Heroes: "Scenes From a Special Kinda Life" (Mylar, Molly, PG)
Title: Scenes From a Special Kinda Life
Author: airspaniel
Recipient: rebootfromstart
Genre: Fluff
Prompt: Nobody's perfect
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1407
Notes: For the mylar_fic Summer fic-a-thon, week 2 - "fluff week." I've been watching a lot of Christopher Guest movies lately, and it kind of shows. This maybe isn't quite where I want it to be, but I absolutely cannot futz with it anymore!
Summary: 3 vignettes and 3 short interviews from everyone's favorite family.
Mohinder opened the closet door and was knocked off his feet as the body of a man fell into the hallway in front of him. The top of the man’s head followed a beat later, spinning like a grisly hubcap, finally coming to rest on the freshly polished floor. He shoved the corpse aside and climbed angrily to his feet.
“Sylar!” he yelled. “Not in the house!!”
----------
“I think the most important thing to remember,” Mohinder begins, dropping a possessive hand on Sylar’s knee, “is that all relationships are about compromise.”
“Exactly.” Sylar agrees, covering his partner’s hand with his own.
“I mean, there are always going to be things about the other person that bother you, or that you wish you could change. Nobody’s ever going to be perfect all the time. But all you can do is be open about it, and find a way to meet in the middle.”
“Right,” Sylar nods. “It’s all about communication.”
“So, you know, we’ve had our rough spots, but now we’ve found a balance that works for us. He doesn’t kill anyone I care about, and I…”
“Don’t make the tea anymore!” Sylar interjects, laughing.
Mohinder swats him playfully. “Don’t remind me! Oh god, that chair…” He covers his face with his hand, shaking his head ruefully.
“I’ll tell you, though,” Sylar says, wrapping his arm around Mohinder’s waist. “No one’s ever made me scream my own name before. That was pretty kinky.”
----------
Mohinder stood at the sink, washing dishes. After rinsing each one, he passed it to Sylar, who put it in the drying rack. Molly bounced into the kitchen, bright eyes shining behind a little too much eyeliner, hands clasped innocently behind her back.
“Mohinder?”
“I know that tone.” He turned around, drying his hands on the kitchen towel. “What do you want, Molly?” he asked, not unkindly.
She ran into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, can’t I just tell you you’re the best dad ever and I love you?”
He hugged her back, smiling. “You can, and I appreciate that. I love you, too. Now where are you trying to get me to let you go this time?”
She pulled away, looking sheepishly at the floor. “To see Pesticide play at the Annex tomorrow night?” she mumbled into her chest. Biting her lip, she threw him her best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Mohinder?”
Sylar laughed and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, Mohinder, please?”
“Don’t encourage her!” Mohinder sighed, exasperated. “And I don’t know, Molly. I don’t like the idea of you being out in the city by yourself. You’re only fifteen.”
“I won’t be by myself!” she interrupted. “Julie’s going, and her older sister, too! Her older sister who’s nearly twenty.”
“Nearly twenty, Mo.” Sylar nodded approvingly. “She must be responsible.”
“You aren’t helping!”
“Come on, please?” Molly begged. “I’ll be home by midnight, I promise!” She turned the puppy eyes on one last time, and Mohinder felt his resolve weakening. He looked to his partner for support, only to find another set of pleading eyes, lips pushed out in the most distracting mock-pout.
He closed his eyes. “Home by eleven. And all your schoolwork is done before you leave; I don’t care that it’s Friday.”
Ecstatic, she rose up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, throwing her arms around him again. “I will! Don’t worry!” Then she was gone in a flash, fingers already dialing the phone to tell her friends the good news.
Mohinder clenched his hands into fists, and brought his attention back to the dishes. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Sylar. It’s hard enough watching out for her without you exacerbating things.”
Sylar just smirked. “She’s a bright girl. I think it’s good for her to be social; have friends.” He crossed the small kitchen to wind his arms around his lover’s waist. “Don’t you remember being fifteen?”
“When I was fifteen, I was studying at university.” Mohinder sighed back into the embrace.
“Oh, so that’s why you don’t know how to have fun.” The man in his arms went completely still, and Sylar braced himself for the inevitable harsh tongue-lashing.
He got one, but not the kind he was expecting, as he was pushed back against the opposite counter; hands and mouth suddenly full of passionate geneticist.
“I’ll show you how I have fun.”
----------
“It was kind of weird at first,” Molly confesses. “Y’know, ‘cause he totally killed my mom and dad that one time.”
She drops her eyes and picks idly at her dark purple nail polish. “But then Mohinder was like, ‘He killed my dad, too.’ And, I dunno, if he was okay with it… It seemed kind of wrong to still be weird about it after that.”
“But Sylar is actually really cool!” she beams. “He can do all kinds of stuff, and he’s not a hardass about rules. Plus, he totally uses his super-memory to do my algebra II homework in like, five seconds!”
Molly darts her eyes around the room, suddenly nervous.
“Uh… please don’t tell Mohinder I said that last part.”
----------
The alarm went off at 7:30, the same as it did every morning.
And just like every morning, Sylar slammed his hand down on the snooze button, completely unprepared to get up so early. Mohinder was already sitting up, slippers half on; ready to face the day, when a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back, Sylar snuggling close against his body.
“Just a few more minutes?” his lover mumbled sleepily.
“I can’t.” Mohinder put up a token resistance. “I have papers to grade. Some of us have to work for a living, you know.”
Sylar held him tighter, burying his face in that tousled dark hair. “No, you don’t. I’ll take care of you.” He pressed a kiss against the soft brown skin of Mohinder’s neck. “Just stay here.”
“I wish I could.” Mohinder sighed, as Sylar kissed him again. “You know I want to.” Another kiss.
“So do.” Kiss. “You know you don’t really want to get out of bed.”
Mohinder felt his eyelids getting heavy. He relaxed into Sylar’s arms, feeling Sylar’s breath against the back of his neck, even and regular, lips already parted in sleep.
He wrapped his arm around the arm that held him. “Maybe just a few more minutes.”
It was nearly nine when he woke up again, this time to teeth nibbling gently on his earlobe and a wandering hand teasing just below the waistband of his boxers.
Mohinder smiled. It was going to be a very good day.
----------
Sylar sits on the armrest of the sofa, still intimidating despite his casual clothes. He starts speaking with an understatement.
“I’m not exactly a nice guy. I mean, biological imperatives aside, I’ve done some pretty terrible things. And Mohinder, he’s the last person that should be forgiving me, after all I’ve put him through.”
He laughs, a little nostalgic; a little sad. “I joke all the time, about how he must’ve really screwed up in a past life to get stuck with me. And he just smiles at me so warmly, and he always says that maybe I did something really right, and all that matters is the lessons we learn now. And then he kisses me, and it breaks my heart a little, y’know? Because there aren’t a lot of times that I feel like I’m doing something right, but for some reason Mohinder loves me anyway.”
When Sylar looks up through his lashes, his eyes are a little misty; a surprisingly vulnerable look for him. “I always wanted to be special, ever since I was a kid. When I found out about my abilities, what I can do, it was such a rush! I finally felt like I was somebody. I had a purpose and ambition, and it was a wonderful feeling, even if bloodstains are kind of hell on the dry-cleaning bill.” He smiles crookedly at the joke before turning deadly serious again.
“But you could take away all my powers tomorrow, lock me up forever and throw away the key, and I’d still feel like the luckiest man on the planet because of him. Every time he looks at me, he really sees me, who I am under all the death and destruction.” Sylar takes a deep shaky breath.
“And he just smiles at me, and I… I feel like the most special person there is.”
Author: airspaniel
Recipient: rebootfromstart
Genre: Fluff
Prompt: Nobody's perfect
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1407
Notes: For the mylar_fic Summer fic-a-thon, week 2 - "fluff week." I've been watching a lot of Christopher Guest movies lately, and it kind of shows. This maybe isn't quite where I want it to be, but I absolutely cannot futz with it anymore!
Summary: 3 vignettes and 3 short interviews from everyone's favorite family.
Mohinder opened the closet door and was knocked off his feet as the body of a man fell into the hallway in front of him. The top of the man’s head followed a beat later, spinning like a grisly hubcap, finally coming to rest on the freshly polished floor. He shoved the corpse aside and climbed angrily to his feet.
“Sylar!” he yelled. “Not in the house!!”
----------
“I think the most important thing to remember,” Mohinder begins, dropping a possessive hand on Sylar’s knee, “is that all relationships are about compromise.”
“Exactly.” Sylar agrees, covering his partner’s hand with his own.
“I mean, there are always going to be things about the other person that bother you, or that you wish you could change. Nobody’s ever going to be perfect all the time. But all you can do is be open about it, and find a way to meet in the middle.”
“Right,” Sylar nods. “It’s all about communication.”
“So, you know, we’ve had our rough spots, but now we’ve found a balance that works for us. He doesn’t kill anyone I care about, and I…”
“Don’t make the tea anymore!” Sylar interjects, laughing.
Mohinder swats him playfully. “Don’t remind me! Oh god, that chair…” He covers his face with his hand, shaking his head ruefully.
“I’ll tell you, though,” Sylar says, wrapping his arm around Mohinder’s waist. “No one’s ever made me scream my own name before. That was pretty kinky.”
----------
Mohinder stood at the sink, washing dishes. After rinsing each one, he passed it to Sylar, who put it in the drying rack. Molly bounced into the kitchen, bright eyes shining behind a little too much eyeliner, hands clasped innocently behind her back.
“Mohinder?”
“I know that tone.” He turned around, drying his hands on the kitchen towel. “What do you want, Molly?” he asked, not unkindly.
She ran into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, can’t I just tell you you’re the best dad ever and I love you?”
He hugged her back, smiling. “You can, and I appreciate that. I love you, too. Now where are you trying to get me to let you go this time?”
She pulled away, looking sheepishly at the floor. “To see Pesticide play at the Annex tomorrow night?” she mumbled into her chest. Biting her lip, she threw him her best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Mohinder?”
Sylar laughed and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, Mohinder, please?”
“Don’t encourage her!” Mohinder sighed, exasperated. “And I don’t know, Molly. I don’t like the idea of you being out in the city by yourself. You’re only fifteen.”
“I won’t be by myself!” she interrupted. “Julie’s going, and her older sister, too! Her older sister who’s nearly twenty.”
“Nearly twenty, Mo.” Sylar nodded approvingly. “She must be responsible.”
“You aren’t helping!”
“Come on, please?” Molly begged. “I’ll be home by midnight, I promise!” She turned the puppy eyes on one last time, and Mohinder felt his resolve weakening. He looked to his partner for support, only to find another set of pleading eyes, lips pushed out in the most distracting mock-pout.
He closed his eyes. “Home by eleven. And all your schoolwork is done before you leave; I don’t care that it’s Friday.”
Ecstatic, she rose up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, throwing her arms around him again. “I will! Don’t worry!” Then she was gone in a flash, fingers already dialing the phone to tell her friends the good news.
Mohinder clenched his hands into fists, and brought his attention back to the dishes. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Sylar. It’s hard enough watching out for her without you exacerbating things.”
Sylar just smirked. “She’s a bright girl. I think it’s good for her to be social; have friends.” He crossed the small kitchen to wind his arms around his lover’s waist. “Don’t you remember being fifteen?”
“When I was fifteen, I was studying at university.” Mohinder sighed back into the embrace.
“Oh, so that’s why you don’t know how to have fun.” The man in his arms went completely still, and Sylar braced himself for the inevitable harsh tongue-lashing.
He got one, but not the kind he was expecting, as he was pushed back against the opposite counter; hands and mouth suddenly full of passionate geneticist.
“I’ll show you how I have fun.”
----------
“It was kind of weird at first,” Molly confesses. “Y’know, ‘cause he totally killed my mom and dad that one time.”
She drops her eyes and picks idly at her dark purple nail polish. “But then Mohinder was like, ‘He killed my dad, too.’ And, I dunno, if he was okay with it… It seemed kind of wrong to still be weird about it after that.”
“But Sylar is actually really cool!” she beams. “He can do all kinds of stuff, and he’s not a hardass about rules. Plus, he totally uses his super-memory to do my algebra II homework in like, five seconds!”
Molly darts her eyes around the room, suddenly nervous.
“Uh… please don’t tell Mohinder I said that last part.”
----------
The alarm went off at 7:30, the same as it did every morning.
And just like every morning, Sylar slammed his hand down on the snooze button, completely unprepared to get up so early. Mohinder was already sitting up, slippers half on; ready to face the day, when a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back, Sylar snuggling close against his body.
“Just a few more minutes?” his lover mumbled sleepily.
“I can’t.” Mohinder put up a token resistance. “I have papers to grade. Some of us have to work for a living, you know.”
Sylar held him tighter, burying his face in that tousled dark hair. “No, you don’t. I’ll take care of you.” He pressed a kiss against the soft brown skin of Mohinder’s neck. “Just stay here.”
“I wish I could.” Mohinder sighed, as Sylar kissed him again. “You know I want to.” Another kiss.
“So do.” Kiss. “You know you don’t really want to get out of bed.”
Mohinder felt his eyelids getting heavy. He relaxed into Sylar’s arms, feeling Sylar’s breath against the back of his neck, even and regular, lips already parted in sleep.
He wrapped his arm around the arm that held him. “Maybe just a few more minutes.”
It was nearly nine when he woke up again, this time to teeth nibbling gently on his earlobe and a wandering hand teasing just below the waistband of his boxers.
Mohinder smiled. It was going to be a very good day.
----------
Sylar sits on the armrest of the sofa, still intimidating despite his casual clothes. He starts speaking with an understatement.
“I’m not exactly a nice guy. I mean, biological imperatives aside, I’ve done some pretty terrible things. And Mohinder, he’s the last person that should be forgiving me, after all I’ve put him through.”
He laughs, a little nostalgic; a little sad. “I joke all the time, about how he must’ve really screwed up in a past life to get stuck with me. And he just smiles at me so warmly, and he always says that maybe I did something really right, and all that matters is the lessons we learn now. And then he kisses me, and it breaks my heart a little, y’know? Because there aren’t a lot of times that I feel like I’m doing something right, but for some reason Mohinder loves me anyway.”
When Sylar looks up through his lashes, his eyes are a little misty; a surprisingly vulnerable look for him. “I always wanted to be special, ever since I was a kid. When I found out about my abilities, what I can do, it was such a rush! I finally felt like I was somebody. I had a purpose and ambition, and it was a wonderful feeling, even if bloodstains are kind of hell on the dry-cleaning bill.” He smiles crookedly at the joke before turning deadly serious again.
“But you could take away all my powers tomorrow, lock me up forever and throw away the key, and I’d still feel like the luckiest man on the planet because of him. Every time he looks at me, he really sees me, who I am under all the death and destruction.” Sylar takes a deep shaky breath.
“And he just smiles at me, and I… I feel like the most special person there is.”