[fanfic] Like Music (PG-13)
Title: Like Music
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Pointless fluff. You could consider this Kiss #31. It occurred to me I'd never done the most obvious permutation of the situation, which is that Matt would know immediately if Mohinder were to fall in love with him. He reads thoughts for Chrissake. So, I did it. And here it is. Laaaaaa. I think this is more fun the slower you read it. But that's just me.
Mohinder's in love with me. I hear thoughts, so I know.
It's kind of funny that he thinks I don't know. I told him right up front that I hear thoughts. "I don't like to think of it as mind-reading. It's shallower than that. I can't pull out people's memories or their deepest feelings. I can only hear what you're thinking right now, at this very moment," I said. "So you don't have to worry about me finding out your deepest secrets. Unless, of course, you're worrying about it right now."
But it's little things that always add up, you know? I mean, I'm a detective. It's my job to put two and two together. (I'm good at it, too. No matter what those failed exams say. They had nothing to do with my ability to solve mysteries.) So if he's staring at my hands when I'm pouring my coffee and he thinks "Too bad" when I settle down onto the couch to sleep, those are two pretty big clues. So while the thought-hearing stuff is helpful, it's not the whole bag. Even if he were the best poker face in the world and I couldn't do what I can, I think by now I'd have figured it out.
Mohinder's in love with me. I'm not sure I like that.
I mean, never mind the whole man thing. I've heard things since this... weirdness... started that makes that seem positively boring by comparison. As long as the thoughts involve neither leather nor diapers, I'm cool with it. (Hell, I might even be cool with a little bit of leather. Erm, but I digress.) It's just that, well, the guy's my roommate. I mean, how long can it stay flattering before it just gets hellish? What if he decides to say something one of these days? What if I decide to say something one of these days? What if I meet someone here in town? Will I have death wishes flying at her every time I bring her home? Might sort of ruin the mood.
Besides. I sort of don't like hearing Mohinder thinking about me when he should be paying attention to Molly. You know? I mean, flattering as it is when he looks up at me for a second while he's helping her with homework and I hear beautiful eyes... oh God my heart is pounding like a shock of color in the black-and-white world of algebra, I'd really rather he just helped her with the math, you know? God knows I can't help her there. Besides, then my heart starts pounding, and I wonder if I act funny, or he knows that I know, or something complicated like that. All this stuff, all this complication that I shouldn't be having if I didn't hear thoughts. All this stuff I didn't ask for.
Mohinder's in love with me. I wish I didn't know.
It's bad enough that I have to hear it. But I also have to worry about reacting to it. Am I acting different because I know? Does he assume I know and is just waiting for me to have the courage to talk about it? Does he have no idea I know and would be shocked if I came clean? Is he starting to suspect I might know, and should I be acting more casual or less casual or cheerier or crankier or something so he won't get any more suspicious?
Truthfully? I never should have gotten this ability. It's not something a guy like me can handle. Because my capacity for bullshit is just flat zero. I can't even do undercover work because I'm such a lousy liar. And when feelings are involved, I'm the biggest loser ever. I'm either squealing with happiness like a kid, or I'm Broody Moody Matt the Sad Sack. So for me to be the one who gets all this forbidden knowledge is just ridiculous. It should have gone to someone who's brilliant. Who's all logic and reason. Who could handle it without turning upside down and inside out. Someone like, oh, say, Mohinder.
Yeah. He would be brilliant reading thoughts. He could totally use it to figure out what the hell those Company assholes are all about, and then he wouldn't be nearly so obtuse. (OK. Not a good example of Mohinder's brilliance.) He would be so freaking brilliant if he actually could read minds instead of just study them. I wouldn't be nearly able to keep up with him. I can barely keep up with him as it is. I mean, not only is he brilliant, but he's all cultured. And I don't say that just because he has a British accent. I mean, the man drinks tea and listens to classical music and reads philosophy. Seriously. Philosophy. I can't understand the meaning of a six-letter word, let alone the meaning of life. But he's just... remarkable. It's a little intimidating.
Mohinder's in love with me. Which is ridiculous because he's way too good for me.
First of all, you've never seen such a gorgeous man. Let's admit it. He's built like a Greek god. (A Greek Indian god? An Indian Greek god? I'm not sure, but I have seen Indian gods and Mohinder's not built like any of them, so the Greek's gotta stay in there somewhere.) He has the curly hair and the bright eyes and the angelic smile, so he almost looks like a boy above the shoulders, but everything from there on down is just 100% hot man. I never see him exercise. I have no idea how he does it. He never breaks a sweat. Well, he's always in front of a microscope, so maybe he sweats the small stuff.
See, even my sense of humor is inferior. His sense of humor is very dry, very subtle. Kind of infuriating, too. Me, I'm all bad puns. And my voice sounds like a gravel pit. His sounds like a violin. Again, it's not just the accent. His words sort of rise and fall in this very music-y way. His thoughts have the same pattern, too. He thinks in full sentences. It's like a sort of hypnotizing voiceover. I fall asleep to it some nights. And when he thinks in the language he used to speak in India, I think he called it Tamil? It's so sexy. Like music.
And look, I haven't even gotten to how he's this brilliant geneticist who is also an amazing co-father and, um, this is sounding bad, isn't it?
Yes, this is decidedly bad. Because I've had this internal monologue going for so long that I've completely forgotten to move. And he's just looked up and thought, He's been staring at me for a half-hour at least. And I have. I am so busted.
Mohinder's in love with me. And he's just figured out that I know.
This is the moment where it all changes, isn't it? Crap, I've put this moment off for so long and now it's gone and snuck up on me from behind. And now I'm totally unprepared, and he's taking off his glasses and getting up and walking across the floor and I don't know quite what I want to say, and now my own thoughts are drowning out whatever it is that he's thinking so I have no idea what he's about to say.
I can't even hear what he's saying now that he's actually speaking except for maybe the word uncomfortable and the word thoughts and the word privacy. I just keep looking at his mouth, like it's some weird creature from another world. The way it moves is so interesting, so foreign, so strangely elegant. I want to see him say the word uncomfortable again just because I think his lips puckered about four different ways and I have never seen anyone with such a variety of puckers before. I bet they all taste different. Oh, God. Oh, God.
I think I'm shaking. I think my hands are trembling. He sees that I'm looking. Who needs to read thoughts? I must be an open book to him. Shit. Oh, God. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what he's saying. I can hear him thinking please react, please say something, stop looking at me like you want to kiss me and either set me straight or kiss me because I know you can hear me, pick one and go with it!
Yeah, OK, pick one. Right. I can do that.
And now my hands are trembling because they're moving without me and grabbing him and his face is full of surprise and joy and light. Which is great because I'm still not sure which one I picked. My mouth is opening but is it to tell him I'm not interested and he should go away now? No, no, I think that's not the direction I'm going given the fact that my eyes have just closed and his breath is warm against my face. Not sure yet. Not 100 percent sure.
But I'm pretty sure I chose to kiss him, because I think I'm kissing him. Oh, God, I am kissing him, and he, he's kissing me back and thinking oh thank God Matt I love you I love you so much and something about his hands on my neck are making me shudder all over. His thoughts are a whole orchestra full of violins now, and my heart is a drum, and we're playing to the same rhythm. Like music. Like hope. Like love.
Mohinder's in love with me. How amazing is that?
:end:
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Pointless fluff. You could consider this Kiss #31. It occurred to me I'd never done the most obvious permutation of the situation, which is that Matt would know immediately if Mohinder were to fall in love with him. He reads thoughts for Chrissake. So, I did it. And here it is. Laaaaaa. I think this is more fun the slower you read it. But that's just me.
Mohinder's in love with me. I hear thoughts, so I know.
It's kind of funny that he thinks I don't know. I told him right up front that I hear thoughts. "I don't like to think of it as mind-reading. It's shallower than that. I can't pull out people's memories or their deepest feelings. I can only hear what you're thinking right now, at this very moment," I said. "So you don't have to worry about me finding out your deepest secrets. Unless, of course, you're worrying about it right now."
But it's little things that always add up, you know? I mean, I'm a detective. It's my job to put two and two together. (I'm good at it, too. No matter what those failed exams say. They had nothing to do with my ability to solve mysteries.) So if he's staring at my hands when I'm pouring my coffee and he thinks "Too bad" when I settle down onto the couch to sleep, those are two pretty big clues. So while the thought-hearing stuff is helpful, it's not the whole bag. Even if he were the best poker face in the world and I couldn't do what I can, I think by now I'd have figured it out.
Mohinder's in love with me. I'm not sure I like that.
I mean, never mind the whole man thing. I've heard things since this... weirdness... started that makes that seem positively boring by comparison. As long as the thoughts involve neither leather nor diapers, I'm cool with it. (Hell, I might even be cool with a little bit of leather. Erm, but I digress.) It's just that, well, the guy's my roommate. I mean, how long can it stay flattering before it just gets hellish? What if he decides to say something one of these days? What if I decide to say something one of these days? What if I meet someone here in town? Will I have death wishes flying at her every time I bring her home? Might sort of ruin the mood.
Besides. I sort of don't like hearing Mohinder thinking about me when he should be paying attention to Molly. You know? I mean, flattering as it is when he looks up at me for a second while he's helping her with homework and I hear beautiful eyes... oh God my heart is pounding like a shock of color in the black-and-white world of algebra, I'd really rather he just helped her with the math, you know? God knows I can't help her there. Besides, then my heart starts pounding, and I wonder if I act funny, or he knows that I know, or something complicated like that. All this stuff, all this complication that I shouldn't be having if I didn't hear thoughts. All this stuff I didn't ask for.
Mohinder's in love with me. I wish I didn't know.
It's bad enough that I have to hear it. But I also have to worry about reacting to it. Am I acting different because I know? Does he assume I know and is just waiting for me to have the courage to talk about it? Does he have no idea I know and would be shocked if I came clean? Is he starting to suspect I might know, and should I be acting more casual or less casual or cheerier or crankier or something so he won't get any more suspicious?
Truthfully? I never should have gotten this ability. It's not something a guy like me can handle. Because my capacity for bullshit is just flat zero. I can't even do undercover work because I'm such a lousy liar. And when feelings are involved, I'm the biggest loser ever. I'm either squealing with happiness like a kid, or I'm Broody Moody Matt the Sad Sack. So for me to be the one who gets all this forbidden knowledge is just ridiculous. It should have gone to someone who's brilliant. Who's all logic and reason. Who could handle it without turning upside down and inside out. Someone like, oh, say, Mohinder.
Yeah. He would be brilliant reading thoughts. He could totally use it to figure out what the hell those Company assholes are all about, and then he wouldn't be nearly so obtuse. (OK. Not a good example of Mohinder's brilliance.) He would be so freaking brilliant if he actually could read minds instead of just study them. I wouldn't be nearly able to keep up with him. I can barely keep up with him as it is. I mean, not only is he brilliant, but he's all cultured. And I don't say that just because he has a British accent. I mean, the man drinks tea and listens to classical music and reads philosophy. Seriously. Philosophy. I can't understand the meaning of a six-letter word, let alone the meaning of life. But he's just... remarkable. It's a little intimidating.
Mohinder's in love with me. Which is ridiculous because he's way too good for me.
First of all, you've never seen such a gorgeous man. Let's admit it. He's built like a Greek god. (A Greek Indian god? An Indian Greek god? I'm not sure, but I have seen Indian gods and Mohinder's not built like any of them, so the Greek's gotta stay in there somewhere.) He has the curly hair and the bright eyes and the angelic smile, so he almost looks like a boy above the shoulders, but everything from there on down is just 100% hot man. I never see him exercise. I have no idea how he does it. He never breaks a sweat. Well, he's always in front of a microscope, so maybe he sweats the small stuff.
See, even my sense of humor is inferior. His sense of humor is very dry, very subtle. Kind of infuriating, too. Me, I'm all bad puns. And my voice sounds like a gravel pit. His sounds like a violin. Again, it's not just the accent. His words sort of rise and fall in this very music-y way. His thoughts have the same pattern, too. He thinks in full sentences. It's like a sort of hypnotizing voiceover. I fall asleep to it some nights. And when he thinks in the language he used to speak in India, I think he called it Tamil? It's so sexy. Like music.
And look, I haven't even gotten to how he's this brilliant geneticist who is also an amazing co-father and, um, this is sounding bad, isn't it?
Yes, this is decidedly bad. Because I've had this internal monologue going for so long that I've completely forgotten to move. And he's just looked up and thought, He's been staring at me for a half-hour at least. And I have. I am so busted.
Mohinder's in love with me. And he's just figured out that I know.
This is the moment where it all changes, isn't it? Crap, I've put this moment off for so long and now it's gone and snuck up on me from behind. And now I'm totally unprepared, and he's taking off his glasses and getting up and walking across the floor and I don't know quite what I want to say, and now my own thoughts are drowning out whatever it is that he's thinking so I have no idea what he's about to say.
I can't even hear what he's saying now that he's actually speaking except for maybe the word uncomfortable and the word thoughts and the word privacy. I just keep looking at his mouth, like it's some weird creature from another world. The way it moves is so interesting, so foreign, so strangely elegant. I want to see him say the word uncomfortable again just because I think his lips puckered about four different ways and I have never seen anyone with such a variety of puckers before. I bet they all taste different. Oh, God. Oh, God.
I think I'm shaking. I think my hands are trembling. He sees that I'm looking. Who needs to read thoughts? I must be an open book to him. Shit. Oh, God. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what he's saying. I can hear him thinking please react, please say something, stop looking at me like you want to kiss me and either set me straight or kiss me because I know you can hear me, pick one and go with it!
Yeah, OK, pick one. Right. I can do that.
And now my hands are trembling because they're moving without me and grabbing him and his face is full of surprise and joy and light. Which is great because I'm still not sure which one I picked. My mouth is opening but is it to tell him I'm not interested and he should go away now? No, no, I think that's not the direction I'm going given the fact that my eyes have just closed and his breath is warm against my face. Not sure yet. Not 100 percent sure.
But I'm pretty sure I chose to kiss him, because I think I'm kissing him. Oh, God, I am kissing him, and he, he's kissing me back and thinking oh thank God Matt I love you I love you so much and something about his hands on my neck are making me shudder all over. His thoughts are a whole orchestra full of violins now, and my heart is a drum, and we're playing to the same rhythm. Like music. Like hope. Like love.
Mohinder's in love with me. How amazing is that?
:end: