Hey Man, Now You're Really Living
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, implied Claire/Gretchen, Noah Bennet, Mr. Muggles
Warning: Crack. Attempts at humour. Swearing. Spoilers, I guess, for the end of volume 4, beginning of volume 5. Meh.
Author's Note: Do not expect some deep philosophical shit just because of the quote at the beginning. This be crack, with occasional serious leanings. The title is from the song "Hey Man, Now You're Really Living," by the Eels. Thanks to Lara-Van, queenoftheoutlands and Airin0 for the Peter-and-Noah-go-grocery-shopping plot bunny.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. Or that quote.
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"Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person,"-Tennessee Williams
It was raining.
Sylar felt that this was an insult to his very existence and glared up at the sky. The sky, covered as it was with dark grey clouds, glared straight back. It gave a few thunder claps and lightning flashes just to prove its point.
He shook his head and wondered at the state of his appearance. Not that anyone was there to appreciate the sight, but it was the principle of thing. He was soaked, his clothes were definitely ruined, his hair stuck to his scalp like glue. Not a pleasant thought, that last one, not at all.
He was waiting outside a supermarket, skulking, really, if he was brutally honest – not that he'd ever want to be that. But, it was the principle of the thing. He peered through the glass doors and they slid open as automatic doors tend to do when you step near them. He cursed and moved away. He'd just have to be patient.
God help us all. Not just the outcasts.
***
Inside the warm and well lit supermarket, Peter Petrelli and Noah Bennet were grocery shopping together. They'd finally caved when both men had found themselves salivating outside a bakery, the customers and sales people inside giving them weird looks. One customer had even reached for her cell phone, possibly to call the cops. Peter and Noah had glanced at each other and both knew in that instant.
It was time.
So they'd summoned up their combined courage and went grocery shopping. It wasn't as hard as certain people made it out to be. Peter had always been thrifty – he didn't want to take more money from his parents than he had to – but Noah had never really been in a supermarket full of such delicious things. He had to stop himself from just pulling every piece of candy from the shelves, had to force himself to remember that he was out of a job and had to hoard his money with the talent and skill of those once mythical creatures, dragons.
It was hard going, though.
Eventually, however, they had grocery shopped their brains out. A little tired, a little sore (Noah had really wanted that tub of ice cream), they went to the counter and bought their things. One sales person gave them weird looks, just as the bakery people had, while another one – who looked to be Lyle's age or younger - kept whispering things in her friend's ear, things like "Oh my god, that's just too adorable!" and "Old people can be so sweet!"
Noah glared at both of them, still longing for that tub of ice cream. Peter ignored them and picked his grocery bags up, heading towards the exit. Noah followed with a sigh and one last glare at the two sales girls.
The world went black.
"God, I didn't realise how dark it was out here!" Peter shouted to be heard over the torrential rain. A dark shadow off to the side slipped away from its position leaning against the building and sauntered over to them. Noah, who was thinking longingly of that tub of ice cream, and Peter, who was thinking of things he really shouldn't have been contemplating (namely, how certain people who will not be named would look soaking wet), were quietly oblivious of this remarkable phenomenon. A shadow, detaching itself. Where are Scully and Mulder when you need them?
Peter and Noah hesitated in front of the automatic doors (which opened and closed and opened and closed and opened and closed and...), not wanting to get either themselves or the groceries wet but knowing that it was inevitable.
That was when the world went black and very, very quiet.
Sylar hefted the baseball bat in his hand and grinned. Sometimes the direct approach was the preferable one. Now, how to get them to the van...oh, the dilemma. He eventually had to ask the two sales girls, who were both gaping at him from their positions at the counter, for help. Oddly enough, they seemed quite willing.
He drove them to a house he'd rented for just this occasion and dragged them inside, putting them in separate rooms. Then he offered the sales girls something to drink. One of the girls said she'd love a coffee while the other wrinkled her nose at the very suggestion. Sylar decided to give her some hot chocolate. With marshmallows. Because he felt like it.
After finally getting his body back and evicting Nathan from his mind, he'd started having random thoughts like that. It certainly hadn't been the carnival's influence – every seemingly random thing they did always had a purpose. Thus making it, well, not random.
While he was waiting for Peter and Noah to wake up, he and the girls surfed the net, watching crazy fanvids on YouTube and things like that. The two girls ended up arguing about something called "fanfiction" which involved things like "OTPs" and "slash." He wisely decided not to ask.
Eventually, however, the girls had to leave. He made them walk home because, well, evil. They couldn't expect him to change just like that.
When he returned from bidding them goodnight, he found that Noah was awake. He checked on Peter but the guy was still unconscious. He shrugged. He'd wanted to get to Bennet first anyway.
When Noah saw that it was Sylar who had brought him to this strange room, bereft of any tubs of ice cream, he screamed bloody murder at him. Sylar laughed at him for a bit, talked about Claire in that creepy way he knew Bennet hated and then got bored because you can only taunt someone so much. He then went to check on Peter. Still unconscious. So he went back and mentally tortured Bennet for a bit. You know, described scenes of him doing disturbing things to Claire, killing the rest of his family, throttling Mr. Muggles. The last didn't have the desired effect but, oh well, you learn new things every day.
Bennet's responses were very blah blah blah. Something about Claire being happy with some girl and that he should leave her the fuck alone. Sylar smirked. As if he didn't already know that. He caught himself yawning and left Bennet to his thoughts. He went and checked on Peter again but sadly the guy was still unconscious. Sylar was getting impatient.
He listened to the rain hammer down as he watched Peter. His fingers drummed on the doorway and the sound must have been louder than he thought because Peter woke with a shout and then promptly fell off the bed. Sylar did not snigger, because he thought it made him look undignified.
Peter blinked up at him, absolutely gobsmacked. He hadn't seen that expression on anyone's face since Claire. He caught himself thinking it suited Peter much more than her, that it made him look slightly more adorable than usual, and then gave himself a mental smack on the head for his bad thoughts. His mother would be proud. Well, his aunt. Whatever.
"You're...what...I thought you were dead!" Peter yelled. He pointed an accusing finger at Sylar, as though it was his fault he wasn't dead. "I saw them burn your body!"
So. He was like Darth Vader. Except without the black clothes and helmet and shit. And, well, Darth Vader was definitely more awesome. Sylar knew that he did not even come close on the awesome scale. He ignored this self-loathing thought and concentrated on Peter.
"I killed Nathan," he said because beating around the bush was very annoying and somehow he just couldn't do that to Peter.
Peter continued to blink up at him in surprise. Sylar doubted his words had registered. "I said," he growled out. He hated repeating himself. "I killed Nathan."
"Oh," Peter said. He avoided meeting Sylar's eyes.
"Oh?" Sylar repeated back to him. Like a parrot. He winced at the comparison. "Oh?"
"Yes, oh," Peter replied, sounding a little miffed. Maybe he didn't like repeating himself either.
Sylar was quiet. "You already knew?"
Peter coughed. "Not the details."
"Oh," Sylar said. He sat down next to Peter on the bed.
"Yes," Peter said. There was silence.
"So that's why you weren't answering my phone calls!" Sylar exclaimed triumphantly.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
Sylar coughed, embarrassed. Since, well, enthusiastic much?
"Why did you kidnap us?" Peter asked, so as to fill the silence. Or possibly because he wanted to know. Who knows? Sylar, sadly, did not have telepathy. A situation he might very well remedy if he felt so inclined.
Sylar shifted on the bed. "Wantedtotellyou," he said very fast.
Peter was silent, trying to decipher the words. He smiled as the meaning slowly dawned on him. It was like seeing the sun rise slowly over a hill. Beautiful.
"Have you told Claire?"
Sylar shrugged. "Yeah."
"And?"
"She was angry." Not that he'd expected anything less. In fact, he'd expected Peter to be angry as well. It sort of defeated the whole purpose of confessing, if Peter wasn't angry with him. "Why aren't you angry?"
Peter sighed. "I was. But I've had time to think about it. He was completely outmatched, without me there. It was almost...inevitable."
"But I didn't have to kill him," Sylar insisted, starting to feel that curl of anger in his stomach because Peter wasn't supposed to be rational about this. He was supposed to get all emotional, lose control of his powers, leading to an explosion of such magnitude that Sylar would finally be able to die. Alone and unloved, but die nonetheless. He had welcomed it.
"No, you didn't," Peter said, and there was an underlying current to that tone which made Sylar hope that maybe, just maybe, Peter would get angry at him. "You didn't have to kill any of them. But you did anyway. And you wouldn't be you if you hadn't."
Sylar blinked. "Who am I then?" he tried to sneer but found he was genuinely curious.
"A monster. A bogeyman. A scared little boy wanting more than anything to be special. All three. None of them." Peter shrugged. "Take your pick."
"I'm the man who killed your brother. I'm the man who killed his mother. The son of a serial killer." Sylar continued the list because, well, he didn't want anything left out. He'd never been much of a stickler for details before this moment. Well, except for that baseball cap. He wondered briefly, with some nostalgia it must be admitted, what had happened to the thing that had been his almost constant companion throughout his killing spree. Probably still in Texas. Maybe some kid had picked it up. Maybe that same kid's mother had told him to drop it, Billy, it could have germs. He could only imagine.
"Alone and unloved," he murmured, fingers picking at the fabric of the duvet beneath him. "I destroy everything I touch."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter's mouth quirk. "I knew a kid once who did that," he said nonchalantly. His hand fiddled with the duvet just as Sylar's was. Their fingers brushed. Sylar began to pull his hand away but Peter insisted on grabbing it back and interlacing their fingers. "You know what else he could do?"
Sylar, still a bit unnerved that Peter was holding his fucking hand as anyone would be, stared at their hands for a moment. "What?"
"Bring things back to life."
Sylar's mouth fell open and he was about to ask what exactly this had to do with his situation, which was totally different, when Peter kissed him, his free hand coming up to cup Sylar's cheek. He stiffened at this breach of his personal space but grudgingly allowed it because, well, it felt nice. More than nice, really. Super duper nice with ice cream and strawberries and cherries on top. Maybe some chocolate sauce. He'd definitely never been kissed like that.
"Maybe you're not a total loss after all," Peter murmured as he broke the kiss.
Sylar didn't know whether to be affronted by this remark or not. He kicked him in the shin just to show that he was not intimidated.
"Ow," Peter said, but he was smiling.
Sylar realised he was also smiling. Huh, when had that happened?
***
Noah Bennet, Company Man, father and divorcee among others, kicked the walls of his room petulantly. He knew he should have bought that tub of ice cream. Damn Peter! Damn Sylar! DAMN THE WHOLE WORLD!
Eventually he was let out when Claire and Gretchen came to visit. Claire was not happy to find her father going half mad in one of the rooms off the hall, screaming for ice cream. Sylar let him out because it was Claire and he owed her. When Bennet entered the living room, he offered the exact tub of ice cream Bennet had been screaming for with a flourish. Bennet grudgingly accepted it and spent the rest of Claire's visit holed up in the corner, tub held protectively against his chest. He glared at anyone who came near. Claire merely sighed at this. More work for her to do.
***
PETER PETRELLI: Well, yes, he did kill my brother [pause] oh yes, and my Dad. But it's, you know [shrugs], as Mr. Muggles keeps saying, you can't hate that which makes you whole.
SYLAR: Would you like some cake? Because if you ask me one more question about my sex life, you're going to get it. In the face.
CLAIRE BENNET: It's like Gretchen was telling me the other day. Shit happens. You just have to deal.
GRETCHEN BERG: He likes Star Trek. Very odd man. But each to their own, I suppose.
NOAH BENNET: That is MY FUCKING ICE CREAM! GET YOUR GREASY PAWS OFF IT! SYLAR, COME OVER HERE AND TELL THIS BASTARD TO GET HIS FUCKING HANDS OFF MY ICE CREAM!
MR MUGGLES: Two sides of the same coin. You can't argue with that, bitches.
SALES GIRL #1: Best. Day. Ever.
SALES GIRL #2: [is incoherent for a moment, looks up at the sky] Please rain again.
END
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Yup. My mind = cRaZy.
Review please.
