Death of a Rabbit
Title: Death of a Rabbit
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1496
Spoilers: 3 x 19 (Shades of Gray)
Disclaimer: Sooooo not mine, any of it. Anything you think you might recognize - it’s not mine. Heroes et al. belongs to Kring and NBC.
Written for one shot challenge #14: rabbit at sylaire_chall.
Sandra can’t help but think that this is the most awkward dinner party she’s ever hosted; it reminds her of the night that she’d introduced Noah to her parents, only so far there’s been less gunplay and blood loss. Her father hadn’t taken very well to the news that she’d gone and gotten herself engaged to a man he’d never met before. She hopes Noah behaves better, since she knows that’s exactly why Claire had requested a family dinner. The fact that Claire’s not even trying to hide the diamond ring convinces Sandra that she’s correct.
“So, Sylar…” Addressing her soon-to-be-son-in-law, Sandra helps herself to another helping of mashed potatoes.
“Gabriel!” Claire chirps frantically, stabbing at her meatloaf, diamond glinting as she twists her knife. “He goes by Gabriel now.”
Noah just growls and Sy - Gabriel, she corrects herself - Gabriel glares at Noah. Sandra’s not sure if it’s because of the name thing or the obvious relationship.
“Okay, then, Gabriel - what do you do for a living?” Surely that would be a safe topic.
“Er…” He hesitates, obviously not wanting to answer.
“Hired assassin?” Noah raises one eyebrow; Sandra wonders how many times he’d had to practice to perfect her father’s inquisitive look since it’s pure Pete Anderson, circa 1987.
“He doesn’t exactly…” Claire sticks up for him again, “um… well…”
Sylar rolls his eyes. “What Claire’s trying to say delicately is that I don’t work. I’m allergic to some jackass in a cheap suit trying to tell me what to do.” He takes a bite of his supper, then shoots her a wicked grin. “That’s why Noah and I had so much difficulty working together.”
She knows she should have expected that. “Well, then.” Think, Sandra, think! she commands herself. What would be a safe topic to bring up? “What do your parents think of you dating Claire?”
Noah just laughs, and she wishes she was sitting close enough so that she could kick him. “Yes, what does your mother think?”
“My mother would have been pleased, if she hadn’t passed a few years ago.” Gabriel glares at him. “But you knew that already.”
“You mean, you murdered her a few years ago. Pass the rolls, please.” Noah reaches for the bread basket.
“Oh.” Sandra had no clue that family would be such a risqué topic, but she tries to change the topic again. She knows asking about politics would be bad, since that could lead to a discussion of Nathan Petrelli, and she knows sports could be even more dangerous - Noah would shoot the man if he proclaimed his love for the Yankees at the dinner table. The only safe thing she could do was change the topic to the neighbors. “So, the rabbit died.”
She wasn’t expecting everyone at the table - with the exception of Lyle - to completely flip out.
She really should have known better.
- - - - - - - - - -
“So, the rabbit died.”
Noah’s hands shake ever so slightly as soon as the words leave Sandra’s mouth. He’s too old to deal with a screaming baby again, way too old. He’d honestly thought she was past the age where they had to worry about birth control. Damnit, he’s the one that’s going to be wearing diapers soon, he’s not supposed to have to worry about diapering babies again.
“Sandy!” Of all the ways to tell him that all his retirement money is going to be contributing to another college fund instead of vacation time, announcing it in the middle of dinner is not what he’d expected.
“What?”
He notices that she’s not smiling or as happy as she had been over Lyle, and that she seems oddly listless, and he starts to think, mentally counting and coming to a conclusion that has him seeing red.
If the rabbit died, he’s not the one that killed it; she must have been referring to Sylar and Claire.
He’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, intent on strangling Sylar. “You bastard!”
- - - - - - - - - -
Sylar’s panicking. Oh, shit. How did Sandra know about that? Did Claire know? He knows how both women are about animals, especially the furball they called a dog, and he imagines that their tender hearts extend to other furry creatures, like squirrels and cats and, unfortunately for him, rabbits. Like the rabbit that he’d killed to get in his father’s good graces.
He’s expecting Claire to stab him with a fork, or for Sandra to give him a doleful look, but he’s not expecting Noah to leap at him, cursing him. Of all the Bennets, he’d pegged Noah for being the least likely to join PETA. He should have known.
“It was an accident!” Sylar yelps as he steps back, trying to get away from the crazed bunny protector. He knows it’s a weak excuse. He gives Noah a light tap across the head to try to knock him away. “It was all my father’s idea! I just wanted his approval. Ow, stop smacking me! She didn’t struggle at all, and wham bam thank you ma’am it was done, no pain. I even petted her!”
It only makes Noah more crazed.
If Sylar had known how much trouble a stuffed animal was going to cause, he would have strangled Samson as soon as they’d met. He’d thought for sure that Noah would have gone berserkers over the news of the engagement or the realization that they were sleeping together, but no, the man lost it over an experiment in taxidermy.
Strange man.
- - - - - - - - - -
Rabbit. Rabbit.
Lyle laughs. What a funny word. Dead rabbit. That’s even funnier, like an oddly silent Bugs Bunny.
He giggles, then tries to hide behind his napkin. They’re sooooo going to know if he keeps laughing, and then he’s going to be grounded until he’s as dead as the rabbity thing, but he can’t help it, especially when Dad tries to strangle Claire’s boytoy. It’s really funny how Sylar-Gabriel-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is keeps trying to bat the old man away, obviously able to kick his ass with just his pinky, but not really wanting to.
Ooooh, pinky. Pinkeeeee. What a weird name for a finger. Pinky and the brain! Oh wait, that’s what Claire’s man eats. Lyle has to imagine that they can’t taste good, maybe like glue without the fun fumes and with the texture of gummy worms. Hmm, that didn’t actually sound half bad; definitely better than brussel sprouts.
He wiggles his fingers before his face, contemplating his own pinky, laughing again.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Mom!”
Claire ignores her brother, father, and fiancé, looking at her mother in horror. She thought she’d hidden the vibrator in a place her parents would never look, but obviously someone had - and what did she mean, it was broken? Her nose crinkles in disgust, not really wanting to know what in the world her mom had done to break it. She’d thought it was unbreakable, especially with how much she’d used it when she was first starting to date Sylar, but… Maybe Mom hadn’t realized what it was, and had used it as a - Claire struggles to think of innocuous uses - a muscle massager. Maybe she’d had a leg cramp. Maybe.
Taking a deep breath, she lets it go. She can always buy another one, it’s no problem. There are plenty of vibrators in the sea. Not a problem. It’s not like she was addicted to it, no sir, not her.
She glares at her mom, wondering why in the world she thought that broken sex toys made for a good topic of conversation. Maybe she’d been brain wiped again, that would explain things - it might also explain why Lyle’s looking at his fingers and laughing like a demented parakeet. Her eyes narrow as she glares at her dad; what had he been up to that the Haitian had been back?
- - - - - - - - - -
Why, oh why, did family suppers always turn into chaotic fights? Why? Sandra cannot figure out why in the world her family reacted so badly - and violently - to the news that Mrs. Smith was going to have to buy a new car since the engine of her VW Rabbit had died, but it doesn’t really matter now.
She just puts her head down on the table, trying not to cry as Gabriel and Noah continue to slap at each other while Claire glares at everyone and Lyle giggles.
She’s going to have to have a talk with that boy. Getting stoned before a dinner, thinking they wouldn’t know. Amateur; she could smell the weed half a block away, but she has to give him credit for getting the good stuff. It reminds her of the glory days of college, and she breathes deeply, trying to get a hit off his clothes.
Wondering where he hides it, she makes up her mind. If she can’t find it while “cleaning” his room, she’s going to have to demand he hand it over.
She’s not ever going to suffer through another family dinner like this again, not if she could be enjoying the chaos.
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1496
Spoilers: 3 x 19 (Shades of Gray)
Disclaimer: Sooooo not mine, any of it. Anything you think you might recognize - it’s not mine. Heroes et al. belongs to Kring and NBC.
Written for one shot challenge #14: rabbit at sylaire_chall.
Sandra can’t help but think that this is the most awkward dinner party she’s ever hosted; it reminds her of the night that she’d introduced Noah to her parents, only so far there’s been less gunplay and blood loss. Her father hadn’t taken very well to the news that she’d gone and gotten herself engaged to a man he’d never met before. She hopes Noah behaves better, since she knows that’s exactly why Claire had requested a family dinner. The fact that Claire’s not even trying to hide the diamond ring convinces Sandra that she’s correct.
“So, Sylar…” Addressing her soon-to-be-son-in-law, Sandra helps herself to another helping of mashed potatoes.
“Gabriel!” Claire chirps frantically, stabbing at her meatloaf, diamond glinting as she twists her knife. “He goes by Gabriel now.”
Noah just growls and Sy - Gabriel, she corrects herself - Gabriel glares at Noah. Sandra’s not sure if it’s because of the name thing or the obvious relationship.
“Okay, then, Gabriel - what do you do for a living?” Surely that would be a safe topic.
“Er…” He hesitates, obviously not wanting to answer.
“Hired assassin?” Noah raises one eyebrow; Sandra wonders how many times he’d had to practice to perfect her father’s inquisitive look since it’s pure Pete Anderson, circa 1987.
“He doesn’t exactly…” Claire sticks up for him again, “um… well…”
Sylar rolls his eyes. “What Claire’s trying to say delicately is that I don’t work. I’m allergic to some jackass in a cheap suit trying to tell me what to do.” He takes a bite of his supper, then shoots her a wicked grin. “That’s why Noah and I had so much difficulty working together.”
She knows she should have expected that. “Well, then.” Think, Sandra, think! she commands herself. What would be a safe topic to bring up? “What do your parents think of you dating Claire?”
Noah just laughs, and she wishes she was sitting close enough so that she could kick him. “Yes, what does your mother think?”
“My mother would have been pleased, if she hadn’t passed a few years ago.” Gabriel glares at him. “But you knew that already.”
“You mean, you murdered her a few years ago. Pass the rolls, please.” Noah reaches for the bread basket.
“Oh.” Sandra had no clue that family would be such a risqué topic, but she tries to change the topic again. She knows asking about politics would be bad, since that could lead to a discussion of Nathan Petrelli, and she knows sports could be even more dangerous - Noah would shoot the man if he proclaimed his love for the Yankees at the dinner table. The only safe thing she could do was change the topic to the neighbors. “So, the rabbit died.”
She wasn’t expecting everyone at the table - with the exception of Lyle - to completely flip out.
She really should have known better.
- - - - - - - - - -
“So, the rabbit died.”
Noah’s hands shake ever so slightly as soon as the words leave Sandra’s mouth. He’s too old to deal with a screaming baby again, way too old. He’d honestly thought she was past the age where they had to worry about birth control. Damnit, he’s the one that’s going to be wearing diapers soon, he’s not supposed to have to worry about diapering babies again.
“Sandy!” Of all the ways to tell him that all his retirement money is going to be contributing to another college fund instead of vacation time, announcing it in the middle of dinner is not what he’d expected.
“What?”
He notices that she’s not smiling or as happy as she had been over Lyle, and that she seems oddly listless, and he starts to think, mentally counting and coming to a conclusion that has him seeing red.
If the rabbit died, he’s not the one that killed it; she must have been referring to Sylar and Claire.
He’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, intent on strangling Sylar. “You bastard!”
- - - - - - - - - -
Sylar’s panicking. Oh, shit. How did Sandra know about that? Did Claire know? He knows how both women are about animals, especially the furball they called a dog, and he imagines that their tender hearts extend to other furry creatures, like squirrels and cats and, unfortunately for him, rabbits. Like the rabbit that he’d killed to get in his father’s good graces.
He’s expecting Claire to stab him with a fork, or for Sandra to give him a doleful look, but he’s not expecting Noah to leap at him, cursing him. Of all the Bennets, he’d pegged Noah for being the least likely to join PETA. He should have known.
“It was an accident!” Sylar yelps as he steps back, trying to get away from the crazed bunny protector. He knows it’s a weak excuse. He gives Noah a light tap across the head to try to knock him away. “It was all my father’s idea! I just wanted his approval. Ow, stop smacking me! She didn’t struggle at all, and wham bam thank you ma’am it was done, no pain. I even petted her!”
It only makes Noah more crazed.
If Sylar had known how much trouble a stuffed animal was going to cause, he would have strangled Samson as soon as they’d met. He’d thought for sure that Noah would have gone berserkers over the news of the engagement or the realization that they were sleeping together, but no, the man lost it over an experiment in taxidermy.
Strange man.
- - - - - - - - - -
Rabbit. Rabbit.
Lyle laughs. What a funny word. Dead rabbit. That’s even funnier, like an oddly silent Bugs Bunny.
He giggles, then tries to hide behind his napkin. They’re sooooo going to know if he keeps laughing, and then he’s going to be grounded until he’s as dead as the rabbity thing, but he can’t help it, especially when Dad tries to strangle Claire’s boytoy. It’s really funny how Sylar-Gabriel-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is keeps trying to bat the old man away, obviously able to kick his ass with just his pinky, but not really wanting to.
Ooooh, pinky. Pinkeeeee. What a weird name for a finger. Pinky and the brain! Oh wait, that’s what Claire’s man eats. Lyle has to imagine that they can’t taste good, maybe like glue without the fun fumes and with the texture of gummy worms. Hmm, that didn’t actually sound half bad; definitely better than brussel sprouts.
He wiggles his fingers before his face, contemplating his own pinky, laughing again.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Mom!”
Claire ignores her brother, father, and fiancé, looking at her mother in horror. She thought she’d hidden the vibrator in a place her parents would never look, but obviously someone had - and what did she mean, it was broken? Her nose crinkles in disgust, not really wanting to know what in the world her mom had done to break it. She’d thought it was unbreakable, especially with how much she’d used it when she was first starting to date Sylar, but… Maybe Mom hadn’t realized what it was, and had used it as a - Claire struggles to think of innocuous uses - a muscle massager. Maybe she’d had a leg cramp. Maybe.
Taking a deep breath, she lets it go. She can always buy another one, it’s no problem. There are plenty of vibrators in the sea. Not a problem. It’s not like she was addicted to it, no sir, not her.
She glares at her mom, wondering why in the world she thought that broken sex toys made for a good topic of conversation. Maybe she’d been brain wiped again, that would explain things - it might also explain why Lyle’s looking at his fingers and laughing like a demented parakeet. Her eyes narrow as she glares at her dad; what had he been up to that the Haitian had been back?
- - - - - - - - - -
Why, oh why, did family suppers always turn into chaotic fights? Why? Sandra cannot figure out why in the world her family reacted so badly - and violently - to the news that Mrs. Smith was going to have to buy a new car since the engine of her VW Rabbit had died, but it doesn’t really matter now.
She just puts her head down on the table, trying not to cry as Gabriel and Noah continue to slap at each other while Claire glares at everyone and Lyle giggles.
She’s going to have to have a talk with that boy. Getting stoned before a dinner, thinking they wouldn’t know. Amateur; she could smell the weed half a block away, but she has to give him credit for getting the good stuff. It reminds her of the glory days of college, and she breathes deeply, trying to get a hit off his clothes.
Wondering where he hides it, she makes up her mind. If she can’t find it while “cleaning” his room, she’s going to have to demand he hand it over.
She’s not ever going to suffer through another family dinner like this again, not if she could be enjoying the chaos.