Fic- Whatever it takes 5
Title- Whatever it takes 5/?
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Disclaimer- I have magic powers. You will believe I own it all.
Summary- Peter left Sylar and Claire alone. Who said that was a good idea?
A/N- for those 5 who reviewed and especially greyhawke who asked for more so nicely.
Chapter 5
“I'm sure between you guys you can come up with something.” Peter said and then turned on his heel and walked away to find his fiancee.
Claire stared at his retreating back with her mouth open. He'd left her. That sneaky, foppy haired, sponge-soaking, ability snatcher had left her alone with Sylar!
He knew that Claire had issues with the man. He knew that the very idea of being trapped alone with him had the ability to make her stomach rebel. He knew that she would rather have root canal than be alone with Sylar and what had her dear, sweet, caring Uncle gone and done? He'd left her alone.
With Sylar!
She gritted her teeth and wished that she had a more active power, one where she could incinerate her feckless relative with just her eyes. Just because he was all tight and chummy with the serial killer now didn't mean that she was just fine with the guy who chopped off her skull and rooted around in her brain.
Just because he sang Sylar's praises at every turn didn't mean that she had forgotten that Sylar killed her bio-mom and bio-dad or that he had terrorized her for years, featuring in every single one of her nightmares.
She may not want him dead and buried but that didn't mean that she wanted to spend time with the man... who was currently watching her have a mental breakdown.
Claire took a deep breath and turned to face him with a forced calmness.
Sylar was watching her with a hesitant look on his face.
“Okay?”
No.
“Of course,” she plastered a smile to her face. “Shall we?”
Sylar nodded and led the way to the section he and Peter had spotted earlier. It was hard to miss the huge sign proclaiming 'Boys night out: perfect bachelor party locations' in bright neon green arched across a couple of support beams. More than a few men had escaped there briefly before their future wives appeared to drag them back into the faire thus ensuring that they started their married lives the way it would go on; being dragged, kicking and screaming- or at least protesting and pouting- away from temptation.
The corner itself was opened into a large room where tall boards separated each possible destination. The boards featured a large poster of the destination- usually a bright beach full of half-naked women or a nightclub full of half-naked women; a list of possible activities- usually topped by drinking and a list of local spots of interest- usually bars and strip clubs.
“I'm beginning to see a theme,” Claire noted absently as they passed the Las Vegas board proclaiming that the Sapphire Gentleman's Lounge was the biggest strip club in the world, where the drinking laws were lax and the women were cheap.
“And that theme is somewhat sordid,” Sylar said in distaste.
“Hey yo!” A tall slim man in tight jeans and a turtle-neck top in a deep brown color called them over. “So, are you the doomed man?” He joked.
“No.”
Claire was surprised at Sylar's short answer and he must have taken her expression in and realized her was being rude because he softened slightly. “No, I'm the best man.”
The man, whose name tag proclaimed him 'Geoff', looked at Claire with a question. “And you're the...”
“Chief bridesmaid.”
Geoff glanced between the two of them and smiled conspiratorially at Sylar, man to man. “So, lemme guess, you're sent here by him, she's sent here by her, right?”
His man to man smile failed epically.
“Actually he,” Sylar emphasized, “sent us both. He doesn't want to do anything to offend his fiancee,” his eyes flicked over the board. “Which would seem to include most of these activities.”
The tone of his voice let Geoff know exactly what he thought of these activities.
Geoff's smile faded a little. “Okay, well does your girlfriend have any ideas of what the bride would deem appropriate?”
“I'm not his girlfriend,” Claire said automatically and Sylar stiffened imperceptibly.
“Really?” Geoff ran his eyes appreciatively over Claire.
“But he still has more chance than you at my being it,” she continued with saccharine sweetness.
Sylar bit off a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough as Geoff frowned, his happy one-of-the-boys demeanor faded into peevishness.
“No need to be like that, sweetheart.”
“Don't call me sweetheart.”
There was something about her tone of voice that warned his she meant business and, even if he had been stupid enough to miss that, then the aura of extreme danger ebbing from the dark-haired best man would have done the job.
Geoff tried to make the best of it. “We cater for all kinds of bachelor parties. From the standard boys night out at a club- dance club,” he hastened to add, “to the more exotic bachelor weekend in Amsterdam, we can pretty much cover all markets. If your friend is less of the boobs, beers and black-outs we can offer alternatives.”
Claire glanced over the board. Despite what Geoff was saying all of his alternatives seemed to be a variation on the theme. Beaches- with girls; casino's- with floor shows containing girls; Amsterdam- with girls and drugs.
She looked at Sylar who seemed to be coming to a similar conclusion.
“I don't think you can help us,” she said and turned to leave.
Geoff sense potential money disappearing. “How about a trip to Montreal? That's a very popular choice.”
It was also a very bad choice, considering that Montreal was where Peter 'lost' Caitlin; a girl he'd fallen in love with in Cork, Ireland. It wasn't exactly the right kind of memory-lane for a bachelor party.
“No.” Sylar shook his head and followed Claire leaving Geoff half relieved and half disappointed.
They walked in near silence past more of the same, guys with loud voices and even louder clothes proclaiming to have the best possible location for the weekend of debauchery.
Claire shuddered as one picture showed a well-developed woman dressed in nothing but leather and not much of that. “Do men really like these kinds of things?”
“Desperate men,” He offered, sticking his hands in his pockets. “But not Peter. None of this would appeal to him.”
Claire shook her head. “No, I couldn't see him at a strip-club.” She gave a fake shudder. “Okay, now I can and need bleach. There are certain things you don't want to see your relatives doing, or even imagine doing.”
“No,” he said absently.
Claire peered at him. He'd gone progressively quieter and more introspective the more they looked and his brooding face was started to remind her eerily of pre-slicing Sylar. It was unnerving to say the least.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said moodily.
“Nothing what?”
“Nothing you'd want to hear.”
“That's never stopped you before,” she muttered and then took a deep breath. Obviously there was something bugging him and she had a feeling it was going to get progressively worse unless she did something about it.
Claire walked around and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. “That is not a 'nothing' face, Sylar. That is a 'something' face and you're gonna tell me what's wrong.”
He glowered at her and Claire scoffed..
“You think a pout and a glare is gonna scare me? You've had your fingers in my brain, Sylar. I'm not gonna take 'nothing' as an answer.”
He gaped at her and she couldn't help but feel somewhat vindicated that she'd stood up to him.
“Now spill.”
And he did.
“It's just,” he raked a hand through his hair. “None of this is Peter.” The words seemed to tear something inside and he exploded. “Peter has done so much for me, he's been there for me like no one ever has. He's my brother in everything but name and I want to give him the best party ever. But I don't like people and he doesn't like strippers and none of this is helping! It's all wrong!”
Sparks crackled from his fingers and Claire glanced down with alarm at the blue electricity that danced across his palms.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” she said. “We'll figure something out.”
But he wasn't listening, instead she could see his glance flitting around at the boards and his temper spiraling. Her heart started to thunder as nuances of old Sylar crept in and the menace that surrounded him deepened.
Before fear could send her running away, she threw caution to the wind and reached for his hand.
The sparks jolted her as they sent shocks racing through her arms but it was more the feel of her skin on his that surprised him out of his free-fall.
He stared down in wonder at her small hand covering his and glanced up into her soft eyes.
“Hey,” she soothed. “It's okay. I know you want this to be good for Peter. We will figure something out. Let's just,” she took a deep breath. “Let's get out of here, okay?”
Author- Faythbrady
Show/Ship- Heroes, Sylar/Claire, Peter/Emma
Disclaimer- I have magic powers. You will believe I own it all.
Summary- Peter left Sylar and Claire alone. Who said that was a good idea?
A/N- for those 5 who reviewed and especially greyhawke who asked for more so nicely.
Chapter 5
“I'm sure between you guys you can come up with something.” Peter said and then turned on his heel and walked away to find his fiancee.
Claire stared at his retreating back with her mouth open. He'd left her. That sneaky, foppy haired, sponge-soaking, ability snatcher had left her alone with Sylar!
He knew that Claire had issues with the man. He knew that the very idea of being trapped alone with him had the ability to make her stomach rebel. He knew that she would rather have root canal than be alone with Sylar and what had her dear, sweet, caring Uncle gone and done? He'd left her alone.
With Sylar!
She gritted her teeth and wished that she had a more active power, one where she could incinerate her feckless relative with just her eyes. Just because he was all tight and chummy with the serial killer now didn't mean that she was just fine with the guy who chopped off her skull and rooted around in her brain.
Just because he sang Sylar's praises at every turn didn't mean that she had forgotten that Sylar killed her bio-mom and bio-dad or that he had terrorized her for years, featuring in every single one of her nightmares.
She may not want him dead and buried but that didn't mean that she wanted to spend time with the man... who was currently watching her have a mental breakdown.
Claire took a deep breath and turned to face him with a forced calmness.
Sylar was watching her with a hesitant look on his face.
“Okay?”
No.
“Of course,” she plastered a smile to her face. “Shall we?”
Sylar nodded and led the way to the section he and Peter had spotted earlier. It was hard to miss the huge sign proclaiming 'Boys night out: perfect bachelor party locations' in bright neon green arched across a couple of support beams. More than a few men had escaped there briefly before their future wives appeared to drag them back into the faire thus ensuring that they started their married lives the way it would go on; being dragged, kicking and screaming- or at least protesting and pouting- away from temptation.
The corner itself was opened into a large room where tall boards separated each possible destination. The boards featured a large poster of the destination- usually a bright beach full of half-naked women or a nightclub full of half-naked women; a list of possible activities- usually topped by drinking and a list of local spots of interest- usually bars and strip clubs.
“I'm beginning to see a theme,” Claire noted absently as they passed the Las Vegas board proclaiming that the Sapphire Gentleman's Lounge was the biggest strip club in the world, where the drinking laws were lax and the women were cheap.
“And that theme is somewhat sordid,” Sylar said in distaste.
“Hey yo!” A tall slim man in tight jeans and a turtle-neck top in a deep brown color called them over. “So, are you the doomed man?” He joked.
“No.”
Claire was surprised at Sylar's short answer and he must have taken her expression in and realized her was being rude because he softened slightly. “No, I'm the best man.”
The man, whose name tag proclaimed him 'Geoff', looked at Claire with a question. “And you're the...”
“Chief bridesmaid.”
Geoff glanced between the two of them and smiled conspiratorially at Sylar, man to man. “So, lemme guess, you're sent here by him, she's sent here by her, right?”
His man to man smile failed epically.
“Actually he,” Sylar emphasized, “sent us both. He doesn't want to do anything to offend his fiancee,” his eyes flicked over the board. “Which would seem to include most of these activities.”
The tone of his voice let Geoff know exactly what he thought of these activities.
Geoff's smile faded a little. “Okay, well does your girlfriend have any ideas of what the bride would deem appropriate?”
“I'm not his girlfriend,” Claire said automatically and Sylar stiffened imperceptibly.
“Really?” Geoff ran his eyes appreciatively over Claire.
“But he still has more chance than you at my being it,” she continued with saccharine sweetness.
Sylar bit off a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough as Geoff frowned, his happy one-of-the-boys demeanor faded into peevishness.
“No need to be like that, sweetheart.”
“Don't call me sweetheart.”
There was something about her tone of voice that warned his she meant business and, even if he had been stupid enough to miss that, then the aura of extreme danger ebbing from the dark-haired best man would have done the job.
Geoff tried to make the best of it. “We cater for all kinds of bachelor parties. From the standard boys night out at a club- dance club,” he hastened to add, “to the more exotic bachelor weekend in Amsterdam, we can pretty much cover all markets. If your friend is less of the boobs, beers and black-outs we can offer alternatives.”
Claire glanced over the board. Despite what Geoff was saying all of his alternatives seemed to be a variation on the theme. Beaches- with girls; casino's- with floor shows containing girls; Amsterdam- with girls and drugs.
She looked at Sylar who seemed to be coming to a similar conclusion.
“I don't think you can help us,” she said and turned to leave.
Geoff sense potential money disappearing. “How about a trip to Montreal? That's a very popular choice.”
It was also a very bad choice, considering that Montreal was where Peter 'lost' Caitlin; a girl he'd fallen in love with in Cork, Ireland. It wasn't exactly the right kind of memory-lane for a bachelor party.
“No.” Sylar shook his head and followed Claire leaving Geoff half relieved and half disappointed.
They walked in near silence past more of the same, guys with loud voices and even louder clothes proclaiming to have the best possible location for the weekend of debauchery.
Claire shuddered as one picture showed a well-developed woman dressed in nothing but leather and not much of that. “Do men really like these kinds of things?”
“Desperate men,” He offered, sticking his hands in his pockets. “But not Peter. None of this would appeal to him.”
Claire shook her head. “No, I couldn't see him at a strip-club.” She gave a fake shudder. “Okay, now I can and need bleach. There are certain things you don't want to see your relatives doing, or even imagine doing.”
“No,” he said absently.
Claire peered at him. He'd gone progressively quieter and more introspective the more they looked and his brooding face was started to remind her eerily of pre-slicing Sylar. It was unnerving to say the least.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said moodily.
“Nothing what?”
“Nothing you'd want to hear.”
“That's never stopped you before,” she muttered and then took a deep breath. Obviously there was something bugging him and she had a feeling it was going to get progressively worse unless she did something about it.
Claire walked around and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. “That is not a 'nothing' face, Sylar. That is a 'something' face and you're gonna tell me what's wrong.”
He glowered at her and Claire scoffed..
“You think a pout and a glare is gonna scare me? You've had your fingers in my brain, Sylar. I'm not gonna take 'nothing' as an answer.”
He gaped at her and she couldn't help but feel somewhat vindicated that she'd stood up to him.
“Now spill.”
And he did.
“It's just,” he raked a hand through his hair. “None of this is Peter.” The words seemed to tear something inside and he exploded. “Peter has done so much for me, he's been there for me like no one ever has. He's my brother in everything but name and I want to give him the best party ever. But I don't like people and he doesn't like strippers and none of this is helping! It's all wrong!”
Sparks crackled from his fingers and Claire glanced down with alarm at the blue electricity that danced across his palms.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” she said. “We'll figure something out.”
But he wasn't listening, instead she could see his glance flitting around at the boards and his temper spiraling. Her heart started to thunder as nuances of old Sylar crept in and the menace that surrounded him deepened.
Before fear could send her running away, she threw caution to the wind and reached for his hand.
The sparks jolted her as they sent shocks racing through her arms but it was more the feel of her skin on his that surprised him out of his free-fall.
He stared down in wonder at her small hand covering his and glanced up into her soft eyes.
“Hey,” she soothed. “It's okay. I know you want this to be good for Peter. We will figure something out. Let's just,” she took a deep breath. “Let's get out of here, okay?”