"Huh?" Peter said dumbly, staring at Sylar's flaming hand.

"I have your power," Sylar said, his breathing starting to slow.

Peter finally pushed himself up on both hands, hypnotized by the fire waving sensuously only a few inches from him. He could feel the heat radiating from it. His brain sluggishly reminded him of Flint Gordon, one of the inmates on level 5, who could create a hot, blue fire exactly like the one Sylar was displaying. "I thought you had to cut people's heads open for that."

Sylar shrugged. "That's how it always worked. Of course, I never tried fucking anyone before." He seemed as surprised as Peter, which made Peter feel a little better about his own confusion.

Reality slowly filtered back into the scene. Peter rocked back onto his haunches, pulling out of Sylar, who grunted and shivered at the sensation as his ass slid back down on the bed. The fire went out and Sylar let his hand fall to the rumpled spread. He looked up at Peter, who braced his hands on his thighs and blew out air. "Um," Peter said after a pause, "yeah, I guess, yeah. There's no reason we have to be … exclusive."

"What?" Sylar said, his voice full of fear and hurt.

Peter looked to him immediately and moved one hand from his leg to Sylar's in an attempt to comfort him. "I mean", he tried to explain, "if you need to have sex with people. For abilities, I guess?" Sex is a whole hell of a lot better than murder. Wait, are we talking rape here? How does this thing work?

Sylar blinked at him, the fear and hurt fading fast into an amused relief. He laughed and looked up at the ceiling. "Peter, I have your ability. I can get them the same way you do!"

Now Peter blinked, processing that. "Oh." He brightened, having not been all that keen about thinking he was having an open relationship sprung on him the very first day, aside from the other troublesome questions he'd been mulling over. He rubbed Sylar's leg. "I didn't want to have to share." Again. Painful thoughts of Simone chased through his mind.

Sylar tilted his head. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Sylar repeated doggedly.

"Nothing."

Sylar shifted and sat up abruptly, hesitating a moment as he dealt with the very different sensations an intimate part of his body was giving him. After a few seconds, he focused on Peter again and reached to cup his face, eyes narrowed and tilting his head again in curiosity. "You felt something … unpleasant. What was that?"

Oh! Peter smiled a little, figuring this one out, at least. "It was an emotion, dork. I don't want to share you if I don't have to. I got cheated on a couple years back. That came to mind."

Sylar rubbed his thumb up and down Peter's cheek speculatively. "Incredible," he murmured. "No wonder you read me so well."

Peter sighed, pleased but tired and too out of it to consider the implications of Sylar being able to sense his emotions as easily as Peter read them in return. He was tired and blown by whatever that was they'd just done. Mind-blowing. "I want to either lay down and cuddle or go take a shower. Which do you vote for?"

Sylar looked down at his stomach, smeared with the results of two different orgasms and that wasn't even the main area he was worried about. "Shower."

"'Kay." But we get to cuddle after the shower. Or maybe in it, Peter added mentally. He climbed off the bed and got rid of the used condom before guiding Sylar through the house to the master bathroom. The shower there was large enough for two people.

Sylar looked the shower over like it might be a trap and said, "You just jump right into everything with a person, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up.

"We've known each other less than a day and we're … dating and … fucking and … showering together." Sylar spoke like the part about showering was the most intimate and abnormal to be doing with someone you didn't know all that well.

That was more than just fucking, man. I don't know what that was, but it was way more than just fucking. And if sex with you is always like that … I … I … Jesus, I might never fuck anyone else! Peter grinned easily and turned to loop his hands behind Sylar's neck. It wasn't hard to draw him down into a sweet, simple kiss. Peter smirked and said, "I have kind of a history of jumping off buildings hoping I'll learn to fly before it's too late."

Sylar raised a brow. "With anyone else, I'd say that was suicidal."

Peter shrugged, a lot of complicated emotions swirling around inside of him. "Maybe I am."

Sylar's expression changed and shifted. Peter felt something akin to love coming from him – it was, at the very least, a deepening affection. He hugged Peter tightly and didn't speak.

The next day, Peter was craning his neck to see inside of the conference room, but he couldn't make out anything useful. There was at least a half dozen other people in there. He recognized the facilities manager, but then Nathan was shutting the door behind him and Peter's view was cut off. Nathan gave him a faint smile. "Peter." His gaze rested on Peter but for a second, before passing by to regard the threatening man standing close at Peter's back. Nathan didn't recognize Sylar, having no reason to as they'd never met. The only time Nathan and Sylar had even been close to one another, Nathan had been a bit distracted by Peter irradiating everything nearby.

Ever since Peter and Sylar had teleported into theOdessafacility earlier that morning, Sylar had been emoting 'stone cold serial killer' and 'do you want to be my next victim?' to everyone they came across. His demeanor conveyed the seething anger that was just under the surface. Peter knew that further down, he was … well, yes, he was still seething with anger, but Sylar was also terrified, which was why he had not strayed more than an arm's length from Peter the whole time they'd been here. They'd been roaming around trying to figure out where Nathan was. They'd finally found him.

"This is Sylar," Peter said.

"Sylar?" Nathan replied, his tone indicating his recognition and surprise. Last Nathan had known, Sylar had been a rampaging killer. He looked at Peter questioningly.

"We're together," Peter said firmly.

Nathan's eyes flitted back to Sylar, who was standing behind and to the side of Peter, too close for casual positioning. His proximity had a lot more to do with fear than intimacy, but Nathan didn't know that. He looked back and forth between them, obviously processing the different possible meanings of 'together'. Very quietly, he said, "There are some things you probably shouldn't be flaunting, Peter."

Stiffly Peter answered, "Oh? You think I should keep it in the closet, like you did with your ability to fly?"

Nathan's expression closed off further and he snapped, "Certain people might not be as open-minded as you think they should be."

Peter heard Sylar shift behind him and saw Nathan's eyes warily dart back to the taller man. Sylar stepped out beside Peter, extending his hand and exuding a shy, endearing harmlessness that caught Peter's attention immediately because it was so different than his previous aura of menace. "I don't think I caught your name," Sylar said quietly, "but I know you're very important to Peter. I'm Gabriel Gray."

Gabriel? Peter blinked in surprise, not sure if this meant he should relabel his companion in his mind, or if that was a Nathan-only, polite-introductions name. Now that Peter thought about it, Sylar had never asked Peter to call him 'Sylar'. Peter just had, because everyone else did. What the man wanted to be called might be something else entirely. He filed it away as something to ask when they weren't in the middle of things.

After a pause, Nathan reached out and shook Sylar's hand. "Nathan Petrelli. Yeah, I'm his big brother." He tried to stand a little taller and squared his shoulders at Sylar, who slouched even further and ducked his head. Peter could have burst out laughing at the dynamics, but he settled for a single, quiet chuckle.

"Of course," Sylar said, backing down. What impressed Peter especially was that most of Sylar's concession was real, even if the body language was exaggerated. Very softly, Sylar said, "Your brother is a wonderful person, Mr. Petrelli."

Nathan let go of Sylar's hand and stood quietly for a moment before relaxing slightly. "Yes. Yes, he is. Call me Nathan."

"Thank you," Sylar said in a voice that was a bit more normal for him, with a grudging respect. "Nathan," he added, giving a single deep nod.

Nathan returned a much shallower nod and looked to Peter, dismissing and accepting Sylar's presence in the same motion. "I was serious though. Ma's here."

Oh shi-