AU: Spy!Peter and Spy!Sylar

Snooping Around

Peter Petrelli had a rough day. He got up late, forgot his brothers birthday, his mother called and to top it all off: his partner died in an explosion that destroyed New York City's oldest building. Nope, not one of his top days.

He grumbled into his messy apartment and collapsed on the couch with a groan. Granted, he didn't like his partner very much, but he didn't deserve to die. Not like that. Peter made his way over to the kitchen table where a package was waiting for him. It was no ordinary package and Peter knew exactly what it meant before he opened it. It was a summons. He needed to go into the Agency for his next assignment. Grumbling, Peter got up and walked out the door again.

The spy business isn't all lights and stunts like you see on the movies. There is a legit agency where the spies work, although they have to be secret about some things, they aren't doing stuff behind the governments back or anything either. It's just work. Peter didn't know that when he first started though. Fresh out of medical school and full of hope, very different from the person he was presently. He found out soon enough that it was just as boring as every other job in the world; the only difference was that the chance of retirement is less than ten percent.

Peter walked past the receptionist on the first floor and over to the elevator. He still had some dirt and grime on him from the explosion but he didn't pay any attention to it. Some of the travelers in the elevator looked at him strangely because of this though but quickly looked away as he pressed the button for the fourth floor. Special Ops. No one messed with Special Ops.

As Peter walked into the General's office, he knew something was up. The first thing that tipped him off was the fact that the Lone Wolf was sitting in one of the chairs. Sylar AKA Lone Wolf preferred to work alone, and he was good at what he did. The second thing that tipped Peter off was that the room was deadly silent. Usually the spies talked to each other, like co-workers, but the air in the room was stagnant.

"Peter, you're finally here. I'm sorry about Steven." The General said as Peter sat down in the available seat. "Now since you are both here, I'm sure no introductions are needed, I'm going to cut straight to the point." He paused. "You two will be on assignment at a club. All the details are in this folder." He pushed a manila folder towards the duo. "You know what to do. Dismissed." The two got up and before Peter could reach for the folder Sylar snatched it off the desk and walked out the door.

Peter followed the 'Lone Wolf' to his desk, where he was sitting down, already looking at the papers. Peter cleared his throat, causing Sylar to look up, "I work alone, so you can go do whatever, I won't be needing you." He looked back down at the papers.

"I didn't ask if you'd need me." Peter said, "We're partners now and I know you don't like that but it's reality. I'm not the kind of guy to just sit around and do nothing, so you're stuck with me." He waited for Sylar to respond but when he didn't, he snatched the papers out of the other's hand. That gesture caused Sylar to stand up and the office to go silent, watching the duo intently. "We're partners." Peter said finally.

Sylar was silent for a second, then grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and put it on, "Fine. Try and keep up." He walked past Peter and out the door, Peter right on his tail.

Once outside, Peter fought to keep up with the fast walking Sylar. "Alright, the club's name is Haste and it was first founded in the 1990's."

"But it says here that it was condemned in the early 2000's though." Peter said, looking through the jumbles of paper in his hands, while trying to dodge pedestrians going the opposite direction.

"Yeah, until Santa Del Rio bought it out." Sylar glanced back.

"Saint of the river?"

"Otherwise known as Jonny Lively. He was named Santa Del Rio by the locals, mainly because he dumps the bodies of his victims in the river. He's a folk hero, and for that reason, we haven't been able to catch him." Sylar turned around quickly and looked at Peter. "Until now."

"So we go to the club and what? How do we catch him?" Peter asked, "We can't just go up to him and say: 'hey, could we throw you in prison for the rest of your life? Thanks.'" Sylar chuckled and began walking again, turning the corner on the busy street.

"There's a big drug dealer in town. Marxie Smith. Ever heard of him?" Sylar glance back and Peter nodded. "Well, if all the information is accurate, both of them are going to be at that club Thursday night."

"Good, we can catch both of them in the act."

"No, we only go after Lively." Sylar said, "It's going to be hard enough taking him down, we don't need to worry about Smith." He stopped again, causing Peter to almost crash into him. "This is me." Peter looked up at the apartment building and Sylar turned around, "Look over the papers." He said and went into the apartment building, leaving Peter in the cold.

Peter wasn't one for grieving. He got over that phase real quickly when he encountered his first hostage situation. The mission failed and the Agency wasn't one to give a day or two to recover, unless you were injured, and quickly gave him a new assignment. But that didn't stop Peter from feeling guilt over his now ex-partner. Could he have stopped the bomb from going off and killing him? Probably not, but Peter knew he was going to lose sleep over it. He was still human after all.

After ordering Chinese and turning on his favorite soap opera, Peter settled in and started to read the mission papers. He fell asleep on the couch within the hour.

Around nine o'clock, Peter knocked on Sylar's door. He had some ideas on how they could infiltrate the club and was excited to share them with his new partner. The door opened and staring Peter right in the face was a bald man, about mid-twenties. In his underwear. "Um." Peter was speechless, was he at the wrong door? "Is this Sylar's apartment?" He asked cautiously. The bald man stepped aside to reveal Sylar, wearing nothing but his underwear and a pair of dark rimmed glasses. Peter's mind immediately went past the normal 'What is going on here?' to 'Wow, I didn't know Sylar was so…sexy.'

"What are you doing here?" Sylar was the first one to talk, he seemed rushed and frantic; the bald man turned around and walked back into the apartment.

Peter held up the folder from the day before, "I wanted to go over some ideas I had…but if this is a bad time…I could come back." He looked away. What was he supposed to say? Sorry I caught you with your…Peter looked back up at Sylar, who was staring at him intently.

"Don't worry, he was just leaving." Sylar said and the bald man, now fully clothed walked past Sylar and out of the apartment, walking down the stairs, leaving the two alone. "Come on in." Sylar said and stepped aside to let Peter into his apartment. "Make yourself at home." He said and walked into a back room, closing the door behind him.

Peter looked around the apartment. Surprisingly it was full of books. The walls were lined with bookcases, packed with books and papers. It wasn't at all what Peter had imagined the Lone Wolf's apartment would be like.

Sylar walked out of the room, now fully dressed and without his glasses on. "I didn't know you wore glasses…" Peter started as Sylar went to sit on the couch next to him.

"I wear contacts mostly." He explained, "So what was your idea?"

"Oh, yeah, well, I was thinking one of us could be a bartender and the other could be a customer…."

"One problem." Sylar paused, "How are we going to get in? We can't just say we're with the CIA. I have a solution though. Thursday night is costume night; they only let in the people with the best costumes."

"Great. We just need costumes and we're all set." Peter smiled. "What kind of costumes were you thinking of?"

"I'm not going to do it." Peter said crossing his arms and shaking his head. He was in Sylar's bedroom, which was spacious to say the least, looking at his costume for the mission. A slinky red dress, complete with red pumps and purse. "No way."

"You're just more feminine than I am. It's the way it works, it has to look realistic." Sylar said, shrugging. "You can use the bathroom." He then smiled and walked out of the room. Peter glared at him as he walked out; he was already wearing his costume: a black button up shirt with a red tie—to match the dress—and tight black jeans. They were supposed to be going as...Peter had already forgotten, but he didn't like it.

He had a little trouble putting on the dress and walking out of the bathroom in the high heels but he managed to not fall and break his ankle. There was a mirror that Peter caught a glimpse of himself in: blonde wig and poorly put on makeup. He looked like a…it didn't matter, he just couldn't believe that he was wearing a dress. "I'm not going." He called through the closed door.

The door opened and Sylar stepped in. "Wow." He looked at Peter. "You look…"

"Horrible?"

"Different. I'm not saying it's a good look for you or anything, but it'll do." Sylar shrugged, "Come on, we're going to be late. We'll take my car." And he left the room.

"What do you mean by that?" Peter asked, following Sylar out to his car. "Nice car." He said, almost tripping as he got into the passenger's seat.

"Thanks. I think so too." Sylar said and revved the gas, flying down the empty street to Haste.

When the duo got to the club, they quickly made their way to the front of the line. The bouncer unclipped the red velvet rope and let them both in to the loud club. "Alright, so where is this guy supposed to be?" Peter yelled over the trashy pop music playing in the background.

"Right there." Sylar pointed to a large man in a red zoot-suit. Peter started for the man when Sylar held him back. "Hold on. Let's observe for a while." He pushed Peter into a seat and a waiter almost immediately came over. "I'll have a vodka on the rocks and she'll have a cosmo." The waiter nodded and left.

Peter glared at the other man, "Thanks." He said dully. "So how long do you suppose we wait?"

Three hours, five drinks and twelve hits later.

"I told you that you looked presentable." Sylar leaned over.

"They were drunk. Just like you." Peter pushed Sylar away as two large bouncers came up to them.

"Hello you two. Having fun tonight?" One bouncer said to them as the other hoisted them up by their elbows. Moments later they found themselves thrown out of the club.

"You boys are in a lotta trouble." The General said, pacing his office. The duo, who were crouched over in their seats with horrible hangovers, groans simultaneously. "What were you doing in there?"

"We'll get the guy next time-" Peter said quietly.

"No need, he turned himself in. Oh and he said something about you: quite the comedians." He paused and looked at them. "I want you two out of my office. You'll be called when I want to see you again. Dismissed." The two walked out solemnly.

"I…I guess you don't want me as your partner anymore." Peter said as they walked out of the Agency. "I understand."

"It was fun, more fun than I've had in a while now." Sylar smiled, "Maybe we'll have more fun next time." And he started to walk away.

"Next time? You mean…" Peter's eyes lit up but Sylar was already out of shouting distance.