Title: Artist

Pairing: Sylar/Peter

Rating: pg-13

Sumarry: Written for a prompt on livejournal. Sylar is an artist and draws art to cheer Peter up. One day he finds a very interesting picture of himself in Sylar's sketchbook.

Sylar was sitting in a chair by the open window of Peter's apartment sketching the skyline of New York. He was just shading in to finish when the door opened and then shut. He turned around to see Peter looking a little upset. He closed his sketchbook. "Are you ok, Peter?"

Peter glanced at him and nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. What were you doing?"

Sylar glanced down at his sketchbook. "Just drawing."

Peter set down his work bag and stepped over to him. "What were you drawing?"

Sylar opened up the book and handed it over to Peter. Peter took it and smiled. "That's really good, I didn't know you could draw."

Sylar let a smile appear on his face. "Thanks, I use to draw a lot when I was a kid, but I set it aside to become a watchmaker."

Peter looked up back up at Sylar. "Do you think that maybe you can draw me something?"

"What would you like?"

Peter shrugged. "Whatever you can think of."

"Ok, can you tell me one thing though?"

Peter nodded. "Sure."

"Why are you upset?"

"Lost a patient," Peter said, his face going grim again. "It's something you can never get used to."

Sylar nodded and flipped to a fresh page. He started to draw a few lines. "I think I can have this done tonight."

And he did, Peter stepped into his room after a shower to see a drawing on the bed. He picked it up and it brought a smile to his face. He was in his paramedic uniform and a pair of angel wings behind him. He walked into the front room where Sylar was once again by the window. "Sylar?"

Sylar paused his drawing and turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Sylar smiled before going back to his drawing. So after that day whenever Peter had a really bad day, Sylar would come up with a drawing to cheer him up and Peter would frame them and hang them up. Sometimes the drawings were really sweet while others were funny little comics.

One day Peter found Sylar's sketchbook laying on the coffee table. He glanced around, but he couldn't see Sylar. He picked it up and started to flip through, knowing that he probably should of asked first. There were a lot of pictures of him, some of Emma and one of Claire. There was also a lot of scenery drawings.

He got through half of the book before he came across a drawing that had in blushing in embarrassment and slamming the book shut. The drawing consist of Peter and Sylar, tangled together in his bed. It was quite graphic, and colored. Not many of Sylar's drawings were colored.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and quickly put the book back on the table. Sylar rounded the corner and glanced between Peter and the sketchbook. "Did you go through that?"

Peter shook his head. "Of course not, why would I do that without permission? I need to go."

Sylar raised an eyebrow before reaching out and grabbing Peter's arm before he was able to walk towards the door. "Peter, you're lying."

Peter's face got even redder if possible. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I just like looking at your drawings."

"And you saw the one I drew of us, yes?"

Peter nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

Sylar let go of him. "Well, what did you think?"

Peter turned to face him in confusion. "What? You're not mad?"

Sylar smiled. "It's just a piece of art."

Peter cleared his throat. "It was…umm…interesting and well drawn?"

"Interesting and well drawn?" Sylar repeated, stepping closer to Peter. "So I drew you correctly? Even the parts I can't see?" Sylar asked his eyes running down Peter's body.

Peter seemed to blush even more. "I-I didn't look that closely."

Sylar reached out and pulled Peter flush against his body. "Mind if I check?"

"I'm straight," Peter blurted out. "Don't like men, nope, not at all."

"You seem to forget that I can tell when you are lying."

The color drained form Peter's face. "I, well I, I don't…"

Sylar silenced him with a kiss. "Just shut up."

Peter nodded and kissed back, finding himself being dragged into the bedroom to act out the picture.