Title: Musical Chairs
Author: sapphire17
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sylar acquires the ability to transform into inanimate objects, and hangs around Peter and his apartment for an entire day before Peter realizes what the hell's going on.
Warnings: Alcohol abuse, crack, karaoke, some non-explicit sexin'
Prompt: #03 at wtf27 – Transformation (inanimate), and #12 at un_love_you – I'm drunk.
Musical Chairs
A grunt.
And another one.
Sylar looked around Peter's vacant apartment, before he grinned wickedly.
Finally, finally he was going to kill Peter Petrelli.
Once and for all.
Thanks to the late Christine Jones, Sylar could now transform into any object that he touched, mimicking it, much in the same way that Peter mimicked other people's abilities.
Only with inanimate objects.
Sylar picked up one of the chairs at Peter's table, briefly wondering why the fuck Peter had so little furniture. Did he like the space, was he claustrophobic, or was he really that poor? Sylar had always figured that being a paramedic paid well, but he guessed he was wrong.
Sylar carried the chair into Peter's bathroom, and then, shut the door.
This was really, really going to fuck with Peter's mind.
Sylar chuckled darkly to himself.
He returned to the small dining room, and sniffed. He smelled alcohol. He ambled over into the adjacent kitchen, and next to the microwave, saw two empty bottles of Chenin Blanc, one opened bottle, and one half-empty bottle of Pinot. Sylar then peeked into the garbage can, and saw two more empty bottles of wine buried there along with an empty bottle of scotch.
Sylar sighed.
Why did this suddenly make him feel so sorry for Petrelli? Sylar didn't care about Peter... fuck no.
Or did he?
Damn.
With a smirk, Sylar uncorked the bottle of unopened wine, had a glass, and then, poured the rest of it down the drain, followed by the half-empty bottle.
Afterwards, Sylar skipped back into the dining room, stood next to the end of the table, and turned into a chair.
Maybe if Sylar got lucky, Peter would sit on him.
Ha.
***
Peter Petrelli unlocked and opened the front door to his apartment, holding a sack full of Chinese takeout.
He sat it on the table, and instantly went into the kitchen to get a glass of wine, when...
"What the fuck?" Peter questioned, looking at the four empty bottles, "Did I really drink all of that last night? Guess I did... Oh God this is getting serious! What the hell am I doing? Nathan wouldn't want this... If he ever found out he would kill me. Nathan's not gone, though... He's coming back, back to me..."
If Sylar could have sighed again, he would have. He had all of Nathan's memories, after all, and very well knew of the older Petrelli's brother's desires for his younger brother. Hmp, figured.
Everybody wanted Peter.
This led Sylar to believe that Peter's feelings for Nathan were very, very mutual.
Why the hell did that make Sylar jealous? Well, if he wanted to get laid that badly, he supposed he could always shapeshift into Nathan and then... hey, wait a minute, Sylar wanted to kill Peter, not screw him or get screwed by him.
...Right?
Sigh.
Wrong.
Peter walked into the bedroom, and from under the bed, removed a bottle of wine. Peter walked back into the kitchen, uncorked it, and poured himself a glass.
Goddamnit, Sylar thought. Why hadn't he searched the apartment first? He wasn't going to murder or fuck Peter while he was drunk, that was just plain wrong, even to Sylar.
Peter sat down, on Sylar.
Hell yes.
OhGodohGodohGodPeter'sassisonme.
And it's such a great ass...
Peter sighed, taking a gulp of his white wine before he began to pick at grains of rice with a set of chopsticks.
He had flashbacks, then. Flashbacks of those last few moments he had spent with Nathan, up on the roof, before Nathan had taken the jump... Peter had cried after that, but since Nathan was actually Sylar, he could heal now, so the fall hadn't killed him, thankfully. Peter could also remember the way he had chased Sylar into the warehouse on that construction site, beating him into a bloody pulp.
"What are you going to do, beat him out me?"
"Something like that..."
A shot.
"Ahhh!"
Peter finished his wine, and portions of his rice, eggroll, and orange chicken, before he got up, and poured himself another glass of alcohol. Peter then, unfortunately enough, started to sing.
"Merry Christmas... Merry Christmas... Hap-py ho-li-days. Merry Christmas... Merry Christmas... Hap-py ho-li-days. We've been waiting all year for this night, and the snow is glistening on the trees outside, and all the stockings are hung by the fire side, waiting for Santa to arrive. And all the love will show 'cause everybody knows it's Christmastime and all the kids will see the gifts under the tree..."
Makeitstopmakestopmakeitstop... Sylar thought to himself. For the love of God, Peter could not sing worth a damn.
But sadly enough, Peter continued...
"It's that time of year, Christmastime is here, and with the blessings from above, God sends you his love. And everything's okay. Merry Christmas... Hap-py ho-li-days. Merry Christmas... Merry Christmas... Hap-py ho-li-days..."
Peter stopped, downing the rest of his wine.
Peter returned to the kitchen, and got another glass of wine, much to Sylar's ultimate disapproval. Sylar had always seen drug, alcohol, and cigarette abuse as one of the lowest forms of human life. He hated drugs, he despised cigarettes, and if it wasn't for the fact that Sylar loved a good Pinot, he would probably disdain alcohol. Because of his healing ability, he couldn't get buzzed or drunk, though. Not that Sylar would anyway, though he had been drunk before back when he had still been known as 'Gabriel Gray'. He had been a really sad site back then... especially while drunk. And the hangovers from Hell that greeted him didn't make it any better. In Sylar's opinion, it just wasn't worth it, though Peter was probably past the point of hangovers by now. That was fu-cking pa-the-tic.
And sad.
Peter went into the living room, sat down, and flicked on the flat-screen T.V. that was on the wall.
"Oh awesome, David Archuleta! I fucking love him! He's so cute."
Oh no.
"I'm holdin' on a rope got me ten feet off the ground..." Peter sang, "And I'm listening to what you say but I just can't make a sound... You tell me that you need me then you go and cut me down, but wait. You tell me that you're sorry, didn't think I'd turn away, but I'm afraid... It's too late to apologize. It's too late. I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late... Oh-oh..."
Sylar suddenly felt that this had been a bad idea.
This wasn't worth it.
If he had ears right now, he would have been covering them.
This went on and on and on, as Peter drank away while singing along to the David Archuleta concert. Peter then giggled wildly as David Cook came on stage, as he and Archie sang Chad Kroger's and Josey Scott's "Heroes", before Cook and Archie then hugged for a little too long.
"Or they are so sleeping together. Cookleta forever," Peter said to himself. "I loved how Cook said 'I love you' to Archie when he won American Idol. I'll have to get on livejournal later and read some slash on them. If only my life had that much bondage in it. Cr-ack goes the whip! Ha ha. Damn, I need to get laid. Oh well, I'll go to a bar later and pick up a hot chick. Then I can try out those new leather handcuffs I bought yesterday."
What? Sylar mentally inquired. What kind of kink was Petrelli in to, anyway? And... yeah, Peter was definitely out of it, now.
"'Just because you've become a young man now, there's still some things that you don't understand now, before you ask some girl for her hand now, keep your freedom for as long as you can now'. My mama told me...'you better shop around', a-whoa-yeah. You better, uh-huh, shop around! Shop, shop around, uh-uh-uh!" Peter continued to sing, completely off key and out of pitch.
.please... Sylar mentally garbled. Surprisingly enough, Sylar, on the other hand, could sing. He had a rather nice singing voice. Not that Sylar was about to turn back into himself and sit down with Peter before they had a steaming hot karaoke session.
Peter finally stopped as soon as 'Shop Around' had ended, standing up somewhat clumsily before he made his way into the bathroom.
"What the fuck?" Peter once again questioned, noticing that there was blatantly a fucking chair in his bathroom. "Did I put this here? Oh fuck, I am losing it, aren't I?"
Peter picked up the chair, and carried it back into the dining room. He had sworn that there had been four chairs there before, but, now there were only three... Wha...? Huh...?
"Something... strange is going on here," Peter said to himself. Then, he sighed, and went into the kitchen, got the garbage, and walked outside to take out the trash.
Sylar reappeared, transforming back into his human form from the coffee mug he'd been posing as on the table. He got off the table, and went into the bathroom. He touched Peter's yellow toothbrush, and then, turned into it.
When Peter came back inside, he immediately went into the bathroom, and got ready to brush his teeth.
"What the fuck?" Peter said, yet again, "Why do I have two toothbrushes? Did I buy another one? I really am losing it! I've gotta stop drinking..."
Peter chuckled to himself, picking up his toothbrush as he squeezed some toothpaste out onto it. Peter began brushing his teeth afterwards.
OhGodohGodI'minPeter'smouth, Sylar thought to himself with inward glee. Peter's mouth was so hot, so smooth, so perfect, so... everything.
Peter finished brushing his teeth with Sylar, unknowingly, before he spit into the sink and then began to undress...
Oh hell yes!
Peter removed his paramedic's uniform, and got into the shower, turning on a mixed spray of hot and cold water.
And then, goddamnit, Peter just had to start singing again...
"Everyday is a new day, I'm thankful for every breath I take. I won't take you for granted, I won't take you for granted, so I learn from my mistakes. It's beyond my control sometimes it's best to let go whatever happens in this lifetime. So I trust in love, so I trust in love you have given me peace of mind. I-I, I feel so alive, for the very first time, I can't deny you, I feel so alive. I-I, I feel so alive, I feel so alive, for the very first time... and I think I can fly..."
Then, Peter literally began to float under the shower head, flying in the shower, as he continued that God-awful singing.
Sylar couldn't deny the fact that Peter really was adorable, though... His drinking, his horrible 'Hungry Man' T.V. dinners, his horrid singing, the shower hovering, his dorky peppermint breath mints and all.
Suddenly, Peter cried out, as he fell down in the shower and smashed his head against the edge of the tub. He went still after that.
Peter! Sylar exclaimed to himself, as the toothbrush fell to the floor and turned back into Sylar. Sylar ran to the tub, putting his hands on Peter's bleeding head. He definitely had a concussion.
"Peter!" Sylar yelled, lightly slapping Peter's face, "Oh God Peter, please!"
"S-Sylar...?" Peter whispered, sounding dazed and confused.
"Quick, take my ability to heal. Take it, goddamnit," Sylar cursed. Peter nodded wearily, absorbing Sylar's regenerative ability through Sylar's touch on his face.
Peter's wound healed itself over, but because he had taken Sylar's ability, he also sobered-up on the dot, his liver instantly processing all of the alcohol he had consumed.
"What the FUCK?!" Peter instantaneously shouted, covering himself up down below, "Sylar, get OUT of my apartment, before I fucking KILL YOU you sick, sick SON OF A BITCH!"
"I think I'll just wait outside," Sylar replied, sighing with relief, before he briefly admired Peter's bare ass.
"STOP staring at my ASS, you fucking PERVERT!" Peter yelled in rage.
Sylar quickly departed from the bathroom and shut the door behind him, waiting for Peter to change back into some clothes. Peter soon exited, to find Sylar seated on his bed.
"Well?" Peter questioned, water dripping down his form. Peter apparently hadn't even taken the time to dry-off. "What the hell are you doing here? Even more importantly, how did you get in here without my knowledge?"
Sylar sighed, before he instantly transformed into a roll of paper towels.
Peter blinked. "What the...?"
Peter walked over to the roll of paper towels on the bed, and picked it up, examining it.
When Sylar reappeared, Peter was holding Sylar in his arms, and he was heavy, damnit.
Peter grumbled, throwing Sylar down to the bed.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Sylar happily stated.
"Get OUT, Sylar, or I swear to God that I'll KILL you."
"You won't kill me, because if you killed me, you'd kill Nathan."
Fuck.
Sylar was right.
"Just-Just get out," Peter sighed, wishing that he hadn't taken Sylar ability to heal. Then he would still be intoxicated. With that in mind, Peter leaned forwards, cupping Sylar's cheek as Sylar blushed, before Peter mimicked Sylar's flight ability once again. Then, he waltzed over to the nightstand in front of the couch, poured himself a glass of wine, and began to chug away.
"Peter, you've got to stop this," Sylar scolded, "You're going to become an alcoholic."
"I don't care," Peter responded, before downing a few more gulps of Chenin Blanc, "There's a superpowered serial killer sitting on my bed, who has my deceased brother trapped inside of his body. That is fucked-up. My life is fucked up. I-I can't take much more of this... I feel like I am losing my mind, or hell, have lost it. I-I just want to die..."
Sylar stood from the bed, and walked over to Peter, until he was definitely invading Peter's personal space. Sylar took the half-empty glass of wine out of Peter's hand, and set it down on the nightstand, before he put his hands on Peter's shoulders, and looked him in the eyes. God, Peter had such beautiful, big brown eyes.
"Why worry so much about Nathan when you can have the real thing?" Sylar seductively whispered as he tilted Peter's head up by his chin, closing the distance between their faces before he pressed his lips to Peter's.
Peter's eyes widened, and he pushed Sylar away from him. "Wh-What are you doing...?"
"I love you, Peter Petrelli," Sylar said, "I love you."
Peter remained shocked that, again, a superpowered serial killer was declaring his love for him. Sylar closed the distance between them again, pressing their bodies up against one another as he leaned down and captured Peter's lips once again.
This time, Peter kissed Sylar back.
Sylar's arms were around Peter's neck, as Peter's arms shakily rose up and wrapped around Sylar's waist, as Peter deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into Sylar's open mouth as he attacked the taller man's lips.
Peter pulled away, and grinned. "I am going to fuck the living hell out of you."
Hel-lo.
Say what?
Sylar frowned.
The nerve.
"Not if I do the same thing to you first."
"Oh grow up, Sylar, we can have anal wars once we get into bed."
And so they got on the bed.
Since Sylar was so desperate to prove his love to the younger man however, he allowed Peter to emerge victorious during their drawn-out, ten minute 'anal war'. When Peter was about to fuck him, however, Sylar had chickened-out and turned into a bottle of lube and stayed that way for a good twenty minutes, while Peter sighed and waited patiently for Sylar to reappear, having two glasses of wine during the wait while watching T.V.. Finally, Sylar did re-emerge just as soon as Peter started singing along to the music video of Jason Derulo's "Whatcha Say?" on VH1, because a little pain was worth not hearing Peter sing.
Thus, Peter made love to Sylar, and then, he let Sylar make love to him.
Afterwards, the two lay in bed together, panting heavily.
"This is so fucked up," Peter said to Sylar. "It's too late to apologize."
"It's too late, I said it's too late to apologize... It's too late," Sylar sang, though in all honestly Sylar was just joking-around. "God, Peter, you can't sing."
"But you can," Peter said in awe, "You're voice is beautiful, Gabriel..."
"You called me 'Gabriel'..."
"Yeah," Peter chuckled, "Guess I did," he murmured, before he rolled over and wrapped an arm around Sylar, pressing their lips together for another heated kiss.
It may have been too late to 'apologize', but...
It was never too late to make love.
The next morning when Peter awoke, Sylar was gone, though Peter figured Sylar had just turned into a random object that had been lying around his apartment...
...And sure enough, just as Peter poured himself some 'good morning' wine, Sylar re-emerged from the glass, his head wet with this red substance, as it ran down his face.
"Mmm, Pinot..." Sylar said, licking his lips.
F-ucked-up.
"Are you going to move-in with me or what?" Peter inquired.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Al-Alright, Peter..." Sylar answered, before Peter leaned up and kissed Sylar on the lips.
After that, they had a quick romping session.
After Sylar had moved-in with him, Sylar had made it impossible for Peter to get drunk anymore, draining his bottles, disintegrating them with a snap of his fingers, and turning into bottles of wine and crystal wineglasses to fuck with Peter's head. Peter had finally given-up drinking altogether within two weeks, much to Sylar's ultimate relief.
But, things got worse when Peter went out and bought a PS3 along with 'Karaoke Revolution 4'.
Sylar wanted to die every time he heard Peter sing, but Sylar had actually got suckered into playing the stupid game for himself. Of course, he beat Peter every time, and held all the high scores, though Angela still held the high score for 'My Immortal'. Whenever Angela Petrelli stopped by, though, Sylar always turned into an inanimate object. Angela still had no idea that Peter and Sylar were living together, now.
A few months went by, and Peter came to the conclusion that Nathan really was gone forever... He was still saddened, but eventually, he forgave Sylar for having murdered his brother... He had even fallen in love with the psycho killer, God bless him.
Sylar killed several more people, but after that, promised Peter he would stop.
Peter never knew if he truly did, since Sylar kept coming up with rather random and seemingly bizzaro abilities.
In the end, though, everything was all good...
With the exception of Karaoke Revolution 4 and the David Cook concert on MTV.
Poor Sylar.
***
A/N: Yeah, I know, WTF was THAT? I... don't really know... I just needed to fill a prompt on my wtf27 table (transformation, inanimate), and for un_love_you (I'm drunk) but since Sylar can't get drunk, Peter had to. But yeah, wtf with the Karaoke Revolution 4...? Though I fucking LOVE those games and own all of them, and I DO hold all of the high scores but several. I was in choir in jr. high/high school, did some solos, and think I sing rather nice. XD Haha. I don't know why I imagine Peter would have a bad voice, and Sylar a good one. Well Sylar sure can whistle, so I imagine he'd be, well, rather in tune with music. I also, as I've said before, never do think that Peter would get drunk like this, though I assume that he has been drunk before. I think everyone has, with the exception of my grandmother, unless Demerol counts, lmfao. I can't help it. I'm a drunk, so I enjoy writing about alcohol... haha. XD Also, btw, Chenin Blanc and Pinot is what *I* drink, lol. Pinot is stronger than Chenin, but I prefer the Chenin... Like I'm drinking now. *gulps* yum! And WTF I am currently watching 'Mall Cop' and I NEVER realized before that the gal who plays Charlie is in it as Mall Cop's gal! LMFAO. She is so hot... Hiro's lucky. She looks better with red hair than with blonde, though.
Please, do comment! I love hearing what people think. Just, yes, don't flame me. :0
*hugs* Can't wait for Christmas and the Advent Calendar, can you? XD