Got Me Like A Rocket (Shooting Straight Across The Sky)
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, Claire, Noah, the Haitian, Angela
Author's Note: Title from This Kiss by Faith Hill, because I have no imagination.
Warnings/Spoilers: This is crack. Pure, utter crack. I have no idea where this came from, but I ain't complaining. Slash. References to Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Language of the potentially offensive variety. Crossdressing. Sexual references (and hey, if you actually guess what they're doing through the dialogue alone, there's a cookie in it for you). This fic is mostly dialogue, because that's just the way it turned out. May contain nuts.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. It belongs to NBC, Tim Kring and other people who make way more money than I do. They're welcome to it. I just wrote this to entertain myself (and you, dear readers).
"You know when Quasimodo holds up Esmerelda and shouts 'Sanctuary! Sanctuary!'?"
"Are you saying you want to dress me up in a white dress and hold me up on the roof of a very tall building while randomly shouting 'Sanctuary'? That's what you want?"
"No. And yes. That is, if you don't mind."
"Yes, I most certainly do mind. Seriously, you are the weirdest person I know."
"Well, you did ask me what I wanted."
"Yeah, but I thought you were going to say something involving sex."
"It could involve sex if you wanted it to."
"You want to dress me up as a girl. This says a lot about how you're dealing with the whole gay thing."
"Peter, you wouldn't even look like a girl. If it helps, imagine you're Scottish and the white dress is a type of strange kilt."
"I can't believe you just said that."
"Look, if this is some kind of affront to your manhood, you don't have to do it..."
"I never said I would do it."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
"That is a very good question. I think we should just stop talking and agree to disagree."
"Sounds like a good plan. Better than some of your other ones."
"Don't start."
"What? All I said was..."
"I know what you said. You think I'm an idiot."
"You have to admit that sometimes you don't think things through..."
"That doesn't make me an idiot."
"True, but some people see it that way."
"I suppose you're one of them?"
"No. The only reason I hate it when you go in without thinking is because, more often than not, you end up getting hurt. Remember last month, at the Corporation factory? If I hadn't been right behind you, you would have died."
"Oh, Sylar, you do care about me! I knew there was a reason you kept hanging around me. I mean, other than the sex."
"And there you go again. It always comes back to the sex with you. It's like that's all this relationship is to you."
"Well, it is. It's not like I love you or anything. I mean, I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns."
"And yet we have sex."
"You're hot. That has nothing to do with how I feel about you."
"Oh, really? So if I suddenly denied you sex, you'd just find it elsewhere? You wouldn't come begging?"
"Sure, it's not that hard."
"So you've done it before."
"What?"
"You've been having sex with other people while also having sex with me."
"Why would I do that? You're great in bed. I don't need or want anyone else."
"That's good to know. But if I denied you sex, then you'd have to find someone else to become your fuck buddy."
"You're not my fuck buddy."
"Oh, then what am I?"
"...something else."
"Call it what you want, you'd have to find someone else to fulfill the role."
"...wait, this is just a hypothetical situation, right? You're not really go to deny me sex, just because I wouldn't let you dress me up in a white dress and hold me off a building...are you?"
"I don't know. I'm liking the sound of it the more I think about it, though."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Actually, Peter, I'm very much not kidding. You obviously don't feel the same way I do about this relationship, so why don't we just cut our losses and start seeing other people?"
"Wait. Sylar, is this your roundabout, very convoluted way of telling me you're in love with me?"
"Where did you get such a preposterous idea from, Peter? I could never love someone who hates me with the fire of a thousand suns. That would be a very stupid thing to do. And I've never done a stupid thing in my life now, have I, Peter?"
"You do love me!"
"Really, Peter, stop being so dense. I don't love you and I never have. This whole relationship, if it can be called that, is based entirely on sex. But at least I don't mention it every time someone asks us a simple question! It's so much more fun telling people we're in love. Their expressions are priceless!"
"...you do that for the laughs? You don't mean it?"
"Do you want me to mean it?"
"What? No! I mean..."
"Peter, you don't really hate me with the fire of a thousand suns, do you? You love me, you're just too afraid to admit it!"
"I am not! I do hate you, and for good reason. You're a complete bastard! You used to kill people, you make fun of everyone we know, you insult me all the time, you continuously tell me to get a haircut, even though you know that annoys me. The only redeeming quality you have is that body, a fact I take advantage of every chance I get. And it's the only reason we're in this relationship to begin with."
"It's a very bad reason, if you ask me."
"No one's asking you. And anyway, you're biased. You think you're ugly."
"I don't think I'm ugly."
"Yes, you do. You hate it when I want to look at you. You can't see how beautiful you are. And you can tell I'm not lying about this so don't you dare call me a liar."
"Oh, go fuck yourself."
"With pleasure. There's just one teensy weensy problem."
And what's that?"
"I'd much rather fuck you."
"You're impossible."
"It's why you love me."
"I thought we'd got past this. I don't love you."
"And I don't love you. Can we have sex now?"
"I'm almost positive Angela dropped you on your head when you were a baby."
"It's a definite possibility. Now take off your pants."
"Why don't you take off your...oh, I see. You're already doing that. Great, just great. I really thought we'd be able to have a normal conversation."
"You wouldn't be the first one to think you're delusional."
"I suppose you were one of them."
"Were? I still am. Now get down on your knees and be a good boy."
"You get down on your knees, you bastard—oh."
"What was that?"
"Stop talking and get back to work."
"You know, I thought that was what you said, I just wasn't sure..."
"Fuck you."
"Talk dirty to me."
"Shut up."
"Oh yeah, baby, you know how I like it."
"Peter, if you don't stop talking and fucking concentrate, I will not be responsible for anything I do as a consequence of your behaviour."
"Yeah, Sylar, you know it."
"That's it. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a month."
"Sylar, I really don't love you."
"And I really don't love you too, Peter. Now concentrate—oh, god, fuck yes, please, Peter, yes yes yes, fuck..."
"Who's begging now, huh? Oh, I'm good."
"You son of a bitch."
"Sylar, I would really appreciate it if you didn't talk about my mother while we're doing this. It's very distracting."
"It's distracting, is it? I'll show what's distracting."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"I said no!"
"I banked on that, which is why I brought reinforcements."
"Reinforcements? Who in their right mind would help you?"
"Well, they don't exactly have minds..."
"...you stole Matt's handcuffs?!"
"More like borrowed, actually. If he wants them back after I'm done with them, I'd be more than happy to return them."
"You're going to force me after what I just did? You fucking bastard!"
"Yes, you keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Oh, come now, Peter. You will enjoy this, you'll see."
"I highly doubt that."
"You know why you'll enjoy this?"
"...no."
"Because you have a love/hate relationship with rooftops..."
"Who told you that?"
"Claire. Now shut up and let me finish."
"...okay."
"Now where was I? Love/hate relationship with rooftops...oh, yes. That dress isn't going to stay on long."
"Then why do I have to wear it at all?"
"Because I am seriously the weirdest person you've ever known."
"I see."
"Now, are you going to come quietly or will I have to resort to the handcuffs?"
"Handcuff me. I've been very bad and I need to be punished."
"How have you been bad?"
"I said no when I meant yes."
"And how does this bad thing deserve to be punished?"
"Put me in a white dress, take me up to a rooftop and fuck me silly."
"...and we're back to the sex."
"Of course. You didn't think I was going to let you dress me up for nothing, did you?"
"I guess not."
"You're so fucking hot, Sylar. Now handcuff me again!"
"No. Put the dress on."
"You're no fun."
"Probably not. Put it on."
"Fine. You have the weirdest fantasies, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, I do. Probably why I'm in this relationship to begin with. You're up for anything."
"I am not."
"Oh? Name something you wouldn't let me do to you."
"I wouldn't let you set me on fire."
"Yeah, because that's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why would anyone want that?"
"You do care."
"Of course I do. Do you know how hard it would be to find someone else who'd put up with me and my crazy fantasies? Believe me, I've tried. It's impossible. You're fucking unique, Peter."
"You've been looking for my replacement?!"
"This was before we started having sex, Peter. You know, when I was trying to stop myself from attacking you?"
"Oh. I remember. You kept looking at me like you wanted to eat me. I feared for my life."
"I don't even need an ability to know that was a lie. You got off on it."
"Fine. I might have, occasionally. When I was bored."
"When you were bored, huh? So that time we'd just returned from infiltrating that coven, and I walked in on you jerking off and saying my name, you were bored then?"
"Well, maybe not every time. Hey, didn't you join me that time?"
"...I might have."
"I distinctly remember you taking me in your arms and holding me. Oh, and kissing my forehead, I remember that very well."
"Well, I distinctly remember you clinging to me."
"I do not cling."
"Peter, you know I know when you lie."
"That wasn't a lie."
"And I suppose that wasn't a lie either?"
"Shut up. Are we there yet?"
"Almost."
"Fuck! Sylar, what are you doing?"
"Taking you in my arms and holding you, what does it look like?"
"Like you intend to throw me off the roof."
"Peter, how did you know? Am I that transparent?"
"I hate you."
"Well, I don't hate you. I only dislike you. I fear you have me at a disadvantage."
"I'm sure all the advantage is on your side. You're the one with all the power. What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm going to put you down."
"Why? You hadn't even started shouting 'Sanctuary!' yet. I was getting a bit worried."
"Because you are fucking heavy. And you know how Mohinder feels about me poking around in his brain."
"Are you saying I'm fat?"
"Don't worry, honey, I'll still have sex with you."
"Oh, I'm so relieved. I don't know where I'd be if you wouldn't have sex with me."
"You'd be in the land of make believe, because that'll never happen."
"Really. So you want to have sex with me for the rest of your life?"
"If you'll have me."
"I...what?"
"Peter, have you gone deaf?"
"Uh, no. I just...what did you just say?"
"I said..."
"Because you obviously didn't just agree to us getting married. I must be hearing things, right?"
"If you say so. You wouldn't be the first one to think you're crazy."
"Oh, shut up. Wait. People think I'm crazy?"
"Yeah, lots of people do."
"Why?"
"Because of me. Of who I am. You know, the usual reasons. Oh, and Lyle apparently thinks you're crazy because you haven't cut your hair. Actually he thinks you're secretly blind as well, and that's why you don't seem to mind when it falls in your eyes."
"I told you not to mention my hair. And, wait, people think I'm crazy because we're having sex?"
"Yeah...you didn't know that?"
"No."
"Huh. Interesting."
"They really think that?"
"Yeah."
"...do you think that?"
"Sometimes. But that's only because I have self-esteem issues."
"What's their excuse?"
"Uh, Peter, I used to kill people. I killed you, once."
"Once? I was sure it was at least three times."
"Shut up."
"Seriously, how can they think I'm crazy when they look at you? You're one fine piece of eye candy."
"So, let me get this straight. If we get married, and I'm not saying we will, but if we do...I'm basically going to be like a trophy wife, aren't I?"
"Because we all know you're the girl in this relationship."
"Peter, there are no girls in this relationship. I can safely vouch for that."
"Would you just rip this dress off me already?"
"Fine. I will."
"Now, let's have sex."
"...and you can't even go a minute without asking for it, can you?"
"I wasn't asking, I was telling. Have sex with me. Now."
"As you wish."
"Sylar, don't say stuff like that—oh yes, harder, fuck yes, please...wait, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"But you never do this!"
"Well, I'm doing it now."
"I...yes...fuck, Sylar...yes yes yes yesyesyesyes...Sylar, I'm...ooh, yes..."
"Peter."
"...what?"
"There is a man in a hot air balloon above us."
"What?"
"...and, look, he just spilled his coffee."
"You better be joking, Sylar, or I swear I'll..."
"...do this?"
"Fuck! What the fuck was that?"
"Payback. For saying you hated me. Among other things."
"I really should stop lying to myself, huh?"
"You really should."
"But should I when you punish me like that? That's remarkable incentive for keeping things the way they are, right there."
"If we were girls..."
"...this would be hot. And also slightly impossible, since girls don't have dicks."
"Well, if you're going to joke about it..."
"Sylar, do you love me?"
"Isn't that a really random question?"
"Just answer it."
"Why? You never do."
"I love you."
"You're only saying that because we just had sex and I did something you've always wanted me to do."
"You know, you've just given me plenty of reasons to deny it. But I'm not going to. I love you. Because you're hot and you're mine. I love that you want to have sex with me, and that it wasn't just me thinking about it. I love that you're comfortable enough around me to tell me all your weird and, admit it, sometimes twisted fantasies. I love that you do things I want you to do, without me even asking, as you did just then. I love you."
"Well, this is certainly a surprise. One minute, you say you hate me with the fire of a thousand suns, and the next, you're in love with me?"
"They do say there's a thin line between love and hate."
"Whoever they are."
"Although I don't generally trust them, at this moment I'm thinking they're right."
"Okay then."
"So...?"
"So, what?"
"Well, fine then. I spill my guts to you and you just, what? Ignore it?"
"Peter, you know I love you."
"Why?"
"Do I really...? Okay then. Because you're hot. Because you make me laugh, sometimes unintentionally. Because I love having sex with you. Because you look really good on my arm when we go to all those parties you drag me to. Because, even though your hair annoys me to no end, I really couldn't see you without it. But I'd still love you if you were without it. Is that enough?"
"One more."
"Because you're mine, Peter Petrelli, and no one else can have you."
"No one else ever will. I'm yours and you're mine."
"I like the sound of that."
"I thought you would. You strike me as the possessive type."
"And what else do I strike you as?"
"Fuck, please don't do that."
"Why not?"
"You know perfectly well why not."
"Actually, Peter, I don't. Please enlighten me."
"Oh, go die in a fire."
"Now you're just being mean."
"How can you tell?"
"Peter, it's always very obvious when you're trying to be sarcastic. Please stop embarrassing yourself."
"Mom was right about you, you know."
"Oh yes, because she's never been wrong before. What was she right about this time?"
"About you being the death of me."
"I would never hurt you, Peter. Well, no more than I already have, and only if you ask nicely."
"You disgust me. I would never ask you to hurt—oh god..."
"What was that? Would you like a little more pain with your pleasure?"
"Again."
"Hmm? What was that?"
"Do. That. Again."
"Well, since you asked so nicely..."
"Yes! Fuck. Again, again, do that again...oh god, more, please, harder, more, Sylar, fuck, more, please."
"Peter?"
"Sylar, why the hell have you stopped?"
"Because I...are you sure I'm not hurting you?"
"No, ha, no. You're not hurting me...far from it, actually."
"Good."
"Oh, YES. I love you, really, I do."
"I'm glad you feel that way."
"You didn't hurt your hand, did you?"
"No."
"Okay. Good. That's...good."
"I can't believe that's the first question you ask after I did that."
"Well, if the little questions stump you, you ain't gonna believe what I'm going to ask you next."
"And what's that?"
"Can I do that to you?"
"...oh, Peter, fuck yeah."
"See now, that wasn't too hard, was it?"
"You get your kicks out of tormenting me, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do. And I'm always entertained."
"Well, I'm glad I'm so entertaining. Now, get to work."
"Sylar, this isn't work for me."
"I'm glad you think so. Stop talking."
"Don't you want me to talk? Don't you want me to tell you how tight you are?"
"Fuck, Peter, stop it."
"I'll stop it, if you tell me..."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, tell you what?"
"Tell me how much you want me."
"Oh, more than anything."
"Tell me how much you need me."
"I don't need air as much as I need you."
"Tell me how much you love me."
"More than life itself. Now, get on with yes, just like that, yes yes yes..."
"...wow, that was..."
"Fantastic."
"Why, thank you. You're too kind."
"Peter?"
"Mmm?"
"I meant everything I said."
"I know you did."
And they lived happily ever after. Okay, that's a blatant lie. They fought continuously. Claire eventually had to force them, at gunpoint, to get married.
("You realise that gun won't kill me, right?"
"Yeah, but it'll hurt like hell. And we all know how you feel about pain."
"I bet you don't."
"You scream like a little girl. And I'm not talking about the things you and Peter get up to. He doesn't like hurting you. I, on the other hand, enjoy it immensely."
"Of course you do, you sadistic bitch."
"Sylar, watch it. There are kids nearby.")
She also had to bound and gag most of the guests. Angela sat in the front row, glaring at her from above her gag, throughout the entire service. Claire waved her gun about every time Peter or Sylar deviated from the prepared script. Noah, bless his soul, gave his daughter his support and brought the Haitian along as backup, in case someone tried something funny.
The priest was utterly terrified, and the glares Claire kept sending him whenever he stuttered didn't help matters. Seriously, he was never doing another wedding if they were all this bad.
The kiss kind of made up for all that had gone before, even if it did go on a little too long.
Review please.