Heroes_fic Advent Calendar day 25 (my fill)
Hey guess what guys, I'm not dead! I finally wrote something. You know, like a year later. Oh well.
Fic: Half-finished Love Affair.
Rating: PG.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar (as always).
Warnings: Unbeta'd and written late. All mistakes are my own. No spoilers, just slash. Some fluff. Also half the fic is in italics because it's a flashback, so, yeah.
Summary: Gabriel remembers the first time he kissed Peter.
Notes: I blatantly put in references to other stuff in here, as I usually do, so there's that. Also I swear I will write some of the ideas I've been working on and post them in the coming up New Year.
Oh also I totally want Peter to call everyone he date endearments. Ergo, it might seem OOC, but I have a kink for it. Sue me.
"Do you remember the first time we kissed?"
The question is sudden and unprompted, and Gabriel has to take a moment to think it over. Without looking up from his book, he replies, "In real life or in the dream?"
His query earns a chuckle from Peter, who is currently sitting across from Gabriel and half heartedly trying to solve a Rubix cube; it ends up laying forgotten on a side table as the medic stands up and strolls over to sit on the couch next to Gabriel.
"You know everything that happened in the dream was real, baby," Peter sighs, reminiscence heavy in his voice, and he slides his hands up to cup at Gabriel's jaw. Something has gotten to Peter, but it's probably nothing too serious or worrisome, and Gabriel puts up no resistance when Peter starts pressing careful, but stern, kisses up the taller man's neck, up his chin, across his cheeks and finally to his lips. They kiss languidly for ages but don't make any move to move things further.
As it happens, Gabriel does in fact remember their first kiss.
He was sad, and it was raining. He had ruined his chance at ever having anyone by his side ever again and now he was forced to spend the rest of his life with a man who didn't even like him, let alone love him.
He was sad and it was raining. It hadn't seemed so childish at the time.
Crouching in a sunken-in doorway, he waits for the storm to stop and rubs at a closed eye, feeling anxiety build. The more he thinks, the more upset he gets, and it makes everything worse.
He was still sad, and it was raining harder.
The deluge has gotten so bad that he doesn't even hear the soft, splashing footsteps of someone approaching until a pair of familiar shoes comes into his line of sight. He doesn't look up to see who it is, he already knows, but Peter scoots down the opposite wall and faces him anyway.
"Your temper tantrum is making it hard for me to hammer," he starts, only frowning slightly at the other man.
"How can you be so sure you're not causing it?" Gabriel tries to snark back, but the fight isn't in him. When he doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't try to keep to the familiar pattern they've been following for years now, Peter's not-frown deepens and he moves, mirroring Gabriel's posture.
"For starters," he replies, choosing his words carefully, "I'm not the one moping in an alcove somewhere, rubbing at my face so hard it turns red."
He has a point, Gabriel supposes, although he hadn't realized Peter has caught on to his nervous ticks. He sighs.
"It's not a tantrum. I'm just…melancholy."
"Melancholy? I'd call this full on depression."
Gabriel's posture stiffens and Peter knows he's hit a nerve. He doesn't bother asking why his companion is upset, because he can figure it out. Every conversation they've had since the Wall has appeared has clued him in to his neighbor's plight, but for the first time in his life, he has no feeling telling him how to help. He can't rely on his empathy, either, because he honestly has no idea how to empathize with a serial killer who was trying to reform because he was lonely. He remembers, though, a future that never happened, with a happy, good man who finally got what he wanted, only to have it taken from him again. He never found out what happened to that Gabriel after the explosion, but he can't help but wonder if maybe that Gabriel had given up the will to continue.
Looking across the small space, he sees that same kind of despair in this, or perhaps his, Gabriel's eyes, and he begins to feel that tug. He knows what he should do, but he's not sure he can bring himself to do it.
A sudden flash of lightening startles him out of his reverie and he realizes he's been staring into Gabriel's eyes for the better part of a minute, and the other man had noticed. It appears, however, that Gabriel is not returning his gaze, but rather, has dropped his eyes down just a tiny bit to Peter's mouth.
Peter feels his neck heat up as he realizes what he should do. What he needs to do. He leans in closer, closing the small gap between them, so he's kneeling in front of Gabriel instead of sitting.
"Do you ever feel like maybe…like maybe we've known each other for a lot longer than we've realized?"
Images of bloodied hands and far off places and kisses stolen in a golden hotel room flash through his mind, but Peter has no idea where they've come from. The look on Gabriel's face, though, seems to scream the same thing, and without thinking, Peter leans in and presses their lips together.
Gabriel had been sad. It had been raining. Peter changed that.
The memory seems to fade from Gabriel's mind, and he feels that overwhelming push again, that feeling like something bigger has been happening and will continue to happen. When he gently pulls away from Peter, he has to take a moment to regain his breath back before asking, "Why do you ask?"
Peter doesn't reply right away, but instead, a small, knowing smile slides across his face.
"I wanted to make sure you remembered. After all, it was years ago," he muses, once he finally speaks, but his thought doesn't go unanswered long.
"I have the feeling that time has never really been an issue for us," Gabriel murmurs, leaning back in to capture Peter's lips again.
Peter meets him halfway, as he seems to have been doing for an eternity.
Fic: Half-finished Love Affair.
Rating: PG.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar (as always).
Warnings: Unbeta'd and written late. All mistakes are my own. No spoilers, just slash. Some fluff. Also half the fic is in italics because it's a flashback, so, yeah.
Summary: Gabriel remembers the first time he kissed Peter.
Notes: I blatantly put in references to other stuff in here, as I usually do, so there's that. Also I swear I will write some of the ideas I've been working on and post them in the coming up New Year.
Oh also I totally want Peter to call everyone he date endearments. Ergo, it might seem OOC, but I have a kink for it. Sue me.
"Do you remember the first time we kissed?"
The question is sudden and unprompted, and Gabriel has to take a moment to think it over. Without looking up from his book, he replies, "In real life or in the dream?"
His query earns a chuckle from Peter, who is currently sitting across from Gabriel and half heartedly trying to solve a Rubix cube; it ends up laying forgotten on a side table as the medic stands up and strolls over to sit on the couch next to Gabriel.
"You know everything that happened in the dream was real, baby," Peter sighs, reminiscence heavy in his voice, and he slides his hands up to cup at Gabriel's jaw. Something has gotten to Peter, but it's probably nothing too serious or worrisome, and Gabriel puts up no resistance when Peter starts pressing careful, but stern, kisses up the taller man's neck, up his chin, across his cheeks and finally to his lips. They kiss languidly for ages but don't make any move to move things further.
As it happens, Gabriel does in fact remember their first kiss.
He was sad, and it was raining. He had ruined his chance at ever having anyone by his side ever again and now he was forced to spend the rest of his life with a man who didn't even like him, let alone love him.
He was sad and it was raining. It hadn't seemed so childish at the time.
Crouching in a sunken-in doorway, he waits for the storm to stop and rubs at a closed eye, feeling anxiety build. The more he thinks, the more upset he gets, and it makes everything worse.
He was still sad, and it was raining harder.
The deluge has gotten so bad that he doesn't even hear the soft, splashing footsteps of someone approaching until a pair of familiar shoes comes into his line of sight. He doesn't look up to see who it is, he already knows, but Peter scoots down the opposite wall and faces him anyway.
"Your temper tantrum is making it hard for me to hammer," he starts, only frowning slightly at the other man.
"How can you be so sure you're not causing it?" Gabriel tries to snark back, but the fight isn't in him. When he doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't try to keep to the familiar pattern they've been following for years now, Peter's not-frown deepens and he moves, mirroring Gabriel's posture.
"For starters," he replies, choosing his words carefully, "I'm not the one moping in an alcove somewhere, rubbing at my face so hard it turns red."
He has a point, Gabriel supposes, although he hadn't realized Peter has caught on to his nervous ticks. He sighs.
"It's not a tantrum. I'm just…melancholy."
"Melancholy? I'd call this full on depression."
Gabriel's posture stiffens and Peter knows he's hit a nerve. He doesn't bother asking why his companion is upset, because he can figure it out. Every conversation they've had since the Wall has appeared has clued him in to his neighbor's plight, but for the first time in his life, he has no feeling telling him how to help. He can't rely on his empathy, either, because he honestly has no idea how to empathize with a serial killer who was trying to reform because he was lonely. He remembers, though, a future that never happened, with a happy, good man who finally got what he wanted, only to have it taken from him again. He never found out what happened to that Gabriel after the explosion, but he can't help but wonder if maybe that Gabriel had given up the will to continue.
Looking across the small space, he sees that same kind of despair in this, or perhaps his, Gabriel's eyes, and he begins to feel that tug. He knows what he should do, but he's not sure he can bring himself to do it.
A sudden flash of lightening startles him out of his reverie and he realizes he's been staring into Gabriel's eyes for the better part of a minute, and the other man had noticed. It appears, however, that Gabriel is not returning his gaze, but rather, has dropped his eyes down just a tiny bit to Peter's mouth.
Peter feels his neck heat up as he realizes what he should do. What he needs to do. He leans in closer, closing the small gap between them, so he's kneeling in front of Gabriel instead of sitting.
"Do you ever feel like maybe…like maybe we've known each other for a lot longer than we've realized?"
Images of bloodied hands and far off places and kisses stolen in a golden hotel room flash through his mind, but Peter has no idea where they've come from. The look on Gabriel's face, though, seems to scream the same thing, and without thinking, Peter leans in and presses their lips together.
Gabriel had been sad. It had been raining. Peter changed that.
The memory seems to fade from Gabriel's mind, and he feels that overwhelming push again, that feeling like something bigger has been happening and will continue to happen. When he gently pulls away from Peter, he has to take a moment to regain his breath back before asking, "Why do you ask?"
Peter doesn't reply right away, but instead, a small, knowing smile slides across his face.
"I wanted to make sure you remembered. After all, it was years ago," he muses, once he finally speaks, but his thought doesn't go unanswered long.
"I have the feeling that time has never really been an issue for us," Gabriel murmurs, leaning back in to capture Peter's lips again.
Peter meets him halfway, as he seems to have been doing for an eternity.