Beyond Categorisation
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Warning: May contain traces of crack. And sexual references, but only small ones.
Disclaimer: Heroes isn't, wasn't, will never be mine.
Author's Note: I couldn't get this out of my mind. Written at twenty to one in the morning *sigh*
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He had categorised every look, every glance, every nuance of his face.
There was the Naughty Smile, complemented by a raised eyebrow, and anything Sylar did with his eyebrows was immediately noticeable. It usually came out on the occasions Sylar felt like playing dirty. Not kinky dirty either. Fighting dirty; once he'd even gone so far as to trick Peter into thinking there were cookies under the sink just to get him to bend over.
No one came between Peter and his cookies. Not even him. He smiled. Well, it had been an enjoyable experience, that, despite the difficulties preceding it.
Then there was the Brooding Look, which Peter thought was perfected through repeated viewings of Angel, due to the remarkable similarities between the brooding vampire's mannerisms and Sylar's when he was in a snit. He usually cloaked himself in darkness (i.e. he went into a room and turned out all the lights) and settled in for a nice, good brood, which involved many deep sighs and the occasional glare at inanimate objects.
Peter usually left him alone during these times, mostly because the one time he'd tried to address the issue, Sylar had jumped down his throat. That had definitely been an experience he did not want to repeat.
The makeup sex hadn't been that bad though.
And of course there was the Fleeting Glance, which Sylar only trotted out when he had thought up some particularly ingenious way to get them both in trouble and didn't really know how to broach the subject. Either that or he was in an intensely amorous mood, if you get his drift. It varied. Sometimes it was both.
He smirked. Like that one time he'd pretended to be Matt Jr's imaginary friend. The elder Matt Parkman had not been pleased at all. Janice had pretended to disapprove, but you could tell she was trying very hard not to snigger at the look on her husband's face when he found out Peter and Sylar had been taking his son on some of their missions. After all Matt had thought this "Mr. Eyebrow Man" was imaginary. But that was nothing compared to the look on Matt's face when his son had expressed nothing but undying devotion towards his "Uncle" Peter and "Uncle" Sylar. The man had looked as though he'd explode at any moment. Sylar had been particularly adventurous that night.
Then...there was It. It could not be categorised, it was only...it. That Look, the one that made Peter quiver in his big, strong, intensely masculine boots; the one that turned him into a slushy pile of goo. Sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell. It took his breath away every time.
Like now. He had no idea why Sylar was giving him that look; he'd done nothing to warrant it. He hadn't even surprised him with a blowjob that morning like he usually did.
"Peter?"
"Yeah?" Peter tried not to seem nervous. He thought he succeeded.
"Do you think you could pass the salt, or are you just going to sit there staring at me all night?"
Peter sighed, handing him the salt without a second's thought. Their fingers brushed. Sylar smiled.
Oh dear.
Someday Peter would like to know just what that look meant. For now, he was content with it being beyond categorisation. It made life interesting.
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Well.
Review please.