![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayer"Why do you have these?"
Sylar looked up from the newspaper just in time to see Claire wave a stack of coupons at him. He frowned, tilting his head to one side, trying to remember when he'd clipped them or why he hadn't thrown them away an age ago, when if nothing else good could be said about him, it was true that he was nothing if not cleanly. He couldn't quite bring the memory to mind, however, and so he shrugged, figuring it had to have been something he'd done before he'd killed Charlie, and therefore unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
They were just coupons, anyway, and so he refocused himself on the reading the news as if he actually cared about it, before telling her, "Oh, those expired four years ago."
She huffed, dropping the stack of coupons on the table so that she could put her hands to her hips. "I know," she shot back, scowling. "That's why I asked. Aren't you super neat-freak guy or something?"
For the second time that morning, he looked up from the paper, his expression a mirror of hers, as he wasn't sure what annoyed him more. The fact that, clearly, she was looking for another fight, if she was harrying him about things like expired coupons, or the fact that she must have poked around his apartment while he'd been asleep, if she knew what state he kept his things in. Next time, he decided, he'd have to make sure she stayed pinned to the bed, when he made her stay. Next time, she wouldn't have a chance to go through his things.
Now, however, all he offered was a small, sick smile that never reached his eyes. "Your eggs are burning."
"Shit," she hissed, spinning gracelessly to face the stove, bare feet slipping on the linoleum. He went back to his paper, smiling, pleased with himself, as she went about cleaning up her mess. Moments passed in blissful, almost domestic silence, and then she was trying to get his attention again. "Hey, Sylar."
He didn't bother looking up this time, something about Nathan Petrelli having caught his eye. "Hm?"
She paused for a moment, and then in a tone that was too saccharine sweet to be anything less than false, she chirped, "Here's your eggs."
Sylar barely managed to avoid the frying pan as it sailed through the air. It hit the wall behind him with a helpless thunk, rattling on the floor as it settled to try to catch the mess of burnt eggs that slid down the wallpaper, leaving lines of yellow in its wake. Really, he should have looked up when she'd tried getting him to look up at her that last time.
He sighed, surprisingly calm, and folded the paper in half, setting it down on the table. A baleful glance was shot at his coffee, before he picked the mug up, downing the rest of it--he'd almost been finished, anyway--and then he set the cup back down, looking up at her.
"Finished your coffee?" she asked, a smirk of a smile dragging her lips upwards.
"All done," he assured her.
Then, just like that, he had a hand raised, throwing her back onto the still-hot oven, their feud begun anew.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 550
Notes: Claire is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girl_ofsecrets and is used with permission.
Sylar looked up from the newspaper just in time to see Claire wave a stack of coupons at him. He frowned, tilting his head to one side, trying to remember when he'd clipped them or why he hadn't thrown them away an age ago, when if nothing else good could be said about him, it was true that he was nothing if not cleanly. He couldn't quite bring the memory to mind, however, and so he shrugged, figuring it had to have been something he'd done before he'd killed Charlie, and therefore unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
They were just coupons, anyway, and so he refocused himself on the reading the news as if he actually cared about it, before telling her, "Oh, those expired four years ago."
She huffed, dropping the stack of coupons on the table so that she could put her hands to her hips. "I know," she shot back, scowling. "That's why I asked. Aren't you super neat-freak guy or something?"
For the second time that morning, he looked up from the paper, his expression a mirror of hers, as he wasn't sure what annoyed him more. The fact that, clearly, she was looking for another fight, if she was harrying him about things like expired coupons, or the fact that she must have poked around his apartment while he'd been asleep, if she knew what state he kept his things in. Next time, he decided, he'd have to make sure she stayed pinned to the bed, when he made her stay. Next time, she wouldn't have a chance to go through his things.
Now, however, all he offered was a small, sick smile that never reached his eyes. "Your eggs are burning."
"Shit," she hissed, spinning gracelessly to face the stove, bare feet slipping on the linoleum. He went back to his paper, smiling, pleased with himself, as she went about cleaning up her mess. Moments passed in blissful, almost domestic silence, and then she was trying to get his attention again. "Hey, Sylar."
He didn't bother looking up this time, something about Nathan Petrelli having caught his eye. "Hm?"
She paused for a moment, and then in a tone that was too saccharine sweet to be anything less than false, she chirped, "Here's your eggs."
Sylar barely managed to avoid the frying pan as it sailed through the air. It hit the wall behind him with a helpless thunk, rattling on the floor as it settled to try to catch the mess of burnt eggs that slid down the wallpaper, leaving lines of yellow in its wake. Really, he should have looked up when she'd tried getting him to look up at her that last time.
He sighed, surprisingly calm, and folded the paper in half, setting it down on the table. A baleful glance was shot at his coffee, before he picked the mug up, downing the rest of it--he'd almost been finished, anyway--and then he set the cup back down, looking up at her.
"Finished your coffee?" she asked, a smirk of a smile dragging her lips upwards.
"All done," he assured her.
Then, just like that, he had a hand raised, throwing her back onto the still-hot oven, their feud begun anew.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 550
Notes: Claire is
girl_ofsecrets and is used with permission.
