Heroes fic: A Good Night
Title: A Good Night
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG
Summary: A Christmas party takes a turn for the worse.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or their universe.
A/N: AU taking place post Volume 2. (Watch as I gloss over a lot of crap to make it work!) For the mylar_fic Holiday Contest. Prompt: mistletoe.
Thankfully, most of the hub-bub was in the first hour of the party. It was mostly the women-- Peter's friends from nursing school and before, plus Claire-- though some men found it amusing enough to take part. Personally, Mohinder wasn't feeling the hilarity. He stared wearily into the mirror by the front door, adjusting his headpiece forward and back before taking it off.
"Hey, now!" Peter chided, striding over and wagging his finger. "We agreed the whole night."
"It's digging into my scalp," Mohinder muttered, flexing the plastic headband.
"Them's the breaks!" Peter replied cheerfully, plucking the green band out of Mohinder's hands and slipping it back over his hair. A sturdy hook wrapped in red tinsel sprouted from the center and curved a foot over Mohinder's head to dangle a sprig of mistletoe. "I think it looks festive!" Peter said.
"I'd be happy to let you wear it!" Mohinder exclaimed with false cheer.
"Nah, it sets off your sour expression."
"I am not sour!" Mohinder protested as the doorbell rang.
"No? Maybe I mean 'dour,'" Peter wondered aloud. He pulled open the door and smiled wide. "Merry Christmas, Mom!" he said, leaning forward to kiss Angela on the cheek.
She was well-dressed as usual in a fashionable wool coat with matching gloves, but not so usual, to Mohinder at least, was the covered dish she held. "Merry Christmas, dear," she returned, turning her head to catch Peter's cheek with a kiss before he pulled away. She thanked him when he took the dish and told him, "It's your favorite casserole."
Peter set it on a nearby table to help her out of her coat. "You didn't have to, Mom."
"Oh, I hardly get to cook for anyone anymore. Let me dote." She tweaked his cheek once her arms were free of her coat sleeves, then she looked to Mohinder. "And what is going on with this?" she asked, gesturing in a way that made him feel like a bad choice in decor.
"Happy holidays to you as well," Mohinder grumbled.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Of course it's lovely to see you, doctor. Obviously I meant that thing on your head."
"Mohinder just lost a little bet," Peter said. "He said I'd never get Nathan out of the office to make an appearance." With Angela's jacket slung over his arm, he gestured to his brother sipping punch with Bennet and Claire. "As you can see, I won."
Angela looked between Mohinder and Peter with her typical haughtiness. "Really, must you undermine your maturity with such silliness?"
Mohinder appreciated her disapproval. The whole bet had been Peter's idea, and though Mohinder had agreed because he expected to be right, he hadn't expected Peter to hold him to it.
Then Angela smiled and cupped his face in her hands. "But it is tradition," she said, placing a brief but firm kiss on Mohinder's lips. She patted his cheek and walked off toward the punch.
"How many is that now?" Peter asked.
"Enough," Mohinder muttered. "I fear what will happen as the punch bowl empties."
Peter laughed. "I'll warn you now: we are Italian," he said. He playfully pecked Mohinder on the cheek before carrying Angela's coat to his bedroom.
Not exactly sure what Peter meant, Mohinder was plagued by strange thoughts of both Petrelli brothers accosting him at once for the next hour, but as the night wore on, he became more wary of Bennet's glares. Claire had made it a habit of attacking Mohinder with a kiss each time she passed. Bennet should have been more mindful of the punch and eggnog she was sneaking. Thankfully, few of the other partygoers had taken advantage of his headwear a second time. Not that Mohinder didn't find any of Peter's lady friends from the hospital attractive; he just had introverted tendencies. He never would have worn the mistletoe if not for the bet-- even if he was drunk.
But despite his situation, he was happy that everyone seemed to be having a pleasant time. Nathan appeared fully recovered from the attempt on his life, and at least for the season he and Peter decided to enjoy the holidays with their mother instead of pressing her for what she knew about the shooting. Alcohol had made Claire favor her happiness that Mohinder had revived Bennet over her anger that Mohinder had shot him in the first place. Bennet was looking well now that he was out of the Company prison and on missions for them, a task he took up begrudgingly after a Level 5 breakout. He was even speaking to Mohinder on polysyllabic terms now.
Plus things were going well elsewhere. Matt had taken Molly to visit Janice and little Matty, with reconciliation on the horizon. And last Mohinder heard, in honor of their father, Hiro and his sister were organizing a philanthropy program at Yamagato, and Ando was now serving as Kimiko's assistant.
Mohinder's contentment was spoiled only by the recurring thought: he's still out there.
Maya contacted Mohinder often from the road. The Company had paired her with an agent and they'd been on the hunt for months now tracking Sylar. Even with Molly's assistance, they'd yet to catch a glimpse of the man. Now that Bennet had rounded up the Level 5 escapees, he was supposed to switch with the other agent to work with Maya in a few days. Mohinder wasn't sure if their luck would turn. If Sylar was able to evade them so easily, he must have stumbled onto a new power, or perhaps multiple.
"Mom!" Peter exclaimed, breaking Mohinder's sullen thoughts. He swatted Angela away from the stove with a pot holder. "You're my guest! Please just sit down or mingle or something." The doorbell rang and Peter looked to Mohinder. "Could you get that? I'm not sure who it-- Mom!"
Asking Angela to get the door would have been a good excuse to get her out of the kitchen; Mohinder assumed Peter was just taking another opportunity to put him in the line of fire. He moved through the crowded apartment and managed not to be kissed (or have his ass pinched-- he wasn't sure who that had been) on the way to the door. He took a breath and hoped whoever it was, it was a sexually insecure heterosexual male.
"So who's late, hm?" he said as he opened the door. His teasing smile vanished the instant he saw the tall, pale, dark-haired man standing in the hall. Before Mohinder could shout a warning, Sylar grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him out of the apartment, shoving him into the wall by the doorway out of sight. Sylar crashed their mouths together, and Mohinder managed a noise of surprise at the feel of Sylar's tongue. Mohinder bit down and Sylar jerked back with a shout, though his right hand still held the other man against the wall. Mohinder turned his head to yell for help as he shoved at Sylar's chest with both hands, but at once an invisible force pushed his jaw shut and slammed his head and wrists back against the wall.
Sylar rolled around his tongue in his mouth, tasting the blood. The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. "I thought this..." He tapped the mistletoe swinging over Mohinder's head. "... was an open invitation."
Mohinder could only glare in response, though many choice words ran through his head. The door beside them was still open, and he could hear the party in full swing, music blaring and voices chattering over it. Surely someone would poke their head out soon... not that Mohinder could imagine what good could come of it.
"I didn't expect to see you at a Christmas party, Dr. Suresh," Sylar said. "Then again, so many of your friends are God-fearing Christians." He leaned in close, plainly enjoying how Mohinder tensed. "Of course, I think right now you and I know God is the least of their problems."
How had Sylar even gotten here without alarm? Molly had been calling the Company with his whereabouts at least ten times a day. Surely someone knew he was here? Unless he'd gotten another power to block Molly's clairvoyance, or perhaps the Company were on their way already. But they wouldn't make it in time, that was clear.
"I won't make you watch," Sylar breathed. "Just relax."
He began to hum. It was a tune Mohinder didn't recognize, but it was low, and serene, and a buzzing in his head blurred his sight at the edges. He suddenly felt exhausted. He didn't realize his eyes were closed until he felt Sylar slip off his headpiece. Mohinder struggled to stay awake, but he didn't even make a sound as Sylar kissed him again, stroking his hair.
Still humming, Sylar carefully laid him down on the floor. "And to all a good night," the killer murmured, and Mohinder faintly heard Peter's voice before falling into the cold darkness.
mylar_fic
Candy Cane
White Christmas
Spiked Eggnog
Festive
Under the Christmas Tree
Silent Night
New Years Day
Holiday Surprise
'Tis the Season
Mistletoe
1/10
(Not sure how I'm supposed to use this table but FUN WITH COLORS WEE.)
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG
Summary: A Christmas party takes a turn for the worse.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or their universe.
A/N: AU taking place post Volume 2. (Watch as I gloss over a lot of crap to make it work!) For the mylar_fic Holiday Contest. Prompt: mistletoe.
Thankfully, most of the hub-bub was in the first hour of the party. It was mostly the women-- Peter's friends from nursing school and before, plus Claire-- though some men found it amusing enough to take part. Personally, Mohinder wasn't feeling the hilarity. He stared wearily into the mirror by the front door, adjusting his headpiece forward and back before taking it off.
"Hey, now!" Peter chided, striding over and wagging his finger. "We agreed the whole night."
"It's digging into my scalp," Mohinder muttered, flexing the plastic headband.
"Them's the breaks!" Peter replied cheerfully, plucking the green band out of Mohinder's hands and slipping it back over his hair. A sturdy hook wrapped in red tinsel sprouted from the center and curved a foot over Mohinder's head to dangle a sprig of mistletoe. "I think it looks festive!" Peter said.
"I'd be happy to let you wear it!" Mohinder exclaimed with false cheer.
"Nah, it sets off your sour expression."
"I am not sour!" Mohinder protested as the doorbell rang.
"No? Maybe I mean 'dour,'" Peter wondered aloud. He pulled open the door and smiled wide. "Merry Christmas, Mom!" he said, leaning forward to kiss Angela on the cheek.
She was well-dressed as usual in a fashionable wool coat with matching gloves, but not so usual, to Mohinder at least, was the covered dish she held. "Merry Christmas, dear," she returned, turning her head to catch Peter's cheek with a kiss before he pulled away. She thanked him when he took the dish and told him, "It's your favorite casserole."
Peter set it on a nearby table to help her out of her coat. "You didn't have to, Mom."
"Oh, I hardly get to cook for anyone anymore. Let me dote." She tweaked his cheek once her arms were free of her coat sleeves, then she looked to Mohinder. "And what is going on with this?" she asked, gesturing in a way that made him feel like a bad choice in decor.
"Happy holidays to you as well," Mohinder grumbled.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Of course it's lovely to see you, doctor. Obviously I meant that thing on your head."
"Mohinder just lost a little bet," Peter said. "He said I'd never get Nathan out of the office to make an appearance." With Angela's jacket slung over his arm, he gestured to his brother sipping punch with Bennet and Claire. "As you can see, I won."
Angela looked between Mohinder and Peter with her typical haughtiness. "Really, must you undermine your maturity with such silliness?"
Mohinder appreciated her disapproval. The whole bet had been Peter's idea, and though Mohinder had agreed because he expected to be right, he hadn't expected Peter to hold him to it.
Then Angela smiled and cupped his face in her hands. "But it is tradition," she said, placing a brief but firm kiss on Mohinder's lips. She patted his cheek and walked off toward the punch.
"How many is that now?" Peter asked.
"Enough," Mohinder muttered. "I fear what will happen as the punch bowl empties."
Peter laughed. "I'll warn you now: we are Italian," he said. He playfully pecked Mohinder on the cheek before carrying Angela's coat to his bedroom.
Not exactly sure what Peter meant, Mohinder was plagued by strange thoughts of both Petrelli brothers accosting him at once for the next hour, but as the night wore on, he became more wary of Bennet's glares. Claire had made it a habit of attacking Mohinder with a kiss each time she passed. Bennet should have been more mindful of the punch and eggnog she was sneaking. Thankfully, few of the other partygoers had taken advantage of his headwear a second time. Not that Mohinder didn't find any of Peter's lady friends from the hospital attractive; he just had introverted tendencies. He never would have worn the mistletoe if not for the bet-- even if he was drunk.
But despite his situation, he was happy that everyone seemed to be having a pleasant time. Nathan appeared fully recovered from the attempt on his life, and at least for the season he and Peter decided to enjoy the holidays with their mother instead of pressing her for what she knew about the shooting. Alcohol had made Claire favor her happiness that Mohinder had revived Bennet over her anger that Mohinder had shot him in the first place. Bennet was looking well now that he was out of the Company prison and on missions for them, a task he took up begrudgingly after a Level 5 breakout. He was even speaking to Mohinder on polysyllabic terms now.
Plus things were going well elsewhere. Matt had taken Molly to visit Janice and little Matty, with reconciliation on the horizon. And last Mohinder heard, in honor of their father, Hiro and his sister were organizing a philanthropy program at Yamagato, and Ando was now serving as Kimiko's assistant.
Mohinder's contentment was spoiled only by the recurring thought: he's still out there.
Maya contacted Mohinder often from the road. The Company had paired her with an agent and they'd been on the hunt for months now tracking Sylar. Even with Molly's assistance, they'd yet to catch a glimpse of the man. Now that Bennet had rounded up the Level 5 escapees, he was supposed to switch with the other agent to work with Maya in a few days. Mohinder wasn't sure if their luck would turn. If Sylar was able to evade them so easily, he must have stumbled onto a new power, or perhaps multiple.
"Mom!" Peter exclaimed, breaking Mohinder's sullen thoughts. He swatted Angela away from the stove with a pot holder. "You're my guest! Please just sit down or mingle or something." The doorbell rang and Peter looked to Mohinder. "Could you get that? I'm not sure who it-- Mom!"
Asking Angela to get the door would have been a good excuse to get her out of the kitchen; Mohinder assumed Peter was just taking another opportunity to put him in the line of fire. He moved through the crowded apartment and managed not to be kissed (or have his ass pinched-- he wasn't sure who that had been) on the way to the door. He took a breath and hoped whoever it was, it was a sexually insecure heterosexual male.
"So who's late, hm?" he said as he opened the door. His teasing smile vanished the instant he saw the tall, pale, dark-haired man standing in the hall. Before Mohinder could shout a warning, Sylar grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him out of the apartment, shoving him into the wall by the doorway out of sight. Sylar crashed their mouths together, and Mohinder managed a noise of surprise at the feel of Sylar's tongue. Mohinder bit down and Sylar jerked back with a shout, though his right hand still held the other man against the wall. Mohinder turned his head to yell for help as he shoved at Sylar's chest with both hands, but at once an invisible force pushed his jaw shut and slammed his head and wrists back against the wall.
Sylar rolled around his tongue in his mouth, tasting the blood. The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. "I thought this..." He tapped the mistletoe swinging over Mohinder's head. "... was an open invitation."
Mohinder could only glare in response, though many choice words ran through his head. The door beside them was still open, and he could hear the party in full swing, music blaring and voices chattering over it. Surely someone would poke their head out soon... not that Mohinder could imagine what good could come of it.
"I didn't expect to see you at a Christmas party, Dr. Suresh," Sylar said. "Then again, so many of your friends are God-fearing Christians." He leaned in close, plainly enjoying how Mohinder tensed. "Of course, I think right now you and I know God is the least of their problems."
How had Sylar even gotten here without alarm? Molly had been calling the Company with his whereabouts at least ten times a day. Surely someone knew he was here? Unless he'd gotten another power to block Molly's clairvoyance, or perhaps the Company were on their way already. But they wouldn't make it in time, that was clear.
"I won't make you watch," Sylar breathed. "Just relax."
He began to hum. It was a tune Mohinder didn't recognize, but it was low, and serene, and a buzzing in his head blurred his sight at the edges. He suddenly felt exhausted. He didn't realize his eyes were closed until he felt Sylar slip off his headpiece. Mohinder struggled to stay awake, but he didn't even make a sound as Sylar kissed him again, stroking his hair.
Still humming, Sylar carefully laid him down on the floor. "And to all a good night," the killer murmured, and Mohinder faintly heard Peter's voice before falling into the cold darkness.
mylar_fic
Candy Cane
White Christmas
Spiked Eggnog
Festive
Under the Christmas Tree
Silent Night
New Years Day
Holiday Surprise
'Tis the Season
Mistletoe
1/10
(Not sure how I'm supposed to use this table but FUN WITH COLORS WEE.)