A/N: So, let's say Sylar never killed Elle on the beach, they're on the run and so totally crazy in love (emphasis on the crazy). It's getting close to Christmas and Sylar wants to make nice with Ma and Pa.

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After a month on the run, even staying in awesome hotels gets to lose its novelty. The pool is never a big attraction for Elle, Sylar hates being sweaty so the saunas are always a no-go, and the only thing the couple can agree on is the fact that killing bellhops is getting old.

Elle stretches out on the king-sized bed and studies her reflection in the mirror on the ceiling. Another evening of mind-blowing electric sex has come to an end. "What are you thinking about, baby?" She purrs, sated and sedated.

Sylar rolls over onto his side to admire Elle admiring herself. "All this running isn't as fun as it used to be." He traces his finger from Elle's navel up between her breasts and rests it over her slowing heart. "I think it's time to make up with my folks."

Elle makes a face at herself in the mirror before rolling onto her side to face her boyfriend. "Your dad is a creepy asshole and your mom is a manipulative harpy. Why do you wanna make nice with them?"

"Would you rather be on their bad side?" Sylar makes his argument. "My mom can see the future in her dreams and my dad has every ability Peter has ever had; some of which are cooler than mine."

"Flying isn't all that cool." Elle objects.

"Maybe not, but it's Christmas Eve and I'm a little old-fashioned. It should be spent with family, no matter how crazy they make you."

"Can't we just rob a Macy's dressed in Santa suits?" Elle begs.

"You know I look horrible in red."

"I know..." Elle concedes. She pauses for a moment, then reconsiders. "Fine. We can do Christmas with your family this year. But next year, I want to go to Hawaii. Deal?"

"Deal."

They have deal-sealing sex twice before going to sleep and departing for New York the next morning.

=-=-=-=-=-

"Moooooom, how come Nathan gets to sit at the other head of the table?" Peter whines, holding his place card over his head like a signal flare. "You said last year that I could sit there."

Angela Petrelli regards her least-favorite son for a moment before answering him "Because Nathan is a Senator and you are a male nurse. The most important jobs get the heads. We've been over this, Peter."

Peter pouts prettily, puffing his emo bangs out of his eyes. "Nurses have important jobs, Mom. And why do you need to emphasize the 'male' part? It's clear I have a pe-"

"Hey Ma, Pete. Merry Christmas!" Nathan says, entering the dining room with Claire, his two sons, and his wife Heidi.

"Oooh, there's my handsome man!" Angela squeals, rushing across the spacious dining room to smother her oldest son with affection. "How was the ride over? Was there enough room for everyone in the car I sent for you?"

"We were fine, Ma." Nathan assures her, flashing his mother two overly whitened rows of perfect teeth.

Peter twitches when he sees his lovely niece Claire enter the room. "H-hey Claire."

"Oh hi, Peter." Claire says, absent-mindedly. "How are things?"

"Awful."

"Hmm, that's nice." She sits in her assigned seat and sighs, bored and annoyed and dinner hasn't even started yet. She looks at the card next to hers and notices a name not related to the Petrellis at all. "Hey, why's Mohinder coming today?"

"Because I invited him." As if on cue, Arthur Petrelli enters the room with a brandy glass in his hand. He swirls the liquor around in the glass and smiles in a sinister fashion. If he had a mustache, he would twirl it, Claire bets. "I gave him the day off."

Peter, Claire, and Angela's eyes all narrow at the same time.

"It's Christmas for Christ's sake!" Arthur exclaims. "Let's put aside all our bitterness and trade it in for presents."

"Isn't Mohinder kinda all... creepy and scaly right now?" Claire asks, grossed out that she has to sit next to The Fly on Christmas. She really wishes she hadn't pulled that You Don't Love Me Enough So I'm Going To Have Christmas With My Bio-Fam stunt on her dad that morning. Especially since he finally got her that pony she'd been begging for.

"Since when do looks matter to you, Claire?" Peter asks, fully self-conscious.

"I'm a cheerleader, Peter." His niece clarifies. "It's always mattered."

The doorbell rings, pulling Peter out of his self-loathing long enough to remember other people besides him and Claire exist.

"Must be Brundle-Fly now." Angela comments, walking off to answer the door.

Expecting to see the moody scientist, Angela is taken aback when Sylar and Elle walk past her into the foyer. "What the Hell? No one invited you two!"

Sylar frowns. "It's Christmas, Mom. Time to be with family, right?"

Elle simply grins. Ear to ear. Angela can tell she's enjoying this way more than she should be. "Yeah Mom! Don't you wanna see your son and his wife on Christmas?"

"WIFE?"

"Yeah, well" Sylar shrugs. "Elle and I had nothing to give each other for Christmas, so we just decided to get married on the way here."

The entire house is silent.

"What?" Elle asks. "No 'congratulations'?"

Arthur beams. He's a huge Syelle shipper. "Well, I think it's fantastic! You two have any plans for babies?"

"Oh God, no." Elle says, while at the same time Sylar answers "Of course."

The newly weds look at each other a moment before sitting down at the table- Elle in Mohinder's seat and Sylar beside her in Peter's seat.

"That's my seat." Peter protests passively, watching as all the seats at the table get filled.

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Next Time…

Mohinder is fashionably late!

Dinner is served!

Peter whines!

…See you then.