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[11 Jan 2008|04:55am] |
Title: My Comfort
Author: FergyK0416
Prompt #: 50-Writer’s Choice (Angel)
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: Um… I guess PG-13
Warnings: Implied sex aftermath
Summary: After coming down, Mohinder comforts Gabriel the only way he can.
Word Count: 100
Author’s Note: see inside (don’t wanna give it all away)
When he finally regained some semblance of control within the waves of disorientation, Mohinder found his lover cradled against his neck, weeping out raw emotions that the Indian was sure had been bottled up tight for far too long. His mind was still clouded and unable to think clearly, so all he could do was whisper words that made no sense to the ear being graced.
"Oruvanukku ataravayirukka, piriyam vaikka..." If Gabriel had only understood the exotic words, he would know that Mohinder would never fear him leaving. "Manacuka..."
"Let me comfort you, this your time of grieving... my angel..."
Author’s Note: If I have sounded out the Tamil words improperly or did a poor job with translation, I apologize to anyone who thinks me a dumb American… it’s the thought that counts, right?
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| Rapid-fire Challenge! #2 and #3 |
[10 Jan 2008|10:55pm] |
Title: I Need You
Author: FergyK0416
Prompt #: 2-Need
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: R
Warnings: Memories of Non-Con, Sex, dark themes
Summary: the victim reminisces as he finds his need outweighing his pride… It’s not who you think…
Word Count: 145
The darkness was always accompanied by light. The need for it was clear. He stopped straining against his bonds months ago. He accepted it. It was his purpose. Every time the man thrust into him with an aching need that he once thought only the soulless could reject…
He stopped crying months ago. He accepted it. It was his purpose.
Those russet eyes staring down at him no longer in anger or hate, but in love and affection. He needed it, he wanted it… he yearned for it.
Now the tears didn’t fall in bitter loathing, but pure ecstasy. He needed this as he found sweet soft lips upon his own in a desperate attempt to make things right. It wasn’t until the climax had passed, when the violence was over that he uttered the first words he had in months.
“I need you…. Mohinder…”
Title: The Tiger’s Waiting
Author: FergyK0416
Prompt #: 3-Sentimental
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: Boys kissing? Do you really need to be warned about that?
Summary: Mohinder won’t let Gabriel do what he does best.
Word Count: 191
Mohinder held the clock tightly against his chest. It was a pocket watch that had stopped ticking months ago. He never let Gabriel fix it. He kept saying it stopped for a reason.
“You remember when you gave this to me?” The Indian asked his lover.
“Yes, it was for your birthday, the first day I kissed you…” The former killer smiled. “Why won’t you just let me fix it?”
“Because… do you remember when it stopped?”
Gabriel just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like a few months later. Why can’t I fix it?”
“Because… the day I told you I loved you…” Mohinder said simply, giving his companion a sweet chaste kiss before getting up to put the watch away.
“That still doesn’t explain why you won’t let me repair the thing.” The taller man raised an eyebrow. “You would think that that would be a good reason… our first ‘I love you’s.’ I think that’s a good reason to have it work properly.”
Mohinder looked down at the pocket watch. It had stopped on Tuesday, March 23rd, 2009. He just smiled back at the man’s insistence. “Maybe I’m just sentimental.”
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| Drabble #1 - Barefoot |
[10 Jan 2008|10:42am] |
Title: Like a Grain
Author: FergyK0416
Prompt #: 1-Barefoot
Pairings: Mylar
Rating: G
Warnings: Unless Molly creeps you out… none
Summary: A little My-walker drabble of heartwarming fun. My first drabble in a looooooong time, but as I said, I’m coming out of fic retirement for this little challenge.
Word Count: 127… I think….
As he walked through the warm sand, Mohinder felt the tiny beads sticking in between the bottom of his foot and his favorite flip-flops. “Mohinder!” He heard Molly’s happy voice call him out of his daze over the sand and turned his eyes towards the ocean. “Help!” she yelled in feigned terror. “I think he’s trying to drown me!”
Mohinder’s smile grew broader as he watched Gabriel lift her up and pretend to throw her into deeper waters. The two of them we laughing hysterically as they enjoyed the beautiful spring on the beaches of Tamil Nadu. “C’mon, Indra! Come play!” Gabriel beckoned and the Indian couldn’t lose his flip-flops fast enough.
Mohinder had never been happier about being barefoot in his entire life…
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| Anothen: Chapter 2 |
[08 Oct 2007|12:37am] |
Anothen: Chapter 2
Title: Anothen
Character: Mohinder, Sylar and Molly.... everybody else comes later...
Rating: R... yeah, you read that right....
Summary: After Kirby Plaza, Mohinder and his new charge find a strange situation on Mohinder's apartment floor
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: THIS IS NOT MY TYPICAL CRACK! I really couldn't get this story out of my head.... Like I said: NOT CRACK! Oh no.... this is some hard core stuff... drama, angst, and I'll eventually try my hand at a little smut... O_o.... not quite sure how that's going to work, but it's work a shot right. (Keep your eyes peeled.... the pink flip-flops will make an appearance :oþ )
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Mohinder sat quietly at his desk, head in hands. He wasn’t sure what his next steps would be. Sleep was a high priority, but the last four hours had chased the hope of relaxation far, far away. He had worked for two hours patching up Sylar’s wounds. It wasn’t easy lugging 215lbs of dead weight a good fifteen feet, but with Molly’s help they managed and got Sylar onto the bed. He was surprised that the killer hadn’t died on his floor before he even started stitching. The devastating puncture in his chest followed clean through to his back. The maniac should have bled out within minutes, but for some reason, was surviving the damage. Mohinder found Sylar’s resilience slightly fascinating. He wondered if maybe it was yet another ability the tall man had ripped from some unknown innocent.
The small sound of Molly turning over on the couch brought the geneticist out of his thoughts. He needed to find a proper place for her. She couldn’t just sleep on his couch nor could she remain in the presence of the same man that brutally murdered her parents. They had to leave. They had to disappear. Mohinder let his mind wander to a world where he and Molly lived happily in a small house outside some city in some country, somewhere in the world. They would be a happy little family. He could watch Molly as she grew up and took wing into her own life. A smile spread across Mohinder’s face as he let the images flash through his mind dreamily, but he was rudely brought crashing out of his fantasy by another small sound. This noise did not come from his couch. It was the shallow groan of the pale man between his now bloodied sheets.
Mohinder slowly stepped away form his desk and entered the small sleeping space. Sylar looked even paler than when Mohinder found him. Another groan accompanied by the distortion of the tall man’s features made Mohinder realize that he must be in a lot of pain. The I.V. attached to his forearm carried the drugs to ward off infection but not relieve tenderness of the wounds. The only medicinal liquid Mohinder had for anesthetizing was curare and he didn’t want to waste that quite yet. Mohinder harbored the fear that if Sylar got up enough strength, he would rise to kill Molly and beat the list out of the poor geneticist. He certainly did not want to endure more of the killer’s torture for the many people who’s faces he’d never seen, so he made sure he kept a fresh syringe and bottle of the brain-numbing fluid nearby. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
Sweat beaded over the dark and furrowed eyebrows of the taller man as fever began taking over. Mohinder slowly stepped towards the bed and the lanky figure occupying it. He watched, as Sylar appeared to be struggling with his own body to fight off sickness and death.
The doctor placed his palm on the killer’s forehead and immediately recoiled back. He didn’t just have a slight temperature; the man was burning up. Mohinder casually exited the bedroom, returning only after retrieving a bag of frozen peas from the refrigerator. He gently lifted Sylar’s head up to place the bag beneath his neck. A shiver ran through the killer’s body as his tender, hot flesh made contact with the frozen plastic.
“Mom?” The question, although in a gasped whisper, startled Mohinder backwards. “What have I done?…”
“He’s delirious”. Mohinder thought as he stepped back into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cold water and facecloth. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he began dabbing Sylar’s forehead with the cold, damp cloth. The wounded man stirred and spoke once more.
“Why can’t I stop?” he moaned. “I want to stop.” The words came out soft and weak, nothing like the dark and frightening voice Sylar normally had. Mohinder felt a small tinge of pity in his heart. It was slightly unnerving to see someone so powerful and intimidating beaten into being broken and weak.
“You can’t stop what you’ve become.” Mohinder said out loud. “You will always be a monster.” With those words, Mohinder stopped his motions to sooth the fever. It was almost as if his own thoughts broke through the comforting motions. He scoffed as he threw the cloth into the bowl of water.
“This is ridiculous.” He said to the air. “Why am I helping him?”
“Because he’s hurt.” Came a sleepy voice from the doorway.
“Molly.” Mohinder turned to the little girl who was rubbing her eyes wearily. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
The girl shook her head. “No. I had a bad dream.” She slowly padded forward to look over the foot of the bed at the lean man occupying it. She scrunched up her nose and cast a weary look to Mohinder. “It wasn’t about him.”
“Who was it about?” Mohinder asked, stepping away from the bed and closer to to the little girl.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” She said sleepily. Mohinder noticed the look on her face gave a quick insinuation of fear towards the topic.
“Okay…” Mohinder stooped down to his knees to give Molly a warm hug. “You don’t have to talk about anything until you want to.”
Again, the sound of a hurtful moan came from the bed, breaking up the warm moment Mohinder was very much enjoying. He turned to the bed with a scowl only to find Sylar sweating profusely and shivering violently. He was going into shock. The Indian was quickly back at his place beside the bed with the cloth and cold water. He continued to dab until the water and cloth were as warm as the killer’s forehead. His actions were fruitless.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, prompted by the sour look Mohinder began giving the cloth for not living up to his expectations.
“He has a bad fever.” He said as he placed the bowl back on the nightstand. “If we don’t cool him down…” Before he finished, Molly ran out of the room. When she returned, she had an ice tray in her hands. She walked up to the discarded bowl and dropped a few cubes of ice into it.
Mohinder watched in awe as Molly placed her teddy bear on the floor and carefully climbed up onto the bed. She reached over to retrieve the bowl and, using the now chilled cloth, began wiping Sylar’s forehead. As she dabbed, she spoke, “Go run the bath and put the other ice tray in it. If we submerge him in ice water, it’ll help lower his temperature.” When she didn’t get a response, she turned to see Mohinder gaping at her. “I saw it on the discovery channel.” She shrugged. “Go!”
Mohinder scampered into the bathroom to begin filling the tub. After turning just the cold tap, he left the bath to run while he retrieved the other ice tray. When he returned from icing the water in the tub, he saw Sylar was awake, but nowhere near alert. Molly was whispering to him. His eyes were clouded with fever and his limbs lay limp and unmoving.
“You have to help us.” Molly whispered quietly into the pale man’s ear. “If you want to live, you have to help.” She carefully wrapped her arms around Sylar’s bicep and slid off the bed, using her weight to pull him. It was a small but too intimate of a gesture and it made Mohinder’s skin crawl to see Molly so physically close to the monster. It was then he noticed, Sylar was trying to get up. He ran over to help the small girl drag the lanky demon out of the reddened sheets.
It wasn’t any easier than lugging dead weight, but at least the murderer was trying to help. Finally, after many grunts and groans, Sylar was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Mohinder turned to Molly and quickly shooed her out of the bathroom muttering something about things she shouldn’t see. He locked the door and slowly turned to the man now scare-crowed on the edge of the tub.
“Don’t ask me what I’m doing.” He said to the semi-conscious man, “I’m not entirely sure myself.” With no response, Mohinder began peeling off the bloodied shirt that had been replaced after stitching. Once the grungy garment was discarded, the geneticist took a moment to take in the sight of the broken man by the bath. There was the original stab wound, still bleeding through the layers of gauze and medical tape Mohinder supplied. There were also other scars. One where the incision for an appendectomy would be made. That was interesting to the Indian. He wondered when Sylar had he appendix removed. Maybe it happened when he was a boy. It was strange to imagine Sylar as a child. His eyes fell upon a scar not so innocent. A bullet wound. Mohinder wondered who actually managed to get a piece of the dark and demonic Sylar.
He let his imagination wander to a fight that ended with Sylar at the business end of the bullet while he reached down to unbutton the top of the killer’s slacks.
“What are you doing?” came the scratchy question. Mohinder’s hands froze ad his eyes darted upward to meet a groggy pain-filled brown gaze. A quick pang of fear passed through his eyes and Mohinder was thrown off by it. The look of confusion and panic on Sylar’s face pushed Mohinder to explain.
“I’m taking off your clothes.” Mohinder said as he quickly as he resumed his task. “You’re going to take a cold bath to help get your fever down. If you wish, you can jump in as you are.” He stripped Sylar down to his boxers and helped him into the tub where the tall man let out a choked-off kind of whimper that made Mohinder chuckle to himself.
This is how they spent night one…
To be continued…
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| Eye of the Beholder |
[08 Sep 2007|02:47am] |
Title: Eye of the Beholder
Character: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Summary: Molly is out of town and our boys want to give her a proper girls room for when she returns. 'Cept they can't decide on one thing... paint color
Spoilers: If you haven't seen season one.... go watch the DVD's..... jeeze...
Disclaimer: If I owned them... well I'm sure Zach and Sendhil are glad I don't. ;o)
Author's Note: I needed to do some crack... since Anothen is giving me such a tough time.
The two men stood in aisle 16 as the woman in the orange smock held up the two colors.
“This is ‘practically periwinkle’ and this one is “fabulous fuchsia.’ Both are great choices.” She said holding the small strips of paper in the air. Mohinder squinted, as he took in the bright colored cardboard.
“I love the ‘fabulous fuchsia,’ but maybe it’s too much. What do you think, Sy?” Sylar just stood leaning against the shelving of paint cans, glaring.
“Don’t they just have ‘purple’ or ‘pink?’ What ever happened to normal colors?” he asked darkly.
“Oh don’t be silly.” Mohinder chuckled, as he quickly turned back to the orange-clad girl. “He’s being silly. Do you have a brighter pink?”
“Sure!” replied the girl happily. She flipped around to reveal a disdainfully fluorescent strip of paper; with the most horrible personification of the word “pink” Sylar could think of, colored across it. “This is ‘calmly claret.’”
“I don’t se anything calm about that color.” Sylar stated casually. “Makes me want to take hostages, actually.”
“Oh, stop.” Mohinder said, playfully slapping the taller man’s arm. “I think Molly would love that color.”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Yeah, if she was Malibu Barbie. Molly would hate it.”
“No she wouldn’t.” The geneticist scolded.
“Yes, she would. I hate it.” Sylar said plainly.
“You don’t have the same taste as we do.”
“We?” Sylar raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, ’we.’ Molly loves pink. As do I.”
“Oh? Is that why you have four pairs of flip-flops in the same shade of ridiculousness? Did you want to match her wall every time you walked in?” Sylar smirked as he leaned in closer. “Planned color coordination?”
“N-no…” Mohinder blushed. “I… just like the color.” He defended meekly.
“Uh-huh.” Sylar nodded, amused as he leaned back against the shelves. “Whatever. I don’t know anything about girly things or paint color. You pick. But if Molly comes back from Las Vegas and hates it, it’s all on you, doc.”
The Home Depot clerk just rolled her eyes as the men fought. When hearing the words ‘you pick,’ she perked back up. “So, what color will it be, sir?”
Mohinder glared at the now three strips of paper. He was deep in thought when suddenly he lifted his finger and declared, “That one!”
Two Weeks Later
Molly and Sylar sat on the couch watching cartoons as Mohinder went about cleaning the kitchen.
“So, how was Las Vegas?” Sylar asked the little girl casually.
“Fine.” Replied Molly, eyes never wavering from the television.
“How’s Micah?”
“Good.”
“And DL and Niki?”
“Good.”
A long silence passed. Mohinder came into the living area with two sodas and a bowl of popcorn.
“I’m running to the store. Do either of you need anything?” The darker man smiled. Both couch occupants shook their heads, neither of them breaking contact with the TV.
“Okay. I’ll be back in about and hour.” Mohinder declared as he set out on his way. The two just sat watching as they heard the door click shut.
“Okay.” Sylar declared as he stood and quickly left the room. Molly quickly turned off the TV and headed to her bedroom where she happily found Sylar opening two paint cans.
“With all those abilities of yours,” Molly began as she scrunched her nose and looking around the room, “How fast can you make Barbie’s Dream House disappear?”
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| Team Gray |
[09 Aug 2007|04:59pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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Title: Team Gray
Character: Mohinder/Sylar and pretty much everyone else too!
Rating: PG-13... just to be safe... LOL!
Summary: Sylar find Mohinder in India, and the Bennet shows up... and well... it's complicated. Just read it!
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Spoilers: If you haven't seen season one.... go away!
Author's Note: Okay... So, I'm Lois Lane on the 9th Wonders boards. The Mohinder/Sylar shipping thread tends to have a mind of it's own and stuff like this occurs. We do group fics about Sy and Mo and this is probably the best on that has EVER appeared. Hope you guys enjoy! The names of the posters are before each section of story they did. HA HA! HAVE FUN!
Jollity
I'm going to add a slight rule to this continuous-story: each new post has to contain a new twist. It can be as subtle or as outrageous as you want, but do use your better judgment to keep continuity and to keep it follow able
*
Mohinder breathed deeply and took in the familiar scents of his old office. Ah, the University at Chennai—a place full of memories both happy and bitter for him. He'd come back to visit his family and left Molly in the care of Officer Matt Parker ("You need to practice working with children, anyway!"). Nirand had tried to convince him to come back to teaching there, but Mohinder knew that he already had a niche carved out for him in the United States.
He stepped outside into the warm afternoon and headed toward a bustling market, eager to taste his homeland's cuisine. And where better to get it than a side street vendor? As he found his way around the marketplace, a very familiar figure from the corner of his vision caught his attention...
SunnivaIxchel
Mohinder stopped, turning to look at the figure. Sylar smiled demonically at him. Mohinder's entire body froze up, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. Sylar beckoned, causing Mohinder's legs to start moving. Mohinder tried to stop, but he couldn't not walk over to Sylar as he slipped into a back alley. Mohinder unwillingly went in. He was grabbed from behind, pinned up against the brick wall on one side of the alley, and held there. He could feel Sylar's warm breath tickling his neck. He shuddered, trying to get away. Sylar chuckled.
"Mmmm. Long time no see Mohinder. Such a beautiful place you come from, but not nearly as beautiful as you" Sylar gently nuzzled his cheek. Mohinder shuddered again.
"Sylar, let me go" he whispered. Sylar chuckled again.
"And why should I do that?" he asked, nicking Mohinder's earlobe with his teeth. Mohinder's eyes were closed as he tried to keep hold of his sanity.
"Because this will happen." he whispered. And suddenly there was a ping-ping-ping sound and three knockout darts pierced Sylar's neck. Sylar's eyes widened. He reached for them, stumbling away from Mohinder. He weakly, tried to pull them out, but collapsed on the ground before he could. Mohinder scrubbed his ear disgustedly with his shirt sleeve as Noah Bennet stepped out of the shadows.
"Nice work Mohinder. We have him now"...
kaelraye
Mohinder grunted as he helped Bennet drag Sylar's dead weight towards the rented truck where the Haitian waited silently. He helped haul Sylar's body into the truck, being careful not to bash his head and bring the killer into consciousness earlier.
"How long will he stay out?" Mohinder asked uneasily, rubbing his still stinging earlobe and staring down at Sylar's face which appeared innocent while asleep; not showing any of that twisted nature Sylar possessed while awake and alert.
"Should be three hours," Bennet replied, rubbing his eyes behind thick glasses lenses, "Maybe more; those three doses would kill a horse five times over. Don't worry Mohinder; we're well prepared this time. We won't hesitate to kill him this time, just need to get his body to a secure location."
Noah clapped Mohinder on the shoulder and motioned to the Haitian to close the doors. He began leading Mohinder away towards the cab when a loud, groggy groan caused all three to pause.
Sylar's body, which was suppose to be in a really deep and blissful sleep, twitched and rolled. His body jerked and rose up from within the shadows...
Lois Lane
Mohinder started to panic, but the Haitian was quick, he moved to pin Sylar quickly. Noah pulled out handcuffs and shackled Sylar's hands behind his back. The tall man yelled and struggled, but with the Haitian present, he might as well have been singing a show tune. He was helpless.
Mohinder liked that idea. Sylar; helpless. At first he was reminded of the day that he had Sylar taped to a chair in his apartment. The power he had over the killer was exhilarating. He then let his mind wander to more dark thoughts. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted to be in control over the man who took everything from him.
"It's no use, Gabriel." His Christian name spilling out of Bennet's mouth like venom. "My friend here has nullified your stolen abilities."
Sylar stopped struggling as Bennet spoke. The killer glared with eyes full of hatred.
"My name is Sylar…" he seethed.
"Of course it is, Gabriel" Bennet chuckled as he turned to Mohinder and noticing the dark expression on the Indian's face, asked, "Are you sure you can handle this?"
"Oh, I'm sure." Mohinder whispered darkly, his eyes never wavering from Sylar's. He wanted this. He wanted to make Sylar scream the way he did before when he had held the tuning fork to the killer's ear.
"Let's go then." Said Bennet. The Haitian hopped into the front seat and turned the key only to find the van wouldn't start. The India swelter had taken its toll on the rental, leaving the engine dry and overheated.
Kaelraye
Mohinder mentally cursed as Sylar's elbowed jabbed into his gut once again. He gripped the offending appendage and twisted it just slightly to have Sylar grunt in pain through the graciously applied duct tape covering his mouth.
The Haitian walked calmly beside him, gliding through the crowded streets with an eerie grace. Mohinder wondered if that were part of his ability but couldn't think long for Sylar renewed his struggle. At Sylar's other shoulder, Mohinder could hear Bennet grunt as he was assaulted as well.
"How much further?" Bennet growled, tugging Sylar forward with Mohinder as the captive dug in heels into the ground.
"One more block," Mohinder huffed, wondering why he was dragging Sylar along when the Haitian looked much stronger than himself.
The Haitian must have been doing something though, for they hadn't been glanced at or confronted once during their long trek to Mohinder's home dragging a bound and struggling wanted man.
His apartment was in sight and Mohinder felt dark glee fill his limbs, giving him newfound strength to haul Sylar forward. Dark, intense eyes glare out from Sylar's fringe of sweaty brown hair as Mohinder dug fingernails into his shoulder. Mohinder grinned down at his enemy, feeling smug at having the man helpless and under his control again.
He was about to start thanking Bennet once more for his help when a shout sounded through the slightly crowded square and the would-be thief collided hard with his shoulder, knocking Mohinder off his feet...
Jollity
Mohinder tumbled backwards and Sylar went down with him, colliding heavily atop the geneticist. Mohinder looked up, stunned, and saw a fiendish twinkle in his eye. Sylar bent forward and pressed his tape-covered lips against Mohinder's and stumbled back up, sprinting down the square. When he was far enough away, Sylar telekinetically freed himself of his binds.
"STOP HIM!" Bennet yelled, and the Haitian immediately let fly a taser dart from his gun. Sylar stopped it in mid-air, sending it flying toward the thief instead.
Bennet bent down to help the stunned Mohinder back to his feet.
"We'll spend all day tracking him, Suresh," he panted. "We're not letting him get away."
"No," Mohinder said, bringing a hand up to his tender and slightly bruised lips. "No. I know what he's after. I think I can handle him myself."
Bennet furrowed his brow. "Are you sure? If it's at night, we could wait outside your apartment and..."
"I'm quite sure, Mr. Bennet. If I need any help, I'll call you," he said sternly. The company man nodded, understanding. He adjusted his glasses and gestured to the Haitian, who nodded and followed him out.
Mohinder stared off into the distance. Sylar was gone, for now.
But not for long, he thought, smiling, as he headed back to his apartment unbuttoning his shirt...
Sunni
Mohinder sat in his apartment, eating a small meager meal. It was getting late, the sky was darkening. But Mohinder patiently sat and waited. He heard his door swinging open, then closing. He didn't turn around as soft footsteps approached him. A strong hand grasped his shoulder, but Mohinder still didn't look up.
"Did I hurt you?" Sylar asked softly, "When I fell on you" he touched Mohinder's cheek with the back of his hand and was rewarded with a sigh.
"No. I'm fine." he said quietly, still looking down at his plate. Sylar' mussed his hair, and then smoothed it down. He smiled slightly.
"How's Molly?" he asked. Mohinder shrugged.
"Pale knuckles stroked a dark cheek, and Mohinder closed his eyes.
"How's the research?" he asked. Mohinder looked up at him for the first time.
"You can quit the small talk, we're not being bugged,” he said. Sylar raised his eyebrows.
"You can never be too careful" he said quietly. Mohinder nodded.
"So. What news from New York?" Mohinder asked. Sylar smiled. It was the smile of a small child that knew a big and important secret and was just bursting to share it with someone. He leaned down, breathing in Mohinder's ear.
"It will begin in nine days"....
kaelraye
"Is that enough time?" Mohinder asked worriedly, turning in his seat to face Sylar. "Will you all be prepared enough to take them down?"
"Well, we have Peter on our side now. It shouldn't be that difficult." Sylar shrugged, brushing some stray curls out of Mohinder's eyes with a soft smile.
"But they have the Haitian on their side." Mohinder frowned, catching Sylar's hand with his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Even with the Haitian it shouldn't be that hard." Sylar's small grin grew again, his eyes dancing with hidden secrets, and Mohinder started feeling irritated from being left in the dark.
"What aren't you telling me?" Mohinder leaned closer, eyes glaring into Sylar's and making Sylar chuckle.
"Nothing you need to worry about." Sylar freed his hand from Mohinder's grasp and tapped on the nose like he usually did to Molly when she was being nosy. He then pulled away and headed towards the sink with Mohinder's forgotten meal.
Mohinder sighed, watching Sylar finish off the rest of his food and start rinsing the plate off. He knew he should bug Sylar more about the plan, he had barely been told anything about it in the first place, but Mohinder also knew he probably wouldn't get any answers.
He started to rise out of his chair, planning on helping Sylar finish cleaning the dishes when Sylar's body went rigid; his head tilting as though he were listening to something. Mohinder held his breath, eyes following Sylar as he walked cautiously towards the window...
jollity
"Are you sure you want to do that, Sylar?" Mohinder asked nervously. "It could be anyone."
"Whoever it is," Sylar muttered, "I'm sure I can take them. They're probably here for the team plans... take them, they're in the cupboard."
He stalked toward the window, treading lightly as to not let the floorboards squeak. Mohinder moved behind him, shuffling through the cupboards, looking for something. His hands trembled with excitement; he finally had the plan.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Sylar teased to no one in particular. He narrowed his eyes, listening intently
"Sylar, maybe we should leave, you shouldn't be so bold like this..."
"Mohinder, I can handle it, I--"
Just then the window crashed. Bennet and the Haitian came tumbling in, guns at the ready.
"NOW!" Mohinder yelled. Sylar shot a glance of fleeting confusion at him before being stuck by taser darts from the other two. His eyes locked with the Indian's as he shook violently, suffering from multiple volts of electricity. Finally it ended, leaving Sylar panting on the floor of the apartment.
"I wasn't begging for my life," Mohinder said darkly. "I was offering you yours."
"Trai... traitor..." Sylar muttered.
"Nine days," Bennet said, putting his gun back. "Got the plans?"
"I do," Mohinder said, brandishing a file out from under his coat.
"Traitor," Sylar repeated. "You two-timing..."
"We don't have very many rules," Mohinder said matter-of-factly. "You'll find that you can't use your powers temporarily, just enough time for us to get back to our headquarters." Bennet smiled at him and Mohinder returned the gesture. Sylar grunted as he watched the three of them head out the door. He couldn't believe it: lead on by his own partner, his teammate...
"Just wait and see," Bennet said, pausing at the window. "In nine days, this game will be over. Your team will lose... and our team will win."
"Because when the Company plays Capture the Flag," the Haitian said, smirking, "we play it serious."
Sunni
Sylar glared at Mohinder as he was tied up and led off. Mohinder smirked triumphantly. They were going to win the game, and Sylar was going to be humiliated in front of the rest of his team. He got up, following Noah and the Haitian out. The sun was setting, casting beautiful colors across the sky. Noah raised his eyebrows at him and Mohinder pointed to the market.
"I never did get to shop,” he said. Noah smirked, rolling his eyes. Mohinder went back to the market, hoping he could pick some of those colorful hand woven scarves he had seen before they packed up for the night. He bought a few, but his favorite was the pink, burgundy, orange, and purple one with the green trim. He walked by the same back alley that Sylar had caught him in and he was grabbed from behind. He wondered how many times he was going to be held hostage in that alley. A familiar voice whispered in his ear.
"You will bring me the company's plans" Peter Petrelli breathed into Mohinder's ear, his persuasion turned on high....
kaelraye
Mohinder gave a brief struggle before his limbs went slack, his mind blanked and his ears tuned into the sound of Peter's breathing; listening for anymore commands.
'Company plans, company plans, company plans,' Repeated over and over in his mind as he nodded numbly and left Peter's hold. The scarves fell from his arms, grabbed by Peter's swift hands, and he moved off towards where he knew the company plans would be.
At the back of his mind, Mohinder clawed to break the spell but Peter's power was stronger. He knew Peter must have been smirking in the shadows, listening to his mental protests as his body moved along. Maybe Sylar would be there too, glaring hotly at his back for being betrayed.
The company van came into view, the hood popped open as Bennet bent to try starting the motor. The Haitian leaned against the passenger door, the plans resting in his hands shining brightly in the reddish light from the sunset.
Mohinder's body bent over the engine, eyes flicking towards the plans every other second in an almost hungry manner. Mohinder struggled even more to regain control of his limbs but instead he had to watch himself move up and around a cursing Bennet to stand before the Haitian.
"I have no idea how to fix cars. Do you?" He heard himself asking; trying to be sneaky and not suspicious at all.
The Haitian glanced away from the plans and turned to watch Bennet curse at the engine. Mohinder's fingers twitched because the plans were so close and he was almost done the mission.
The Haitian finally nodded and set the plans into Mohinder's hands before turning to go help. Mohinder headed back around the truck silently, trying to sneak away unseen, when Matt Parkman suddenly stood before him with a taser gun out.
"Dr. Suresh is playing both sides now," He proclaimed loudly to the others before electric shocks sent Mohinder's conscious mind into darkness.
Jollity
"Is he, now?" Bennet asked casually, moving to where Matt had just knocked out Mohinder. The geneticist grumbled, twitching on the dirt road.
"Uh, yea," Matt said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He was just taking these plans over to..."
"...me," finished Peter Petrelli, coming out from behind the shadows. "Now, hand me those plans, Parkman."
Like Mohinder, Matt found himself seized by the strong urge to obey. It was a familiar feeling, and some back thought in his mind screamed the name "Eden!", but he can't let go of his mission. He and Bennet both bent at the same time to pick up the fallen plans, but the Haitian cut them off.
"Your powers do not work here," he said, taking the plans.
"Then neither do yours." Peter glared down the Haitian and the tall man squinted, grasping his head. Matt and Bennet felt it too, and they screamed and groaned, writhing on the floor, caught between what appeared to be a feedback-like mental resonation; a battle between the Haitian and the empath who mimicked his power.
But it wasn't long before the power overwhelmed Peter. He began to buckle and his hands began to glow.
"No... NO!" he yelled, mentally begging his hands to stop. Matt, Bennet and the Haitian quickly scrambled to their feet, taking both parties' plans with them. With great effort, the van actually started and rolled away, leaving Peter and the still-unconscious Mohinder in the dust.
Sylar came up from behind them, panting, ropes still hanging off him. When he noticed Peter's glowing hands he sent the man flying into a wall, immediately putting him out.
"Th-thanks man," Peter muttered. "But... but they got away."
"That's okay," Sylar said. He knelt down to pick up Mohinder, hooking one arm under his knees and the other under his neck, like a child. "We still have this one."
"Man," Peter said. "I can't believe he played us the entire time..."
Sylar smirked, looking down at Mohinder. "We'll get him to talk."
Sunni
Mohinder groaned and rolled over as he woke up in a dark room
"Uunnggghh" he groaned. He opened his eyes, staring around. He was in some kind of cell. He tried to get up but found that he was chained to the wall. He had no idea how the Company had persuaded him into playing their twistedly serious game of Capture the Flag where powers were allowed and you could literally take people hostage and hog tie them. He sighed. What had happened? He was pretty sure that he wasn't in a Company cell. They looked different. Mostly white. But this one was a dank cold underground room of some type. Seemed a bit like a cellar. He heard the door opening and his eyes widened and he curled back against the wall. Peter and Sylar stepped in, talking quietly with one another. Sylar noticed that Mohinder was awake and leered.
"Sleeping beauty awakes,” he said. Mohinder swallowed as an equally wicked grin spread over Peter's face.
"You have a lot of explaining to do Doctor,” he said, taking a menacing step towards Mohinder. Mohinder whimpered and curled up against the wall, knowing he was trapped. Sylar grabbed Peter's arm and glared at him. Peter consented to the silent request and stepped back as Sylar knelt beside Mohinder and stroked his hair.
"Mohinder, where is their flag?" he asked. Mohinder fervently shook his head, refusing to answer. Peter raised his eyebrows.
"Need help?" he asked. Sylar glared at him.
"Shut up Petrelli" he turned back to Mohinder, "Mo Mo, please. I don't want to have to do this. Just tell me and it'll all be over" Mohinder just shook his head. Sylar sighed, glancing up at Peter.
"All right Pretty Petrelli, work your magic,” he said, getting up. Mohinder swallowed as Peter knelt beside him, trapping Mohinder's face between his hands.
"Where is the Company's flag?" Mohinder shuddered, his eyes closing.
'Company's flag, Company's flag, Company's flag' the words echoed in his head as he was forced to obey Peter's command.
"It's...in New York,” he whispered. Both Peter and Sylar had an expression of outrage and confusion.
"But-but-but-India-I-we-" Peter stuttered out. Sylar managed to express their feelings in a more refined way, than the empath.
"Why lead us all the way to India?" Mohinder shook his head. Peter found his tongue.
"Why lead us all the way to India?" he repeated Sylar's words. Mohinder swallowed, his mind suddenly serenely blank.
"It was a decoy. The plan was to distract you so we could go in and steal your flag" he whispered. Peter paled considerably.
"You know where our flag is?" he asked. Mohinder shook his head.
"I don't. But Bennet suspects that he knows" he murmured. Peter tipped Mohinder's chin up.
"Do you know exactly where in New York the flag is?" he asked Mohinder. Mohinder nodded. Suddenly Claire ran in.
"Guys. We've caught another one" she said...
kaelraye
Claire paused mid-sentence, catching site of her uncle holding Mohinder's chin rather intimately.
"Oh...uh...Was I interrupting?" She gave a nervous laugh and gave her a puzzled glance before Sylar pulled the empath's hands away from Mohinder.
"No, we were just getting information out of him." Sylar growled, wishing he had been the one to obtain Eden's power.
"What...what were you saying?" Peter coughed, his face embarrassed.
Mohinder listened intently; feeling slightly flustered but keen to gather any information he could while in this situation.
"Oh...We caught another of their team." Claire stated, being reluctant to continue any further because she knew the news wouldn't sit well with the two men.
"Who?" All three men asked, Peter and Sylar both turning gazes to Mohinder who had spoken the loudest.
"Let's talk about this elsewhere." Sylar stated, grinning at the glare Mohinder sent his way.
Once the three of them had Mohinder sealed once more within the cellar, yelling and screaming to be let go, the two man turned on Claire eager to hear her knowledge.
"Claude's the one who caught him, he was going through you room back in New York." Claire started looking somewhat befuddled when pulling a picture out of a folder she had been carrying.
She held it out of view for a moment, staring hard at it before offering it to her uncle's eager hands. Peter, who had beamed at the mention of Claude's name, paled as his eyes took in the figure in the photo.
"NATHAN!?!"
Jollity
Peter gasped, stumbling for words.
"I thought he... I can't believe... nuh..." His lower lip wobbled, threatening tears. "Nate-Nate...?"
Sylar sniggered at the pet name but Claire punched him, earning a death glare back.
"He's in another holding cell," Claire said, sighing. "I guess one of you had better go see him."
"I will!" stammered Peter. "Just show me where he is... Claude, too. Please."
"Okay," Claire said. "You coming, Gray?"
"No," Sylar said, smirking. Claire liked to use his last name rather than the name 'Sylar'... it made her nearly forget about when he tried to kill her. "I think I'll work on trying to get some info out of our little two-timer here."
"Two-timer?" Claire asked. "But... I thought Mohinder was on our side..."
"That's what we thought too," Peter said.
Claire gasped. "So... so Mohinder's playing for the other team?!"
Peter snorted, failing to hold back his laughter. Sylar wrinkled his nose and punched the empath on the arm, knocking him into the opposite wall.
"I... I didn't mean like that," Claire said, sticking her tongue out. "You... you know what I mean!"
"Yes, he is," Sylar said, grinning in a way that implied another meaning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a geneticist to attend to..."
kaelraye
Mohinder was twisting in his bindings, getting even more tangled up, when Sylar entered. He turned his head around, glaring hot daggers as Sylar knelt down with his arms behind his back.
"I'm not going to tell you where the flag is." Mohinder muttered, curling his legs so he was as far away from Sylar as he could be.
Sylar grinned softly, just staring at the traitor until Mohinder started shifting uncomfortable under his gaze.
"I just have one question before I start," Sylar's leaned in closer, close enough so that his warm breath tickled Mohinder's nose. "Why did you betray us."
Mohinder turned his head away, knowing that if he'd stared too long into the other's eyes he'd give in. Sylar chuckled at Mohinder's silence and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"I'm not going to tell you anything." Mohinder stated again, "You're not Peter. You can't force me to tell you."
Sylar bristled at the mention of Petrelli's name and forcefully pulled Mohinder's gaze back onto his face with one of his hands. "I may not have his power but I can force you to tell me the location."
Mohinder raised his chin, eyes daring Sylar to continue on. "I'd like to see you try."
At Mohinder's challenge, Sylar grinned an evil grin and pulled into view his other hand. Within it was Mohinder's favorite scarf of gold, red, yellow, and purple-blue stripes. Mohinder held his breath, eyes widening as Sylar held the scarf aloft and with his other hand pulled out a lighter.
"Tell me where the company flag is or else I'll burn your favorite scarf!"
Sunni
Mohinder began to struggle, "No. No. Anything. Anything. Don't burn it. Please. I beg of you. Please" he moaned. Sylar chuckled, switching the lighter on.
"Where is it?" he asked. Mohinder whimpered, licking his lips.
"It's..." he whispered, then paused, unwilling to reveal the secret. Sylar brought the light closer to the scarf and Mohinder caved.
"It's in Isaac's loft,” he cried. Sylar stopped, flicking out the lighter.
"Now see. That wasn't so hard, now was it" Mohinder glared daggers at him, struggling.
"Give me the scarf,” he pleaded. One look into his giant brown eyes and Sylar gave in, handing Mohinder the scarf. Mohinder held the scarf to his face, gasping with relief. He rubbed it against his cheek. Sylar chuckled, pecking Mohinder on the other cheek. Suddenly Peter ran in, ignoring the fact that Sylar's face was inches away from Mohinder's.
"Sylar" he moaned, "They know where the flag is"...
kaelraye
"How?" Sylar asked turning to face Peter.
"Where?" Mohinder asked, muffled through his scarf.
Peter did a double take at the brightly colored scarf and sent Sylar a questioning glance which he responded with a shrug.
"Nathan was a decoy as well," Claire stated, entering the room with a frown. "The company already knew our flag location and sent Nathan to keep us busy."
"We have to head back!" Peter exclaimed, scrambling after Claire and out of the cellar.
Sylar turned and unbound Mohinder from the wall. Mohinder hugged the scarf tightly to his chest and far away from Sylar as the taller man hooked his arm around the geneticist's shoulders, leading him out of the room.
"Where did you hide your flag?" Mohinder asked as he was led up the stairs and found he was in Peter's country mansion.
"In your apartment..."
Jollity
"In my...?! Oh!" Mohinder huffed. "And the entire time I was pretending to be on your team you never thought to tell me this!"
"Loose lips sink ships, Mohinder," Sylar teased. "And you tend to have very loose lips, if I may speak from experience."
Mohinder's cheeks and ears took on a deep shade of scarlet as Sylar paused momentarily to bind Mohinder's wrists in front of him with his own scarf. He harrumphed again and Sylar turned to face Peter.
"What are we going to do? Defend our base or go after their flag?"
"Let's split up," Peter said. "You take the hostages and head to Isaac's loft while Claire, Claude and I go to defend our flag." Sylar nodded and TK'd Nathan over to him.
"Fly them over to Isaac's loft," Peter commanded Nathan, whose eyes glassed over as he nodded. They all took off, their game edging close to its end.
When they all landed in front of the loft Sylar roughly pushed the hostages through the door.
"Game's over, Bennet," Sylar called. "I've got two of your men here, so hand over the flag!"
Just then a low chuckle sounded from the very side of the room. A stern-looking and stately Asian man emerged from the shadows and smiled at Sylar. "Game well played, Team Gray. I see you even thought to capture our decoys," he said. "But I'm afraid that to capture our Company flag, you must go through us first."
He sidestepped to reveal none other than Hiro Nakamura, sword in hand and poised for battle. The older man next to him unsheathed his own sword and assumed another defensive position. Hiro grinned, winking at Nathan.
"Don'ta worry, flying man-- father and I will defend our flag!"
Lois Lane
"You have got to be kidding!" Sylar exclaimed as he looked at the Japanese man and his father.
"Apparently not..." Mohinder said dryly.
Before Sylar could react, he found himself sitting on the floor next to Peter. The two of them were shackled together by their feet and hands. There was nobody left in the room except for the two men and Hiro Nakamura, who was standing over them proudly.
Hiro leaned over with a broad smile, "I bend time and space..." and he disappeared.
Sylar looked at Peter. "Well, this sucks..."
"Yup," Peter nodded. "Yup it does..."
Sylar and Peter didn't stay bound for long, given that the two men had telekinesis. They made their way back to base where they found the building, including Isaac's Loft was fully engulfed in flames.
"I stand corrected..." said Sylar flatly. "Now THIS really sucks..."
"Yup," Peter nodded. "Yup it does..."
Jollity
"But if Isaac's loft is burning, that means someone from our team must've caught their flag..."
"Yea Peter, but what about OUR flag!?"
Sylar and Peter glanced at each other once before zipping off in different directions, Sylar toward Mohinder's apartment and Peter toward Isaac's loft.
Once Sylar got to Mohinder's apartment he tried his hand at cryokinesis and was able to bring the flames down to a manageable level. "TEAM GRAY! ASSEMBLE!"
D.L. and Niki emerged from the walls in a coughing fit.
"What happened here? Where is our flag?"
"They took it," wheezed D.L. "They were too fast for us!"
Sylar cursed inwardly and shoved D.L. and Niki back outside. Peter came flying up to the three of them, beaming.
"We've got their flag!"
"They've got our flag!"
Kaelraye
"What do we do now?" Peter asked, staring down at the flag in his hand. "Go after our flag?"
"Yes, you take D.L. and Niki to go do that. I'm staying here." Sylar stated, turning back to the rising flames.
"What are you staying here for?" Peter asked puzzled.
"I have to save Momo's scarves, or else he'll cry for weeks." Sylar replied sighing. "Molly too, since her crayons are all here. Mohinder might also get mad if I let his apartment burn down."
"Uh...Well, good luck with that. I'll leave the flag with you." Peter draped the flag over Sylar's shoulder and went running out to go save their flag.
It didn't take long to put the flames all out and Sylar checked each room to make sure everything was in okay order. When he came back out into the living room his eyes landed on a mysterious clock sitting on the table. His eyes clouded over as erratic, out of time ticking filled his ears and Sylar's fingers started twitching.
He moved zombie-like towards the clock, running his hands over the back lovingly before opening it up. Sylar was so focused on the clock that he didn't see the dark, caramel colored hand curl around the end of the flag and start pulling it off his shoulder.
Lois Lane
"Now now, MoMo..." Sylar whispered softly as he whipped around to try and catch the Indians wrist. "I'm not that dumb."
Mohinder had the flag in his grasp.
Sylar quickly TK'd a scarf from the closet. Mohinder's favorite scarf. He then let his hands begin to glow. Mohinder's eyes widened.
"Gimmie that flag, or the scarf gets it." He held the scarf closely to his radiating hand.
Jollity
"Please," Mohinder said, quite uncharacteristically. "Like I'll fall for that again!"
Sylar's smirk widened and his hand became hotter, burning up the edges of the ornate and colorful scarf. Suddenly, the same erratic ticking noise filled his head and he recoiled, dropping the scarf and putting his hands against his head. In all his panic he forgot to turn off the nuke in his hands and yelled, pulling his hands away from his head. He'd just burnt a hand-shaped bald spot on his head. Sylar huffed.
"Was your clock ALWAYS this God-awful?!" he screamed. A light giggle erupted from underneath the table and Sylar growled. He stalked toward the table, holding Mohinder in his telekinetic grasp as he did. Nobody was there. He allowed himself a nanosecond of confusion before coming to the realization.
"Oh no you don't!--"
He spun around and saw Hiro clutching Mohinder and the flag, and the next second they were gone. Sylar let fly a slew of curses, tearing up what was left of Mohinder's scarf as he did.
"Hey, that's not good for my ears!" Sylar paused and saw Molly come out from Mohinder's bedroom.
"Molly, Molly," Sylar said, kneeling down to her level and rubbing her arms. "Can you find Mohinder and Hiro for me?"
Kaelraye
"Why did you rip up Mo-pa's scarf?" Molly asked, picking up the pieces with tears shimmering in her eyes
"Mo-pa hurt me." Sylar replied, bending down to show Molly his burns. "His clock was hurting my ears."
"Mo-pa's not on your team?" Molly's eyes were wide as her small hands traced around the burn.
"No, Mo-pa betrayed me." Sylar responded with a pout.
"I'll try finding him." Molly's eyes took on a determined edge. "But Hiro might be tricky."
Sylar combed his fingers through Molly's long hair with a gentle, encouraging smile. "I know you'll be able to do it."
Molly beamed and closed her eyes, face scrunching up in cute concentration. Sylar pulled a map off the shelf with his telekinesis and held it before Molly's searching hands.
"He's...right...there." Molly stated, eyes opening as her finger landed on a location.
Sylar started laughing as he took in the location. Of course team Company's second base would be at the Bennet house...
Lois Lane
"Be careful!" Molly shouted as Sylar left to get Peter.
"I will, sweetheart!" said the tall man over his shoulder. He loved how over-protective she was of him. It made him laugh.
Sylar made his way back to Isaac's Loft, which was thoroughly torched, to find Niki, DL and Peter standing out in front of the building.
"I take it you didn't catch them?" he said snarkly. Niki looked at DL who looked at Peter who just shrugged his shoulders with an idiotic smirk on his face.
"What can ya do?" Peter said.
"What you can do is teleport us to Texas." Sylar said, his face beaming.
"Texas? What the hell is in Texas?" DL asked.
Peter understood completely. "The Bennet house...CLAIRE!"
Claire appeared from behind some burnt fallout. Her clothes were burnt to a crisp but her body was perfect and healthy.
"I didn't find any... Oh! Sylar! What happened?" she said, seeing the man standing with her companions.
"Mo-Pa.. er..." he coughed "I mean, Mohinder tricked me and took our flag. We have to go to Texas."
"Awesome! I get to see mom!" Claire exclaimed.
"Well, let's be off then. Everybody hold hands." Peter said as the group formed around him and he squeezed his eyes shut. The strange sensation of teleporting lasted only moments as the group landed at their destination. They all stood wide-eyed, gawking at their new location.
"Um... Peter?" Sylar started, breaking the thick silence.
"Yeah... I know." The empath nodded.
Niki... or was it Jessica... began to laugh hysterically as the group took in the familiar orange steps of monument in the middle of Kirby Plaza.
"You're an idiot, Petrelli..."
Jollity
"HHAHAHAHAHAHHA okay seriously," Jessica said, leaning to the side and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Take us Texas."
"I'm trying!" Peter whined.
"Well try harder!" called a familiar voice from the crowd. Claude stepped among them and into visibility, bopping Peter on the head as he did. "What's your plaque on the Company wall gonna say? 'Peter Petrelli- he TRIED.' Pathetic! Now let me get in this and let's go to Texas!"
Peter's heart quickened at his touch when he went in to hold his hand. A new confidence washed over him and he looked determined.
Sylar moaned, "Oh God Petrelli, I don't need Parkman's power to know what you're thinking about..."
"Okay guys!" Peter said cheerily, "let's go to Texas!"
He shut his eyes, imitating Hiro's power. As he did he squeezed Claude's hand, who squeezed back. He grinned, and when he opened his eyes again, he was in Texas.
"Ya did it, pup!" Claude exclaimed, slapping Peter on the back. Sylar ripped his hand from Peter's death grip and smacked him across the face with it.
"Why the hell were you squeezing my hand so hard!?"
"Okay guys, no more time," D.L. said quickly. "I'm goin' in there."
Kaelraye
D.L. moved out from behind the cars they hid behind, across the street from the Bennet household, and was pulled back by Peter's telekinesis.
"We'll divide into groups. We can't make any mistakes right now." Peter replied to D.L.'s glare.
"It's a house." Jessica stated, rolling her eyes. "Not like there are a lot of places for them to hide."
"Blondie's right." Claude stated gruffly, getting a pout from Peter.
"But they have Hiro on their side. It'll be easier if we attacked from all sides, right Sylar?" Peter turned towards where Sylar had been standing only to find his place empty. "Sylar!?"
"Where did he go?" Claire asked, eyes turning back to her house and seeing her upstairs bedroom window open...
Lois Lane
"Sonava... He climbed in my window!" said Claire pointing up at the house.
"Great." said Peter, rolling his eyes. "He's gonna blow everything. Now what?"
Without warning, a bright blue explosion enveloped the house and sent a wave of electromagnetic energy that caused all of the electricity to stop flowing.
"There's ya answer, Pup." Claude grinned as he faded out of sight and made his was towards the house.
Jessica, DL and Claire took off full sprint towards the Bennet home, leaving Peter standing there. DL quickly grasped the two women's hands as he phased them easily through the walls.
A few shots could be heard coming from inside followed by Claire screaming, "Dad! You shot me!"
"Oops. Sorry, honey!" came Noah.
"Don't shoot our daughter!" yelled Sandra.
"I said I was sorry!"
The front window shattered outward as Sylar was thrown through it.
"Not so strong without your abilities, are you Mr. Sylar?" quipped the Haitian as he was obviously the one who ejected the tall man from the house.
Sylar rolled backwards a few times before seeing Peter with his mouth gaping open.
"A little help, Petrelli!"
Kaelraye
Peter was still in a state of shock and Sylar finally gave up trying to talk him into sense; he instead pulled off his shoe and threw it at Peter.
"Ow!" Peter yelped, "Why'd you throw a shoe at me!?"
Sylar shrugged, getting to his feet and hopping over on one foot, so not to dirty his white socks, in order to retrieve his shoe. Once the shoe was on he straightened only to find Peter still glaring at him, waiting for an answer.
"What?" Sylar asked innocently.
"You...You threw your shoe at me!"
"Well, I can't TK you into sense." Sylar muttered darkly, his dark gaze trailing towards the Haitian who stood grinning in the broken window.
"Why not...Oh." Peter caught sight of the Haitian and thus began their mental battle.
Sylar rolled his eyes, feeling the tingling energy of telekinesis flood his fingers once more; although a bit weaker than he would have liked. He dashed across the lawn and opened the door. The living room was a complete battle zone, Team Company behind one couch shooting bullets and Team Gray behind another using D.L.'s power to let the bullets pass through.
Sylar used an armchair for cover and focused on searching for any sign of the couch. He caught sight of Mohinder crawling across the floor, army style, heading towards the back door with both flags grasped in his hands. With a gleeful grin, Sylar propelled himself into the battlefield using his limited telekinesis to fling bullets away and pounced on top of the escaping traitorous geneticist.
Lois Lane
Sylar immediately went for the sweet spot, grabbing Mohinder just above his hipbone and tickled like he'd never tickled the man before.
"AHHHAHA! STOP IT! NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR!" Mohinder said, releasing the flags in both hands. Sylar quickly snatched them up and made a leap for the door... only to get clocked in the side of the head with a shoe.
"How do you like it?!" Peter shouted as he stood on one foot in the doorway.
Seeing Sylar down, Hiro made a lunge for the flags just as Claire did the same. Each one grabbed an opposite end of the fabric causing them to engage in a frantic tug of war.
"Mine!" Said Hiro, pulling back on the flags.
"No... MINE!" shouted Claire, pulling back harder.
"Actually..." came a disembodied voice, "MINE!" Claude barreled into the two of them and grabbed the flags. He was almost out the door when Kaito Nakamura tackled him at the waist.
As the two men wrestled, Peter hopped over on one foot, casually leaned over and yanked the flags from Claude's grip.
"TIME OUT!" Screamed the empath.
The whole room froze.
Claire and Hiro were tangled on the floor; Jessica, DL, Noah and Lyle were peaking out from behind their respective couches; Sandra was holding a spatula to the Haitian and Sylar was sitting on the floor looking quizzically at the shoe in his hand.
Kaelraye
"Okay..." Peter coughed a bit, suddenly feeling nervous at being the center of attention and he fiddled with the flags in his hand. "Both flags are here, both teams are here. Let's end this game once and for all."
"What do you want to do?" Mohinder gasped, still out of breath from being tickled.
Sylar glanced away from the shoe at the sound of Mohinder's voice and grinned at him evilly. Mohinder flushed, both angry and embarrassed but a pointed look at the shoe had Sylar's smile souring. He glared at the empath who was staring at him for help.
"What?" Sylar snapped, really starting to dislike those puppy dog brown eyes.
"Umm...What do we do?" Peter asked, edging closer to where Claude was as Sylar held the shoe up in a threatening manner.
Bennet pushed himself up from behind the couch, having used the momentary break to reload his gun. "One battle to end this for all."
"And wha' battle may tha' be?" Claude asked, yanking the flags from Peter's limp grip and tossing them into the center of the room.
Bennet's eyes narrowed, his face becoming hard set and the whole group took in a breath of air in anticipation.
"Rock, paper, scissors..."
Leek
Everyone remained still, allowing the seriousness with which Bennet spoke those last words to set in. Slowly, one by one, they knowingly nodded their heads, and waited for this final, grim battle to begin.
Jollity
Kaito Nakamura stood stiffly in the middle of the room.
"Would both team captains come to the center, please."
Bennet stepped forward and Sylar rolled his eyes, stepping forward as well.
"Hands out, boys."
They put their hands out, staring each other down. Sylar could still remember the day they decided to play the game... how Bennet decided to pick Mohinder first, but Mohinder "decided" to come back to their side. He didn't know why it hurt as much as it did, but I guess when you play with the Company, you play it serious. Sylar smirked as a cheating thought crossed his mind.
"Hey, I heard that," Matt said from beneath the sofa. "No cheating with your powers!"
"That's right," Kaito said. He motioned the Haitian over to stand behind Sylar and he groaned, feeling the power once again drain from him.
"All right boys, by my count."
The entire room held a collective breath.
"One..."
"...two..."
Suddenly, Hiro screamed, "GO! KAI BAI BO!"
A blur of flesh, and then it was over. Bennet had paper (naturally) and Sylar had scissors (naturally).
"YYYYYYEEEESS!" Sylar cried joyfully. He bounded across the room and snatched the flags away from Peter, waving them like pom-poms. He picked up the empath and cuddled him to within an inch of his life, kissing him on both cheeks. He grabbed Claire and danced around with her, and even slapped Claude on the face from all the jollity. On the other side of the room, Kaito was lecturing Bennet: "Why paper, Noah? Why!? I mean, I know this is Team Company, but for crying out loud..."
Mohinder sat still in the midst of all the commotion. He witnessed Sylar's display of joy and sighed enviously, wishing he hadn't felt so much guilt over a game of "Capture the Flag". Cracking his joints he stood up and walked out of the house.
*
Mohinder was back at his apartment, which had blackened from the random fire in many spots. Molly had tried "fixing it" by coloring chalk over the walls, but it only helped to make it look messier. All Mohinder wanted was a nice bowl of curry to get his mind off the stupid game.
Suddenly, from out of the shadows, a familiar figure emerged.
"Hello, Sylar," Mohinder drawled, chopping a few vegetables and tossing them in the pot.
"Mohinder," Sylar said softly. He put a hand on the geneticist's shoulder, a comforting trick he'd learned from Nathan. "Aren't you happy the game is over? It even ended before the scheduled time!"
"I just feel like such a tool, quite literally," Mohinder said. "I'm always being used."
Sylar tightened his lip and squeezed Mohinder's shoulder. "Try to take it as a compliment... the knowledge you have can come in handy, you're a scientist after all." At this Mohinder beamed. "Not to mention a nice piece of eye candy." Mohinder blushed and turned away, tending to his curry again.
"I suppose it was only a game," Mohinder said, briefly imitating Sylar's hand-on-shoulder gesture before shutting off the stove. He spooned the dark orange curry into a large bowl and Sylar smiled, giving his shoulder a final pat before walking away. When Mohinder noticed, he nearly dropped all his food.
"S-Sylar," he stammered. "D-don't tell me you're going to keep the flags in your butt pockets!"
Sylar let out a hearty laugh, sending the flags behind him waving and jiggling. "Winners keepers, Mohinder! If you got it, flaunt it!"
Mohinder fumed at his arrogance, setting the bowl aside to take off his flip-flop. As he aimed for Sylar's head carefully, he suddenly had another idea.
"Er, Sylar?" he said sheepishly. The other man turned around. "I just made this curry... would you like to join me for a celebratory meal? You know, to celebrate Team Gray's victory?" Sylar's stomach growled and he nodded vigorously.
"I knew you couldn't stay mad for long!" he said, pecking him on the mouth. He TK'd a chair back and sat into it, waiting patiently for his meal. Mohinder brought out two steaming bowls of curry with rice, setting one down for Sylar and another himself.
And together they ate happily.
*
Well, for five seconds at least.
"OH GOOOOODDDD MOHINDER! WHY THE HELL IS THIS SO DAMN SPICY! AAAUGH WATER, WATER!! WHAT THE HELL, MOHINDER, WHAT THE HELL!?!"
End
|
|
| Anothen |
[02 Aug 2007|11:11am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 creative |
] |
Title: Anothen
Character: Mohinder, Sylar and Molly.... everybody else comes later...
Rating: R... yeah, you read that right....
Summary: After Kirby Plaza, Mohinder and his new charge find a strange situation on Mohinder's apartment floor
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: THIS IS NOT MY TYPICAL CRACK! I really couldn't get this story out of my head.... Like I said: NOT CRACK! Oh no.... this is some hard core stuff... drama, angst, and I'll eventually try my hand at a little smut... O_o.... not quite sure how that's going to work, but it's work a shot right. (Keep your eyes peeled.... the pink flip-flops will make an appearance :oþ )
As they left the hospital, Mohinder Suresh let his mind wander to the events of the past twelve hours. Peter Petrelli had been ripped from the world by his brother, Nathan, and exploded over the city of New York in a blast of orange color that would rival the most beautiful of India’s sunsets. Matthew Parkman, being cruelly shot with bullets from his own gun, was just taken out of the intensive care unit of New York General Hospital to recover. He was in bad shape. Niki Sanders and her son Micah were left standing over the bed of Niki’s husband DL Hawkins. His wounds were not as severe as Officer Parkman’s, but they were still pretty damaging. The cheerleader, Claire Bennet, and her father, Noah left the hospital with nothing more than a sling around Noah’s arm and some pain medication. They said they’d be staying in New York for a few days to wait for news of the Petrelli brothers and those already occupying the hospital. And then there was Sylar. Mohinder let his mind drift to the man who had been the catalyst for the painful events of the past few days. Sylar was run through by a young Japanese boy by the name of Hiro Nakamura. His body should have been found at the scene of Kirby Plaza, lifeless and cold as the steel that impaled him. But he wasn’t. The only remnant of the tall, dark and vicious killer was a large trail of blood leading to and uncapped manhole to New York’s sewer system. A chill ran down the doctor’s spine. Sylar had once again escaped, albeit with his tail between his legs, but he would come back like a cancer. Mohinder looked at the small sleeping child in his arms. Molly Walker. She did not deserve this. She did not deserve living in fear that when she went sleep, the boogieman would be waiting to pounce from beneath her bed. The entire cab ride home, Mohinder was left to his thoughts of his new found companions and the beast that lived to hunt them. He paid the cabbie the fair and, as gently as he could, pulled Molly into his arms and began to climb the stairs to his apartment. He heard a soft coo come from the tiny girl as she pulled away to look at him. “Where are we?” The young one asked as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. “I’m taking you home with me tonight.” Mohinder replied. “Unless you don’t want to stay…” “No!” Molly cried. “I want to stay.” Her smile and grasp around his neck were the reassurances Mohinder needed as he approached his apartment door. He placed Molly down, she was still rubbing the remnants of tired from her eyes, and he reached into his jacket to fetch his keys. “What’s that?” Molly said with curiosity and disgust in her voice as she looked at the ground beneath her feet. “What’s what?” Mohinder let his eyes travel to the floor where he saw droplets of what appeared to be blood staining the wood. It was then, upon closer examination, he noticed there were blood smears on his front door. With one finger, he lightly pushed on the door. It was ajar and cleanly swung open. Mohinder felt the bile in his stomach begin to rise into his throat as he whispered for Molly to stay where she was. As he stepped cautiously into the apartment, his eyes began walking in front of him as they traversed the tiny trail of red splotches marking his floor. He gasped as his eyes finally fell upon the originator of the blood spatter. Lying in the midst of broken glass, computer pieces, stray paper and wood chips from the fallen map board was… “Sylar…” The lanky frame on the floor did not carry the air of power he usually imposed. Instead, he was a pathetic shell of his usual self, breathing unsteady and ragged while gripping his chest and, metaphorically, his life in a last attempt at survival. His eyes were slits and his mouth was gaping as he struggled for breath. Mohinder watched with fear and slight awe as the man on his apartment floor battled nature for a life that the geneticist darkly thought should not be spared. “He’s dying…” The small voice of truth rang from behind him as he turned to see Molly standing mere inches from the doorway. She slowly took hesitant steps forward, as if one wrong move would set off some sort of trap to catch her in her nightmares. Tentatively, she made her way to Mohinder’s side and, with a look of astonishment, turned to the doctor. “Are you going to let him die?” She asked innocently. The way she said the words hit Mohinder hard, but his thoughts were in a trifle dark place and his response escaped without thought. “He deserves to…” Molly reached out and took the Indian’s hand and griped it tight, eyes never wavering from the soon-to-be lifeless body on the floor. “Nobody deserves to die. Not even the boogieman.” Mohinder looked down at the girl, her eyes were still transfixed on Sylar. She continued, “And if you let him die, wouldn’t that make you no better than him?” She tore away to look at Mohinder with a questioning glare. “Wouldn’t that make you bad too?” Her words were the voice of a child. Innocent and untainted by the harsh reality the real world had to offer. He looked at her with astonishment as she spoke. How could a child, whose parents were ripped from her by this man, justify the validity of his life? Sylar was a monster and yet, Molly Walker easily pled for the demon’s life. Mohinder released her hand and stepped toward the form on the floor. Sylar’s breath had become more shallow and rigid. He was near his end. The geneticist knelt down and reached out to touch him. Sylar’s eyes slipped open enough to catch the eyes of the man above him. “Help… me…” he whispered and his eyes closed. Mohinder’s heart caught in his chest. “Molly…” he said quietly, “Get my brown bag from the table by the door.” The girl quickly did as she was asked and within seconds, Mohinder Suresh found himself working to try and save the life of the man who had destroyed everything he knew about the world. To be continued…
|
|
| Candyman & An Apple A Day |
[02 Aug 2007|10:33am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 crappy |
] |
Title: Candyman
Character: Mohinder/Sylar with a little Molly in the mix
Rating: PG
Summary: Some one has a toothache
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: Yay for Mylar + Molly fics! Litlle cracky... but what else have you seen me write lately. ^_^
“He a sweet talking, sugar-coated, candyman…” Molly sang as she stirred the pot in front of her. Mohinder watched as the little girl bopped back and forth to the song on the radio.
“Almost ready?” he asked flashing his brilliant smile.
“Yup.” Nodded the red head in the kitten apron. “Go get Sylar. He promised he’d help too!” She gleamed.
Mohinder stood up from the kitchen counter and headed towards the study, which was where Sylar usually played with his watches. Strange habits… Mohinder shook his head. He opened the door to find the room empty.
“Ooookay…” he said and moved to the bedroom. He opened the door to receive the same result, no Sylar.
“Hmmm…” He was about to leave when he heard a strange noise coming from the master bathroom. Out of complete curiosity, Mohinder walked across the bedroom to the door of the master bath, slowly he turned the knob and opened it. What he found on the other side was terribly surprising.
Gabriel “Sylar” Gray was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sobbing into his hands.
Mohinder felt the need to comfort immediately take hold as he quickly approached his lover, “What’s wrong?” Sylar jumped up, startled.
“N-n-nothing…” he whimpered, trying to feign normalcy as he quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks. He was so caught off-guard; he lost his balance and slid backward into the tub itself. Mohinder laughed and offered a hand.
“Well, something is obviously the matter. Why can’t you tell me?” the Indian asked with concern in his voice. He had never seen Sylar cry.
“It’s… personal.” Said Sylar as he struggled to remove his long frame from a tub that was not built for people of his stature. Finally, he looked up in frustration at Mohinder who was smiling broadly at the struggles of the taller man.
“A little help, Mo?” Sylar said flatly while posed in an awkward position. Mohinder gave out his hand and pulled Sylar upright out of the tub. “Thanks.”
“Now,” Mohinder began. “What were you crying about?” Sylar sucked his teeth sarcastically at this question, but immediately regretted his actions as he winced and grabbed at his jaw. Mohinder noticed the motion.
“What’s wrong with your jaw?” he asked as he innocently went to touch the paler man’s face. Sylar reacted quickly by telekinetically pushing Mohinder back a few steps and muttering, “Nothing.” This received an angry glare from the geneticist.
“Didn’t we talk about this?! No TK on people!” he shouted angrily.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be touched!” Sylar shouted back as he stalked passed Mohinder into the bedroom. Mohinder was hurt by the words, but followed.
“What’s your problem?” he asked hotly. “You can tell me. We promised each other that there would be no more secrets.” Mohinder glared at Sylar who was avoiding eye contact by starring at Mohinder’s feet. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“I am.” Sylar snapped. “Are those new flip-flops?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Mohinder walked over to Sylar and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now… tell me what’s the matter.” He said in a calm voice. Sylar looked up at him with pleading eyes, but soon lost the battle.
“I…” Sylar looked back down at Mohinder’s feet and whispered, “I have a tooth ache.”
Sylar looked up to see what his lover would say only to find a look of horror upon the darker mans face. “I know… it’s a stupid thing to get upset about, it’s just, I’ve never had one before. And I know Molly had the candy competition at school and I promised I’d help… but now I think I need to go to the dentist instead.”
“No you don’t.” said Mohinder sharply. This got a look of confusion from Sylar.
“What do you mean, ‘No I don’t’?”
Mohinder floundered for words. He hated the dentist. His parents were unyielding when it came to Mohinder and his perfect teeth, so all he could remember were the years of torture from braces and retainers.
“Maybe it will just go away.” Mohinder said quietly. “No worries.” He smiled.
“Right.” Sylar nodded. “No worries.”
“Now, Molly has been slaving over the stove for hours.” Said Mohinder as he turned to the door.
“I know. Let’s go see what havoc she reaped.” Sylar smiled.
The two men returned to the kitchen where Molly had laid out a spectacular array of chocolates, chews, and hard candies. The colors radiating from the table were an awesome sight. Mohinder smiled, “This looks amazing. You’re a sure win.” He said as he kissed the top of her head. He was rewarded with a shining smile from the little girl.
“What’s wrong with Sylar?” Molly asked. Mohinder turned his head to see Sylar frozen in the doorway.
“I’m calling the dentist.” Sylar spat as he quickly ran out of the room.
“NO! Don’t!” Mohinder went running after him with a look of horror.
Molly just stood there, looking at the table, and frowned. “I didn’t think I put in that much sugar.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: An Apple a Day
Character: Sylar, if you squint you catch Molly and Mo too!
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to Candyman, Sylar has made an appointment
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: I kinda felt bad doing this to Sylar, but hell... I love writing the funny stuff. Too much angst in the world. :oþ
Sylar lay there… waiting. A man in a long white coat entered. He was about five and a half feet tall and wore glasses that reminded Sylar of Mr. Magoo.
“Hello, Mr. Gray. I’m Doctor Romado. Rumor has it you have a little problem.” Said the man. Sylar nodded and gripped his hands tighter on the arms of the chair. “Well, let’s have a look-see.”
The man approached slowly and sat down on a stool next to the chair Sylar occupied.
His grip on the chair became tighter.
“Open up.” The doctor said, leaning over with a mall mirror on the end of a metal stick. Reluctantly, Sylar gave the man entrance to his very sore mouth as he tightened his grip even further on the arms of the chair.
Sylar officially hated the dentist.
“Hmmm. Well,” said the dentist. “It looks as if you have a pretty decent size cavity in there.” He then reached over and picked up what looked like a metal hook. The gleam of the instrument caught Sylar’s eye and it immediately flew out of the dentist’s hands.
“Well, that was clumsy of me…” said the dentist, paying no mind to the random flight of the tool. “I have another clean one.” He picked up another hook and leaned over the chair. “No need to be nervous, Mr. Gray, this won’t hurt a bit.”
The dentist proceeded to poke and prod his way through the tall man’s mouth. He then pressed painfully hard on the hole in decaying tooth, causing Sylar to cry out.
“Oh my! That’s a very deep cavity. All the way to the nerve. You’re going to need this filled at once.” The dentist spoke softly. He swiveled around in his chair turning his back to Sylar. After a few moments, he spoke again.
“I’m just going to give you some Novocain and I’ll be back with my assistant to fill it.” Dr. Magoo swiveled around to reveal he was holding a large needle that gleamed in the fluorescent lighting of the wholly white room.
After a large amount of banging and crashes, Sylar flung the door open, grabbed Mohinder and Molly by their wrists and dragged them out the door, muttering something about cattle getting better treatment.
|
|
| Honesty Never Prospers |
[01 Aug 2007|06:08pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 bouncy |
] |
Title: Honesty Never Prospers
Character: Mohinder/Sylar with a dash of Peter
Rating: PG-13, Who want to be warned against the boys kissing...? o_O? Well?
Summary: Peter causes some trauma in Mylarland... damned emo....
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: So we are still in future "everyone is okay with Sylar banging Mohinder and helping raise Molly" world... Just thought I'd tell ya! ^_^
Mohinder Suresh walked into the complex completely exhausted. Claire Bennet, the girl who was all but indestructible, greeted him at the front door.
“Hey, Mohinder! They’re in the back.” He smiled at her and continued walking to the back room.
~
“Harder!” shouted Sylar as he threw Peter Petrelli to the floor.
“I can’t do it any harder!” the empath shouted back.
“Yes you can! That’s your downfall, Peter. You don’t trust your abilities.”
Sylar was sent careening back onto the padded floor with a laugh. “See? Told ya you could do it harder.” He stood up and flicked his wrist, pinning Peter to the wall. “Now, let’s see ya get out of this.”
Peter struggled to get away, but found he could do nothing.
“You know what I’m doing here, Petrelli?”
“No.”
“Everything! I’m cutting off your movement, impeding the blood flow to your brain, pinning you to a wall and I’m about to slice your head open.” He shouted at the boy on the wall. “All you can do is throw things.”
“Hey guys!” Mohinder said cheerily as he entered the sparring room.
“Hi, Mohinder.” Both men said in unison.
“Now, practice more.” Sylar dropped Peter. “Or next time I’ll actually cut your head open just to watch you regenerate.” He turned on his heals and walked over to Mohinder. “Hi, Mo…” he said sweetly as he wrapped his arms around the Indian’s waist and kissed the back of his neck. “What’s for lunch?”
“Well, if you boys are finished kicking the pants off of one another,” said Mohinder, “I brought Thai.” He opened the bag and the room was filled with all sorts or delicious spicy aromas.
“That smells great!” Said Peter, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You mean, if I’m done beating Peter to a sad pulp… than Thai is great!” Sylar said, snidely eying Peter. Peter just stuck out his tongue.
Mohinder handed out the boxes and the three men sat down with their orders and chopsticks and began to eat. As they were finishing, Claire came in to talk to Mohinder.
“My father’s on the phone. He says he needs you and Molly for something. I think maybe you should talk to him.” The girl said.
“Alright.” Mohinder got up. “Maybe you two should keep yourselves busy for a bit?” he called as he followed Claire out of the room.
Sylar looked at Peter devilishly. “You wanna try again, sponge-boy?”
“You’re on.” Said Peter, stuffing his trash in the bag. “Let’s go, eyebrows!”
“Eyebrows?!” Sylar made a lunge for Peter. “And like your hair is any better?”
The two men began haphazardly throwing each other up and down, left and right, telekinesis on full blast. Peter flew up above Sylar and kicked him in the face on the way back down, sending the taller man skidding across the room.
“Had enough, Sylar?” Peter shouted, but Sylar stood up and once again made a move to pin Peter to the wall. This time, Peter faded into invisibility and Sylar missed. “Nice try.” Said the disembodied voice.
“Oh. Now where did he go?” Sylar said mockingly. He closed his eyes and listened carefully. He easily picked up on Peter’s heartbeat, zeroing in on it for his location. Quickly, he shot a blast of ice in the direction of the pulse. Peter dropped to the floor and while shivering, faded back into visibility. Sylar started laughing. “Nice try.” He said darkly.
He walked over to Peter who was huddled on the ground. “Did you forget about those abilities? You have ‘em too, ya know.”
“Yeah,” Peter said. “I know.” Suddenly, Sylar found himself on his back with Peter’s knee on his chest. Sylar made to move his arms but Peter pinned down his wrists, not only telekinetically, but physically as well. This brought Peter's face so close, that their noses were touching.
“How’s that for a fight, Gabriel?” the empath whispered. Before Sylar could answer, Peter brushed his lips against his. Sylar’s eyes widened. Peter tried to deepen the kiss but Sylar pulled away. He was about to ask what Peter was thinking when he heard a small cough. He looked over to see Mohinder standing in the doorway.
“Oh… no…” Sylar gasped as Mohinder turned around and ran out. “Mohinder, wait!” he shouted. He shoved Peter off him, “I’ll deal with you after I fix this.” He glared at the empath and he took off after Mohinder.
This is gonna be bad… he thought.
~
A Few Hours Later
Claire Bennet knocked casually on the door. When it opened, she was greeted by a very happy-to-see-her Molly Walker who quickly pushed out the door mumbling, “Thank God you’re here…” Claire was able to peek into the apartment and catch a glimpse of a pink flip-flop go sailing across the room.
“You kissed him!” screamed Mohinder, throwing the flip-flop. Sylar stopped it with his telekinesis, but he was hurt non-the-less by the point of the flip-floppy assault.
“Yeah, but…”
“And that’s your defense!? YEAH BUT!” Mohinder kept yelling. He picked up the flip-flop and began smacking Sylar as hard as he could.
“You’re a jerk!”
SMACK
“A cheater!”
SMACK
“A liar!”
SMACK
“And a down…”
SMACK
“…right…”
SMACK
“…PIG!”
Sylar was finally able to get the pink sandal away from the Indian, “I think I am going to revoke you’re pink-flippy-floppy-flappy, whatever the hell these things are, rights…” he flung the flip-flop out the window. “Listen to me, Mo…” he said, grabbing his lovers shoulders, but he was once again cut off.
“Why would I listen to a liar? All you do is lie! You… you… LIAR!” Mohinder was red with rage. Sylar chuckled a bit at ‘liar’ part. “WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!”
Sylar looked at Mohinder with a smile. “You are really pissed aren’t you?” He laughed.
“It’s not funny…” The geneticist said, a bit calmer.
“Will you listen now? Or do you want me to go get you some more footwear to assault me with? Sneakers perhaps… or how about those adorable bunny slippers you wear…”
“Okay, I’ll listen.” Interrupted Mohinder.
“Good. Now,” Sylar cleared his throat, “What you saw was Peter kissing me.” Mohinder made a move to speak but Sylar spoke right over him. “And no… I was not cheating on you. Peter kissed me. HE… kissed… ME. I didn’t kiss him… he was the one who broke the personal bubble.”
“Well, you two looked pretty cozy.” Mohinder said darkly.
“We were sparring. That’s what we do, Mo. We fight. And the fight got a little… er… heated. That’s all.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist. “I promise… you are the only man in my life.” Sylar leaned in close and rubbed his nose against Mohinder’s. “I love you…” he said as he kissed the tip of the Indian’s nose. “Okay?”
The anger on Mohinder’s face melted away as he let a small smile replace it. “Okay…” Mohinder nodded, meekly.
“I’ll tell ya what,” said Sylar pulling away from Mohinder, “Why don’t we make a bag of popcorn and throw on those old Star Trek episodes you like… hmmm?”
Mohinder’s smile grew a bit.
“Couch, the final cuddle destination…” The taller man said in an announcer-like voice.
“You’re still in trouble…” said the darker man.
“Wha? How… c’mon, Mo” Sylar whined.
Mohinder just smiled broadly and pointed at the window.
“Now… go get my favorite flip-flop…”
|
|
| Two to Tango |
[01 Aug 2007|10:19am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
mischievous |
] |
Title: Two to Tango
Character: Mohinder/Sylar and if you squint hard enough, you'll see some other characters
Rating: PG-13, it's fluff with a sprinkle of crack
Summary: The team runs into a special who has a very discombobulating ability
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: Okay... so this takes place in my version of the future. Imagine Sylar going to the good side for some reason and is now working with everybody else to find and protect specials. It really not important, but it sets the mood. Thank ParisPetrelli from 9th Wonders for this idea. :oþ
It was pouring out. The rain was coming down so hard that it was difficult to see. Peter Petrelli was flying full throttle down the dark ally, followed on foot by an invisible Claude Rains, a very damp Mohinder Suresh and a very annoyed Gabriel “Sylar” Gray.
The woman they were chasing took a sharp turn down another New York City ally only to find herself at a dead end. Peter slowed down and landed in front of her.
“Miss Lowery, we aren’t here to hurt you… we’re here to help you.” He said calmly, his palms facing outward as a sign of truce.
“How do I know you’re for real?” the woman panted. “You could just be another hunter like those guys at the diner.”
The woman was right. They couldn’t really prove who they were. Miss Lowery was a waitress at a dive diner in NYC. She was just doing her job when a bunch of government goons came barreling in trying to arrest her. She was a special.
She was lucky that Mohinder and Gabriel were getting lunch in that same diner at the precise time of the incident. Gabriel easily dispatched the goons, and Mohinder tried to talk to Miss Lowery. This is where the chase started. She had taken off in a full dash and Mohinder followed her out of the diner. Gabriel quickly called Peter, who was with Claude, and the invisible man and empath both joined in the running down of this random woman.
“Look,” said Mohinder as he walked up from behind the other three men. “We are here to help you. This here,” he pointed to Peter. “Is Peter Petrelli. And that man over there, is Claude Rains. Do you recognize those names?” the woman nodded. Gabriel stepped forward.
“We protect and hide special people just like you. You have no need to fear us.” The tall man said. The woman looked at him. He was wearing a black overcoat with a hooded shirt beneath to match. Dark jeans and converse sneakers. Out of all four men, he was the most intimidating.
“And who are you?” she asked, eying Gabriel defiantly.
“I’m Gabriel Gray.” He said flatly. He hoped the stories about him weren’t as common as Petrelli’s were, but from the look of widening fear in the woman’s eyes put and end to that hope.
“Sylar…” the woman whispered. Her eyes turned black as she activated her ability.
“Oh great, here we go…” Gabriel said as he began to walk away with long strides. “I can’t deal with this crap.”
“Wait, wait… he won’t hurt you.” Peter said quickly. “He’s with us.”
“Than you’re just as bad as him…” the woman said venomously.
“Unless you want to find out what she does the hard way, pup, I suggest you fly!” said a bodiless voice coming from the far end of the ally.
Peter rolled his eyes, “Just great…” he pushed off and was gone.
Poor Mohinder was left standing in front of the woman, eyes wide with fear. He suddenly felt a tugging on his arm. Gabriel had come back.
“What the hell are you doing? Come on!” he said tugging at Mohinder. “Mo, let’s go before she turns us into frogs or something.” But Mohinder was terrified and couldn’t move. Gabriel groaned and wrapped his arms around the smaller mans waist, throwing him over his shoulder and taking off in a full sprint down the ally. They had to get away from this woman before…
Suddenly Gabriel felt a sharp pull against his body. It started inside his bellybutton and pulled through his spine. The force sent him and Mohinder sprawling on the pavement. He tried to get up, but something wasn’t right. He was dizzy and there was a funny taste in his mouth.
“Hope you like your new life, Sylar.” Said the woman as she stepped over him. He tried to stand again but found it too difficult.
He let the dizzy turn into drowsy and finally, unconsciousness.
~
“Gabriel… Gabe, wake up…” he could hear a voice drifting into his conscious awareness. It was a familiar voice, but he couldn’t place it. “GABE!”
Gabriel’s eyes shot open and he sat up. He was soaking wet. It was still raining. “Are you, well, okay? Given the circumstances?” came the voice again. The accent sounded familiar, so did the tone, but they didn’t seemed mixed right. Gabriel turned to see who was talking to him and found himself staring at… himself?
“What the hell!” he scrambled to his feet only to find he quickly lost his balance. The other Gabriel grabbed him, “Don’t worry, it takes a second. You need to become accustomed to the height difference.”
“Height difference?” he asked aloud. “I must be dreaming. Why else would I be talking with a British accent?”
“You’re not dreaming…” said the other Gabriel. “We have a small problem. I’m you and you’re me.”
Gabriel blinked and looked at himself. “What the hell are you talking about?” he blinked again and started to walk away, holding the wall for support. He couldn’t figure out why walking was so awkward. “And go away. I’m not prepared to go crazy yet…” he yelled to himself from over his shoulder.
Gabriel walked out of the ally and turned down a main street. As he walked, he could see the reflections of the people with their umbrellas rushing by in the windows. He stopped. He turned to look more closely.
His eyes widened in shock when he looked at his reflection, and found Mohinder Suresh staring back.
“Are you kidding me?” he watched the Mohinder reflection say as the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“See… small problem…” came the reflection of Gabriel Grey now standing next to him. “I think I may have an idea what that girl from the diner’s ability was.” He said with a smirk.
“Do I always look like that much of a jerk when I smirk like that…?” he said flatly.
“Yup.” He replied, smiling broadly like Mohinder would do.
“Great…”
The two men walked to their apartment in the rain. They were already drenched from lying in the ally for however long, so it seemed silly to care about getting wet now. When they opened the door, Molly was waiting with bright eyes.
“Your home!” she ran over to ’Mohinder’ and wrapped her arms around him.
“Um… yeah.” Was all Gabriel could say as he hugged her back. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to her.
“Molly?” began ‘Gabriel,’ “We need to talk.”
Molly scrunched up her nose. “Why are you talking funny, Gabe?” she then looked at ‘Mohinder.’ “What’s going on?” her voice became serious.
They sat down at the kitchen table with the teen and explained the whole situation. They told her of the chase, the woman, and the… “switch” as they had started to call it. Molly sat there and listened intently. When they were done, they looked at her waiting for her response. It wasn’t what either of them expected.
Molly burst out laughing. “So what your telling me… is that you’re you… and he’s him…” she pointed at each prospective man in turn. She was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her chair. “This is HILARIOUS!” she bellowed.
Mohinder looked appalled, which on Gabriel’s face, made Molly laugh harder. Gabriel looked livid, and that emotion displayed on Mohinder’s face made Molly stop laughing all together.
“It’s not funny.” Said Gabriel through Mohinder’s gritted teeth. “We have to fix this.”
“He’s right.” Said Mohinder. “We can’t function properly like this. Our height and build are very different. The differential in momentum and equilibriums have offset…” Molly started laughing again and a look of confusion appeared on ‘Gabriel’s’ face. “What?”
"I'm not that smart..." said Gabriel with a broad, typical, Mohinder-like smile.
“It’s just funny… the accents, the words… it’s funny. Right?” Molly turned to ’Mohinder,’ “Can you just say, ‘Brains!’ once?” She burst out laughing again.
The smile disappeared and Gabriel shot up and strode to the bedroom. He didn’t want to listen to this. He raised Mohinder’s hand to fling open the door. He was so angry, that when it didn’t open he had no time to stop as he crashed into it. “Sonova…” he yelled holding his nose. “What the HELL!” he tried again to open the door telekinetically. Nothing happened. He tried a third time. Nothing happened.
Mohinder stood up from the table and raised his hand, curious, thinking about opening the door. And it did.
“Are you serious!?” Gabriel shouted. “You have my abilities too!? This is bull sh--…”
“Relax! It’s not that bad.” Mohinder cut him off. “We just need to track this girl and ask… um… ask… what’s that noise?”
But before Gabriel could respond, he watched as the man in his body dropped down to the floor screaming in pain and covering his ears. Molly rushed over to the fallen man, “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Gabriel slowly walked over and shushed Molly, leaning in to whisper, “Super hearing…”
He pulled Molly up and walked her into the kitchen. “Find the girl who did this…” he said, handing her a map. “We have to fix this now.”
~
It had been hours since the Super Hearing incident. Molly sat in the living room, blaring some rock music and reading a magazine. When she heard a knock at the door, she shot off the couch and ran to answer.
“Peter!” she exclaimed when she flung the door open.
“Hello Molls.” The empath said as he strode through the doorway. “Where are Mohinder and Gabriel?”
Molly shifted her weight a little and looked at the floor. “Um, busy… at the moment. They are okay though.”
Peter looked at the tiny sixteen-year-old. “What do you mean: busy?” He looked at the radio. “And why is the music so loud?”
Peter made a move to turn down the volume, but Molly stopped him. “No! Don’t do that! It’s so I can’t hear!” The empath looked at her again and finally, it dawned on him.
“Oh, so they fixed it? Switched back?” Peter asked
“Um… not exactly.” Said Molly timidly.
All of a sudden, the bedroom door flung open and Mohinder Suresh sauntered out with a devilish expression on his face. Quickly after, he was followed out by Gabriel Grey, who was blushing six shades of red. Peter cocked his head to the side. “What were you do doing?”
“Experimenting…” said Mohinder, in a devilishly American accent.
“Yes, we were conducting a legitimate scientific, err, experiment.” Echoed Gabriel with a shy British lilt to his voice.
Peter stared at the two of them. It didn’t take much for him to put two and two together. “Ooookay.” He said, “Claude is following Miss Lowery now. He just called and said that she’s at home, so.” He clapped his hands together, “Let’s go.”
“Do we have to? I mean, so soon.” ‘Gabriel’ said, placing a look of hope on his face. The accents were just too much for Peter.
“Erm… yes?” Peter replied, stifling a giggle.
“Damn…” said ‘Mohinder.’
The three men and Molly set off to find Claude, who was at the woman’s apartment in downtown Queens. When they reached the door, the old Brit faded back into sight. “You blokes ready?”
After some ‘I guess’s’ and ‘sure’s’, Peter knocked on the door and he and Claude put their hands on each man’s shoulder and faded out of sight, leaving Molly standing “alone” in the vacant hall.
The woman, known only as Miss Lowery, opened the door. “Yes?” she looked down and saw Molly standing there. “Can I help you young lady?”
“Yeah, um… can I use your phone? My cell is dead and you’re the only person to answer their door.”
“Uh, sure.” She gestured for the little girl to come in. She was too cute to say no too.
Before she knew it, four men, the same four men who had “attacked” her in the ally, surrounded her. “What the hell is going on.”
“Fix us…” said the Indian.
“Oh, I’ll fix you alright…” the woman said as her eyes turned black.
“Oh crap… Run!” was all Peter could get out before everyone was sent flying backwards.
Molly woke to someone shaking her shoulders. “Hello? Are you okay?” It was Peter.
“Yeah Peter… I’m…” but before she finished her sentence she realized it. She saw three men and a little girl talking amongst themselves, until they all looked at her. She mentally tallied everyone.
“I’m Claude aren’t I?”
“Uh… yeah….”
“THIS IS WHY I DON'T GO PLACES WITH YOU PEOPLE!”
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| Itsy-Bitsy & An Evolutionary Imperative |
[31 Jul 2007|02:20pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amused |
] |
Title: The Itsy-Bitsy Spider
Character: Mohinder/Sylar and a teensy bit of Molly in the mix.
Rating: PGish... Mohinder's is in a towel... but thats about as... er.... dirty as it gets.
Summary: *Sings* The itsy-bitsy spider scared Mo out of his towel! LOL!
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: CRACK!
Sylar was sitting in the chair reading some old magazine he had found in a trunk in the closet when he heard it.
“Bloody He---! AHHHHH!”
He nearly spilt his chai all over himself. Panicked, Sylar shot up from his seat to see what the commotion was all about.
“Mohinder!? Are you okay?”
He entered the bathroom to find Mohinder standing on top of the toilet with one hand braced against the wall and the other holding up his towel.
“What the… What are you doing up there?” he asked, but the doctor didn’t speak.
The Indian was staring, his eyes wide with horror, into the bathtub. Sylar followed Mohinder’s line of sight to the middle of the tub where, to his amusement, he saw a tiny black spider writhing around in a small pool of water.
Sylar rolled his eyes and cocked his head to the side, “Are you serious? This is what you were hollering about?” he chuckled, pointing down to the insect.
“Just… just get rid of it…” Mohinder spat out. He was shaking like a leaf.
“Aww, sweety… do you want Sywer to get wid of the big yucky spider for you?” Sylar said in a mock baby-voice.
“It’s not funny.” Mohinder glared at him. “Just get rid of it.”
“Okay, okay…” Sylar picked up one of Mohinder’s pink flip-flops that were by the sink and moved towards the tub. He raised his arm for the kill.
“Wait!” Mohinder yelled. “Don’t kill it.”
The taller man swung around to face the geneticist, dropping the flip-flop, “You’re kidding right? What would you rather have me do? Kindly ask him to leave?”
“I don’t know, but don’t… don’t kill it. He’s defenseless… and you’re bigger than he is…” said Mohinder.
“Says the man standing half naked on a toilet.” Sylar cocked an eyebrow. “Did you find Buddha while you were up there?”
“Funny…”
“Well, hang on…” Sylar crouched next to the bathtub and addressed the spider mockingly, “Excuse me, Mr. Itsy-Bitsy, but would you be so kind as to vacate our bath tub? You seem to be scaring my boyfriend.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, now…” started Mohinder but Sylar cut him off.
“Mohinder… It’s just a spider…” Sylar reached in to the tub and picked the little insect up by one of its legs. “See, completely harmless.” Mohinder’s eyes widened in fright as he watched Sylar turn with the bug squirming between his fingers.
“Don’t even think about it…” Mohinder began.
“Oh, why? He just wants to say Hi!” Sylar leaned towards Mohinder who shot off the top of the toilet faster than a bat out of hell. Sylar laughed as he started chasing after the darker man, spider in tow.
“C’mon, Mo-Mo… he just wants to be friends.” He laughed.
“No thank you… Get away from me with that thing!”
When Molly returned home from school, she found one of her fathers chasing the other around the desk in the living room.
Mohinder was wearing nothing but a towel and Sylar was laughing so hard he was crying.
So much for a normal day… she thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: An Evolutionary Imperative
Character: Mohinder/Sylar and Molly as an adorable family.... Alas, a cornucopia of love....
Rating: Flat G. I like that key.... easy to sing in.
Summary: All that time in the sewer has left Sylar a little scarred when it comes to those creepy crawlies he had no problem with before.
Disclaimer: If I owned them... *sighs dreamily* Zach would never wear a shirt.... Nor would Sendhil now that I think of it....
Author's Note: I LOVE CRACK!
“So, what’s the plan after school today?” Mohinder asked Molly, who was sitting eating Froot-Loops on the other side of the table. “You still going to, what’s that girl’s name… err…”
“Jenny.” said Sylar, never looking up from his newspaper.
“Right, Jenny. Are you still going to Jenny’s house?”
“Yup.” Molly said with a mouth full of cereal. “She’s got a pool.”
“That’s nice. Do you need a ride?” Mohinder asked.
“Jenny’s mom’s driving.” Said Sylar, his nose still in the paper. Mohinder looked at the taller man with a scowl.
“And how do you know all of this?”
“Molly told me. She told you too.” Sylar said, looking over the newspaper and reaching for a piece of toast. “You were just to busy with your research that you weren’t paying much attention. It’s okay though… I checked it all… JESUS!”
Sylar pulled his hand back as if the toast had burned him and he push away from the table so violently that his chair flipped backwards sending him feet over shoulder on to the floor.
“What? What is it…” Mohinder looked at Sylar and then to the kitchen table. He then noticed, that the piece of toast that Sylar had chosen… was moving.
“Ew, gross!” said Molly as she backed away from the table. Mohinder reached down an lifted the toast to reveal a decent size cockroach.
“Kill it!” yelled Sylar, who was still on the floor.
“I’m not going to kill it.” Mohinder sucked his teeth. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.” The geneticist then took his empty water glass and flipped it over, capturing the insect underneath.
“It doesn’t matter if it did anything wrong… they are gross… so, kill it.” Said the man on the floor. He had now scooted his way to the wall and was slowly rising to his feet.
“They are not gross. I’ll have you know that the cockroach is capable of living for months without food. Able to remain alive while headless for weeks at a time. They are highly resistant to radiation. If God has indeed created Himself in His own image…”
“Then he’d be a nasty bug… yeah I get it.” Sylar cut him off. “Cockroaches are great! Whoo-hoo…. Now will you kill it?” he pouted.
“No.” Mohinder slid what was once part of Sylar’s newspaper under the cup and lifted the newly-formed trap up. “Now, come look. They are completely harmless.”
“No.” Sylar said backing further into the wall.
Molly tried to stifle a giggle. She knew what was about to happen. Mohinder raise the glass up to the former-killer’s eye level. “Now, say you’re sorry to nice Mr. Bug.”
Suddenly, and rather nastily, the cockroach exploded, splattering bug guts all over the inside of the glass.
“Ew!” yelled Molly.
Mohinder looked up at Sylar who had a wicked grin on his face.
“Now why did you go ahead and do that?” The darker man scowled.
“I hate cockroaches…”
|
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| M.D. Shakra |
[31 Jul 2007|01:02am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 awake |
] |
Title: M.D. Shakra
Character: Mohinder/Sylar
Prompt: Good ol' 9th Wonders
Word Count: 642
Rating: PG-13ish... I mean... it's boys kissing... who wants a warning? XD
Summary: Mohinder comes home to find that SYlar had discovered his "secret stash" of mags.... Hilarity ensues.
Disclaimer: If I owned them... the show would be WAAAAAY different... but I don't .... *shrugs*
Author's Note: So, this is my first Mylar fic ever... and my first post in the community.... and I originally posted this on 9th Wonders.... along with the other fics that will follow... I figured there are some folks on here who don't know about 9th Wonders.... which is a very sad thing.
Mohinder walked into his apartment like he did everyday. He hung his coat and dropped his keys on the small table next to the door. He had had a long day driving miscreants around and was looking forward to a nice cup of chai tea and a good book… or maybe something else if Sylar was in the mood. he chuckled to himself.
“Honey, I’m home!” he bellowed through the small New York apartment. He knew how much pet names annoyed Sylar, so he did it every time.
“I’m in here…” came a voice from the bedroom. Mohinder smiled. What’s he doing in there? he wondered deviantly.
He walked around his cluttered desk and headed into the small back room where the bed was, only to find Sylar sitting on the edge disappointingly fully clothed.
“What are you doing?” asked Mohinder.
“Reading.” Said Sylar; wearing those adorable glasses Mohinder rarely got to see.
This is adorable he thought as he stepped into the room. Sure it was adorable, that was, until he realized what his lover was reading. He surveyed the room and saw the small trunk he kept in the closet. Sprawled over the bed were numerous copies of the magazine Warped Space.
Mohinder turned chalk white.
“I had no idea you were such a great writer.” Sylar said through a small smirk. “Mr. M.D. Shakra.” The smirk grew into a smile.
Mohinder made a lunge for the old magazine in his lover’s hands, but he was easily telekinetically thrown to the side.
“Spock was pressed tight against Kirk, clutching him like a drowning man clinging to a floating timber.” Sylar read aloud, snickering and trying to contain full-blown laugher. Mohinder made another move.
“Give that back!” he yelled at the taller man. Sylar caught him with his right had and held his head so that Mohinder’s arms couldn’t reach. It was the classic schoolyard bully position. Sylar held the fanzine in his left hand and, looking down through his glasses, continued to read aloud.
“His expression had softened to something very like a frightened child's,” The chuckle grew to a laugh as he snorted out the final words. Mohinder struggled some more this time, managing to move the pale man’s arm and make a valid lunge for the article. Sylar stepped to the side allowing Mohinder to crash face-first onto the bed.
“And his eyes were wide open, unfocused and glassy…” Now Sylar was down right howling. He couldn’t read anymore. It was just too damn funny.
“Why, Mo-Mo… I had no idea…” Sylar laughed as Mohinder scowled up from the bed.
“You have no right going through my personal things.” He said angrily.
“But then I would have missed all of this quality… er… Literature…” the taller man snickered, waving the magazine in the air.
“Give that back!” Mohinder made a jump from the bed to retrieve the book, but Sylar just held it over his head, using his height to his advantage.
“Aww, come on, Mohindy… this is good stuff.” He chortled as the shorter man jumped up and down trying to retrieve the magazine just out of his reach. “You should get this printed.” He said. “Oh wait! You already have! Who would have known that my little Mo-Mo wrote K.S. fan fiction…”
Sylar was cackling like a hyena. Mohinder’s face turned a brighter shade of pink than the shirt he was wearing as he clawed at Sylar trying to retreive his magazine. He then suddenly stopped, turned away from Sylar, and walked away without saying a word. This took all the gusto out of Sylar’s taunts.
“Hey… where ya going?” Sylar asked, a little disappointed that Mohinder stopped pawing at him. Mohinder just casually walked to the bedroom door. “Mohinder? I was just playing…” he had stopped laughing. “Where are you going?”
“To drug your chai…”
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