FICTION: Days Like Yesterday (Mac Mackenzie/Sylar Gray)
Days Like Yesterday
Fandoms: Heroes, Veronica Mars
Pairing: Cindy 'Mac' Mackenzie / Gabriel 'Sylar' Gray
Summary: It's just a coincidence on the house.
Rating: PG / Word Count: 784
Author's Note: Because I'm on crack apparently. Blame Holli for leaving me unattended. Also? The pairing kind of makes me happy in my pants.
She moves to New York for grad school when she gets a scholarship and doesn't miss Neptune one bit. She likes the big city, the arts scene, her new internship, and the fact that nobody knows her or her past.
Being new in town does have it’s disadvantages though so she spends most of her free time just wondering around and exploring - with a map and spare cab fair tucked away in her backpack just in case.
It’s what she’s doing on a late Thursday night when it starts pouring out of nowhere. She ducks under the nearest covering and finds herself in front of a closed deli. Glancing around, most of the area seems to be closed up for the night or abandoned all together. The shop two down is the only one with neon letters spelling out open so she pulls her hood over her head and makes a run for it.
When she enters the small shop, she’s overwhelmed by the smell of must and the sound of ticking. It’s a small space but there are clock faces everywhere, actual clocks and disassembled ones, spread out on every available surface.
Standing grandfather clocks, hanging coo-coo's, dangling wrist watches, she feels like she's stepped into some creepy ass Disney cartoon where there's an evil watchmaker out to get her. At that thought, she can't help but tighten her grip on the strap of her messenger bag. Veronica gave her a can of pepper spray when she moved into the city and she's almost positive it's still in the front compartment.
Just when she decides to fuck the rain and is about to turn right back around, a man walks through a door she hadn't seen until just then.
He's disheveled, distracted, and looks caught off guard by a live, honest-to-God customer. She absent-mindedly thinks he's sort of cute before taking into account the five o'clock shadow, wrinkled shirt tale, and stained khaki's. It’s more than obvious he hasn't slept in several days and, judging by the weird glasses-like-contraption on his face, she's guessing that he's the watch-repairman-guy, or whatever they call the people in that particular profession.
He brings her out of her thoughts by asking if he can help her and it’s just then that she remembers she has nothing, no reason for being there or for bothering him. She has no idea why but it makes her feel guilty in the pit of her stomach so she takes off her watch, even though there's nothing wrong with it, and asks him if he thinks it's working properly.
It's a lame ass excuse but he doesn't seem to notice because he turns his back without another word, already caught up in examining her Wal-Mart bargain purchase as he walks through the door again.
She's torn between following him and staying put since he didn't really lean towards either option. After doing an awkward dance for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot, she rolls her eyes, calls herself a moron, and stomps off after him.
The minute she sees him she gets quiet again.
He's sitting in a rolling chair and hunched over a small table, covered with even more clock faces than any of the spaces out front (she didn't think that was possible), and he doesn't seem to notice her as he inspects her watch. It suddenly hits her that she's getting this very professional watchmaker to look at her Hello Kitty watch with a hot pink wristband.
At first she's mortified at herself and then the hilarity of it strikes her and she can't help but snort.
His gaze instantly jumps up to hers, the boy is obviously not used to human interaction, but she squirms under it. Sorry, she mutters. He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. It throws her off guard. I...uh. (Oh god, the stuttering has started.) He doesn't wait for an answer, just goes back to her watch.
Less than a minute later he hands it back to her with an explanation full of technical terms she doesn't understand. He must pick up on her confusion though because he corrects himself with something about how it was off a millisecond. I fixed it.
She feels the shock on her face most definitely just gave her away because there's his smirk again (the one she kinda likes). She reaches for the messenger bag that has been swung behind her. How much-
On the house.
His voice is kind and his hands are in his pockets. She freezes in her reach and then realizes what she’s doing and drops her arms. He’s still looking at her.
She can’t help but smile at his smirk.
Fandoms: Heroes, Veronica Mars
Pairing: Cindy 'Mac' Mackenzie / Gabriel 'Sylar' Gray
Summary: It's just a coincidence on the house.
Rating: PG / Word Count: 784
Author's Note: Because I'm on crack apparently. Blame Holli for leaving me unattended. Also? The pairing kind of makes me happy in my pants.
She moves to New York for grad school when she gets a scholarship and doesn't miss Neptune one bit. She likes the big city, the arts scene, her new internship, and the fact that nobody knows her or her past.
Being new in town does have it’s disadvantages though so she spends most of her free time just wondering around and exploring - with a map and spare cab fair tucked away in her backpack just in case.
It’s what she’s doing on a late Thursday night when it starts pouring out of nowhere. She ducks under the nearest covering and finds herself in front of a closed deli. Glancing around, most of the area seems to be closed up for the night or abandoned all together. The shop two down is the only one with neon letters spelling out open so she pulls her hood over her head and makes a run for it.
When she enters the small shop, she’s overwhelmed by the smell of must and the sound of ticking. It’s a small space but there are clock faces everywhere, actual clocks and disassembled ones, spread out on every available surface.
Standing grandfather clocks, hanging coo-coo's, dangling wrist watches, she feels like she's stepped into some creepy ass Disney cartoon where there's an evil watchmaker out to get her. At that thought, she can't help but tighten her grip on the strap of her messenger bag. Veronica gave her a can of pepper spray when she moved into the city and she's almost positive it's still in the front compartment.
Just when she decides to fuck the rain and is about to turn right back around, a man walks through a door she hadn't seen until just then.
He's disheveled, distracted, and looks caught off guard by a live, honest-to-God customer. She absent-mindedly thinks he's sort of cute before taking into account the five o'clock shadow, wrinkled shirt tale, and stained khaki's. It’s more than obvious he hasn't slept in several days and, judging by the weird glasses-like-contraption on his face, she's guessing that he's the watch-repairman-guy, or whatever they call the people in that particular profession.
He brings her out of her thoughts by asking if he can help her and it’s just then that she remembers she has nothing, no reason for being there or for bothering him. She has no idea why but it makes her feel guilty in the pit of her stomach so she takes off her watch, even though there's nothing wrong with it, and asks him if he thinks it's working properly.
It's a lame ass excuse but he doesn't seem to notice because he turns his back without another word, already caught up in examining her Wal-Mart bargain purchase as he walks through the door again.
She's torn between following him and staying put since he didn't really lean towards either option. After doing an awkward dance for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot, she rolls her eyes, calls herself a moron, and stomps off after him.
The minute she sees him she gets quiet again.
He's sitting in a rolling chair and hunched over a small table, covered with even more clock faces than any of the spaces out front (she didn't think that was possible), and he doesn't seem to notice her as he inspects her watch. It suddenly hits her that she's getting this very professional watchmaker to look at her Hello Kitty watch with a hot pink wristband.
At first she's mortified at herself and then the hilarity of it strikes her and she can't help but snort.
His gaze instantly jumps up to hers, the boy is obviously not used to human interaction, but she squirms under it. Sorry, she mutters. He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. It throws her off guard. I...uh. (Oh god, the stuttering has started.) He doesn't wait for an answer, just goes back to her watch.
Less than a minute later he hands it back to her with an explanation full of technical terms she doesn't understand. He must pick up on her confusion though because he corrects himself with something about how it was off a millisecond. I fixed it.
She feels the shock on her face most definitely just gave her away because there's his smirk again (the one she kinda likes). She reaches for the messenger bag that has been swung behind her. How much-
On the house.
His voice is kind and his hands are in his pockets. She freezes in her reach and then realizes what she’s doing and drops her arms. He’s still looking at her.
She can’t help but smile at his smirk.