nobody's here, la la la la.... drabbles for the masses

[tiptoe39]

A Year in the Life
twelve months, twelve pairings, twelve romantic drabbles


January
new beginnings - Mohinder/Maya

It was over. The curse had been lifted. He was gone. She had nothing to be anymore but herself.

The newness of the sensation frightened her. Like the chill of her first snowfall, she didn't know how to take it. Would the cold seep into her blood and freeze her from within?

"I feel empty," she told him. "Like there's nothing inside me anymore."

He touched her cheek. His skin was warm, like home. "I understand," he said. "I feel that way myself, sometimes. My daughter, my power, all gone."

She raised her hand to his lips. He kissed the freezing fingertips. "What do we do?" she asked.

"I suppose," he said, "it's a matter of perspective. Either it's the end of something or it's the beginning of something new." His arms slipped around her waist and he bent his head down to hers. Warmth radiated from every inch of contact, and she was almost able to smile.

"And I can imagine," he went on, kissing her softly, "many things worse than a new beginning with you."


February
be my valentine - Matt/Mohinder

"I still can't get over it." He still had the card in his hands and was turning it over and over as Matt stoked the fireplace. "I didn't realize she was so talented."

"Yeah, well..." Matt put down the tongs as the fire blazed and backed onto the sofa with a groan. "Once she stopped drawing freaky eyes I guess she was free to start drawing other things."

"But the shading, the way she captured your eyes..." Mohinder looked over at him. "She's got real potential."

"That's our girl." Matt reached for Mohinder, pulling him back into his embrace. Mohinder nestled happily between the big arms, and Matt kissed his ear softly. "Homemade Valentine's cards. I thought we'd gotten past that phase, but I guess you're never too old."

"She's only ten." Mohinder took one of Matt's palms between his hands, twisting his fingers around it in shifting, starry patterns. "You want her to grow up too fast."

"You don't want her to grow up at all," Matt countered. His voice sent vibrations through Mohinder's neck that made him shudder. "I guess that makes me way too old to ask you to be my valentine, then?"

A grin lit Mohinder's face, and he turned toward Matt to grace his lips with a soft, warm kiss. Matt gave a groan and opened his lips, helpless against the tide of emotion that was streaming at him sure and true.

"Never too old for that," Mohinder said.


March
in like a lion - Adam/Hiro

Adam crushed him against the doorway. The wind howled past their faces. Hiro thought his ears would freeze and fall right off.

"Kensei, it's cold," he argued lamely.

"I'm aware of that, little Carp," Adam hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm also aware of how cold it can be when your heart has been frozen for hundreds of years. I'm a cold-blooded killer now, you know. A villain, as you like to say."

"You are not villain," Hiro babbled. "I know your heart is warm inside. You need to know it. You are Takezo Kensei."

"Kensei was a myth. He was never real. Do you know what's real, Hiro-kun? What I've been dreaming for years of doing to you, once I finally found you. What I've been waiting to say to you."

"I've been waiting, too," Hiro said sadly. And he put his hands on Adam's chest.

Adam looked down, momentarily stunned. "Carp, what are you..."

"You are so different now," he said. "Kowai hito ni natta yo, Kensei. You are like lion now, always growling. Before, you were so gentle, like lamb."

"I have never been anything like a lamb," Adam insisted, still dumbfounded and sure that Hiro's hands on his chest must be picking up the thrumming of his heartbeat. He leaned forward to scowl down into Hiro's face, but then Hiro licked his lips and Adam forgot to frown.

"Sou kamo shirenai," Hiro whispered, his hands sliding up to Adam's collar. His eyes were gleaming with his plea. "If you are a lion, Kensei... be brave!" And he moved forward to claim the other man's lips.

Adam stood, unmoving, his eyes wide open. His whole body was hot. His anger, his revenge, seemed to sizzle and melt in this consuming liquid heat, and he tried to remember just what it was he'd dreamed of doing to Hiro all this time. What revenge had he wanted that he'd been waiting for? Why was he in such a hurry?

It was all just gone. It had been blown away by the harsh winds that brought March, and Adam, in like a lion.

So like a lion, Adam roared as he surged forward, picking Hiro up into his arms. He had forever, after all. Revenge could wait until the winds died down.


April
Showered upon. Peter/Mohinder.

On their way back to the subway, the heavens opened up.

Mohinder, who was already in a foul mood, grumbled and kicked a streetlight. Peter laughed and tipped his head back, letting the rainwater run down his chin and neck and seep into his shirt. His coat dripped and dragged behind his ankles, several shades darker when saturated. "What's wrong?" he said to Mohinder, who had quickly ducked beneath an awning and was staring daggers at him.

"Oh, nothing," Mohinder shouted over the din of the rain, which sounded a thousand drumbeats atop the plastic awning. "You've just taken me on a wild goose chase for your artist friend and now you're laughing like a maniac in the pouring rain. And I'm supposed to believe you why, exactly?"

Peter stepped beneath the awning to face him. Very close, very cold. Mohinder took a half-step backward. "Relax, Mohinder," he said in a soft, soothing voice, though Mohinder could see his jaw trembling slightly from the cold. "It's just some rain. What's wrong with rain?"

His face was right in Mohinder's face, radiating all that boyish belief and all that foolish innocence that had caused Mohinder nothing but heartbreak and disappointment. But when he was around this near-stranger, he almost wanted to believe. "You're going to catch pneumonia," he said weakly. "You're dripping wet."

He saw a hand caress Peter's cheek, brushing off a small wave of streaming water, and realized too late that it was his own.

Peter cupped his chin in wet hands. He shivered.

Then Mohinder was cold and hot and searing and soaking because they were kissing, hard, Peter's still-shivering jaw drawing in his heat and filling him with even more explosive heat. His shirtsleeves were damp; his hands in Peter's fine dark mist of hair were nearly numb; his heart was turning like a generator in his chest, slowly stoking an ever-higher-leaping fire. Peter tasted like belief and optimism, and God help him, but Mohinder desperately needed that. He'd had enough of doubting and disappointment.

A drop of rainwater fell from Peter's bangs to Mohinder's eyelashes, weighing his eyelids closed. He didn't bother to shake it off. For now, it was all right to be blind.


May
spring is in the air - Niki/D.L.

Jessica loved the spring, you know.

I know. I remember.

I wish she was here today.

She is, Niki, she is. You think she would miss a day like this?

You didn't know her very well.

Come on, babe. I knew her well enough to know that she'd be here for you.

You might be right. I just... I always dreamed about having her here with me on a day like today... With flowers in her hair. She would have loved the flowers we chose. I even would have let her dance with you.

Oh. Well. That's pretty nice of you, Mrs. Hawkins.

Wat a minute! The license doesn't say a thing about me taking your name.

A man can dream. Anyway, they're waiting for us. I hear there's a big old cake out there that needs cutting.

Right. I shouldn't be moping on my wedding day. I'm sorry.

Well, I'm moping. What, we're the bride and groom and they're making us cut the cake like we're the kitchen help? What's up with that?

You make me laugh, and I love you, Mr. Hawkins.

I love you too, Ms. Sanders.

Now that's more like it!



June
flag day - Matt/Nathan

"Are you patriotic, Parkman?"

The bed creaks under him as he gets up. "What?"

He squints at Nathan, who's shrugging on a brown jacket. His shoulders don't quite fill out the coat's, and they wriggle under the cloth.

"I mean, do you love your country?" Wide fingers adjust his tie. "Do you say the Pledge of Allegiance? Do you put your hand on your heart when you see the flag?"

A throaty chuckle. "What brought this on? Did you sleep with that flag pin crammed up your butt or something?"

"You'd know." Nathan laughs and cranes his neck, uncomfortable in the stiff collar. Matt crosses to him, helps fold it outward. Nathan exhales in relief. "You're a law enforcement officer," he says. "You work for the government. My taxpayer dollars pay your salary. I think I'm entitled to know. Do you love your country?"

Matt's head tilts slightly to the side. Nathan's eyes are hard, his mouth a thin line. Still, he can't shake the feeling Nathan's teasing him. "Sure, I guess," he shrugs.

The hard eyes come closer. Nathan knocks foreheads with him briefly, not hard enough to bruise, but it's not a touch you can call anything close to gentle. "You shouldn't."

Matt rubs his forehead. "What?"

Nathan's head is up again, and he's pacing the room like a lion policing its cave. "Government's full of bastards, just like me. Waiting to screw you over. They can't be trusted." Arms around him from behind now, teeth nipping at his neck. "They'll eat you alive."

Matt gives a little groan. "But that's trust," he says as Nathan's lips skim over his ear. "Why can't I love my country even if I don't trust it?"

Nathan comes to face him. His look is so serious. Gravity in every line of his face. He ruffles Matt's hair a little, lets his hand slide down his cheek. "Because love is blind," he says. "And I need you to keep your eyes open."


July
summer heat - Peter/Claire
"I could come at you invisible," Peter said, "and splash you and you wouldn't know it was me."

"I'd know it was you." She rolled her eyes.

"All right, what else? I'll pick up a crab and make it hang in midair and talk to you."

"A crab."

"Sure."

Claire splashed him in the face. Peter blinked away the salt and laughed.

"Face it." She crossed her arms. "You can't give me the chills. I'm doomed to bake in this heat forever."

"Maybe." Peter flashed his lopsided grin at her.

Her smile faded. "W-what?"

Then he was muscling his way powerfully through the water, limber thighs sending up small waves on either side. He was so tall, she thought as he neared her. When he was right up against her, she had to crane her neck to see him.

He took two wet fingers, the second finger of each hand, and put them on her shoulders, then traced her arms down to her wrist.

She shivered.

"Uncross your arms," he said.

It took her a second to realize what he was hoping to see. "I will not!"

He laughed. "Then admit I gave you the chills just now."

She pouted and dunked herself shoulders-deep in the shallow water. "It's so, so hot out," she cried as she paddled away.

Peter watched her go, smiling. The sun kissed the top of her head with bright gold.


August
dog days - Mohinder/Sylar

"Hot," Sylar said.

"Too hot to move," Mohinder said.

So they didn't move.

The hotel room was sparse. The bed's mattress was thin as its sheets. The AC was sputtering like a man dying of lung cancer, and they were lying side by side on the bed, hands loosely joined, staring at each other.

"Dog days of summer," Sylar muttered.

"We're being hunted like dogs, so I suppose it's appropriate enough." It was more effort than Mohinder had expected to expend, and a fresh sheen of sweat had broken out on his brow by the time he'd finished.

"And to think," posited Sylar, his dramatic eyebrows opening and closing like heavy doors swung by the breeze, "we thought hiding out in a hotel room for three days would be fun."

"It's fun," Mohinder said, "sort of." He put a single finger on Sylar's chest, drawing his sweat-soaked T-shirt back and forth and watching as it mopped up more of the perspiration.

'Oh?" Lips quirked.

Mohinder's eyes narrowed, and his voice trailed into a hiss. "I rather like you," he said, "sweaty and horizontal."

The quirk expanded into a grin. "Well." Ice frosted along Sylar's fingertips. "When you put it like that..."

He touched the frosting fingers to Mohinder's skin.

It was sort of fun, after all.



September
back to school - Claire/Elle

"You know, when you walk that close to me, it doesn't exactly help us blend in," Claire mutters.

"Can I help it if I naturally attract attention?"

"No, but you can help it if I do." Claire pushes to the side of the hallway, but Elle follows her like they're joined at the hip. She gets a zap to the fingertips. "Ow!"

'No trying to get away, golden girl. I'm supposed to keep you safe, remember?"

"And I'm trying to tell you that the less attention we attract, the safer we are." Claire finds her locker number and opens it up. "Oh, God, a pothead had this locker before me. It stinks."

"Maybe safe is the wrong word. Maybe I should say 'physically sound.'"

"That is not a problem, remember?"

Elle runs a hand along her thigh. "Maybe I just don't want to play it safe."

Claire jumps. "Stop it! What do you think this is?"

"High school, I guess." Elle looks around innocently. "Not that I'd really know what that means."

"Oh, God." Claire bangs her head against the locker door. "This is gonna be a lo-o-ong semester."


October
all hallows' eve - Peter/Sylar

The room was hollow and empty. Sylar stepped to the middle of it. The sound of his boots on the floor echoed off the gray concrete.

"It's Halloween," he said. His voice echoed, too. "You know what that means, don't you?"

There was no answer. His lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

"It means that tonight is the night you don't have to pretend to be normal. Tonight is the night you get to let all your demons run free. All Hallows' Eve. You fight your demons all the time, Peter. Tonight you can revel in them. Enjoy them. The way I do."

He smiled, and his voice rose to almost a shout. "Haven't you always wanted to be like me, Peter? Just a little bit, you wanted to use all that power you have for yourself instead of some so-called Greater Good? I know you do. I've sensed it. What better night is there?"

Still, no answer. He switched from a shout to a whisper. "Come on, Peter. Come out to play."

A hand grabbed his. He looked down and saw the indentation on his flesh.

"Trick or treat," said a voice in his ear as arms snaked around him.

Sylar grinned and turned. "Now what kind of a question is that?" he said as Peter faded into view. "I want both."


November
thanksgiving - Peter/Nathan

"The thing about the fake turkey..."

"Say it," Nathan interrupted.

Peter frowned. "Why should I? You laugh yourself stupid everytime I do."

"Say it!"

"Fine, Tofurkey, OK?" Nathan promptly laughed himself stupid. "Last time I'm cooking for you."

"No. No, sorry, Pete, go on." Nathan leaned over the table, his eyes bright and serious but a quirk in his lips. "You were saying about the, ahem, Tofurkey?" He fought to bite back the snicker and failed miserably. Peter pouted at him.

Seeing no way out, he bulldozed his way through his brother's amusement. "The thing about it," he said, "the reason I wanted you to try it this year, is that it doesn't have triptophan in it like real turkey does."

"Tripto-what was that? Pete, are you just making up words today?"

This time Peter ignored his taunting. "It's a chemical that's in turkey," he lectured. "It makes you sleepy. But the tofu doesn't have it."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning," said Peter, in a voice calculated to catch Nathan's ear and no one else's, "that when everybody else is in a food coma, we'll still be wide awake." He put a bare foot onto Nathan's knee and slid it slowly inward. Nathan's eyes got very wide.

"And what are you thankful for this year, Nathan?" The voice, a clipped soprano, sang through their twin grins.

Nathan looked at his mother, smiled warmly, and raised his glass. "I'm thankful for such a terrific family," he declared. "I'm thankful to have a mother so devoted, thankful to have sons so bright and healthy, and..."

He tipped the glass toward Peter. Light penetrated the liquid's surface, and the tablecloth tinted the color of a blush. "I'm thankful," Nathan finished, "to have a brother who is so very resourceful."


December
one minute to midnight - Hiro/Ando

Hiro had thought about it many times. He was pretty sure he could pull it off. It was just a matter of waiting until the last minute. No, the last second.

Tonight was the night, his only chance for a year. He sat beside Ando and drank some sort of thick liquor he couldn't stand the taste of. But he needed the courage.

Ando grinned at him and drank his beer as they watched the partygoers dance and laugh in a parade of colors all around them. Two lonely posts in a swirling sea, staid and boring. But at least they were a matched set. That partnership, that sense that they were the only two square pegs in a world of round holes, was part of what had driven Hiro to his decision.

The final minute came, and Ando stood. "Tatte, Hiro. Saigo da!" he encouraged, that big, goofy, wide smile on his face. Hiro stood up as he'd been commanded to chant along with the crowd as 11:59 ticked down into nothing.

"Juu, kyuu, hachi..."

This was it. Hiro gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

"nana, roku, go, yon...."

Ando with his glass and eyes raised, oblivious to Hiro's resolve....

"san, ni..."

As ichi began to cross Ando's lips, Hiro closed his eyes tight and stopped time.

Around the room, unmoving lovers leaned toward each other. Streamers suspended their emergence from paper cones. The priest was just about to slam his mallet into the bell on the TV screen to call down the gods.

And Hiro moved into Ando's open, frozen arms.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but I don't have the courage... so you'll never know."

He stood on his tiptoes and drifted a kiss across the lips of his friend. His partner in strangeness, oddity, geekiness, adventures. The man he'd long since come to love.

Just one kiss. He stood back and murmured softly, "Yatta."

With that, he restarted the clock.

"...ichi... HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The stilted Japanese-English cry sounded particularly strange to Hiro, though he lifted up his hands to join into it. He felt tears choking his eyes to know that he could never, never go back into that timeless world where, for an instant, he'd had what he always wanted.

Except for then Ando was grabbing his face in two strong hands and kissing him hard.

Yatta.