Quick disclaimer: Some dialogue and actions taken from Volume 5 episode called "The Wall." I'm making no money off of this, yada yada yada…
THE WALL
Peter stopped. His hands were shaking slightly as he watched Sylar, sitting there on the ground. He started walking again after a minute, holding the wrapped package tightly to keep his hands from trembling.
He tapped Sylar on the shoulder and then dropped the package into his lap, walking past him without looking.
"Happy birthday," he said, fighting to keep his tone light. Sylar looked up, confused.
"It's not my birthday," he said.
"Yeah, I know," Peter said as Sylar unwrapped his new copy of Pillars of the Earth. "You just wore out your other copy, and I saw that one digging around." Sylar looked up at him. "I appreciate you … being patient with me," Peter continued, only half looking at him, "keeping me sane."
"That's very kind of you, Peter, thank you," Sylar said softly.
Peter nodded curtly and turned away, picking up his sledgehammer. Focus, he told himself.
"Wanna know something weird?" Sylar said, getting to his feet. "Every time you pick that thing up I think you're going to hit me with it, really hard."
Peter chuckled. "That is weird, because every time I pick it up I feel like I'm going to hit you with it too. Really hard." Liar.
"Why?" asked Sylar, his voice infuriatingly innocent.
"Because you are who you are. I wish I could accept your apologies, but if I forgive you, then I'm not doing right by him."
"Nathan," Sylar said, a note of recognition in his voice. "If you let go of your anger, you're afraid you'll lose him forever." He took a step forward. "So you've held onto it this entire time?"
"I feel it slipping away, but then I look at you, and I see you killing him. You took my brother away from me." Peter turned away and started hitting the wall again. Sylar walked up to him.
"We've been here I don't know how many years," he said. "Together."
Don't remind me, Peter thought.
"I've changed, I've repented, I'm never going to hurt anyone ever again," Sylar was saying. Peter ignored him. "And all this time, you were afraid to let me out?"
Peter paused, his breathing labored. He glanced down for a fraction of a second. That's one theory, he thought. He made to hit the wall again, but Sylar stepped in his way.
"Peter!" he said, staring deep into Peter's eyes. "I'm not that guy anymore, Peter, you know that." Sylar's voice took on a peculiar pleading tone.
"Do I, Sylar?"
"Don't," Sylar said quietly.
"Don't what?"
"Don't use that name."
"Why not, Sylar?" Peter hissed. "That is your name, isn't it? You've earned it."
"I'm not that person anymore!"
Peter took a step closer to Sylar, their noses almost touching. "Prove it," he said.
Sylar grabbed Peter's shoulders, forcing him to drop the sledgehammer. Sylar spun him around, slamming him into the wall with as much force as he could muster.
"Where the hell have you been for the last ten years?" he snarled.
"I've been trying to get us out of here!"
"And who was it who made sure you ate? Who made sure you slept so you wouldn't collapse from exhaustion? Who looked for food for the both of us while you sat and stared at this goddamn wall?" He punched the wall for emphasis.
"And who got you a fucking birthday present?"
"It's not my fucking birthday!"
Peter's fist connected solidly with the side of Sylar's face and the latter reeled backward, his lower lip bleeding. Peter's gaze zeroed in on the single drop of blood making it's way down Sylar's chin. His gaze softened.
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, S—Gabriel," he said, taking a step forward. He made to wipe the blood away with his sleeve, but Sylar put up his hand.
"I'm fine," he said, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. "Use whatever name you want," he added tiredly. Peter looked at him for a moment longer before turning around and picking up his sledgehammer again.
Sylar leaned back on his heels and watched as Peter swung the sledgehammer rhythmically at the wall, again and again and again.
"You've changed a lot since I've known you," he said after a minute.
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted," Peter said, not looking at him.
Sylar grinned. "Who said you had to pick one?" When Peter didn't reply, he added, "Want some birthday cake?"
"I thought it wasn't your birthday."
"Doesn't mean we can't celebrate."
"I'd rather not," Peter said.
Sylar sighed. "I'm trying here, okay?"
Peter hit the wall with extra force a few times. "Not hard enough."
Sylar strode forward and seized the sledgehammer as Peter swung it back again. With a tug, he slid it from Peter's grasp and tossed it a few feet away. Peter barely had a chance to turn around before Sylar was upon him, pressing him into the brick wall again, holding him against it with his body.
"What would you have me do? What else can I do?" Sylar snarled, his face inches from Peter's.
"Why don't you find out," Peter whispered.
Something in Peter's tone made Sylar lean back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You tell me," Peter whispered, leaning forward slightly.
Sylar didn't move. The underlying promise in Peter's voice startled him and he froze, staring into the younger man's eyes. Peter glared at him. In the sudden silence, Peter could hear himself breathing – too loud, too obvious. But he couldn't move either. Sylar's lean body pressed against his. The bricks bit into his back and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
Sylar's lips twitched, hiding a smirk. He tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed, his expression curious. "Fascinating," he said, his voice nearly inaudible.
"What?" Peter said through his teeth. He tried to slow his breathing. Sylar smiled, and Peter felt a chill run down his spine at the sight. His heartbeat picked up, sending blood roaring through his veins. Oh, God, not now, not here, not— Peter caught his breath as Sylar's knee slipped between both of his. Oh.
This should not be happening. This did not happen, not in real life. This only happened in Peter's dreams – nightmares, he tried to remind himself. Nightmares where Sylar took him, up against this very wall, leaving him bruised, bloody, and unsatisfied. Peter had lost track of the number of mornings he'd woken up before the sun, forced to sneak away in the half-light lest Sylar wake up and catch him in his delicate state.
"I didn't know you had it in you, pretty boy," Sylar said. Peter's retort died in his throat as Sylar rolled their hips together. A primal sound escaped Peter's lips.
"I hate you," he said.
"Uh huh," Sylar said, raising an eyebrow and rocking his hips again. Peter arched his back – God, this was difficult in jeans. Sylar bent forward. His breath was hot on Peter's face as he whispered, "We've been in here ten years, Peter. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
"I…hoped…you wouldn't," Peter gasped, shuffling his feet in a desperate attempt to realign their bodies. Sylar leaned closer, and Peter was momentarily distracted by the sight of a vein pulsing in Sylar's neck.
"I beg to differ," Sylar said quietly, his mouth an inch from Peter's. Peter held his breath, but Sylar didn't move. He simply stared into Peter's eyes, the unspoken challenge suspended between them. After a minute, Sylar began to pull slowly away and something inside Peter snapped. He surged his body forward, pressing his lips to Sylar's. Sylar smiled against Peter's lips, pressing him back into the wall. Peter's teeth grazed Sylar's lower lip and he gasped. Peter took advantage of the moment to slide his tongue into Sylar's mouth.
Sylar's reaction was immediate. He pressed Peter impossibly further into the wall, bearing down on him, an angry sound building at the back of his throat.
After a few moments, Peter pulled away. Sylar clenched his teeth as Peter curled his fingers around Sylar's belt loops and pulled him closer. Peter's eyes were cruel and mocking. Sylar looked at him, breathing hard.
"How far are you going to take this?" Sylar asked. Peter stared up into his face.
"How far are you willing to go?"
Sylar didn't reply. He started to pull his jacket off, but he'd barely got one arm out before Peter was upon him again, his hot tongue forcing entry into Sylar's mouth. Peter ran his tongue along the backs of Sylar's teeth and he groaned.
Having freed both his arms at last, Sylar turned his attention to Peter's jacket.
"We don't have time for that," Peter gasped between kisses, grinding his hips against Sylar's. "I … need you – oh God."
"Fine," Sylar growled, pushing back with equal force. Peter kissed him a few more times, then pulled away, still clinging to the collar of Sylar's shirt. Sylar leaned his forehead against Peter's.
"Ready?" he asked. Peter took in a deep breath and nodded, dragging his hands down the front of Sylar's body. His fingers fumbled over Sylar's belt buckle. Sylar took his hands and held them tightly. "I'll be gentle, I promise."
Peter looked back up and blinked a few times against the sudden heat filling his body. "Don't be," he said hoarsely.
Sylar's lip curled. "If you say so." Their lips met. They sank awkwardly to the cold ground, trying to push their jeans out of the way. Peter bent at the waist, bracing his hands against the asphalt.
Sylar took him mercilessly, not bothering with fingers. He only paused once, to place a tender kiss on the back of Peter's neck. He set an unforgiving pace, and the burning friction had them both nearly screaming, their voices reverberating off of the buildings around them.
When it was over, Sylar zipped up his pants and slumped against the wall, facing Peter. The younger man straightened up slowly, sitting back on his heels. For a moment or to they stared at each other, and then Sylar smirked.
"That was way better than birthday cake," he said.
"I can't tell you … how long I've wanted that," Peter said with a half smile, still trying to catch his breath. Sylar leaned forward unexpectedly, putting his hand on the back of Peter's neck and kissing him softly. "And... I forgive you," Peter said quietly, his lips moving against Sylar's.
"Let's see if we can get out of here," Sylar said, pulling back after a minute.
They got to their feet, legs still a bit unsteady, and each picked up a sledgehammer. Peter hit the wall first, and, for the first time, bits of brick crumbled to the ground. Peter and Sylar looked at each other then resumed pounding at the wall with renewed vigor. A little hole formed, growing with each blow. Something was shining brightly on the other side – Don't go into the light! Peter thought wildly – but before they could figure out what it was, the entire wall came crashing down on top of them.
Peter opened his eyes. He was back in Parkman's basement, leaning on the all-too-familiar brick wall. He stood up and turned around, pressing his ear to the wall. He could hear a faint scrabbling noise coming from behind it. He leapt out of the way as the noise grew louder. The wall exploded outward, showering Peter in dust and bits of rubble.
Peter coughed and looked around. Sylar was climbing out of the hole in the wall, brushing the hair out of his eyes and coughing. Peter approached him slowly. They looked at each other without speaking. Sylar's eyes flicked briefly down over Peter's body.
"How long has it been really?" he asked after a moment.
"Half a day, maybe," Peter replied, checking his watch.
"Feels like we were in there for years."
Peter nodded. "Yeah." He didn't know what else to say. He could feel the weight of what had just happened, suspended between them like a pendulum.
"Does that make it any less real?" Sylar asked, his voice half worried, half pleading.
They regarded each other for a moment, both still breathing heavily. Then Peter half smiled. They would have plenty of time, after. Days, months, years even.
"Let's go save Emma," he said.
There you go, folks! That's all there is, and probably all there ever will be. One-shots are all I can do at the moment, what with uni life in full swing. Hope you enjoyed it though!