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witnessof_fate and is used with permission; Claude is not_theactor and all mine to use and abuse.)
"Gabriel?"
The man in question snapped his head up from the set of blueprints he'd been looking over, eyes jumping to the door of his workshop. He recognized the voice of course--it was Mohinder--but the call had still caught him off guard. He hadn't known he'd left the door open, too busy trying to wrap his head around schematics and then making annotations, and even beyond that, he hadn't expected Mohinder to come and find him. Not that the visit was completely unfounded, the geneticist having come to him on more than one occasion, but well. Mohinder made him nervous in a way he just couldn't make heads or tails of, for all his ability to know.
That in mind, all he could manage was a weak, almost shy smile. "Doctor Suresh."
"Mohinder," the Indian corrected not for the first time. It was almost a game between the two of them, him calling Mohinder by his title and the geneticist correcting him. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"
"No." Gabriel shook his head, setting down the mechanical pencil he'd been marking up the blueprints with. "I could use a break, anyway. I've been staring at these for hours."
He paused, watching Mohinder head into the room, door left open as he wound through the collection of mismatched tables and half-finished projects he had strewn about the room. Then, once the other man was at a sane distance, he asked, "So, what can I do for you?"
"My father and I are having something of a friendly argument," Mohinder explained, reaching into a manila folder he'd had tucked into his arm to produce a stack of papers. And for a moment, it looked as though he was intent on setting it on top of the inventor's blueprints, but he stopped short, before nodding to them. "May I?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Sure."
Setting the paper down in earnest now, the geneticist leaned over his shoulder carefully, before reaching to put a finger on the page, to draw his attention to it. "This right here," he said, letting his younger look over the complex sprawl of DNA patterns and data for a moment, before flipping a few pages back, only to point out another section. "And this. Tell me whether or not that's possible."
"Give me a minute," Gabriel mumbled, trying to tune out the fact that Mohinder was so disturbingly close to him--touchable, if he leaned back just a little--and focus on wrapping his brain around what was in front of him.
It was hard work, both attempting to ignore the other man, warm at his back, and in trying to understand what was in front of him, by no means a master of genetics. Eventually, however, he managed, face lighting up as if the proverbial light bulb had gone on over his head, and he turned his head up to look at him, lips slightly parted, his answer on them. He never got around to spitting it out, though--mostly because Mohinder's mouth was suddenly just inches from his.
It took him longer than he meant it to, for his brain to catch up with him long enough for him to recoil, heat rising to his cheeks as he stammered out an apology. Mohinder, at least, seemed equally scandalized.
"I'm sorry," the Indian murmured, his apology hot on the heels of Gabriel's.
"No, I--it's--it's fine. I just--"
He shrugged helplessly, reaching for the papers Mohinder had brought in, for an excuse to do something with his hands. Unfortunately, however, the other man had, apparently, had the same idea, and for an instant, their fingers brushed together before they both withdrew again, as if they'd touched something terrifying and poisonous.
Gabriel opened his mouth to apologize again. An over-exaggerated groan from the doorway made them freeze.
"Pair've you," started the voice from the door, and when the inventor turned his attentions that way, he realized they were doomed--such was always the case with Claude, "are the most pathetic things 've ever seen. Lookit you."
The Englishman waved a hand at them, near frustrated, and then he was addressing Gabriel, rather than the both of them. "You fancy him. 'e fancies you. Been able t'see it for months, I have, and yet you two just continue dancin' 'round each other. Think you're a couple've peacocks, yeah? Need a matin' ritual?"
Gabriel took this time to chance a glance at Mohinder, blushing in spite of his skin tone, and immediately he looked away, finding something more interesting to stare at on his desk. Claude wasn't intent on relenting, however, or at least not until he'd had one final gem of wisdom.
"Get a room. Or, for Christssakes, at least have dinner 'fore I 'ave t'beat both your skulls in."
Then, just like that, he turned, leaving Mohinder and Gabriel to sit in awkward silence. One that was only broken by the sound of the Indian moving.
Gabriel looked up finally, almost alarmed; Mohinder didn't look at him. "I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Gabriel."
Like Claude, he turned to leave, but this time, the inventor wasn't so keen on letting his visitors go, and so he reached out, catching the other man's wrist between his fingers, lightly. "Wait."
"Yes?"
"What Claude said," he started, hesitantly. "He was right. And--" since he was afraid of being beaten to death by the Englishman "--I was wondering if ... "
For the first time since Claude's intervention, Mohinder raised his eyes to him, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yes."
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 926
witnessof_fate and is used with permission; Claude is not_theactor and all mine to use and abuse.)"Gabriel?"
The man in question snapped his head up from the set of blueprints he'd been looking over, eyes jumping to the door of his workshop. He recognized the voice of course--it was Mohinder--but the call had still caught him off guard. He hadn't known he'd left the door open, too busy trying to wrap his head around schematics and then making annotations, and even beyond that, he hadn't expected Mohinder to come and find him. Not that the visit was completely unfounded, the geneticist having come to him on more than one occasion, but well. Mohinder made him nervous in a way he just couldn't make heads or tails of, for all his ability to know.
That in mind, all he could manage was a weak, almost shy smile. "Doctor Suresh."
"Mohinder," the Indian corrected not for the first time. It was almost a game between the two of them, him calling Mohinder by his title and the geneticist correcting him. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"
"No." Gabriel shook his head, setting down the mechanical pencil he'd been marking up the blueprints with. "I could use a break, anyway. I've been staring at these for hours."
He paused, watching Mohinder head into the room, door left open as he wound through the collection of mismatched tables and half-finished projects he had strewn about the room. Then, once the other man was at a sane distance, he asked, "So, what can I do for you?"
"My father and I are having something of a friendly argument," Mohinder explained, reaching into a manila folder he'd had tucked into his arm to produce a stack of papers. And for a moment, it looked as though he was intent on setting it on top of the inventor's blueprints, but he stopped short, before nodding to them. "May I?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Sure."
Setting the paper down in earnest now, the geneticist leaned over his shoulder carefully, before reaching to put a finger on the page, to draw his attention to it. "This right here," he said, letting his younger look over the complex sprawl of DNA patterns and data for a moment, before flipping a few pages back, only to point out another section. "And this. Tell me whether or not that's possible."
"Give me a minute," Gabriel mumbled, trying to tune out the fact that Mohinder was so disturbingly close to him--touchable, if he leaned back just a little--and focus on wrapping his brain around what was in front of him.
It was hard work, both attempting to ignore the other man, warm at his back, and in trying to understand what was in front of him, by no means a master of genetics. Eventually, however, he managed, face lighting up as if the proverbial light bulb had gone on over his head, and he turned his head up to look at him, lips slightly parted, his answer on them. He never got around to spitting it out, though--mostly because Mohinder's mouth was suddenly just inches from his.
It took him longer than he meant it to, for his brain to catch up with him long enough for him to recoil, heat rising to his cheeks as he stammered out an apology. Mohinder, at least, seemed equally scandalized.
"I'm sorry," the Indian murmured, his apology hot on the heels of Gabriel's.
"No, I--it's--it's fine. I just--"
He shrugged helplessly, reaching for the papers Mohinder had brought in, for an excuse to do something with his hands. Unfortunately, however, the other man had, apparently, had the same idea, and for an instant, their fingers brushed together before they both withdrew again, as if they'd touched something terrifying and poisonous.
Gabriel opened his mouth to apologize again. An over-exaggerated groan from the doorway made them freeze.
"Pair've you," started the voice from the door, and when the inventor turned his attentions that way, he realized they were doomed--such was always the case with Claude, "are the most pathetic things 've ever seen. Lookit you."
The Englishman waved a hand at them, near frustrated, and then he was addressing Gabriel, rather than the both of them. "You fancy him. 'e fancies you. Been able t'see it for months, I have, and yet you two just continue dancin' 'round each other. Think you're a couple've peacocks, yeah? Need a matin' ritual?"
Gabriel took this time to chance a glance at Mohinder, blushing in spite of his skin tone, and immediately he looked away, finding something more interesting to stare at on his desk. Claude wasn't intent on relenting, however, or at least not until he'd had one final gem of wisdom.
"Get a room. Or, for Christssakes, at least have dinner 'fore I 'ave t'beat both your skulls in."
Then, just like that, he turned, leaving Mohinder and Gabriel to sit in awkward silence. One that was only broken by the sound of the Indian moving.
Gabriel looked up finally, almost alarmed; Mohinder didn't look at him. "I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Gabriel."
Like Claude, he turned to leave, but this time, the inventor wasn't so keen on letting his visitors go, and so he reached out, catching the other man's wrist between his fingers, lightly. "Wait."
"Yes?"
"What Claude said," he started, hesitantly. "He was right. And--" since he was afraid of being beaten to death by the Englishman "--I was wondering if ... "
For the first time since Claude's intervention, Mohinder raised his eyes to him, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yes."
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 926
