A/N: I have to thank my awesome betas Meg Silver, crazilazigurl, and Tracy_H2O (one of my Twitter babes). They're amazing for holding my hand. Also on the thank you list is Pretty_Astoria (another Tweetheart) for kicking me in the head and telling me to finish this chapter. Read and review, pimp it if you love it. You all rock.
Disclaimer: I do not own HEROES. It's property of Tim Kring and NBC network. I Think I Love the Zombie Man is property of the author, RosasaurusRECKZ. Theft is likely to have your skull cap removed and your brain eaten by the Zombie Man. Be kind, rewind. Don't steal other people's stuff. 3 you hard.
~*~*~Peter~*~*~
Six hours passed incredibly fast, but they were restless. I tossed and turned all night, the little sleep I got tormented with images of the brain eating man slicing my head open and eating my own brain. I awoke to the screaming alarm which pierced my poor excuse for pain-filled sleep. My head was pounding, my entire body felt like it'd been pierced a thousand times with white hot swords, and for a moment I had no clue where I was. The wail of the alarm clock soon grew to be unbearable, though, and I flailed my hand wildly in search of the switch that would silence it. There was a click, and I was left to my throbbing skull and the deafening silence.
I shoved the too-hot blankets off of my body and sat up, only to be hit with a wave of vertigo. Okay, moving too quickly. Once the nausea passed, I stood and staggered into the kitchen in search of something to kill this headache before it killed me. Leaning against the counter while rummaging through the cabinets, I soon discovered that I only have two things between those and the refrigerator: syrup and mustard packets. In absolute irritation, I slammed the cabinet door shut, which only caused my head to throb madly in protest to the sudden break in silence. Nothing! Abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING to soothe my brain-liquefying headache. Not even baby Motrin.
I turned to glance at the clock, which read 6:43 A.M. I'd wasted forty-three minutes trying to find painkillers. Damn it. I still needed a shower, because I stunk something awful, and I had to be at work in an hour. Growling in frustration, I stalked toward the bathroom, grabbing my phone off the nightstand as I passed my bed. I stripped my shirt off immediately when I made it into the bathroom, working the button on my jeans with one hand while adjusting the taps on the shower to the appropriate temperature: way too damn hot for my nerves. Once I had the water adjusted, I tugged the tight denim down my hips, taking the blue plaid of my boxers with it, and kicked both articles of clothing off hurriedly. Stepping into the shower, I let out a loud hiss as the boiling spray hit my skin, having forgotten to allow my flesh to adjust to the temperature before working up to it. I couldn't bring myself to care; I didn't have time for it anyway. I quickly started lathering shampoo into my hair, but due to my lack of care, I managed to get the shit in my eyes. Turning to flush my eyes with the shower water, I thought that there was no way this day could get worse, and it wasn't even eight in the morning yet.
Once I could finally see again, I finished rinsing out my hair before reaching for the soap and running it over my body. I took this time, which I didn't really have anyway, to think about last night. Why had he smiled like that? Why hadn't he killed me? Those perfectly shaped lips had pulled back into the most murderous smile I'd ever laid eyes on, yet here I stand. Before I could stop myself, I'd begun to think about what those lips would feel like on me, those teeth pressing against my skin, slick with sweat, and his hands, those warm hands, caressing the most intimate parts of my body, parts that only one person had ever touched before. I thought about how his lips would taste, how they would likely fit perfectly against anyone else's, but my own slightly misshapen one would ruin the perfection and delectability of a kiss with him. And then the thoughts seemed to take on a life of their own, becoming so much more vivid as if it were reality.
He wrapped his arms around my slightly smaller body, pulling me against the firmness of his chest and stomach, his hands at the small of my back holding me against him, but not painfully so. I gazed up at him with wide eyes, unsure of whether or not this was supposed to happen, and he chuckled. He leaned down, kissing my forehead and the tip of my nose before gently brushing his lips across my own, testing my reaction. Seemingly satisfied with my lack of fear, he kissed me again, but it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't just a chaste brush of the lips. His lips were firm against my own, his tongue greedily demanding entrance into my mouth to seek mine out. I wasn't about to deny him, when it's what I wanted. My lips parted, granting the access he so hungrily took as he wholly dominated me. I was intoxicated by his scent, his taste, the strength in his arms and the power in his lips.
My phone chose then to ring. My eyes snapped open, and I slammed the shower door open, giving an irritated huff as I dried my hands. The phone stopped its obnoxious tune just as I started reaching for it, only for it to immediately begin ringing again. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Nathan. It must be important if he's calling repeatedly, right? Flipping the phone open and hitting the send button, I pressed it to my ear. "Nathan, this better be important. I'm in the shower, and I have to leave for work in about twenty minutes." Even to me, my tone sounded hostile. Had I really enjoyed what I was imagining so much? I opened my mouth to offer an apology, but my brother's voice was fast and urgent in my ear.
"Pete, it's Claire. Something's wrong, weird. Listen, I need you to meet me somewhere so we can talk about this. I know you're supposed to be at work, but I don't have anyone else; you know I can't go to Mom. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
His voice really did sound apologetic, and he was right. I did know that he couldn't go to Ma. I gave a sigh before nodding, then realized he couldn't see me. "You owe me big time, like, breakfast and a call into the hospital saying that I can't be there. Senator. Call me back in five minutes and tell me we're meeting at the diner," I said with a smirk. Nathan hung up without another word, and I quickly wrapped a towel around myself after flipping the phone closed, muttering soft curses because it's going to be damn cold out there and I forgot to bring clothes into the bathroom. Drying myself off before dropping the towel in the hamper, I walked out of the bathroom totally naked, because it's my apartment and I can do that. What I'd forgotten is that the blinds were open, so anyone looking got a full view of my still half-erect cock and ass before I pulled on a pair of green and red plaid boxers. Christmas was coming, right? I pulled a black wife beater over my head and put on a pair of turquoise socks before going to rummage through my closet. Eventually, I settled on a pair of dark jeans and a bright green tee-shirt and was just about to pull on the orange Converses when my phone rang again. Not even bothering to look at the caller ID, I flipped the phone open and pressed send. "Nathan, tell me you got me off work. I don't have time to change again."
The voice on the other end chuckled, and I recognized the voice as familiar, but not Nathan. I almost missed what he said while trying to figure out who it was. "Mmm…you're off work, most definitely, but this isn't Nathan. I'll see you at the corner diner in half an hour, Pete," came that low purr. A shiver ran down my spine as that face flashed through my mind, along with images of what I'd been fantasizing about in the shower. Before I knew it, the line was dead. I closed the phone, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm myself down before opening my phone to check who it was. The call had indeed originated from Nate's phone, which meant that Zombie Man had it…which meant that Nathan was probably hurt!
Within seconds, I had my incredibly brightly hued shoes on my feet and had keys and wallet in hand, racing down the stairs to my car. It was a piece of shit, but it worked and it was faster than going on foot, which made it my best option. I jumped in the car and turned the key in the ignition, peeling out of the parking lot faster than actually safe, I'm sure. Zombie Man gave half an hour to get to the diner? I needed twenty-two and a half, and that's with hitting stop lights and everything! Maybe my car didn't suck as hard as I thought it did. In any case, I scanned the parking lot for Nathan's car, only to be disappointed and feel my heart rate spike when I didn't see it. I grabbed my wallet, turned the car off, and dropped the keys and wallet in my pocket before realizing that I'd forgotten my phone. Growling in frustration, I kicked the door open and slammed it closed before stalking into the diner and looking around for Nathan or Zombie Man.
I about screamed like a little girl when someone touched the small of my back. I jumped, spinning sharply on my heel and scaring the poor waitress out of her mind. Muttering a quiet apology, I moved into the diner, finally spotting Zombie Man off in the corner booth. He was wearing that cheeky grin as he waved me over, a black cap resting atop his mess of black hair, hiding the cruel blackness of his eyes. I sluggishly approached him, the rage that stemmed from the possibility that something could have happened to my brother replaced by a sudden inexplicable wariness. Well, maybe it can be explained: I didn't want my brain to be eaten! I slipped into the booth, immediately leaning forward and speaking in a low voice, "Where the hell is Nathan? What did you do with him?" I was scared for my brother's life, that much was apparent in my voice.
His lips pulled back into a grin, revealing those bright teeth that had been bloodstained last time I'd seen them. I feared the worst for Nathan's life then, images of my brother's life lost to the Zombie Man flashing through my mind. Nauseated by the thought, I dropped my head into my hands, looking down while I tried to regain control of myself. I was a nurse; I should have had better control over a vague possibility than I do over crushed skulls in person!
It's while sitting like that, with my elbows on the table and palms pressed against my eyelids, that he spoke, that smug, cocky voice so like velvet that soothed and caressed parts of my body that no human should ever have the right to touch, much less the ability to do so. I was so focused on the feelings and sensations associated with his voice that I'd forgotten he was actually speaking until he slammed his fist down on the table, causing me to jump when his voice came across as more of an angry growl than an amused purr. "Did you think I was talking just to hear myself talk, that what I have to say isn't important? Do you love your brother, Peter? Pay a bit of attention before I have to do something unpleasant!"
My eyes widened in fear, my breath catching in my throat as the fear set in once more. In my fear and anger, I managed to grit out, "You wouldn't…please, don't hurt Nathan. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Please, just leave my brother alone." I was scared, terrified of losing the only person in my life worth having. Sure, Nate could be insensitive and cold sometimes, but so could I. He was still my brother, I still loved him, and I still didn't want to lose him. "Anything, please, just leave him alone," I whispered.
He grinned and winked. He fucking winked at me! In a split second, he was back to that calm, mildly amused expression as if another personality entirely had taken over. Whether or not that was the case, I didn't know yet, but the change in demeanor almost instantaneously reminded me to tread carefully, because apparently this man's stability was less certain than I had originally thought. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest after removing that hat and giving me a perfect view of those eyes. "You're a bright man, Pete. Would I hurt Nathan? Would I squash out his life? You saw me the other night. I'm a monster. Granted, even monsters have boundaries. Are you willing to bet your brother's life on whether or not you know what lines I will not cross?"
That grin morphed into a cruel smirk as his eyes watched the horror on my face. He knew I wouldn't do it. He was playing me like a violin, and there was nothing I could do about it. Shaking my head, I sighed, saying, "You know I can't do that, Zombie Man. Just tell me where my brother is." Just then, the waitress from earlier walked up to us, a fake, ruby colored grin plastered on her orange face, leathery from too much time in the tanning bed.
"Hi there, boys, welcome to the Corner Diner. Can I get you something to drink? It's still early, so orange juice and milk are still on the menu, along with coffee. If you'd prefer a soda, we have Coke, Diet Coke, Mellow Yellow, Dr. Pepper…any of that sound good to you boys?" That disgusting smile never left her lips, but out the corner of my eye I saw Zombie Man's eye twitch. That was the only telltale sign of his irritation at being interrupted. I was irritated too, but also slightly relieved to have the attention shifted away from me.
"A Coke for me, and black coffee for my good friend here, ma'am," came his voice when I wasn't looking. The waitress gave a smile and a nod and said she'd be right back with those. Zombie Man gave a curt nod and uttered a quiet "thank you" before leaning toward me as she walked off. "Zombie Man? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, really, what inspired you to call me something so absurd?" His expression was a mix of confusion, curiosity, and that ever present amusement, his tone quiet but threatening still.
I coughed, looking down for a moment as I tried to think of how to reply to that. Finally, I decided on blunt. "Well, you…you ate that girl's brain like a zombie would. Besides, I don't know what else to call you, so it's Zombie Man until you give me a better name."
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit before pushing fingers through his hair. "You can call me Sylar. The nickname is adorable, though." He said this with a bemused smirk as he crossed those arms across his chest again. "Keep it in mind; I might want to hear it…later. Nathan's behind the dumpster out back, but I'd hurry if I were you. I'm pretty sure he's dying."
Without another word, I jumped to my feet, bumping the table with my thighs as I scrambled out of the booth to run out the back door in search of my big brother. He was behind the dumpster as promised, his body sliced up and bleeding. There was a thick line of blood flowing down his face, but I refused to acknowledge anything as permanent and definitive. I lifted him and ran back to my car, unsure of where I found the strength, and carefully deposited him in the back seat, flooring it to the hospital. I wouldn't lose my brother, not like this.
A/N: Okay, I know this was pretty long, but I couldn't stop writing. Don't hate on the author, just kick her brain to keep kicking out good stuff. My heart flutters when I see that someone has set me to alerts. Emo Peter loves reviews!