Peter vs. Couples Counselling
Summary: Peter gets that they need a mediator. He just doesn't like it that they need one at 2AM in the morning.
Notes: Vaguely inspired by a prompt from tumblr 'I have a headcannon that Mr Muggles likes Sylar more than Claire, and that is something that pisses her off to no end.' by natureekills.
"No, he's my dog, you aren't keeping him, and that's final!"
Peter heard the door slam inside his friend's apartment and sighed, knocking tiredly on his bet friend's door and running a hand through his hair. He did get that they needed a mediator sometimes - well, frequently - but he wished they wouldn't need one directly after his shift. He was tired, and he didn't particularly feel the need to watch the Sylar/Claire/Dysfunctional Relationship show. Not at 2AM.
Sylar answered, looking frazzled and irritated. "What, Peter?" He barked, eyebrows drawing together in a way Peter had learned to tell wasn't a good thing.
"Claire called me..." He stifled a yawn, reaching up to cover his mouth. "She said she needed help with her things?"
Sylar rolled her eyes. "Such a princess." He muttered, gesturing for Peter to come in. "God forbid she'd have to carry her own bags for once."
"Don't talk about me behind my back!" A shrill voice sounded from the bedroom and Peter winced.
"Whatever you say, darling." He called back and they heard Claire huff back in annoyance.
Peter sighed and flopped onto the sofa, switching on the TV and flipping through the channels. From experience, he knew that this could take a while.
"So what did you do this time?" Peter asked, settling in for an episode of Law and Order. He didn't think he'd seen this one yet.
"What makes you think I did anything?" Sylar kicked at a chair, before reaching down to pat Muggles Jr. "Why do I always get the blame anyway?"
Peter raised a knowing eyebrow at him. "Well, I don't know. You do have a tendency for being -" He pretended to consider it, "rude?" He paused, gauging Sylar's reaction with a knowing smirk. "Insensitive? Broody? Let's not forget moody, because that would be such a -"
The door to their bedroom snapped open. "Irksome, irritating, non-committal, irresponsible, irrational, cruel and let's not forget, because it would be a shame," Claire's voice built to a crescendo, and Peter covered his ears for the oncoming soprano, "a complete, utter bastard!"
"Oh, honey, would you do us all a favor and just shut up?" Sylar's voice dripped with sardonic honey and Peter wondered why on earth Sylar would purposely provoke Claire's wrath. The slap that came didn't surprise anyone.
"Violence is never the answer." He called after her, but she didn't respond, slamming the door in both their faces. Silence descended, and after a minute or two, Peter sighed loudly, rising and making his way to the long-suffering door.
"I'll go talk to her then."
"No, Peter, I will not calm down." Claire threw him a look over her shoulder, frantically trying to stuff some kind of dog basket into her luggage. He sighed again. That, right there was proof of how much she needed Sylar in her life; Sylar would know that dog baskets did not go into luggage.
"I'm not going to tell you to calm down." Peter lolled back on the clothe-scattered bed. "I know he's being a jerk, I just want to know why you're fighting this time. I mean, with the two of you, it could be, well..." Peter snorted. "Anything."
"Well, this is the last time." Peter rose up on his elbows, shaking his head.
"Claire, come on..."
"I don't know, Peter." Claire blew out a breath angrily. "He makes me so happy, and he makes me so angry, I just..." She sighed. "I don't mean that. I'm just tired."
Peter nodded, hoping and praying she didn't leave Sylar. As much as the older man pretended not to, he loved Claire, and more than that, he needed her. He saw it every time Sylar smirked at his niece, every time Claire touched his hand and he awkwardly held it between his much larger ones. For Claire, he tried. If Claire left... He couldn't even imagine the consequences.
"He loves you, Claire." He said quietly. "He really, really does."
Claire sighed again, plopping down next to Peter and resting her head in his lap.
"I know. I love him..." She buried her nose in Peter's jacket and sniffed noisily. "The argument started with how I never seem to have time for him anymore."
Peter rolled his eyes. "You know him, he gets over-dramatic."
Claire made a tiny noise of agreement. "He does, doesn't he? But then me being stupid took the bait, instead of sexually manipulating him like I should have, and -"
"God, Claire, please." Peter groaned, covering his eyes. "I don't need to know these things!"
"- I said that he was being a child, and he said that Muggles likes him better and I was tired and things just kind of exploded."
Peter stared down at her incredulously. "The Muggles thing? Again? Claire, that's the fifth time this month. You've got to get over it."
Claire muttered something unintelligible and he gave her a light shove.
"Go on. Make up with him, I know you want to."
Claire's jaw dropped.
"I'm not apologizing. If he wants to 'make up'" Claire made quotation marks with her hands, before folding them over her chest, "he'll have to apologize to me."
Peter groaned, getting up. "I guess I'll have to go talk to him, then." He said bitterly.
Claire smiled ethereally. "I'll owe you coffee."
It was at that moment that Peter realized; he should start charging them.
"I'm not apologizing." Sylar blinked and the channel changed. Peter rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah, you are." He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice. "I have a home to get to, a wife in bed, and a bed." Peter kicked the sofa and Sylar glared at him. "Therefore, you will apologize."
Sylar didn't move, but went back to blinking at the TV.
Peter sighed for what must have been the fiftieth time, sitting down next to Sylar.
"What's wrong?"
Sylar puffed out an explosive sigh. "What isn't wrong? She's infuriating, she's smart, she's messy, she quotes Shakespeare in her sleep, it's not even anything good, it's Othello for Christ's sakes, she burns the food, she dog-ears my books," he ranted, with a touch of scorn, "and she brings chips into bed."
Peter rolled his eyes, which were beginning to hurt with all the rolling they'd been doing in that night alone. "This isn't anything new, Sy - you knew she was a slob before you started living with her. What's really on your mind?"
Sylar sneered, a habit, Peter had noted a long time ago, that meant he was nervous.
"I'm just wondering," Sylar said, folding his arms defensively, "if she's really what I want. Is she worth all of this? Me playing the good guy, staying off the streets in this little apartment so that the people don't notice the Ferris Wheel girl's shacked up with the serial killer - "
"Or," Peter cut in, "don't come running to arrest you."
" - Thanksgiving with everyone I hate." He glared sullenly at the TV set, blinking twice so that it turned back to Law and Order. "Is she worth all of that hell?"
Peter paused before kicking his best friend in the shin. Sylar gurgled with the pain, slugging Peter back in the arm in retaliation.
"Jackass." He muttered, rubbing at his shin.
"Loser." He retorted, rubbing at his arm.
"Whatever, Sy." He sighed. "You know the answer. Don't ask stupid questions."
Sylar remained silent for a minute, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
Peter's eyebrows shot up till they were completely hidden under his fringe.
"Is that...?"
Sylar nodded, biting his lip. "You think she'll say yes?"
Peter shrugged, smirking and reaching over to ruffle his friends hair. "Could go either way. Depends how you ask."
Sylar swallowed, getting to his feet. He stared at the ground for a moment, before making his way to his bedroom door. He held out a hand to knock, but at the same moment, the door opened, revealing a slightly more than frazzled Claire.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then, at the same time, "I'm sorry."
Claire's face broke out into a smile, she reached up and hugged him, planting a small kiss on his cheek. As with most displays of affection, Sylar took some time to respond, before finally wrapping an arm around her waist and sighing contentedly into her shoulder.
"Claire..." Peter watched his friend, the reformed killer, the awkward clock-fixer, the man, struggle to breathe, swallow, and get on his knees. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen - the vulnerability splayed across his face. Claire was the most powerful woman in the world now, and Peter hoped with all his heart that she knew it.
He fumbled with the blue velvet box, and popped it open. Claire's mouth dropped open.
"Will you -" He was cut off as Claire yanked the box out of his hands, inspecting it from every angle before glancing down at him suspiciously. Sylar looked mildly annoyed, muttering under his breath about short blonde midgets with grabby hands.
"Is this some kind of trick?" She asked, eyeing the both of them warily, as if they were about to sprout confetti and yell 'April Fools' in her face.
"No." Sylar sighed impatiently, getting to his feet. "I am asking you to marry me." He clarified, a little more patiently. "And if you don't mind, I'd like an answer."
Claire looked at him, for a long, long, breathless moment. Peter could see what she was thinking - what Noah would think, what the world would think, and all the things they would have to worry about - but he could also see her thinking about happy things, like whether their kids would look like her or Sy, him complaining about her turning his clothes pink in the wash again, he could see it all, in that single time frame of 0.07 seconds.
"Yes." She slipped the ring, a small, simple princess-cut with a sparkling red fire stone in place of the usual diamond. Something Sylar had done himself, Peter had no doubt. She rolled her eyes at him, smiling all through it.
"I love you." She laughed at Sylar's wide eyes and open mouth. "I love you," she repeated seriously and Peter realized she'd never told him before.
"I love you too." He whispered brokenly, and Peter got to his feet, edging toward the door, not wanting to intrude. Muggles Jr. wiggled between them, and before he knew it -
"I told you he liked me better." Sylar's smug voice filtered through the closed door and Peter groaned under his breath.
"That's it! Peter!" Claire yelled.
Peter ran.
My first one-shot in... How long has it been? Forever?