Title: Influence
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 1,100
Setting: The Wall
Summary: MBU doodle. It makes sense in context. I'm not sure it does without the setting. And because I'm going to post this as a Brick anyway, the context is that Sylar has stripped his shirt off and is/was taunting Peter with how damn sexy he is. It made Peter mad, so he decided it was time to sort sheet music instead of drool over what he wouldn't allow himself to have. When Sylar tempted him some more, Peter said he'd better back off or else Peter would kick his ass.

Sylar felt a warm delight at the situation. Peter was just beside himself, so hopelessly aroused and off-kilter that he was threatening violence should Sylar push him any further. That sort of thing never worked – the threat only made the act that much more irresistible to Sylar. But pushing Peter right now was just too easy. It would take no more than the pressure of a single fingertip, metaphorically speaking, to send Peter over the edge and see him leap up swinging, kissing Sylar's face with his fists.

While that had its appeal, they had only fought yesterday and Sylar's back still ached. He would not give a satisfactory accounting of himself if things turned physical. He never wanted Peter to see him as a disappointment. There were other ways to handle it, in any event. It would be an even greater display of control if he were to defuse the overly roused Peter.

Sylar pushed off from the piano and with only one graceful step and a pivot, he sank to the floor right next to where Peter was squatting in front of the bench, lid up, a piece of sheet music held so tightly in his hand that he was crumpling it. Peter recoiled from him faster than most people would have moved after the sudden discovery of a venomous snake. Sylar gave every appearance of ignoring the reaction. "What is it we're looking at here?" He made a show of peering at the piece of music Peter was gripping.

Peter yanked his hand back, paper with it, off to his right where Sylar couldn't see it. He was stiff now in body, though probably no longer in groin. Pity. Sylar didn't look. Peter had already commented on the power of perception. Also, Sylar didn't want to get hit. The whole point was to get as close to the angry, young lion as possible without being mauled.

The tension fairly rolled off of Peter. His breathing was fast and forced. Sylar casually looked into the drawer of the bench at the other sheet music there. "Didn't you say something about picking songs fit for the guitar?" He made a slow, deliberate gesture at the contents, not touching them for now. He was already so close to Peter they were inches from touching. Peter might have jerked away when Sylar had joined him, but he'd refused to flee.

Lightning fast, Peter's left hand shot out and struck him on the shoulder with the heel of his hand. It jostled Sylar hard. Peter rose up an inch or so in his squat, body language clearly teetering on the edge of combat. It was delicious to Sylar. He longed to look Peter in the eye, sneer, laugh, and get tackled for it – but that wasn't his goal. He rocked with the blow, glanced Peter's way only briefly, and kept his head and hands down. Peter had hit him trying to start a fight, or perhaps just exploring Sylar's intentions. Slowly and calmly, Sylar said, "That one in your hand looked like a traditional hymn." He gestured with no more than a movement of two fingers, otherwise staying very still.

For several seconds, there was silence between them. Sylar waited patiently, keeping himself relaxed with all visible indications of serenity. Finally, eventually, Peter took a deeper breath and looked at the sheet in his hand. He huffed slightly and turned to look at the other papers, sorting through them with his left hand while he still held the other in his right. He adjusted his position back to squatting where he'd been to start with, putting them only an inch apart.

It was an excellent sign. Sylar put a hand on the edge of the bench drawer and lifted his head enough for it to be clear he was watching. Peter shot him a few small glances, but otherwise ignored him. Since Peter seemed to have settled down, Sylar touched one of the pages on his side. "What about this one?"

Peter bristled again, but it was only a subtle shift of weight and tucking in of his chin. His bicep flexed, but then after only a moment, he pulled the page Sylar had indicated over to himself and looked at it. He didn't speak, but something about the sheet led to Peter looking around uncertainly. The next moment after that, he was gathering up all the music, emptying the drawer.

Sylar wanted to ask what Peter was doing, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't get an answer. He shifted to watching Peter directly. It was probably safe, and he needed to know if Peter was going to do something bizarre like bolt from the room. As it turned out, no. Peter removed all the papers, then removed himself to a few feet away, where he settled to sit cross-legged on the floor. Sylar mirrored him a few seconds later, sitting directly across from him.

Peter looked up at him. Sylar put on his most guileless, inoffensive face. Peter's lips pressed together and he looked aside. A moment later, he handed Sylar half the stack of papers. Sylar held them carefully, not sure what to do. Peter spoke. "Help me sort them. Put all the church stuff over here." He set down the crinkled first page he'd been looking at. "Put anything slow, complicated, or boring over here." Peter pointed next to the church stack. "Anything that looks interesting or you want to hear, put over here." He indicated the other side of them. "I'll look through those and see what I can do."

With that, Peter began sorting the sheets he'd reserved for himself, keeping his eyes on the task and off of Sylar. He'd lost his blush and the adrenaline-fueled glow of battle-readiness, but he was still interesting to look at. Sylar could smell him more definitely, too. He'd made Peter tense, hot, and sweaty. Sylar smiled to himself and sorted papers. He had succeeded. And in addition, he realized as he finished parsing the sheet music he'd been given, he would have some input on the songs Peter chose to serenade him with this afternoon. It was more than he'd hoped for.