Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
15 December, 2009
"You've got to be kidding me," Claire stared up in disbelief at her companion. "I can't believe you've never built a snowman!"
"Well, not a proper one at least," Sylar conceded. "I made one in an alley once, it wasn't very pretty and I'm pretty sure I ended up using a hypodermic needle as a nose."
"Creepy," Claire considered the potential snowman. "We need to change this, we're building a snowman today!"
"I don't know," Sylar waffled, not ready to show how excited the idea actually made him.
"Please," Claire begged, "I've never made one either. The closest we ever got was Sandmen."
"What," he laughed.
"We made snowmen out of sand at the beach," Claire elaborated, if a little reluctantly.
Sylar watched Claire's cheeks flush, the pink tint rising and spreading beneath her skin. Claire glanced away, eyes tracing the traffic streaming along the road. She could feel Sylar's gaze on her, and his hand squeezing hers. They had decided to spend the day exploring Chicago, Sylar requesting they visit Millennium Park, so Claire had bundled up in a hat and scarf and her thickest coat. Sylar had, like much of his wardrobe, seemed to pull a black wool coat out of nowhere and dragged her outdoors.
A soft whir and click made Claire turn to glare at Sylar. He held a camera up to his face, no doubt using his telekinesis to manipulate the various knobs and settings as he snapped a picture of her.
"Really," she frowned, "do you have to do that?"
"Yes," Sylar intoned seriously, "I want us to have memories."
"But a camera," Claire whined. "You're going to make us be one of those couples that document everything, even sickeningly sweet moments like kissing beneath the mistletoe."
"Ooh, not a bad idea," Sylar snapped another picture before moving the camera away from his face and planting a kiss on Claire's lips. She pulled away as another click echoed.
"You are terrible," Claire smiled and leaned up to kiss him.
Her hands rose to clutch at the lapels of his jacket, kissing him firmly before pulling away, and skipping off down the street, slipping between the crowds of people.
"Claire," Sylar called, voice light as his tall form dodged and weaved in pursuit of her. "When I catch you, you will be in so much trouble."
She giggled, the high sound of her voice echoing above the low din of the crowd, "Bet you can't."
Claire slowed, standing still in the flood of people. She watched the smiling man move towards her, the shadows of his face diminished in the joy of the moment. In a few short seconds he was in front of her, arms encircling her, lifting her into his arms and spinning before setting her back down.
"Gotcha," he muttered into her ear.
"Because I let you," Claire hugged him tightly, arms draped around his neck.
Sylar leaned back, face unreadable, "Let me? You let me? What else have you been letting me do?"
"Well," Claire breathed, walking backwards, Sylar keeping her from slipping or falling as he followed. "I let you take me to dinner last night."
Sylar nodded seriously, "And I'm sure you let me kiss every inch of your back last night, and you let me feed you tiramisu, and you let me carry you upstairs?"
"Oh definitely," Claire's blush deepened, "except for all of that."
"So I get to play the villain," Sylar asked darkly, voice lowering and eyes darkening.
Claire's lower lip slipped beneath her teeth, her breath quickening and pupils dilating at the words. "No," her voice was faint."
"Hm, only a half-lie," Sylar leaned down to nip at her ear, nudging her hair and hat out of the way.
Claire held Sylar's hand in hers, as they stood beneath the curved sculpture. Both of them were looking up at the reflective surface, and couldn't help but smile a little more at their own reflections. The sky and the people melded together and shifted with each sway and glint of light, it was an interesting sculpture to be sure. While it looked like a bean, Sylar had informed her rather smartly that it was actually called "Cloud Gate" not its typical misnomer. Claire had shoved him for that little lesson.
As the crowds shifted and cleared, Sylar had demanded they lay down at the very center of the sculpture to take a photograph of their stainless steel reflection. They lay on their sides, facing each other, lips pressed gently together. Sylar had actually demanded a whole series of photographs in various poses and with various settings.
With her patience almost run dry, Claire rolled to her feet and took off away from the hub of light and towards the open stretch of snowy ground. Already covered in snow, the blonde dropped to her knees and began to shape a perfect ball of snow in her hands. When Sylar stepped up beside her, he frowned, watching her work. Slowly, methodically, with untested skill, Claire began to roll her snowball around the ground, picking up more and more snow with each pass on the ground.
"Are you going to help," Claire twisted to look up at him, "I'm not doing this alone."
The dark haired man shifted slightly, one hand slipping free of his pocket, and two fingers twitched. A flurry of snow stirred in response to the gesture, Claire's shoulders dropped and she shook her head slightly.
"No powers," she told him sternly, "this isn't about powers, this about doing it ourselves, like normal kids."
Lowering himself to his knees with a slight wince at the chill, Sylar sighed heavily, "We're not kids."
"Yeah well I say we revel in the childishness because we kind of got ripped in the holiday category," Claire argued lightly. "So, either help me build a snowman or leave me alone so I can build one."
"Alright," Sylar dug his hands into the snow, mimicking Claire's process.
Together, and perhaps with a little antagonizing, the pair managed to assemble a slightly lopsided snowman that boasted a slightly crooked carrot nose, stick arms, gumdrop eyes, and a licorice smile. The amalgamated creature had also taken ownership of Claire's hat and Sylar's black scarf.
As they stood back to admire their work the camera came out again, and Sylar forced them to stand beside the snowman, a helpful stranger being persuaded to take their photo.
"Okay," the cold air settled deeply in her lungs, leaving a pleasant ache in Claire's chest at the sensation.
"Okay," Sylar repeated, "what now?"
Claire stretched slightly and let out a yawn, "How about a nap?"
"I could be persuaded," he took her gloved hand, swinging their linked arms as they began to walk out of the park. "Of course we still have a lot to do to prepare for Christmas."
"Like what," Claire asked curiously.
"Decorations, presents, a holiday photo," Sylar listed, "eggnog, caroling…everything."
Pale eyebrows rose at the excited rambling, "How about we focus on the nap and then we can worry about everything else?"
"Fine," Sylar pretended to pout, "but after can we bake cookies?"
"And I'm dating a three year-old," Claire exclaimed sourly.
Sylar nudged her sharply, forcing her to sidestep, "But you love it."
"No comment," Claire shoved him right back and kept on walking, dragging Sylar along with her, willing as he may be.
A/N: 15/25. Whoo, I am exhausted. I am counting down the days until the weekend. Leave a message, please! Happy Holidays.