Sick Day
Title: Sick Day
Rating: R (some smut that warrents more than a pg-13, a bit of violence at the end)
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Summary: Sylar catches himself a cold one night and now Mohinder has to care for him. At first Mohinder is happy to do so but a whiny serial killer with a cold is the last thing he wants to deal with.
Author's Notes: This idea has been with me for a little while. I thought it'd be funny if Sylar got sick since I could see him being so whiny and grouchy about it. Also I thought it'd be cool to see him do something innocuous like sneeze but then he accidentally tk's stuff around the room. Because you know even brain-snatching serial killers have a sick day every once in a while. Enjoy!
Every bit of his clothing was drenched. Black fabric glistened with a wet dark blue sheen as he walked down the hallway of Mohinder's apartment building. His very bones themselves shivered and ached as he stopped in front of that old familiar door. Sylar cleared his throat, his soaked clothing much heavier than normal as it weighed down the arm he raised at level with the door. A firm strong rapping on the worn, paint-chipped door and Sylar waited, a small smirk formed on his lips. It was easy to hear rustling on the other side of the door, the placing of a glass, the shuffle of footsteps, and a braced, quickened heartbeat.
Mohinder's door slowly pulled inward to reveal the imposing figure that Sylar cut in the door frame itself. In his long black coat and big black boots he towered over the other man. A smirk spread from the corners of his lips outward as Sylar spoke.
“Hello there Mohin--”
Suddenly, Sylar stopped in mid sentence. His throat had a catch in it that traveled to his sinuses. A tingling sensation overtook him as he huffed out his breaths through open lips. He clutched at the door frame and nodded his head forward once, twice then it happened. The sneeze ripped from his lungs out making his body shiver from the top down as he leaned against the door. He groaned and sniffled loudly as he glanced up at Mohinder.
“Sylar...”
He looked down upon Sylar, for once he could and it felt off for him to do so. The man's paler skin had taken on a green tint. His nose was reddened and the skin around his nostrils was rough and dried out. Mohinder glanced at a crashing sound that occurred when Sylar sneezed, one of his father's old antique paperweights had shattered instantly on its impact with the hard wooden floor. He turned back to Sylar, and crossed his arms with a disapproving look on his dark features.
“You know you shouldn't have been out getting a new ability tonight. Now look what you've done, you're sick.”
As if the actual words were a cue Sylar felt the weakness in his body, he coughed a couple times as he slumped into the apartment. Mohinder clucked his tongue at Sylar as he closed the door up behind him. Sylar slowly shuffled his way over to the overstuffed chair in the corner of Mohinder's living room. He growled softly and slumped his body down into it, a low fumf noise was heard as he dropped his head back, eyes closed. Mohinder stopped and looked at Sylar, eyebrow raised.
“Well come on then. Let's get you out of those wet clothes.”
Sylar's eyes peered open as he sat up the best he could, a small smile on his lips. He motioned to his body as he looked into Mohinder's soft, caring eyes.
“I think I'm going to need some help with that.”
With a smirk of his own, Mohinder moved toward Sylar. He knelt down and pulled the black boots off of him, then he traveled his smooth caramel hands up Sylar's legs. With a flick of his wrist, the button and then a drag of his hand, the zipper. Both undone and material that so perfectly rested on Sylar's skin loosened to the point where Mohinder pulled them off with ease. His knees flexed as he went from a crouching position to hover over Sylar's chest. Strong pale hands that shook just slightly with illness unbuttoned his long dark coat and slid it off his thin frame. It lay sprawled out behind him like a flayed open cadaver, a shed past skin that Sylar was now rid of. He started on the top of the row of buttons and Mohinder moved to undo the bottom. When they met up, Sylar's hand grazed the top of Mohinder's and traced over it with his index finger. With a brisk movement, Sylar ripped off his shirt and his chest was completely exposed. A flat smooth stomach paired with a delightfully heart shaped patch of dark chest hair that always made Mohinder smile a little.
“Hm. You need to lie down come on”
Mohinder motioned for Sylar to follow him. A quirk of the eyebrow was Sylar's response. It was unusual to say the least for Mohinder to be giving the orders. But at the moment his sinuses were so clogged up and his chest ached intensely so he shrugged it off. Slowly, he stood up and moved to Mohinder's bedroom. Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as Mohinder shuffled about, going through various drawers. He set out a pair of striped flannel pajamas on the bed, Sylar removed his boxers and put on the pj's. After he finished buttoning up the top, he pushed down the covers and crawled into bed.
“Do you need me to get you anything?....”
As he glanced back down all he saw was Sylar fast asleep. He could hear the soft stuffed up snoring as the man lay there, mouth hanging open. His dark hair stood out against the cream colored pillowcase, spiked and messy as it had been for quite some time now. Mohinder smiled some and carefully pulled the blankets up over him. Sylar stirred as he rolled over and smacked his lips.
The next day, Mohinder woke up at his computer desk. He'd dozed off again in front of a new schematic on how the infusion of multiple bloods could help restore and create powerful anti-bodies. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles on his eyes and sat up fully. He heard a few wet, mucus-y coughs being hacked out from down the hall. Followed of course by a couple of sneezes and the sounds of whatever Sylar shot to hell concentration had telekinetically tossed across the room. Once he finished he heard a growl and a groan rumbled out, he sniffled hard and growled again frustrated that he couldn't breathe right.
“*sniffle* Ugh. Suresh? Mohinder?”
When he heard the ill man, Mohinder stood up and headed down the hallway. It was so odd to hear such a nasally whiny voice from a man who was predisposed to guttural, deep growling tones. He poked his head through the door to find a Sylar not at all at his best. His hair was a total mess from tossing and turning all night. His pallor was pastier than usual and his dark orbs were half lidded as he looked up at Suresh. Sylar glanced over at Mohinder and sniffled harder still, moaning in discontent afterward.
“Did....ughhhh, did I wake you Mohinder?”
He flopped his head back on the pillow, eyes tight his sinuses inflamed. Snot dripped down from his nasal cavity and into his chest. It would stay there until he found himself in another coughing jag. Every part of his body ached, he didn't want to move at all as he lay there off center from the stack of fluffy pillows.
“No, I was already awake. Is there something I can get you? Maybe something to eat, you need to keep up your strength to fight this off.”
His stomach had been empty since earlier the previous day. It now felt so at the thought of and mention of a warm meal to stick inside of it. He slowly glanced back up at Mohinder, his eyes softer than usual.
“Well, *coughs * I am hungry. How about some soup? If ....it's not too much trouble.”
His eyes glittered up at Mohinder, he looked so pathetic laying there it was hard to believe he ever struck fear into the hearts of anyone and certainly not Mohinder himself. Mohinder smiled a bit as he nodded.
“Okay soup it is. In the meantime you need to keep drinking fluids so I'll be right back.”
He padded back out into the hallway and into the kitchen. A clean tall glass retrieved from the drying rack and he filled it up. When he came back in he saw Sylar half-sitting up in the bed. White used tissues littered the bedspread on top of him as he blew his nose once more. He groaned as he lay back down.
“I can move things with my mind. I can hear a pin drop from miles away. But.....I can't breathe through both of my nostrils!”
He fumed and seethed out the last words, which only made his next coughing fit come faster as his loud slick sounds echoed throughout the room. Mohinder came forward with the cold glass in hand.
“Here, drink this.”
Sylar glanced up and some freshly squeezed orange juice in a tall crystal glass. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at it.
“Um, I'm not the biggest fan of orange juice Mohinder do you have anything else?”
Mohinder narrowed his brows slightly as he offered Sylar the glass again.
“It's the best thing for when you're ill. All of the vitamins and anti-oxidants will help you tremendously. Oranges are a a fantastic fruit, lot of healing powers in them.
Sylar pursed his lips a bit and looked around the room. He glanced out of the hallway and could barely catch a glimpse of the hanging basket Mohinder kept all of his fresh fruits in. A flick of the wrist and he'd brought forth a supple bright orange into the room. Of course he almost nailed the back of Mohinder's head with it, but luckily the good doctor ducked out of the way in time.
With the fruit on the bed before him he studied it intensely. Taking in all of the patterns in its peel and the vividness of its color. He slowly raised his left hand to line up with it. His index finger lifted and extended as he traced the air in front of it.
“Healing powers huh? I think I'd like to see how that works.”
Sylar smirked out the last line as he glanced up playfully at Mohinder. Suresh rolled his eyes and watched Sylar make a bit of a mess cutting the orange up. His focus was off so instead of clean cuts, he got deep uneven gashes that caused citrus juice to fly in all directions like blood spatter.
Mohinder stepped forward and snatched the remains of the orange when Sylar was done with it. He turned and left out of the room leaving the drink behind. For the next few hours, Mohinder busied himself in the kitchen making Sylar's supper. This would have been easier if he didn't have to keep hearing a whiny, nasally voice from his bedroom every five minutes.
“Mohinder? Suresssssshhhhh? I'm starving, hurry up! Are you done yet? What are you making tha-- *sneeze , frustrated growl * That's taking so long?”
When it was finally ready he ladled the soup into a bowl and placed that on a tray. Both hands clutched that tray as he came back into the room. There were glass shards, splintered wood, and fallen books everywhere. Sylar perked up at the sight and scooted his body up against the pillows. He smiled at Mohinder but had that old hint of annoyance in his eyes and in his voice.
“Finally! I'm sitting here, I can't breathe, I've got a pounding headache, my eyes are watering uncontrollably, and on top of it all I'm hungry. Did you have to--”
He glances down at what should be steamy, yellow brothed, chicken noodle soup. Even that from a can would have been acceptable. Instead, he looked down on some strange reddish orange concoction. The spoon in his hand, he prodded at the thick soup as he glanced up at Mohinder.
“Uh, what the hell is this?”
Mohinder raised an eyebrow, slightly offended. He crossed his arms and looked down at Sylar, matching his disapproving gaze with his own.
“It's called Daal. There's Coriander, Basil, Curry, Garlic; spices help clear out your sinuses Sylar. A few spoonfuls and you'll probably be able to breathe again. Just try it.
He pouted and glared at Suresh like a child who had not been given what he wanted. With his left hand he pushed the soup away. His jaw clenched slightly as he spoke.
“All I wanted was some chicken noodle soup. I'm not eating this... it's not very appetizing looking and I hate Basil. Now go back into the kitchen and get me some chicken noodle soup.”
Emphasis was placed on all three words as he sat there, nose starting to run again. Mohinder sighed and took the bowl away. He stomped off towards the kitchen and rummaged through his pantry. After he found some soup that Eden kept at the place he opened it and dumped it into another bowl. A few extra ingredients were mixed in as well as he brought this back to the very impatiently waiting Sylar.
Mohinder set the tray back down and waited as Sylar sat up again and took the first few warm soothing sips. He smiled at the taste of it as he quickly gulped down most of the bowl. His muscles relaxed as he lay back against the pillows.
“Thank you Mohinder that was good. Maybe next time you'll....”
The spoon clattered against the tray as his fingers felt numb all of a sudden. He gasped as he felt an indescribable wave of fatigue urging him to let go of his body and close his eyes. Dark eyes darted over to Suresh, his lips parted. The look on Sylar's face could only be that of confusion until in an instant, everything became clearer mentally while everything in his vision got blurry. That crafty little so and so he did it again. Sylar narrowed his eyes at Mohinder, before he could speak he was out cold against the soft warm pillows. Mohinder sighed, relieved that at least there would be some peace and quiet around the apartment.
He turned to leave but stopped before he hit the door. His neck turned and he glanced back at the completely helpless man laying in his bed. Pale arms peeked out of the scrunched up sleeves of his pajama top. Mohinder carefully walked back over to the bed and sat down at his side. There wasn't anything that Sylar could do at this moment to stop Mohinder from fulfilling any current desires. His mocha arm snaked up Sylar face. For a moment he just lay his hand against his cold cheek. Then he traveled down, heart racing wildly, worried that at any moment Sylar would once again stir.
Hands traveled over every inch of Sylar's prone body. Something that Mohinder never got to do when he was awake since Sylar seemed to have a thing about being touched first. This power over another was intoxicating, he could gain a better perspective on why Sylar so enjoyed control of a situation. As he ran the pad of his thumb over his stomach, Mohinder felt his own erection start to rage from within his pants. He smiled devilishly as his hand moved further down still and slid inside Sylar's pajama pants.
Slowly at first, if only just to get a feel for the other man's cock in his delicate fingers, he rubbed up and down. Traveling the length of his member and feeling it quiver though the man himself did not move. Soft reddish pink flesh shifted as Mohinder rubbed harder still, toying his thumb over the tip, teasing the pre-cum to ooze out. In no time at all with one hand on Sylar's cock and the other on his own they came together, a magnificent physical connection between the two even when unconsciousness was involved. His white teeth glistened brightly for a moment when he removed his hand from Sylar. It dropped when he realized he'd have to do something pretty good to make up for drugging Sylar in the first place.
He stood up, went and washed his hands and grabbed the phone. After a phone call or two he sat in the living room and waited. Sylar's head pounded with forced sleep and his still pained sinuses. His eyes snapped open then closed quickly as he woozily sat up on the bed. He glanced at the remnants of soup still in the bowl next to him. Lips twisted into a grimace as he felt anger boiling his blood, how dare Mohinder do that to him, again.
Right when he was about to shout out for the doctor, he entered the room. Sylar glared at him, his teeth visible as he spat out his words.
“How dare you? You do know that you'll pay for that?”
Mohinder shushed him, Sylar flinched he was so taken aback at being defied. He had a kit with him and some sort of plastic bag. On closer inspection, Sylar saw the bag filled with blood. He quirked his eyebrows as he watched Mohinder preparing a syringe. The man stuck it into his own arm and slowly drew out his own life's elixir. His back to Sylar as he quickly and deftly prepared a mixture of the two different bloods together and moved toward the sick man.
“Wait, what's that? What are you doing?”
All he got was another finger shushing him, but this time it was pressed right on his lips. Mohinder carefully took up Sylar's arm and injected him as painlessly as he could. Sylar gasped and felt his body tingle right away. A few moments later, he could breathe fine again. All traces of illness and sore limbs removed from his body. That feral grin came back to his lips as he looked upon Mohinder, he was so pleased at that moment.
“How did you do that? Whose blood was that?”
Mohinder put the syringe and other medical materials back into his kit and zipped it up. He glanced over at Sylar now out of the bed once more.
“Well, it was my blood and...well let me show you.”
He tilted his head as he listened to Suresh, Sylar thought he could see the very faintest glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he turned and went down the hall. As he followed Suresh, his thoughts raced at what could be out there. What he saw made his heart jump in his chest. He grinned widely as he moved over to Mohinder and grabbed him. Pulling his head back and plunging his tongue into the Indian's mouth for a hard insistent kiss. Sylar pulled away and went to inspect his surprise.
He knelt down and ran his fingers over the hair of an unconscious Peter Petrelli. Mohinder had called him while Sylar was out and convinced him to come down, some made up story about something happening to his brother was all it took.
“This...is for me?”
Mohinder smiled and walked over to Sylar. He knew that with Peter's powers, Sylar would never have to be sick again. Which was an advantage for the both of them as Mohinder thought about caring for a whiny, uppity, and yes dangerous person.
“His blood helped to heal you. You'll not have to worry about getting sick every again.”
A dark smile crossed Mohinder's lips as he motioned to Peter's sprawled out form.
“Think of it as an early Christmas present.”
Sylar smirked and chuckled darkly as he flipped Peter over and stared at the man's forehead. It was right there and finally, it was his.
“Oh but Mohinder...now I don't know what to get you. Wait....heh, I'll think of something.”
The straight long lines Sylar cut into Petrelli's head made him feel stronger still. It was good to have his control back as there was barely any blood that Sylar himself didn't carve out on purpose. After he was finished he wiped his hands off on Peter's coat and stood back up. He smiled and turned toward Mohinder. Sylar stalked toward him, eyes set and smirking lips. He flicked out his hand and telekinetically pinned Mohinder back into the lounge chair. He couldn't move though he did struggle, which excited Sylar as it always did to watch Suresh whimper and squirm.
“Now....about that soup...”
Rating: R (some smut that warrents more than a pg-13, a bit of violence at the end)
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Summary: Sylar catches himself a cold one night and now Mohinder has to care for him. At first Mohinder is happy to do so but a whiny serial killer with a cold is the last thing he wants to deal with.
Author's Notes: This idea has been with me for a little while. I thought it'd be funny if Sylar got sick since I could see him being so whiny and grouchy about it. Also I thought it'd be cool to see him do something innocuous like sneeze but then he accidentally tk's stuff around the room. Because you know even brain-snatching serial killers have a sick day every once in a while. Enjoy!
Every bit of his clothing was drenched. Black fabric glistened with a wet dark blue sheen as he walked down the hallway of Mohinder's apartment building. His very bones themselves shivered and ached as he stopped in front of that old familiar door. Sylar cleared his throat, his soaked clothing much heavier than normal as it weighed down the arm he raised at level with the door. A firm strong rapping on the worn, paint-chipped door and Sylar waited, a small smirk formed on his lips. It was easy to hear rustling on the other side of the door, the placing of a glass, the shuffle of footsteps, and a braced, quickened heartbeat.
Mohinder's door slowly pulled inward to reveal the imposing figure that Sylar cut in the door frame itself. In his long black coat and big black boots he towered over the other man. A smirk spread from the corners of his lips outward as Sylar spoke.
“Hello there Mohin--”
Suddenly, Sylar stopped in mid sentence. His throat had a catch in it that traveled to his sinuses. A tingling sensation overtook him as he huffed out his breaths through open lips. He clutched at the door frame and nodded his head forward once, twice then it happened. The sneeze ripped from his lungs out making his body shiver from the top down as he leaned against the door. He groaned and sniffled loudly as he glanced up at Mohinder.
“Sylar...”
He looked down upon Sylar, for once he could and it felt off for him to do so. The man's paler skin had taken on a green tint. His nose was reddened and the skin around his nostrils was rough and dried out. Mohinder glanced at a crashing sound that occurred when Sylar sneezed, one of his father's old antique paperweights had shattered instantly on its impact with the hard wooden floor. He turned back to Sylar, and crossed his arms with a disapproving look on his dark features.
“You know you shouldn't have been out getting a new ability tonight. Now look what you've done, you're sick.”
As if the actual words were a cue Sylar felt the weakness in his body, he coughed a couple times as he slumped into the apartment. Mohinder clucked his tongue at Sylar as he closed the door up behind him. Sylar slowly shuffled his way over to the overstuffed chair in the corner of Mohinder's living room. He growled softly and slumped his body down into it, a low fumf noise was heard as he dropped his head back, eyes closed. Mohinder stopped and looked at Sylar, eyebrow raised.
“Well come on then. Let's get you out of those wet clothes.”
Sylar's eyes peered open as he sat up the best he could, a small smile on his lips. He motioned to his body as he looked into Mohinder's soft, caring eyes.
“I think I'm going to need some help with that.”
With a smirk of his own, Mohinder moved toward Sylar. He knelt down and pulled the black boots off of him, then he traveled his smooth caramel hands up Sylar's legs. With a flick of his wrist, the button and then a drag of his hand, the zipper. Both undone and material that so perfectly rested on Sylar's skin loosened to the point where Mohinder pulled them off with ease. His knees flexed as he went from a crouching position to hover over Sylar's chest. Strong pale hands that shook just slightly with illness unbuttoned his long dark coat and slid it off his thin frame. It lay sprawled out behind him like a flayed open cadaver, a shed past skin that Sylar was now rid of. He started on the top of the row of buttons and Mohinder moved to undo the bottom. When they met up, Sylar's hand grazed the top of Mohinder's and traced over it with his index finger. With a brisk movement, Sylar ripped off his shirt and his chest was completely exposed. A flat smooth stomach paired with a delightfully heart shaped patch of dark chest hair that always made Mohinder smile a little.
“Hm. You need to lie down come on”
Mohinder motioned for Sylar to follow him. A quirk of the eyebrow was Sylar's response. It was unusual to say the least for Mohinder to be giving the orders. But at the moment his sinuses were so clogged up and his chest ached intensely so he shrugged it off. Slowly, he stood up and moved to Mohinder's bedroom. Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as Mohinder shuffled about, going through various drawers. He set out a pair of striped flannel pajamas on the bed, Sylar removed his boxers and put on the pj's. After he finished buttoning up the top, he pushed down the covers and crawled into bed.
“Do you need me to get you anything?....”
As he glanced back down all he saw was Sylar fast asleep. He could hear the soft stuffed up snoring as the man lay there, mouth hanging open. His dark hair stood out against the cream colored pillowcase, spiked and messy as it had been for quite some time now. Mohinder smiled some and carefully pulled the blankets up over him. Sylar stirred as he rolled over and smacked his lips.
The next day, Mohinder woke up at his computer desk. He'd dozed off again in front of a new schematic on how the infusion of multiple bloods could help restore and create powerful anti-bodies. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles on his eyes and sat up fully. He heard a few wet, mucus-y coughs being hacked out from down the hall. Followed of course by a couple of sneezes and the sounds of whatever Sylar shot to hell concentration had telekinetically tossed across the room. Once he finished he heard a growl and a groan rumbled out, he sniffled hard and growled again frustrated that he couldn't breathe right.
“*sniffle* Ugh. Suresh? Mohinder?”
When he heard the ill man, Mohinder stood up and headed down the hallway. It was so odd to hear such a nasally whiny voice from a man who was predisposed to guttural, deep growling tones. He poked his head through the door to find a Sylar not at all at his best. His hair was a total mess from tossing and turning all night. His pallor was pastier than usual and his dark orbs were half lidded as he looked up at Suresh. Sylar glanced over at Mohinder and sniffled harder still, moaning in discontent afterward.
“Did....ughhhh, did I wake you Mohinder?”
He flopped his head back on the pillow, eyes tight his sinuses inflamed. Snot dripped down from his nasal cavity and into his chest. It would stay there until he found himself in another coughing jag. Every part of his body ached, he didn't want to move at all as he lay there off center from the stack of fluffy pillows.
“No, I was already awake. Is there something I can get you? Maybe something to eat, you need to keep up your strength to fight this off.”
His stomach had been empty since earlier the previous day. It now felt so at the thought of and mention of a warm meal to stick inside of it. He slowly glanced back up at Mohinder, his eyes softer than usual.
“Well, *coughs * I am hungry. How about some soup? If ....it's not too much trouble.”
His eyes glittered up at Mohinder, he looked so pathetic laying there it was hard to believe he ever struck fear into the hearts of anyone and certainly not Mohinder himself. Mohinder smiled a bit as he nodded.
“Okay soup it is. In the meantime you need to keep drinking fluids so I'll be right back.”
He padded back out into the hallway and into the kitchen. A clean tall glass retrieved from the drying rack and he filled it up. When he came back in he saw Sylar half-sitting up in the bed. White used tissues littered the bedspread on top of him as he blew his nose once more. He groaned as he lay back down.
“I can move things with my mind. I can hear a pin drop from miles away. But.....I can't breathe through both of my nostrils!”
He fumed and seethed out the last words, which only made his next coughing fit come faster as his loud slick sounds echoed throughout the room. Mohinder came forward with the cold glass in hand.
“Here, drink this.”
Sylar glanced up and some freshly squeezed orange juice in a tall crystal glass. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at it.
“Um, I'm not the biggest fan of orange juice Mohinder do you have anything else?”
Mohinder narrowed his brows slightly as he offered Sylar the glass again.
“It's the best thing for when you're ill. All of the vitamins and anti-oxidants will help you tremendously. Oranges are a a fantastic fruit, lot of healing powers in them.
Sylar pursed his lips a bit and looked around the room. He glanced out of the hallway and could barely catch a glimpse of the hanging basket Mohinder kept all of his fresh fruits in. A flick of the wrist and he'd brought forth a supple bright orange into the room. Of course he almost nailed the back of Mohinder's head with it, but luckily the good doctor ducked out of the way in time.
With the fruit on the bed before him he studied it intensely. Taking in all of the patterns in its peel and the vividness of its color. He slowly raised his left hand to line up with it. His index finger lifted and extended as he traced the air in front of it.
“Healing powers huh? I think I'd like to see how that works.”
Sylar smirked out the last line as he glanced up playfully at Mohinder. Suresh rolled his eyes and watched Sylar make a bit of a mess cutting the orange up. His focus was off so instead of clean cuts, he got deep uneven gashes that caused citrus juice to fly in all directions like blood spatter.
Mohinder stepped forward and snatched the remains of the orange when Sylar was done with it. He turned and left out of the room leaving the drink behind. For the next few hours, Mohinder busied himself in the kitchen making Sylar's supper. This would have been easier if he didn't have to keep hearing a whiny, nasally voice from his bedroom every five minutes.
“Mohinder? Suresssssshhhhh? I'm starving, hurry up! Are you done yet? What are you making tha-- *sneeze , frustrated growl * That's taking so long?”
When it was finally ready he ladled the soup into a bowl and placed that on a tray. Both hands clutched that tray as he came back into the room. There were glass shards, splintered wood, and fallen books everywhere. Sylar perked up at the sight and scooted his body up against the pillows. He smiled at Mohinder but had that old hint of annoyance in his eyes and in his voice.
“Finally! I'm sitting here, I can't breathe, I've got a pounding headache, my eyes are watering uncontrollably, and on top of it all I'm hungry. Did you have to--”
He glances down at what should be steamy, yellow brothed, chicken noodle soup. Even that from a can would have been acceptable. Instead, he looked down on some strange reddish orange concoction. The spoon in his hand, he prodded at the thick soup as he glanced up at Mohinder.
“Uh, what the hell is this?”
Mohinder raised an eyebrow, slightly offended. He crossed his arms and looked down at Sylar, matching his disapproving gaze with his own.
“It's called Daal. There's Coriander, Basil, Curry, Garlic; spices help clear out your sinuses Sylar. A few spoonfuls and you'll probably be able to breathe again. Just try it.
He pouted and glared at Suresh like a child who had not been given what he wanted. With his left hand he pushed the soup away. His jaw clenched slightly as he spoke.
“All I wanted was some chicken noodle soup. I'm not eating this... it's not very appetizing looking and I hate Basil. Now go back into the kitchen and get me some chicken noodle soup.”
Emphasis was placed on all three words as he sat there, nose starting to run again. Mohinder sighed and took the bowl away. He stomped off towards the kitchen and rummaged through his pantry. After he found some soup that Eden kept at the place he opened it and dumped it into another bowl. A few extra ingredients were mixed in as well as he brought this back to the very impatiently waiting Sylar.
Mohinder set the tray back down and waited as Sylar sat up again and took the first few warm soothing sips. He smiled at the taste of it as he quickly gulped down most of the bowl. His muscles relaxed as he lay back against the pillows.
“Thank you Mohinder that was good. Maybe next time you'll....”
The spoon clattered against the tray as his fingers felt numb all of a sudden. He gasped as he felt an indescribable wave of fatigue urging him to let go of his body and close his eyes. Dark eyes darted over to Suresh, his lips parted. The look on Sylar's face could only be that of confusion until in an instant, everything became clearer mentally while everything in his vision got blurry. That crafty little so and so he did it again. Sylar narrowed his eyes at Mohinder, before he could speak he was out cold against the soft warm pillows. Mohinder sighed, relieved that at least there would be some peace and quiet around the apartment.
He turned to leave but stopped before he hit the door. His neck turned and he glanced back at the completely helpless man laying in his bed. Pale arms peeked out of the scrunched up sleeves of his pajama top. Mohinder carefully walked back over to the bed and sat down at his side. There wasn't anything that Sylar could do at this moment to stop Mohinder from fulfilling any current desires. His mocha arm snaked up Sylar face. For a moment he just lay his hand against his cold cheek. Then he traveled down, heart racing wildly, worried that at any moment Sylar would once again stir.
Hands traveled over every inch of Sylar's prone body. Something that Mohinder never got to do when he was awake since Sylar seemed to have a thing about being touched first. This power over another was intoxicating, he could gain a better perspective on why Sylar so enjoyed control of a situation. As he ran the pad of his thumb over his stomach, Mohinder felt his own erection start to rage from within his pants. He smiled devilishly as his hand moved further down still and slid inside Sylar's pajama pants.
Slowly at first, if only just to get a feel for the other man's cock in his delicate fingers, he rubbed up and down. Traveling the length of his member and feeling it quiver though the man himself did not move. Soft reddish pink flesh shifted as Mohinder rubbed harder still, toying his thumb over the tip, teasing the pre-cum to ooze out. In no time at all with one hand on Sylar's cock and the other on his own they came together, a magnificent physical connection between the two even when unconsciousness was involved. His white teeth glistened brightly for a moment when he removed his hand from Sylar. It dropped when he realized he'd have to do something pretty good to make up for drugging Sylar in the first place.
He stood up, went and washed his hands and grabbed the phone. After a phone call or two he sat in the living room and waited. Sylar's head pounded with forced sleep and his still pained sinuses. His eyes snapped open then closed quickly as he woozily sat up on the bed. He glanced at the remnants of soup still in the bowl next to him. Lips twisted into a grimace as he felt anger boiling his blood, how dare Mohinder do that to him, again.
Right when he was about to shout out for the doctor, he entered the room. Sylar glared at him, his teeth visible as he spat out his words.
“How dare you? You do know that you'll pay for that?”
Mohinder shushed him, Sylar flinched he was so taken aback at being defied. He had a kit with him and some sort of plastic bag. On closer inspection, Sylar saw the bag filled with blood. He quirked his eyebrows as he watched Mohinder preparing a syringe. The man stuck it into his own arm and slowly drew out his own life's elixir. His back to Sylar as he quickly and deftly prepared a mixture of the two different bloods together and moved toward the sick man.
“Wait, what's that? What are you doing?”
All he got was another finger shushing him, but this time it was pressed right on his lips. Mohinder carefully took up Sylar's arm and injected him as painlessly as he could. Sylar gasped and felt his body tingle right away. A few moments later, he could breathe fine again. All traces of illness and sore limbs removed from his body. That feral grin came back to his lips as he looked upon Mohinder, he was so pleased at that moment.
“How did you do that? Whose blood was that?”
Mohinder put the syringe and other medical materials back into his kit and zipped it up. He glanced over at Sylar now out of the bed once more.
“Well, it was my blood and...well let me show you.”
He tilted his head as he listened to Suresh, Sylar thought he could see the very faintest glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he turned and went down the hall. As he followed Suresh, his thoughts raced at what could be out there. What he saw made his heart jump in his chest. He grinned widely as he moved over to Mohinder and grabbed him. Pulling his head back and plunging his tongue into the Indian's mouth for a hard insistent kiss. Sylar pulled away and went to inspect his surprise.
He knelt down and ran his fingers over the hair of an unconscious Peter Petrelli. Mohinder had called him while Sylar was out and convinced him to come down, some made up story about something happening to his brother was all it took.
“This...is for me?”
Mohinder smiled and walked over to Sylar. He knew that with Peter's powers, Sylar would never have to be sick again. Which was an advantage for the both of them as Mohinder thought about caring for a whiny, uppity, and yes dangerous person.
“His blood helped to heal you. You'll not have to worry about getting sick every again.”
A dark smile crossed Mohinder's lips as he motioned to Peter's sprawled out form.
“Think of it as an early Christmas present.”
Sylar smirked and chuckled darkly as he flipped Peter over and stared at the man's forehead. It was right there and finally, it was his.
“Oh but Mohinder...now I don't know what to get you. Wait....heh, I'll think of something.”
The straight long lines Sylar cut into Petrelli's head made him feel stronger still. It was good to have his control back as there was barely any blood that Sylar himself didn't carve out on purpose. After he was finished he wiped his hands off on Peter's coat and stood back up. He smiled and turned toward Mohinder. Sylar stalked toward him, eyes set and smirking lips. He flicked out his hand and telekinetically pinned Mohinder back into the lounge chair. He couldn't move though he did struggle, which excited Sylar as it always did to watch Suresh whimper and squirm.
“Now....about that soup...”