fic: explosions in the sky (2/2)
title: explosions in the sky (ii. of ii.)
author: pastrypack
pairing: sylar+claire
rating: pg-13
notes: established relationship, au, and a future fic. this is part ii. - the first part, can be found here.
warning: none
spoilers: none
summary: "just a little longer claire, then we can leave. i promise."
ii.
claire bennet & sylar
new york, new york
it’s hard to tell exactly, when her life had gotten here. she really doesn’t know when she found herself falling for a guy that actually got his kicks by mutilating other people.
mutilation is on her top 10 list of things that guys should definitely not be doing.
along with not flossing, or not being able to take a joke.
x
his hair seems 10 shades darker than it normally is, compared to the almost painfully white room that they’re keeping him in.
dark, in a sharp contrast to light. the literary symbolism is almost blinding.
"i'll be back."
yea, right. these things don't seem to go according to plan.
new york was supposed to be a distant memory by now; the company a horrible nightmare that had found its way into her dreams. but, instead, she was immersing herself in it.
try not to focus on regrets, as she's learned, no good can come of this. just open the damn door.
“sylar.”
no quick movements beneath his eyelids, or a lift of his hand. it’s only his shallow breathing that even tells her if he's alive in there.
the concrete is cold and rough when she kneels down at the base of the chair in front of him. it’s times like these when she wishes that none of this had happened at all.
“sylar!” her voice is a whisper, and to her dismay it falls on deaf ears.
she angrily pulls these straps away from his wrists, wincing at the rawness left behind, and slowly traces her fingertips across his skin.
i've missed this feeling.
she feels the pressure of tears behind her eyes. because he has to wake up.
you have to.
“please, wake up.”
the feel of his lips under her thumbs is cracked. it's still winter.
she should probably be slapping him instead of this. instead of the kiss she places there instead.
when he kisses her back, this company disappears, and she grips the back of his neck, she only releases when he groans into her lips.
she opens her eyes, and he’s staring so hard right back; it feels like her eyes are burning out of their sockets.
“nice of you to show up, claire.”
she breathes a shaky sigh of relief (ignoring the salty taste in her mouth) and runs her fingers through his hair, giving him another kiss at the corner of his lips.
because she can't resist anymore.
“sorry it took me so long.”
he smiles.
x
somehow (and she really doesn’t know how) they make it back to the motel room.
and it only took one dead lab doctor to get them there.
he whispers in her ear, how interesting it is that she doesn’t seem too upset about that.
she shivers.
"i'm not upset at all."
x
lights from across the parking lot cast an eerie glow here, and all of a sudden it's so quiet, the air is almost suffocating.
she steps towards his hunched form at the corner of the bed, and places her hand over the top of his head. his hair is greasy, but she'd rather run her hands through greasy hair, lest him not be here at all.
his strong arms are wrapping themselves around her waist, and his face is pressed into her stomach.
her eyes slam shut, her heart beats in her chest, and all she can hear is a siren blaring noisily in the distance. she loves the feel of his strength.
she can’t help the small laugh that escapes her.
“how did this even happen?"
his lips are against her skin, and her eyes shut more tightly than ever. it feels like time must have stopped. when she opens her eyes again she hears the shower running in the bathroom. she’s never felt so tired in her life.
don't cry.
"i saved you."
x
it must be about 20 minutes later when she smells hot water, and cheap shampoo - the steam dampening the entire room.
the bed dips beneath his weight, and she takes that comfort in his arms again. his skin is warm from the shower, and she can’t help but shiver when he kisses the back of her neck. the warmth from his skin somehow melts into hers.
"i'm warm again," she whispers into her pillow.
she hears the exhaustion hanging on his voice.
“sorry it took me so long.”
she smiles.
author: pastrypack
pairing: sylar+claire
rating: pg-13
notes: established relationship, au, and a future fic. this is part ii. - the first part, can be found here.
warning: none
spoilers: none
summary: "just a little longer claire, then we can leave. i promise."
ii.
claire bennet & sylar
new york, new york
it’s hard to tell exactly, when her life had gotten here. she really doesn’t know when she found herself falling for a guy that actually got his kicks by mutilating other people.
mutilation is on her top 10 list of things that guys should definitely not be doing.
along with not flossing, or not being able to take a joke.
x
his hair seems 10 shades darker than it normally is, compared to the almost painfully white room that they’re keeping him in.
dark, in a sharp contrast to light. the literary symbolism is almost blinding.
"i'll be back."
yea, right. these things don't seem to go according to plan.
new york was supposed to be a distant memory by now; the company a horrible nightmare that had found its way into her dreams. but, instead, she was immersing herself in it.
try not to focus on regrets, as she's learned, no good can come of this. just open the damn door.
“sylar.”
no quick movements beneath his eyelids, or a lift of his hand. it’s only his shallow breathing that even tells her if he's alive in there.
the concrete is cold and rough when she kneels down at the base of the chair in front of him. it’s times like these when she wishes that none of this had happened at all.
“sylar!” her voice is a whisper, and to her dismay it falls on deaf ears.
she angrily pulls these straps away from his wrists, wincing at the rawness left behind, and slowly traces her fingertips across his skin.
i've missed this feeling.
she feels the pressure of tears behind her eyes. because he has to wake up.
you have to.
“please, wake up.”
the feel of his lips under her thumbs is cracked. it's still winter.
she should probably be slapping him instead of this. instead of the kiss she places there instead.
when he kisses her back, this company disappears, and she grips the back of his neck, she only releases when he groans into her lips.
she opens her eyes, and he’s staring so hard right back; it feels like her eyes are burning out of their sockets.
“nice of you to show up, claire.”
she breathes a shaky sigh of relief (ignoring the salty taste in her mouth) and runs her fingers through his hair, giving him another kiss at the corner of his lips.
because she can't resist anymore.
“sorry it took me so long.”
he smiles.
x
somehow (and she really doesn’t know how) they make it back to the motel room.
and it only took one dead lab doctor to get them there.
he whispers in her ear, how interesting it is that she doesn’t seem too upset about that.
she shivers.
"i'm not upset at all."
x
lights from across the parking lot cast an eerie glow here, and all of a sudden it's so quiet, the air is almost suffocating.
she steps towards his hunched form at the corner of the bed, and places her hand over the top of his head. his hair is greasy, but she'd rather run her hands through greasy hair, lest him not be here at all.
his strong arms are wrapping themselves around her waist, and his face is pressed into her stomach.
her eyes slam shut, her heart beats in her chest, and all she can hear is a siren blaring noisily in the distance. she loves the feel of his strength.
she can’t help the small laugh that escapes her.
“how did this even happen?"
his lips are against her skin, and her eyes shut more tightly than ever. it feels like time must have stopped. when she opens her eyes again she hears the shower running in the bathroom. she’s never felt so tired in her life.
don't cry.
"i saved you."
x
it must be about 20 minutes later when she smells hot water, and cheap shampoo - the steam dampening the entire room.
the bed dips beneath his weight, and she takes that comfort in his arms again. his skin is warm from the shower, and she can’t help but shiver when he kisses the back of her neck. the warmth from his skin somehow melts into hers.
"i'm warm again," she whispers into her pillow.
she hears the exhaustion hanging on his voice.
“sorry it took me so long.”
she smiles.