C is for Cryo

Pairings: Pylar, Claire/Gretchen.

AN: They really need better insurance...

"This has got to be the stupidest idea you've ever had. Including the geekcon visit."

"C'mon..."

"No. I refuse."

Sylar folded his arms, glaring at Peter for good measure.

"But you'd be good at it!" Peter begged.

"No," he replied firmly.

Peter employed the Weapon of Doom (TM), also known as the Puppy Dog Face. It was exceedingly effective, had almost certainly ended nuclear wars in parallel universes somewhere and could probably have made Dr. Gregory House weep if he ever happened to see it.

"Please?"

Sylar's heart melted.

He stuck his tongue out childishly at the other man. "Fine. But you know what that means."

"I'm fine with it," Peter countered. "It was you who refused to do the ice cubes. And they need to be appropriately shaped."

Sylar stared at his boyfriend in growing horror.

Peter employed the Evil Smile, which meant he was plotting something, and leaned forward to whisper something in Sylar's ear.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "But if anyone else so much as looks at you, there will be blood. And not just the 'ooh, I cut my pinky' amount of blood."

"Yes!" Peter yelled, punching the air as Sylar sighed.

This was going to be a long night.

"Hi, what can I get you lovely ladies?"

Claire looked up from Gretchen at -

"What the hell, Peter?!" she yelled.

Gretchen looked up, startled, to glance at the cute brunette wearing a waitress outfit and with a notepad in hand. Also, definitely female. Yup. Not her uncle.

"Uh... Claire?" Gretchen tried. "Why're you calling - "

The waitress sighed. "Could you keep it down?"

"Why're you - " Claire gestured silently at everything.

"It was the only way I could get him to be the bartender. He still won't make the banana-shaped ice cubes," Peter explained.

Gretchen stared. "So you're actually - "

"Yes."

There was silence before Gretchen broke it with, "That has got to be the most - "

"Don't say it."

"Uh... I think I need a vodka and coke. Gretchen?"

"...but the organs..." she muttered, making a vague gesture in midair.

"Two vodkas with coke."

" 'kay." Peter scribbled the order down on the notepad before walking over to the next table. Claire noted the Sylar was following the progress of his boyfriend - boyfriend? Was that even appropriate right now? - across the tables. He looked annoyed, especially with the looks more than one man was giving Peter.

"Uh... we should probably leave." One of the customers winked at Peter, hand moving to some place more intimate than intended.

"What?" Said hand was promptly jerked off by telekinesis with a flick of Peter's wrist.

"Really leave. Right now." Claire watched as Sylar stood up with a black look on his face and left the bar to walk over to the table, where the customer was looking extremely put out and still attempting to chat up Peter, at the imminent loss of his brain.

She grabbed Gretchen's wrist and pulled, dragging her to the door before anything exploded.

"Hey!"

Claire panted as she sprinted for the alleyway leading to the main street. Hopefully the blast radius wouldn't be big enough to take the whole street with them, although where psychopathic and megalomaniacal mass-murderers with abilities were involved romantically, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

She started counting under her breath as Gretchen followed her.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine -

There was a jet of emerald light, and a man burst out through the concrete wall of the building, to be followed by an extremely pissed Sylar.

"Sorry about that." Claire thumbed desperately for a taxi, while pedestrians acted typically; screaming, yelling, dialing 999 and running away. "I promise we'll get a normal date. Somehow."

"Is anything ever normal where your family's around?" Gretchen muttered.

"There's a taco place down the street."