Title: Photograph
Pairing/Characters: Sylar, Claire Bennet, mentions of others.
Warnings: sylaire banter (is that a warning? *shrugs*)
Summary: Photograph as in drawing with light. Sylar decides to enlighten Claire. Set post BNW.
A/N: Hello there! Is been a while since I posted anything in this site, I'd been struggling with personal problems and its consequences had bled into my writing process. I am slowly recovering from that impasse, and as the baby steps I feel I am taking into fanfiction again, here is a short set of snippets I wrote using one word prompts, this one is for Photograph.
Also for those who want a visual, I did a manip for this drabble, that can be found in my tumblr: sylarthritis. tumblr. com
As always beta'ed by the wonderful lexpurple.
Hope someone enjoys it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes if I did, I would have given the series a proper ending *_*
"I haven't showered in days, haven't eaten anything but canned food, haven't heard of dad or Peter, and God help me even knowing about Mr. Muggles would be comforting, and you—" She jammed a finger into his chest, lips pursing in annoyance. Her eyebrows went to her hairline as her shoulders sagged. "—just, what? Want to take a picture?"
Sylar used his free hand to remove her dignified finger from his otherwise indecorous chest – something derived from her standards, of course. He resisted the cheeky urge to roll his eyes and instead waved the camera at her. "It's called collecting a memento."
Claire let her hand fall at her side, fingers scratching the rough fabric of her jeans in a not so subtle attempt to wipe away any of Sylar's cooties that may had irreverently transferred to her skin during the length of unwanted touch she was subjected. She suppressed a shudder but keep her chin up. "Yeah, well." She gestured around wildly; they were experiencing just another dead rest in the middle of the interminable and oppressive landscape of the desert. "Why would you want to remember this?" She argued.
While Claire's jabbing comment may hold some shallow-minded connotations – though he could commiserate, mind you – he did have some awful memories of his time living south of the border; he didn't need to look around. In fact, he could both generalize and deepen her prior statement. He was well aware of where they were, as well as the reasons as to why they were currently in exile: the awareness, persecution, injustice, death, and hopelessness that happened after the carnival and just about everything the war brought and kept on insisting upon their dog-tired shoulders. That was pretty hard to ignore.
He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Because, Claire, we are going to be around for a long time and contrary to what your conception of my persona may dictate about my place in all this, I don't want this to happen all over again; so if I can sensitize future generations on the truth behind this worthless war to stop having to sleep in a trunk and eat chicken soup for the rest of my lengthy life then God help me, I will."
As expected, by the end of his improvised speech, he was breathing hard, but this was not a purely physical reaction to the lack of pause in his rant or the unbearable heat of the desert; his shoulders were shaking too, barefaced evidence of his residual anger and overall frustration. He was done doing the apathetic act he put on for her sake. Tiptoeing around Claire Bennet had clearly not worked to make her more amenable to his presence, to his change. Enduring cocktail after cocktail of endless highway and endless whining was driving him crazy and he threw in the towel. He was done with her bratty attitude, no matter how mad Peter and Noah would get if he abandoned her sorry ass for the coyotes to chew on.
He was caught off guard however when Claire snatched the camera from his distracted hands with a quick and assertive movement.
"Hey!" He yelled, indignation lacing his lone word and eyes widening in irritation as he tried to take it back but she just ducked out of his grasp. Victim of a deafening exasperation that strained his muscles, he gave up before he could reach more extreme measures but not before he send a pulverizing glare her way, "Watch it cheerleader; you are gonna break it."
She paid no attention to his words, as she often did when he was involved, and instead turned the camera over in her hands, peering at it with a sort of clinical look that had him frowning. Fiddling with it for a moment, she seemed to accomplish whatever the hell she had imposed herself to do beforehand and pushed it back against his chest rather smoothly. Her consideration made him frown deeper in confusion. "Here," she mumbled averting her eyes from his inquisitive ones. "It has a timer," she explained snappily and gestured to the item.
Sylar looked down, discovering that yes indeed there was a little clock symbol and it was running. When he lifted his head, he was met with an expectant and impatient set of green eyes observing him. Sylar lifted a bushy eyebrow but complied with her silent request, placing the camera over the hood of the car and angling the lens so it would focus on his body.
Claire sighed, apparently annoyed with him and stepped closer, way closer that she have normally allowed him to be. His brow furrowed but he didn't dare to move. He was half expecting for her to snap and drive a pencil or another blunt instrument into his eye when she sighed again. "If History books are going to have your ugly face stamped all over them, then we should even it out with my face in them too."
She looked at him for a second and Sylar was perplexed at the snippet of a smile that crossed through her features when just as quickly she was turning away, putting a quick lid on whatever he thought he had seen.
Mirages?
"For the sake of the future generation's sanity."
Yeah, definitely mirages. Still, it was better than to get nothing at all, and Claire was well-known for not yielding. Sylar couldn't hold in the tiny smirk as the camera flashed.
Note: for those who are waiting for a MNTSK update, I am working on it so expect an update soon :3
Kisses!