Fic: Like Sunday Morning
Title: Like Sunday Morning
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. Prompt: Lazy Sunday (Word Count: 1,271)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Slash
Author's Notes: I finally managed to get Bingo, but there are still plenty of prompts left on my Bingo card that I plan on filling.
When Mohinder slowly opened his blurry eyes to the sight of the sun's golden rays peaking into the small bedroom from between the cracks in the blinds and the pleasant chirp of birds warbling in the glow of an early morning, one thought instantly floated to the top of his sleep coated mind: Oh God! I'm late!
He sat up straight in a flash, flinging the rumbled bed sheets off of him as his mind continued to churn in panic. Gazing over at the bedside table he saw the bold red numbers proudly displaying the hour as ten forty-five in the morning. His stomach rose and fell in an instant. "Oh my God," he breathed, running his long fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I slept this late!"
"You don't work today. Go back to bed."
Mohinder blinked as the panic slowly began to evaporate allowing him to be able to think clearly. He frowned in concentration, the day slowly appearing at the front of his mind. It was Sunday. He was off. He flopped back onto the bed.
"Thank goodness," he breathed, grabbing the sheets and pulling them back over his body. Mohinder settled down against the pillow, determined to drift back to sleep, because after nearly three straight months without a real day off he felt that he deserved to get a few extra hours in bed.
It was only when his eyes began to slip shut did Mohinder sit up again, turning to face the man lying next to him. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Sylar didn't even bother to open his eyes. He merely sighed, shifting slightly as he searched for a more comfortable position. "Well, I was sleeping," he muttered dryly, his words muffled by the pillow and thick with sleep.
Mohinder frowned, pulling the sheets off of him. He was grateful to see that Sylar wasn't naked, but he wasn't wearing much. A thin, white shirt and a pair of gray boxers -- both of which were currently rolled up from fitful sleep and exposed plenty of pale skin and body hair -- were all that saved the two of them from being in a painfully familiar situation.
"No, I mean..." He stopped, rubbed his tired eyes vigorously before looking again, testing to see if it were all a dream. Yet Sylar was still lying comfortably in his bed. "You weren't here last night," Mohinder said finally. "I didn't fall asleep with you in my bed. Why are you here now?"
Sylar shrugged, a difficult act considering that he was currently lying on his stomach with one arm twisted at an awkward angle and his face smashed against the pillow. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable, but looked completely ridiculous. "Gotta sleep somewhere, right?"
"I... you... you don't live here!" Mohinder sputtered indignantly. "We're not even dating! What makes you think...?" His frown deepened when he noticed that his words seemed to be having little effect on Sylar. If the man's even breathing and calm expression was anything to go off of, he seemed to have fallen back asleep seconds after speaking. "Fine," Mohinder huffed, throwing his arms up dramatically. Not that it mattered. The only other person occupying the room, the apartment, was currently fast asleep. "Fine! Sleep here, but just don't think this is going to become a typical thing."
"Hn," was the only response Mohinder received.
He sighed, flopping back down against the mattress. The springs groaned softly under his weight as he rolled onto his side, completely unsurprised when Sylar slung an arm across his waist and shifted himself so that they were now laying pressed together, back to front.
A few seconds of quite passed between them before Sylar yawned and said "I'm hungry."
Mohinder stayed silent for a few beats, turning over Sylar's words in his head, because for one split second he could have sworn he heard the man say "I'm horny" instead. "Well, what do you want me to do about that?" he asked, slowly realizing that this would have been his response either way.
"We should go to IHOP," he sighed. "Get some blueberry waffles."
The Indian blinked in confusion. "Are you talking in your sleep?"
Sylar chuckled, shifting closer until there was seemingly no space at all between the two of them. He could feel Sylar's morning stubble grazing his bare shoulder and his soft hair rubbing against his cheek. "Come on," he prodded, patting Mohinder's stomach in a way that should have been affectionate, but only served to make the Indian feel self conscious. "A big stack of waffles and a hot cup of coffee sounds like a perfect way to spend a Sunday morning... and, you know, maybe a little morning sex-"
"Okay, that is not happening," Mohinder snapped, grabbing the other man's pale wrist and shoving it off of waist so that he could sit up and glare at him.
Sylar's eyes opened as he rolled onto his back so that he could return Mohinder's stare. "You never want to do anything fun," he practically pouted. "Come on. We have a Sunday off. We should do something fun together."
"'We'?" Mohinder echoed. "I didn't realize serial killers take time off."
"I don't like to think of myself as a serial killer," he sighed, folding his hands behind his head as he lounged against the firm mattress casually. There was a strange far off gleam in his eyes as his mouth quirked into a satisfied smile. "I prefer to think of myself as a living embodiment of human evolution. I'm a bit like a modern day Charles Darwin, but instead of documenting different varieties of animal and plant life-"
Mohinder felt his jaw tighten and his eye twitch as he listened to the other man's words. He yanked the pillow from underneath Sylar's head and clutched it tightly in his hands. "If you want me to start off my day by smothering you to death then keep talking," he seethed.
The other man hardly looked annoyed by his threat, he merely rolled his eyes in boredom as he adjusted himself. "Wow, I guess you're not much of a morning person," he grumbled. "Are you always this cranky?"
"Only when I find uninvited men sleeping in my bed."
Sylar's eyes widened and his brows lifted as his expression quickly turned into a look of outrage. "Are you telling me that you invite other men into your bed? Because that is not okay."
Mohinder frowned bitterly at Sylar, before tossing the pillow to the foot of the bed. "I honestly don't have the energy to tell you why that is an incredibly stupid question, so why don't you do me a favor and call yourself an idiot. I'm getting out of bed."
He had barely set foot on the ground when Sylar sat up straight and gripped his arm possessively in his hands. "Wait, stay in bed. It's still early."
Despite himself, Mohinder actually found himself smirking down at the expression on the other man's face. He looked positively beside himself at the thought of Mohinder getting out of bed for even one minute. "I thought you were hungry? How exactly do you propose we eat if we don't get out of bed?"
Mohinder barely had time to register Sylar's smug grin when the man grabbed him by his shoulder and waist, flipping them until Mohinder was pressed flat against the mattress and pinned underneath Sylar's long lean form. Sylar leaned forward and pressed their mouths together in a firm kiss. "I think we can put breakfast off for a little while."
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. Prompt: Lazy Sunday (Word Count: 1,271)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Slash
Author's Notes: I finally managed to get Bingo, but there are still plenty of prompts left on my Bingo card that I plan on filling.
When Mohinder slowly opened his blurry eyes to the sight of the sun's golden rays peaking into the small bedroom from between the cracks in the blinds and the pleasant chirp of birds warbling in the glow of an early morning, one thought instantly floated to the top of his sleep coated mind: Oh God! I'm late!
He sat up straight in a flash, flinging the rumbled bed sheets off of him as his mind continued to churn in panic. Gazing over at the bedside table he saw the bold red numbers proudly displaying the hour as ten forty-five in the morning. His stomach rose and fell in an instant. "Oh my God," he breathed, running his long fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I slept this late!"
"You don't work today. Go back to bed."
Mohinder blinked as the panic slowly began to evaporate allowing him to be able to think clearly. He frowned in concentration, the day slowly appearing at the front of his mind. It was Sunday. He was off. He flopped back onto the bed.
"Thank goodness," he breathed, grabbing the sheets and pulling them back over his body. Mohinder settled down against the pillow, determined to drift back to sleep, because after nearly three straight months without a real day off he felt that he deserved to get a few extra hours in bed.
It was only when his eyes began to slip shut did Mohinder sit up again, turning to face the man lying next to him. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Sylar didn't even bother to open his eyes. He merely sighed, shifting slightly as he searched for a more comfortable position. "Well, I was sleeping," he muttered dryly, his words muffled by the pillow and thick with sleep.
Mohinder frowned, pulling the sheets off of him. He was grateful to see that Sylar wasn't naked, but he wasn't wearing much. A thin, white shirt and a pair of gray boxers -- both of which were currently rolled up from fitful sleep and exposed plenty of pale skin and body hair -- were all that saved the two of them from being in a painfully familiar situation.
"No, I mean..." He stopped, rubbed his tired eyes vigorously before looking again, testing to see if it were all a dream. Yet Sylar was still lying comfortably in his bed. "You weren't here last night," Mohinder said finally. "I didn't fall asleep with you in my bed. Why are you here now?"
Sylar shrugged, a difficult act considering that he was currently lying on his stomach with one arm twisted at an awkward angle and his face smashed against the pillow. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable, but looked completely ridiculous. "Gotta sleep somewhere, right?"
"I... you... you don't live here!" Mohinder sputtered indignantly. "We're not even dating! What makes you think...?" His frown deepened when he noticed that his words seemed to be having little effect on Sylar. If the man's even breathing and calm expression was anything to go off of, he seemed to have fallen back asleep seconds after speaking. "Fine," Mohinder huffed, throwing his arms up dramatically. Not that it mattered. The only other person occupying the room, the apartment, was currently fast asleep. "Fine! Sleep here, but just don't think this is going to become a typical thing."
"Hn," was the only response Mohinder received.
He sighed, flopping back down against the mattress. The springs groaned softly under his weight as he rolled onto his side, completely unsurprised when Sylar slung an arm across his waist and shifted himself so that they were now laying pressed together, back to front.
A few seconds of quite passed between them before Sylar yawned and said "I'm hungry."
Mohinder stayed silent for a few beats, turning over Sylar's words in his head, because for one split second he could have sworn he heard the man say "I'm horny" instead. "Well, what do you want me to do about that?" he asked, slowly realizing that this would have been his response either way.
"We should go to IHOP," he sighed. "Get some blueberry waffles."
The Indian blinked in confusion. "Are you talking in your sleep?"
Sylar chuckled, shifting closer until there was seemingly no space at all between the two of them. He could feel Sylar's morning stubble grazing his bare shoulder and his soft hair rubbing against his cheek. "Come on," he prodded, patting Mohinder's stomach in a way that should have been affectionate, but only served to make the Indian feel self conscious. "A big stack of waffles and a hot cup of coffee sounds like a perfect way to spend a Sunday morning... and, you know, maybe a little morning sex-"
"Okay, that is not happening," Mohinder snapped, grabbing the other man's pale wrist and shoving it off of waist so that he could sit up and glare at him.
Sylar's eyes opened as he rolled onto his back so that he could return Mohinder's stare. "You never want to do anything fun," he practically pouted. "Come on. We have a Sunday off. We should do something fun together."
"'We'?" Mohinder echoed. "I didn't realize serial killers take time off."
"I don't like to think of myself as a serial killer," he sighed, folding his hands behind his head as he lounged against the firm mattress casually. There was a strange far off gleam in his eyes as his mouth quirked into a satisfied smile. "I prefer to think of myself as a living embodiment of human evolution. I'm a bit like a modern day Charles Darwin, but instead of documenting different varieties of animal and plant life-"
Mohinder felt his jaw tighten and his eye twitch as he listened to the other man's words. He yanked the pillow from underneath Sylar's head and clutched it tightly in his hands. "If you want me to start off my day by smothering you to death then keep talking," he seethed.
The other man hardly looked annoyed by his threat, he merely rolled his eyes in boredom as he adjusted himself. "Wow, I guess you're not much of a morning person," he grumbled. "Are you always this cranky?"
"Only when I find uninvited men sleeping in my bed."
Sylar's eyes widened and his brows lifted as his expression quickly turned into a look of outrage. "Are you telling me that you invite other men into your bed? Because that is not okay."
Mohinder frowned bitterly at Sylar, before tossing the pillow to the foot of the bed. "I honestly don't have the energy to tell you why that is an incredibly stupid question, so why don't you do me a favor and call yourself an idiot. I'm getting out of bed."
He had barely set foot on the ground when Sylar sat up straight and gripped his arm possessively in his hands. "Wait, stay in bed. It's still early."
Despite himself, Mohinder actually found himself smirking down at the expression on the other man's face. He looked positively beside himself at the thought of Mohinder getting out of bed for even one minute. "I thought you were hungry? How exactly do you propose we eat if we don't get out of bed?"
Mohinder barely had time to register Sylar's smug grin when the man grabbed him by his shoulder and waist, flipping them until Mohinder was pressed flat against the mattress and pinned underneath Sylar's long lean form. Sylar leaned forward and pressed their mouths together in a firm kiss. "I think we can put breakfast off for a little while."