I Love You Man
Title: I Love You Man
Characters/Paring: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nada
Warnings: None
Word Count: 358
Summary: Mohinder runs into Sylar in a bar. A very drunk Sylar.
Notes: aurilly ordered me to share this. It was for her prompt: "I don't say it enough, but I love you, man" "You've actually never said it"
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Mohinder rarely went to bars. When he did, it was to lose himself in the crowd, the booze, and maybe even find some brief connection with another person. In short, he was usually feeling lonely.
As such, when a hand landed on his shoulder his heart thrummed with anticipation. He had been approached often enough to know that his looks alone easily attracted attention. He was fully expecting some young man or woman was about to offer to buy him a drink, and he was quite ready to say yes to pretty much anyone.
He turned in his barstool with the slight urging of the grip, and froze.
It was Sylar.
“Mohinder!” Sylar exclaimed in what appeared to be pleasant surprise. His eyes were shining with the glaze of one who had drank a few too many, and further proved he was completely smashed when he stumbled and barely managed to fall into the stool next to Mohinder, narrowly missing plummeting to the floor.
Sylar managed to order “two more!” and downed one shot, pushing the other towards Mohinder before Mohinder had even finished processing the absurdity of the situation. He snapped his jaw shut and tried to refuse the drink, only to have Sylar suddenly wrap a long arm around his shoulders and pull him in close.
Mohinder’s squawk of objection went unnoticed.
“You know,” Sylar slurred into his ear as Mohinder tried in vain to wriggle free. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you man."
“You’ve actually never said it,” Mohinder retorted weakly.
“I haven’t?” Sylar seemed genuinely puzzled by this. He tottered backwards a bit, and Mohinder took advantage of his instability to slip out of his grip. Further escape was prevented, however, when Sylar clutched his shoulders with both hands, looking into his eyes with all the gravitas possible while too drunk to stand straight. “Well, I do.”
That was when Sylar kissed him.
He then pulled back, looking distinctly unwell.
“Excuse me, gotta go puke,” he said matter of factly, and stumbled off into the crowd.
Mohinder paid his tab and fled. That was quite enough social interaction for one day.
Characters/Paring: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nada
Warnings: None
Word Count: 358
Summary: Mohinder runs into Sylar in a bar. A very drunk Sylar.
Notes: aurilly ordered me to share this. It was for her prompt: "I don't say it enough, but I love you, man" "You've actually never said it"
-----
Mohinder rarely went to bars. When he did, it was to lose himself in the crowd, the booze, and maybe even find some brief connection with another person. In short, he was usually feeling lonely.
As such, when a hand landed on his shoulder his heart thrummed with anticipation. He had been approached often enough to know that his looks alone easily attracted attention. He was fully expecting some young man or woman was about to offer to buy him a drink, and he was quite ready to say yes to pretty much anyone.
He turned in his barstool with the slight urging of the grip, and froze.
It was Sylar.
“Mohinder!” Sylar exclaimed in what appeared to be pleasant surprise. His eyes were shining with the glaze of one who had drank a few too many, and further proved he was completely smashed when he stumbled and barely managed to fall into the stool next to Mohinder, narrowly missing plummeting to the floor.
Sylar managed to order “two more!” and downed one shot, pushing the other towards Mohinder before Mohinder had even finished processing the absurdity of the situation. He snapped his jaw shut and tried to refuse the drink, only to have Sylar suddenly wrap a long arm around his shoulders and pull him in close.
Mohinder’s squawk of objection went unnoticed.
“You know,” Sylar slurred into his ear as Mohinder tried in vain to wriggle free. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you man."
“You’ve actually never said it,” Mohinder retorted weakly.
“I haven’t?” Sylar seemed genuinely puzzled by this. He tottered backwards a bit, and Mohinder took advantage of his instability to slip out of his grip. Further escape was prevented, however, when Sylar clutched his shoulders with both hands, looking into his eyes with all the gravitas possible while too drunk to stand straight. “Well, I do.”
That was when Sylar kissed him.
He then pulled back, looking distinctly unwell.
“Excuse me, gotta go puke,” he said matter of factly, and stumbled off into the crowd.
Mohinder paid his tab and fled. That was quite enough social interaction for one day.