| Fanfic!! "Secrets, Lies, Tea and Ice-Cream" |
[May. 21st, 2007|12:25 pm] |
I'm cranking these things out.
Title: Secrets, Lies, Tea and Ice-cream
Author: ![[info]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/userinfo.gif) cazrolime
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Heroes owns my soul. Not the other way around.
Characters/Pairings: Sylar, Mohinder. Mylar if you squint.
Table/Prompt: Table 4, Prompt 01 (Secret).
Word Count: 837
Spoilers: ‘Run’ through ‘Unexpected’.
Summary: Perhaps, under very different circumstances, he and Mohinder could have been friends. (It's a little bit cracky. :D)
Author's Notes: I’m not actually sure—does this count as Mylar?
Mohinder’s grin was infectious, and it hadn’t dimmed even once since they’d left Dale’s garage. He beamed at Sylar over the sticky plastic tabletop of the rest-stop. (Sylar hadn’t caught the place’s name. It wasn’t anything special; just a dowdy clone of the Burnt Toast and every other cheap roadside diner he’d drunk overstewed tea at. Though the company, he admitted, was preferable.) He couldn’t help it: Sylar felt the corners of his mouth pulling upwards in a way that was more than acting.
Mohinder raised his mug in a toast. “Here’s to the first step in a very long journey.”
“To the first step,” Sylar echoed. The two mugs made a dull clinking sound (which he’d soon be hearing that much better); the tea was scalding and too sweet, but he took a long draught of it anyway, drawing some of the heat out through his tongue and lips as he did. When he put the mug down, licking away an Earl Grey moustache, Mohinder had fished a notebook out of his bag and was writing feverishly—as if afraid the words might evaporate if he didn’t get them down quickly enough. Sylar couldn’t read the tight, looping hand, especially not upside-down, but from the odd legible word he gathered that it was about Dale’s powers.
“I think she seemed very excited about the possibilities her hearing opens up for her,” Mohinder said, smiling up from the page. “Thank you for your help. We make a good team, you and I.”
Sylar nodded into his mug, though frankly he’d have said the exact opposite. The stupid woman was covering up her ability, trying to drown it out, trying to avoid it just like Brian Davis had, just like Zane Taylor had. Practically begging for Sylar to come and take what was his.
“Zane? Are you all right?”
He looked up; Mohinder was gazing at him with concern tinting his mocha-coloured eyes.
Sylar shrugged it off, putting on a smile. “I’m fine—why?”
“You were frowning.” Mohinder reached out one hand and rested it on Sylar’s arm; he looked down at it in surprise. “Listen,” the scientist said kindly, “I know this can be a lot to take in all at once—all this knowledge—all these possibilities. Goodness knows that I had trouble dealing with it all at first, and I didn’t wake up one morning and start melting things with my hands.” He laughed quietly, and Sylar found himself smiling genuinely in response.
“It is a little overwhelming,” he lied—a weaving of what the real Zane had said with his own created persona—“but I think I’m all right. Thanks to you.” He fixed the surprised-looking man with an earnest, unblinking stare. “If you hadn’t called when you did, I’d probably be sitting in a house-coloured puddle right now, or else I’d have accidentally melted someone—”
He broke off suddenly, and shot a wide-eyed look at his hands, curled on the tabletop.
“Do you think I could do that?” he breathed. The option hadn’t occurred to him before; the question wasn’t so much could he as would he want to? To melt an evolved human would be a criminal waste, and he couldn’t see the point in killing an ordinary, backward human, not unless they stood in his way.
Mohinder pressed Sylar’s hands gently between his own, and then brought the whole bundle down to rest in the middle of the table. Sylar found the gesture condescending and mildly irritating, though he supposed Zane would have been comforted by it.
“No,” said Mohinder, his voice soft but decisive. “You won’t do it by accident, and I know that you wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose, let alone a human being.”
The surety with which he said it made Sylar almost laugh, and his broad smile brought back Mohinder’s grin as well. For a second, Sylar felt a black twinge of guilt at his deception—every second he spent with this trusting young man was a lie—but he pushed the feeling aside and did not let the smile slide from his face. The manipulation of one man was insignificant next to the drive for evolution.
Mohinder had pushed the menu towards him. “Now, that’s enough on this gloomy topic,” he was saying. “We still have to celebrate a successful day. What would you like? My treat.”
Sylar raised his eyebrows, nonplussed. “A successful day?”
“Well, it was, wasn’t it? We found someone else like you. Granted, she didn’t talk to us yet, but still—” He looked pleased. “A milestone. So go on. What would you like?”
“Er…” Sylar cast around for inspiration. “Ice-cream?”
Mohinder’s face creased, and he burst out laughing. (The man really was bizarre sometimes.) “Are you reading my mind?” Not yet, said a stray thought. “First the tea, and now this—if you keep on like that I shall start to think that we’re soul-mates.”
He pulled the menu towards him. “We’ll get the biggest sundaes they’ll sell us.”
~
ETA: ...umm... I'll post this to heroes15 tomorrow; seems you can only send in one fic a day have one fic in the queue at once (my apologies). |
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