Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.

12 December, 2009

"So that turn you were certain wasn't wrong," Claire spoke slowly.

Sylar sighed as he turned the steering wheel, "Was wrong."

"Which means that instead of arriving after twelve hours, we took a detour, slept in the car, and are nearly 12 hours behind schedule," Claire clarified as she yawned.

"Yes," Sylar gritted out the word. "On the upside there isn't much traffic."

Another yawn cracked the still of the air, "Yeah, because it is two in the morning."

The traffic in Chicago was actually fairly manageable. The ground was still clear, although the temperature had plummeted as they drove closer to Chicago, winter was beginning to set in.

"We're almost there," Sylar reached over and squeezed Claire's knee, his hand staying there, stroking her pajama clad leg.

Another yawn spilled from Claire as she curled into a tighter ball, leaning closer to Sylar. "I don't want to move," she whined.

Claire was, unsurprisingly, adorable when she was tired. She became excessively cuddly and amenable to just about anything. They had slept in the backseat, curled together, Claire latching onto to Sylar's warmth and invading his space before he could make the first move.

Her protest to moving was noted as Sylar continue driving up Lakeshore Drive, eyes flicking along the bright lights of the skyline. Even in the early hours the city was still lit up, it glowed like a beacon of warmth in the darkness. Claire slipped into sleep before Sylar pulled up to the hotel. He left the car running and handed the keys off to the valet, another man gathering the bags from the trunk. Sylar made his way to the passenger door and maneuvered Claire into his arms, cradling her against his chest so she could continue to sleep.

The doors were held open for him and he passed into the toasty lobby, the lights warm and welcoming against the cool night air.

"Welcome to the Peninsula," the woman at the front desk greeted him quietly, mindful of his burden. "How can I help you?"

"Checking in," Sylar informed her, shifting his hold on Claire so he could extract the credit card and ID that Micah had set up for him. "Gabe Grayson."

The woman smiled at him, fingers tapping sharply against the keys of the computer, "Of course, Mr. Grayson, and this must be Mrs. Grayson, you're all set. I'll have David show you up to the suite, if you need anything at all please let us know."

Sylar gave a reflexive, polite smile to the woman before following a bellhop who was pushing a cart with their luggage on it.

Sylar nodded in thanks to the kid and handed him a twenty and closing the door, Claire still tightly held against his chest. She stirred, burying her nose against his chest, as the door clicked shut and the lock dropped into place. Taking long strides, the man stroked her side, and moved her to the bedroom. Settling her in the center of the bed, Sylar smoothed down her hair and pulled her shoes off.

Claire shifted, blinking blearily. "Sylar," she rasped, pulling her arms in to her chest.

"I'm here," he whispered, stroking her cheek gently, loving that she leaned in to his touch, not unlike a kitten.

"Are we at the hotel," she asked, eyes sliding closed heavily.

"Yeah," Sylar moved away, swallowing roughly as she keened slightly at the loss of his touch. "Go to sleep, Claire."

"Where are you going," she asked, her words slipping from her tongue lazily, sleep drenching her mind.

"Couch," Sylar told her.

Claire shook her head slowly, reaching blindly for him, "Stay, please."

Sylar was quickly learning he could deny the tiny blonde nothing. He muttered an agreement and slipped away to change his clothing, preparing for bed. He had honestly intended to take the couch, not wanting to pressure Claire into a situation she didn't want. The nights or days they had slept beside each other for any period of time had been initiated by Claire.

Returning to the bedroom clad in loose black pajama pants and nothing else, Sylar slid the covers down, careful not to jostle Claire too much. The man groaned softly as he sank into the mattress, curling against Claire before flicking his fingers to draw the covers over them both. Claire's whole body relaxed against his, making Sylar smile against her hair. Closing his eyes in utter peace, Sylar breathed half of a promise, "Goodnight."

Claire rolled over, turning away from the sunlight. She frowned as her face met warm, velvety skin peppered with smooth hair. Claire scooted closer, hips shifting forward and legs sliding to against sheets.

"Gabriel," she murmured, arms sliding around his waist. "When did we get here?"

He started at hearing his name from her lips. It sounded natural, gentle. Settling a hand on the dip of her lower back he pulled her closer. "Early this morning, you were out."

"You're warm," she breathed against his skin, "And cuddly."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest making Claire shiver, "For you. Just don't tell anyone, they'll think I'm going soft."

"You kind of are," Claire inhaled and began to yawn, eyes watering slightly. "I think it's kind of nice."

"I'm not nice," Sylar grumbled, hand rubbing circles on her back. "I think you would know that by now, Claire."

"Liar," she smiled against his chest, "you are nice, to me at least, for the most part."

"Don't let your father hear you say that," Sylar rolled onto his back, pulling Claire with him, forcing her to curl up on his chest.

She shook her head lightly, "If my father found out I was talking to you, let alone celebrating Christmas with you it would not end well. He might actually put me in a tower and throw away the key."

"I would rescue you," Sylar told her, "Even if it meant climbing up your hair to do it."

"Couldn't you just fly? Anyway, I somehow doubt you would survive my father, he's kind of crazy when it comes to me," Claire giggled. "Did I ever tell you about the time I babysat myself?"

"How did that go," Sylar asked.

Claire shrugged, wiggling against Sylar, "Well, I think I taught my mother how to take care of me. Also, I really like babies."

"I wouldn't really know," Sylar admitted, "the only baby I have ever really been around was Parkman's kid. He was kind of cute."

"Kind of," Claire raised an eyebrow, lifting her head to peer at the man beneath her. "Clearly you need to spend time with more babies, they are so cute. They're warm and soft and they want love."

"They also scream and cry and poop," Sylar informed the blonde with a snicker.

"Don't be a downer, didn't you ever want kids," Claire asked.

He ran his hands along her sides, her spin, brushing against her bottom slightly, "Once upon a time, maybe, I don't really remember. I've been alone for so long, I was alone for so long that I stopped dreaming about those things."

"Yeah," Claire agreed slowly. "Everything changed when we figured out we had powers. Did you know I used to film my attempts to kill myself?"

"I used to pretend to be a colleague of Dr. Suresh," Sylar admitted. "It was how I got so many people to trust me, to let me in."

"And you didn't attempt that with me, or who you thought was me," Claire wondered.

"I was admittedly rash that night. You were everything I grew up to hate, popular, cheerleader, gorgeous, strong, protected. I wanted you to hurt." Sylar leaned up to press a kiss against her cheek, "You can see how well that worked out for me."

"Can't say I'm sorry," Claire set her head down, pillowing her cheek against Sylar's chest.

"Neither can I."

"Mm," Claire sighed, "I could stay in bed all day."

"Then we will," Sylar told her. "We can stay in, order some food, watch some movies. Anything you want."

"Sounds good, ooh," Claire bit her lip in excitement, "can we have hot chocolate and cuddle all day?"

With a chuckle Sylar rolled them over, trapping Claire beneath his weight. "I think we can arrange that."

A/N: 12/25. Whoo, Friday. I've been looking forward to this all week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, drop me a note please. Happy Holidays.