Heroes: "Crash Course in Brain Surgery" (Mylar, PG-13)
Title: Crash Course in Brain Surgery
Author: airspaniel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mylar
Word Count: 1156
Spoilers: not really any.
Notes: For the mylar_fic Special Mo challenge. I want some of the crack my muse was smoking today, because it is clearly of the highest quality. This is super fluffy and pretty silly, and probably not at all what the challenge was asking for. Oh well, that's espresso for you.
Summary: Oh hi, I upgraded your RAM.
Mohinder Suresh opened his eyes in a blindingly bright white room, and immediately shut them again. His head was pounding, and his throat was dry. He wished he had a glass of water.
Suddenly there was a splash, and he found himself completely soaked. Then there was pain in the bridge of his nose, as an empty glass fell from above and bounced off his face, landing next to him on the mattress. Someone chuckled.
“Who’s there? Who did that?” he flailed, attempting to sit up.
“Careful, Mohinder, or you’ll pull out your stitches,” said an amused voice. “And you did that. Man, you must’ve really wanted that water.” The voice started laughing again, as Mohinder sputtered and wiped wet hair out of his face.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so amused, Mr. Sylar.” he said, indignantly. His hands brushed his temples and discovered a disconcerting line of stitches. Tracing them with his fingers, he found they completely encircled his head. He opened his eyes warily. The room was sparse, clinical; the only color the tall dark-haired man cracking the hell up in the corner.
Mohinder was the opposite of amused. “Sylar, what did you do to my head?”
“Ah,” Sylar began, regaining a little composure. “I just… made a few adjustments.”
“Adjustments, I see.” Mohinder’s head throbbed again, and he wished he had some aspirin. His eyes widened in shock when a small bottle floated off the table across the room, and flew towards him, hovering in front of his face until he plucked it out of the air with shaking fingers. He thought again about water, and the glass lifted itself from where it had fallen at his side, filled itself from the tap, and came back to him. He was officially weirded out.
“Cool, huh?” Sylar asked, enthusiastically. “That works even better than I thought it would!”
Mohinder used his hands to place the glass and aspirin on the bedside table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.
“Sylar. What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Head?”
Sylar pulled a chair up and sat down, elbows resting on the bed by the doctor’s waist. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I was thinking about how it was pretty unfair that you’ve devoted so much of your life to helping people with abilities like mine, even though you don’t have any yourself. So I, uh, made you special.”
Mohinder started to panic a little, since every time Sylar had gained a power, someone innocent had died in a very messy fashion. “How did you -? Who did you -?”
The man at his bedside put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Oh, don’t worry, Mohinder. I didn’t kill anybody. Well, not for this, at least. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that. I didn’t want you to get upset.”
Mohinder didn’t react at all. “So how did you do this?”
“Well, there was this waitress in Texas who could… Y’know, you don’t wanna hear about that. Basically, I can remember everything I see or hear. Or read. And you would be amazed by the wealth of resources available at your local library!”
Mohinder stared flatly at him. Sylar cleared his throat and continued. “So I did some reading, neurology and synapses, and things like that… And then I just kinda opened up your head and… overclocked your processor, so to speak. So now you can think faster and remember things better, and you can move things. With your mind. It’s not as strong as my telekinesis, but it’s something.” He turned a dazzling smile on the bed-ridden man. “Pretty cool, right?”
“So let me get this straight,” Mohinder began, breathing deeply. “You didn’t kill anyone because you didn’t want to upset me. But it was perfectly fine to saw my head open and cut up my BRAIN?”
Sylar recoiled. “I put it back together! And better than it was! Look, I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“You don’t know why I’m UPSET? When you’ve just performed some kind of amateur brain surgery on me? For gods sakes, I could’ve died.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. I would never let that happen.” Sylar laughed softly, attempting to defuse the other man’s anger. “It was fine, Mohinder. It’s not rocket science.” He held his hands up disarmingly. “And besides, you can’t tell me you haven’t always been jealous; haven’t always wondered what it would be like to be special. And now you are.”
Mohinder stopped short. The man had a point. And it was actually kind of touching, in a bizarre way. Clearly Sylar had gone to a lot of trouble for him. But still…
“But you didn’t ask me,” he said, quietly, “You didn’t ask if this is what I wanted. You just…” he trailed off, head falling back on the pillows. “And now I have to deal with it.”
Sylar’s face fell. “I just wanted to help you. That’s all. To give you some sort of advantage.”
Despite the fact that he was the one with stitches in his head, the one who had been unwillingly invaded and enhanced; the one who was still fighting a screaming headache, Mohinder felt sorry for Sylar. He reached for the man’s hand, and fought back a laugh when it rose into his own, seemingly of its own volition. Thinking a little harder, he slid the chair closer to the bed, and Sylar nearly toppled backward in surprise.
Mohinder did laugh then. “Oh, I think I can have some fun with this. And I’ll bet you didn’t even think about what this means for you.”
The taller man cocked an eyebrow, puzzled. “What do you mean?” Mohinder furrowed his brow lightly, and the black t-shirt Sylar was wearing ripped neatly down the center, leaving his pale chest exposed. Before he could react to that, he was pulled out of his seat to land sprawled on the bed, half on top of the other man. Soft brown hands ran through his hair, drawing him in for a kiss.
“Just wait until I’ve had some practice,” Mohinder smirked. Sylar practically purred and kissed him again.
“Screw that,” he growled. “Just wait’ll I get you home.” He buried his hands in Mohinder’s hair, being very careful of his stitches, and nipped at the smaller man’s earlobe.
“Ah!” Mohinder gasped. “But wait… wait!”
“What?” Sylar panted, annoyed.
“Just… where are we exactly? And how did you get me here without me being aware of it? And how did you get the resources to perform a major surgical operation? And…” he was cut off by insistent lips on his as strong arms lifted him from the bed.
“You ask entirely too many questions, Professor” Sylar sighed, carrying him towards the door. “I knew I should have shut down your speech center while I was in there.”
He wasn’t at all surprised to be suddenly doused by a flying glass of water.
Author: airspaniel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mylar
Word Count: 1156
Spoilers: not really any.
Notes: For the mylar_fic Special Mo challenge. I want some of the crack my muse was smoking today, because it is clearly of the highest quality. This is super fluffy and pretty silly, and probably not at all what the challenge was asking for. Oh well, that's espresso for you.
Summary: Oh hi, I upgraded your RAM.
Mohinder Suresh opened his eyes in a blindingly bright white room, and immediately shut them again. His head was pounding, and his throat was dry. He wished he had a glass of water.
Suddenly there was a splash, and he found himself completely soaked. Then there was pain in the bridge of his nose, as an empty glass fell from above and bounced off his face, landing next to him on the mattress. Someone chuckled.
“Who’s there? Who did that?” he flailed, attempting to sit up.
“Careful, Mohinder, or you’ll pull out your stitches,” said an amused voice. “And you did that. Man, you must’ve really wanted that water.” The voice started laughing again, as Mohinder sputtered and wiped wet hair out of his face.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so amused, Mr. Sylar.” he said, indignantly. His hands brushed his temples and discovered a disconcerting line of stitches. Tracing them with his fingers, he found they completely encircled his head. He opened his eyes warily. The room was sparse, clinical; the only color the tall dark-haired man cracking the hell up in the corner.
Mohinder was the opposite of amused. “Sylar, what did you do to my head?”
“Ah,” Sylar began, regaining a little composure. “I just… made a few adjustments.”
“Adjustments, I see.” Mohinder’s head throbbed again, and he wished he had some aspirin. His eyes widened in shock when a small bottle floated off the table across the room, and flew towards him, hovering in front of his face until he plucked it out of the air with shaking fingers. He thought again about water, and the glass lifted itself from where it had fallen at his side, filled itself from the tap, and came back to him. He was officially weirded out.
“Cool, huh?” Sylar asked, enthusiastically. “That works even better than I thought it would!”
Mohinder used his hands to place the glass and aspirin on the bedside table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.
“Sylar. What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Head?”
Sylar pulled a chair up and sat down, elbows resting on the bed by the doctor’s waist. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I was thinking about how it was pretty unfair that you’ve devoted so much of your life to helping people with abilities like mine, even though you don’t have any yourself. So I, uh, made you special.”
Mohinder started to panic a little, since every time Sylar had gained a power, someone innocent had died in a very messy fashion. “How did you -? Who did you -?”
The man at his bedside put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Oh, don’t worry, Mohinder. I didn’t kill anybody. Well, not for this, at least. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that. I didn’t want you to get upset.”
Mohinder didn’t react at all. “So how did you do this?”
“Well, there was this waitress in Texas who could… Y’know, you don’t wanna hear about that. Basically, I can remember everything I see or hear. Or read. And you would be amazed by the wealth of resources available at your local library!”
Mohinder stared flatly at him. Sylar cleared his throat and continued. “So I did some reading, neurology and synapses, and things like that… And then I just kinda opened up your head and… overclocked your processor, so to speak. So now you can think faster and remember things better, and you can move things. With your mind. It’s not as strong as my telekinesis, but it’s something.” He turned a dazzling smile on the bed-ridden man. “Pretty cool, right?”
“So let me get this straight,” Mohinder began, breathing deeply. “You didn’t kill anyone because you didn’t want to upset me. But it was perfectly fine to saw my head open and cut up my BRAIN?”
Sylar recoiled. “I put it back together! And better than it was! Look, I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“You don’t know why I’m UPSET? When you’ve just performed some kind of amateur brain surgery on me? For gods sakes, I could’ve died.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. I would never let that happen.” Sylar laughed softly, attempting to defuse the other man’s anger. “It was fine, Mohinder. It’s not rocket science.” He held his hands up disarmingly. “And besides, you can’t tell me you haven’t always been jealous; haven’t always wondered what it would be like to be special. And now you are.”
Mohinder stopped short. The man had a point. And it was actually kind of touching, in a bizarre way. Clearly Sylar had gone to a lot of trouble for him. But still…
“But you didn’t ask me,” he said, quietly, “You didn’t ask if this is what I wanted. You just…” he trailed off, head falling back on the pillows. “And now I have to deal with it.”
Sylar’s face fell. “I just wanted to help you. That’s all. To give you some sort of advantage.”
Despite the fact that he was the one with stitches in his head, the one who had been unwillingly invaded and enhanced; the one who was still fighting a screaming headache, Mohinder felt sorry for Sylar. He reached for the man’s hand, and fought back a laugh when it rose into his own, seemingly of its own volition. Thinking a little harder, he slid the chair closer to the bed, and Sylar nearly toppled backward in surprise.
Mohinder did laugh then. “Oh, I think I can have some fun with this. And I’ll bet you didn’t even think about what this means for you.”
The taller man cocked an eyebrow, puzzled. “What do you mean?” Mohinder furrowed his brow lightly, and the black t-shirt Sylar was wearing ripped neatly down the center, leaving his pale chest exposed. Before he could react to that, he was pulled out of his seat to land sprawled on the bed, half on top of the other man. Soft brown hands ran through his hair, drawing him in for a kiss.
“Just wait until I’ve had some practice,” Mohinder smirked. Sylar practically purred and kissed him again.
“Screw that,” he growled. “Just wait’ll I get you home.” He buried his hands in Mohinder’s hair, being very careful of his stitches, and nipped at the smaller man’s earlobe.
“Ah!” Mohinder gasped. “But wait… wait!”
“What?” Sylar panted, annoyed.
“Just… where are we exactly? And how did you get me here without me being aware of it? And how did you get the resources to perform a major surgical operation? And…” he was cut off by insistent lips on his as strong arms lifted him from the bed.
“You ask entirely too many questions, Professor” Sylar sighed, carrying him towards the door. “I knew I should have shut down your speech center while I was in there.”
He wasn’t at all surprised to be suddenly doused by a flying glass of water.