Summary: Sylar doesn't remember what happened the night before, after Peter sabotages Sylar's drink. They both end up spending New Year's Day together. Crack.

Author's note: I wasn't even planning on writing this fic. It just happened on impulse, after I read petrelli heiress's "Impossible Things". I have "borrowed" events and phrases from that fic for this fic (originally is sorely lacking on my part lately, I'm afraid to say). If petrelli heiress takes offence to this, she may enslave me for a year, after defeating me using her vastly superior intellect.

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, and I don't even own a flying penguin. No really, I don't.

Can You Please Pass The Milk?

"Sylar, can you please pass the milk?"

Sylar began to reach for the milk, placed nearer to himself than to Peter, before his hand stopped short.

"Hold on," Sylar said, his eyebrows arched in genuine confusion. "How did we end up in my apartment, having breakfast together?"

Inwardly, Peter smiled. The tablet that he had slipped into Sylar's orange juice had wiped out his memory of last night's events after all. Sylar did not need to know Peter's unnatural obsession with rabbits, no he did not. It had all started because Peter had been sitting on a park bench last night, minding his own business, when stupid Sylar sat next to him and acted nice and friendly. What followed was a rather jovial chat, in which Peter shared some secrets (such as the obsession named above), which he rather regretted doing. Fortunately, Peter had on hand some forget-the-night-before tablets that he had stolen from the hospital that he worked at. After that it was a simple matter of dissolving one into Sylar's drink this morning, and things would right themselves again.

"Well," Peter said, as he got up and grabbed the milk. "We had a fight for the 329th time last night, during which I zapped you with electricity, and you blacked out. I carried you back here, tucked you into bed, and this morning, you invited me to stay." Peter had developed the ability to lie while keeping a straight face recently, something he thought he would never achieve. Sometimes he scared himself.

"Oh," Sylar replied, his head filled with considerably more questions than answers. He would have thought he would have remembered that. Sylar remembered all of the fights that he had with Peter, yes, even the one he had the previous week in which they had ended up in a closet and were almost poked to death by sticks and a fairy's wand. Indeed, it was one of their more interesting fights, thought it couldn't technically be labelled a fight since the reason for them ending up in the closet was not to fight in the first place. Actually, there there was no word in the English language to describe what had gone on between a fairy and a bundle of sticks. Er, moving right along.

"So...uh...what's going to happen now?" Sylar asked. "Shall we have another fight?"

"You wanna fight on New Year's Day?" Peter asked, bewildered and slightly amused.

Sylar glanced at the calender on the wall. It told him that the date was January 1, 2010. How could he have forgotten the date?

"I am intellectually and physically superior to you, but I'll wish you a Happy New Year anyway, Peter."

"So is your face. Happy New Year to you too."

After finishing breakfast, Sylar suggested that they hang out for the day, surprisingly himself. Oh well, it couldn't hurt to call a truce for a day, and it was better to spend the New Year with someone else, rather than alone. Peter accepted Sylar's suggestion.

They walked around Central Park, reminiscing about the craziness that had happened since they had both discovered their abilities. They enjoyed the bantering about the numerous fights they had had, including their 57th. That was the one in which they had sliced each other to pieces using telekinetically thrown Buffy DVD's. The clean up afterwards was a monumental task.

Soon, they were freezing, and having had their brains frozen enough to block sensible thoughts, decided to go flying to warm up. This had the effect of freezing them even more. They encountered a flock of flying penguins during their flight, and the birds waved at them. Later on, Peter remarked, "I thought penguins can't fly". Sylar replied, "Of course they can't, doofus. They were obviously people dressed up as penguins. Everyone knows that penguins only live in Antarctica, anyhow". Peter could only retort with "So is your face".

After Peter and Sylar had safely returned to the latter's apartment, they sat in front of the heater drinking hot chocolate. It was a strange relationship that they shared. They were too different personality wise to be friends, yet they couldn't summon enough hatred for each other to be enemies. Their fights were something of a novelty, like something done to pass the time. Neither would admit it openly, but they had both enjoyed their day of truce even more than the fighting. You might be thinking they were both strange men, and you would be right.

Who are you calling strange? You're the one writing this crack fic, weirdo.

They were real penguins, I swear. They were just as realistic as the penguins on Happy Feet.

Peter, you're pathetic.

So is your face.

That's starting to get annoying.

Yeah, well you being here is starting to get annoying.

I think we should take this outside.

So we freeze ourselves again? Nuh-uh, I'll stay here.

Suit yourself.

Zombie.

Emo haired freak.

The End

So, that was my last fic for 2009. Terrible? Not terrible? Please review.

BTW, I wish everyone a safe and very Happy New Year.