here that I should know about?”
Peter just beamed.
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“You okay?” of course, Peter is by his side faster than lightning. He places a hand on his elbow, steading him; a worried look on his face. “You should have ducked that,” he adds, but he doesn’t stop trying to lift his chin to inspect the bruise.
Mohinder frowns. I’ve been doing karate since I was eight, he said. Black belt, first Dan, he said. And Mohinder thought it would be nice to learn not to be on the receiving end of a fight for once in his life. Apparently, the learning process is long. And tedious. And painful ( ... )
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