B is for Bachelorhood

Pairing: Pylar.

AN: Contains nekkid Peter. In no detail.

Peter stared around the flat as the woman continued to chatter on about the wonderful view.

"It's already hooked up to the Internet, and phone and broadband costs are included in the price, of course," she continued, then gave an expansive sweep of the arms. "Well? Do you like it?"

It wasn't a bad flat, as flats went. The landlord hadn't attempted anything too fancy, or painted the walls orange or anything like that. It was functional, clean, walls a shade of Magnolia Peach Blossom, had a reasonable kitchen and a bedroom with a bathroom just next door, as well as a carpeted 'chilling room' just next to the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's great," he replied, then flashed his winning smile at her.

"I'll take it."

"Wow, this is dull," Sylar commented as the door was let in. "Needs more... colour. More personality. Breaking in. This looks unlived-in."

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's better than the last apartment."

Sylar snorted. "A cave would have had more decoration than that apartment, Pete. Seriously, you left all your stuff in boxes. Boxes. You didn't even bother to unpack!"

"Yeah, well..." Peter retorted defensively. "It's not my fault I was busy."

"Right." Sylar gave the walls an appraising look. "It needs more red."

He raised an eyebrow. "Red. Right."

"No, just a little red. A wide stripe down the wall with, oh, I don't know... Paintings - " He gestured, sketching out a rectangle in his vision. " - maybe I could borrow some..."

"And where were you planning to borrow these paintings from?" Peter asked, folding his arms. "The Louvre?"

"The Mona Lisa would sit nicely there," Sylar noted absent-mindedly. "We'd have to find it first, of course, since the one on display's a fake, but still..."

"Please tell me you're kidding," Peter said weakly. "Of all the pieces of artwork you want in the apartment, you pick the most recognisable thing in the world?"

"Well," Sylar mused, "there are other ways an apartment can have personality if you don't like paintings."

"Flowers?"

He pulled a face. "No."

"Ice sculptures?"

"Not unless you want flooding afterwards."

"Massive paintings of the apocalypse on the floor?"

Sylar groaned.

"Well, what, then?"

"This." He pointed to the window, and smirked.

"What?" Peter turned around. "I don't see - " he began, before Sylar grabbed him around the waist.

The door to the bedroom flicked open with telekinesis, then shut again.

Noah knocked on the door to the apartment. "Peter?" he called, wondering whether he was in.

No answer.

He knocked again. This time, the door swung gently open. Not a good sign. Noah advanced cautiously, hand lowering to the stun-gun.

There was a slight noise. Probably somebody'd broken into Peter's apartment and -

"I'll get it," came the muffled sound.

Noah barely had time to react as the door swung open, to reveal... Peter. Quite a lot of Peter, actually, although, in fairness, he had a sheet half-wrapped around his waist.

The door swung open a little wider to reveal the other occupant of the room, who stared.

"Uh... Noah, hi? How did you get in?"

No response. Noah continued to stare, as the sheet slipped slightly.

"...I think you broke him with your manliness."

...and THAT, kids, is why you should always lock the door.