These are a series of mylar prompts, most of which were given to me by a few lovely Sarmy members! A couple of them I wrote on a whim, but thanks goes out to those who solved my writer's block by shouting out funny mylar situations one night in chat 3
-Prompt 1: Out of Laundry Detergent-
"Not again!" Mohinder whined, pouring merely a quarter of the required amount of laundry detergent in with his plaid shirts. "I told him to get more," he hissed through gritted teeth, leaning on the cold, white machine in frustration. Turning on heel, his curls brushed back at the speed in which he huffed into the living room.
"Sylar?" his foot tapped, arms folded, glaring at the man slumped lazily on the couch.
"Yeah?" the stubbly man peeked his dark eyes over the back of the couch to the glaring doctor. "What's wrong?"
"You used the last of the detergent, and then forgot to get more. That's what is wrong." A chocolate colored finger wagged at Sylar. He sighed, swinging his legs around to sit up properly on the couch.
"I'll get more later."
"Why not now?" Inquiring eyebrows rose at the suggestion. Sylar paused, giving Mohinder a 'duh' look, gesturing to the television.
"MythBusters is on!" Mohinder's eyes widened in disbelief. "Come on, you love this show," Sylar stated, tapping the cushion next to him. "Come watch."
"Sylar!" He scolded, running over to block the man's view of the television set. "I think you'd better go get detergent now, or-"
"Or what?" A single thick eyebrow perked upwards.
"Or…" Mohinder shifted trying to think of a suitable punishment for his lazy boyfriend. "You know," he changed the subject deciding instead that scolding the ex-murderer would be much better. "Your abilities have made you lazy Sylar. I ask you to do the dishes, and you complete them from the couch! I ask you to make dinner and you float it from the Chinese restaurant across the street!" Mohinder's hand gestures became more animated as his fury struggled to make its point.
Sylar's head recoiled at the sudden onset of confidence and anger from his usually docile mate.
"My abilities make our life easier, Mohinder. And there's nothing wrong with that!" he huffed, offended. Mohinder took a breath in, shifting his weight, and calmly stated,
"I'd just like you to remember to get the things I ask you to. Surely you can handle that."
"Fine." Sylar's back slammed down onto the couch as he turned the television's volume up.
"Fine." Mohinder trudged back into the kitchen.
"You never complained about my abilities before!" a voice boomed after him.
"You weren't lazy before," the geneticist mumbled, thinking he was out of audible range, but received another angry roar in return.
"I heard that!"
Mohinder sighed at his lethargic lover. He hadn't intended to cause a fight. He simply wanted Sylar to get more detergent! Sylar should have. He should be happy to do things for me. No, no. Mohinder shook his head. Laundry detergent was not something to fight over. We deal with so many stressful things in our lives; this should not be a disagreement
He turned to go apologize but was surprised by Sylar standing directly behind him.
"I'm going to the store," he murmured, "don't be mad at me." Realizing that he now had the upper-hand in the situation, Mohinder's apologetic face wiped to a stern one.
"Good." He nodded once in agreement. Sylar hovered for a moment in front of him.
"I'll make it up to you. I promise," the taller man whispered. He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Mohinder's stern, furrowed brow. The doctor's false anger faded at this sentiment. He lost the upper-hand.
"And how might you do that?" he breathed. Curiosity was getting the better of him.
Sylar rubbed his chin in thought. "Tonight…no telekinesis in bed!" he asserted. "If you claim that I'm becoming lazy, then I need to cut back." No fair! He's trying to make me feel bad! He's using reverse-psychology on me! Mohinder's pout made it apparent to Sylar that it was working.
"But I li-" the doctor's protesting words were cut off by a single long, pale finger over his lips.
"No, no, no, Mohinder. If you think it's a good idea, then I'll see it through." Damn you Sylar! Sylar's triumphant smirk sent Mohinder's heart through a giddy spiral. This was a good reminder of just how clever the ex-murderer really was.
"Do you need anything while I'm out?" Sylar yelled back to the flabbergasted geneticist as he tugged his coat on. Mohinder shook his 'yes' head feverishly, washing away the shock.
"Uh…yeah. Laundry detergent." They shared a smile; Sylar's a little more devious than Mohinder's. He turned back to the kitchen counter rolling his eyes, only to feel a sharp telekinetic pinch on his bottom.
"Ow!" the doctor spun abruptly, holding the stinging area, as the door to their apartment clicked shut. Mohinder smiled his big, blinding, eye-brow raised smile. Sylar couldn't stand not using his abilities on him. For that reason, he knew he'd regain the upper-hand in the argument later that night.