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heroslayerHe doesn't bother getting them a motel, knowing that Nathan and his surveillance team will have those watched, waiting for him to slip up. For anyone to slip up as, when he went through the files on that laptop he stole earlier when the stopped, he noticed he's not the only one that the good Senator Petrelli is after. He wants all of them--him, his own brother, Suresh--and so he has eyes everywhere. It make Sylar more uncomfortable than he'd like to admit, this game harder than the one he played with the FBI back when he was a fledgling serial killer, but he's no more inclined toward losing than he was then, so he'll play it safe. No motel.
Instead, when he gets tired--and he still gets tired, even with all his power--he pulls off onto the shoulder of the road, engine dying sharply as he twists the keys hard and loud enough to wake Luke up. Dumb kid's been dozing in the passenger seat for an hour now, apparently convinced that he doesn't need to be awake, now that he's outlived his usefulness. Either that, or the drugs Nathan's team had him on are still in his system, though he's guessing the former, judging by how quick the boy is to snap awake.
"What's going on?"
"We're ditching the car," he tells him, grabbing the laptop, before shifting in his seat to lean into the back of the vehicle to grab the bloodstained uniform he was wearing earlier. It'll come in handy later, he figures, regardless of how filthy it is.
"What?" His eyes follow Sylar to the backseat before wandering to the window to stare out into the dark, near panicked. "Why?"
He doesn't answer; the kid doesn't need to know all of his plans, he just needs to do as he's told or he gets left, again.
That in mind, he all but kicks open the door, his hands otherwise full, and gets out of the car. Luke hesitates for a moment, still unsure as to what the hell is going on, but after a moment, he follows suit, scurrying around the car to meet him. "Seriously, man. What's going on?"
Sylar responds by shoving the pile of clothes at him. "Take these." And then he's marching off into the woods, the kid at his heels without question this time--a fact for which he's infinitely grateful for, since he needs a moment to think.
They'll have to find a new car tomorrow, he decides, but even if he hadn't been tired, they wouldn't have been able to keep that one. Nathan knows the license plate number, and he figures that even if he finds something to black it out with, it won't stop the Senator. It'll turn from looking for a specific car with a specific license plate to looking for a specific car with no license plate, and that's just as easy. For as important as that thought is, however, he shoulders it--he can think about it when he wakes up--and turns himself to more immediate problems. Namely finding a good campsite for him and the idiot stumbling through the dark loudly behind him.
He sighs, casting an unimpressed look back at Luke, and then holds up a hand. "We'll stop here." They're far enough from the main road that they won't be seen, he figures, and besides, with all the branches Luke's broken in following after him, it's not like they can't be followed if the government really wants to give chase. There's no point in going further, and he's too tired to, anyway. "Set those down."
"The clothes? On the ground?"
Sylar has half a mind to answer with some smart ass comment, but he thinks better of it, firing off a baleful at Luke before moving to stand by one of the trees at the edge of the space he's designated as theirs. The kid mutters something rude that he doesn't quite catch, kicking at rocks before spreading out the clothes as ordered, and he smiles, briefly, wondering if the boy isn't learning something, after all.
He turns back to him. "I'm not building a fire." It's not that cold anyway, almost summer, and he figures the light will only serve to draw attention they don't need from animals and humans alike. "You're taking first watch."
"First watch?" Luke looks at him, disdainfully--maybe he's not learning as well as Sylar had hoped. "What is this, some bad horror movie?"
"You've slept. I haven't," he tells him through gritted teeth, pushing past him roughly to lower himself to the piled uniform. He sets the laptop on one end of it, content to use it as a pillow, even if he knows the metal of the case won't exactly be comfortable, and he'll probably wake up with lines on his face from the pattern on it--he doesn't want the kid taking it from him, though, and who the hell knows if he'll try? "Good night, Luke."
"Wait." Sylar closes his eyes anyway, exhausting seeping into his shoulders like plague. "What if I fall asleep?"
"Then I'll kill you, when I wake up, if we're both not already dead."
"Right." Luke shifts a bit, uncomfortably, and then he's silent. For all of a minute and a half. "How can you sleep like that?"
Sylar huffs out a long suffering sigh. "Like what?"
"Like that. I mean, not only is the ground kinda hard, but usually, to get to sleep, I need to--"
"You finish that sentence and I'll kill you." He knows where it's going; he doesn't need to think about some underage kid jerking off before bed. He's a serial killer--that much admitted only reluctantly--not a pervert.
"I'm just saying," he mutters. "Not like you've ever had a girlfriend."
He thinks of Elle, mind drifting to how he looked under him, skin slicked with sweat, her eyelids fluttering as she broke. He shifts a little, imagining the way her nails dug into his spine on reflex, his skin breaking briefly before healing, and then the way she'd pressed the tips of her fingers against new skin as if she knew how good it felt. As if she knew how sensitive and raw he was, after he healed, and thought she could use it to send him tumbling over the edge with her. Not that it didn't work--it had, gloriously--but God, how had she known? How had she gotten that lucky? How had he, because sleeping with her had been anything but the chore fucking Maya had been.
Elle had known everything he'd liked almost intuitively, and if he didn't regret what he'd done to her--what she'd done to him--for reasons of love, he's pretty sure he would have at least missed the sex. He's pretty sure he does, if only with her even though it's been two months and they only had the chance for one time before Bennet got trigger happy and his world fell apart. He doesn't consider himself a sexual animal, but he misses the way her mouth felt on his collar bone. The way she felt around him. His hands on her sides, on her thighs, at her breasts.
While he hasn't moved an inch, however, refusing to give Luke the impression that he's ever had a girlfriend, let alone known what it's like to be in a sexual dry spell, he can feel the kid's eyes on him. And so he's quick to shoulder his thoughts of Elle, pushing her away and shutting down, just like he does with everything else. "Shut up and let me sleep," he growls, turning on his side, and the idiot kid thankfully stops pressing him.
He drifts off slowly, half hoping for dreams of Elle and heat, if only because he's not sure he's going to get a cold shower any time soon and he'd deny himself anything else, even if the kid wasn't there.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1322
Instead, when he gets tired--and he still gets tired, even with all his power--he pulls off onto the shoulder of the road, engine dying sharply as he twists the keys hard and loud enough to wake Luke up. Dumb kid's been dozing in the passenger seat for an hour now, apparently convinced that he doesn't need to be awake, now that he's outlived his usefulness. Either that, or the drugs Nathan's team had him on are still in his system, though he's guessing the former, judging by how quick the boy is to snap awake.
"What's going on?"
"We're ditching the car," he tells him, grabbing the laptop, before shifting in his seat to lean into the back of the vehicle to grab the bloodstained uniform he was wearing earlier. It'll come in handy later, he figures, regardless of how filthy it is.
"What?" His eyes follow Sylar to the backseat before wandering to the window to stare out into the dark, near panicked. "Why?"
He doesn't answer; the kid doesn't need to know all of his plans, he just needs to do as he's told or he gets left, again.
That in mind, he all but kicks open the door, his hands otherwise full, and gets out of the car. Luke hesitates for a moment, still unsure as to what the hell is going on, but after a moment, he follows suit, scurrying around the car to meet him. "Seriously, man. What's going on?"
Sylar responds by shoving the pile of clothes at him. "Take these." And then he's marching off into the woods, the kid at his heels without question this time--a fact for which he's infinitely grateful for, since he needs a moment to think.
They'll have to find a new car tomorrow, he decides, but even if he hadn't been tired, they wouldn't have been able to keep that one. Nathan knows the license plate number, and he figures that even if he finds something to black it out with, it won't stop the Senator. It'll turn from looking for a specific car with a specific license plate to looking for a specific car with no license plate, and that's just as easy. For as important as that thought is, however, he shoulders it--he can think about it when he wakes up--and turns himself to more immediate problems. Namely finding a good campsite for him and the idiot stumbling through the dark loudly behind him.
He sighs, casting an unimpressed look back at Luke, and then holds up a hand. "We'll stop here." They're far enough from the main road that they won't be seen, he figures, and besides, with all the branches Luke's broken in following after him, it's not like they can't be followed if the government really wants to give chase. There's no point in going further, and he's too tired to, anyway. "Set those down."
"The clothes? On the ground?"
Sylar has half a mind to answer with some smart ass comment, but he thinks better of it, firing off a baleful at Luke before moving to stand by one of the trees at the edge of the space he's designated as theirs. The kid mutters something rude that he doesn't quite catch, kicking at rocks before spreading out the clothes as ordered, and he smiles, briefly, wondering if the boy isn't learning something, after all.
He turns back to him. "I'm not building a fire." It's not that cold anyway, almost summer, and he figures the light will only serve to draw attention they don't need from animals and humans alike. "You're taking first watch."
"First watch?" Luke looks at him, disdainfully--maybe he's not learning as well as Sylar had hoped. "What is this, some bad horror movie?"
"You've slept. I haven't," he tells him through gritted teeth, pushing past him roughly to lower himself to the piled uniform. He sets the laptop on one end of it, content to use it as a pillow, even if he knows the metal of the case won't exactly be comfortable, and he'll probably wake up with lines on his face from the pattern on it--he doesn't want the kid taking it from him, though, and who the hell knows if he'll try? "Good night, Luke."
"Wait." Sylar closes his eyes anyway, exhausting seeping into his shoulders like plague. "What if I fall asleep?"
"Then I'll kill you, when I wake up, if we're both not already dead."
"Right." Luke shifts a bit, uncomfortably, and then he's silent. For all of a minute and a half. "How can you sleep like that?"
Sylar huffs out a long suffering sigh. "Like what?"
"Like that. I mean, not only is the ground kinda hard, but usually, to get to sleep, I need to--"
"You finish that sentence and I'll kill you." He knows where it's going; he doesn't need to think about some underage kid jerking off before bed. He's a serial killer--that much admitted only reluctantly--not a pervert.
"I'm just saying," he mutters. "Not like you've ever had a girlfriend."
He thinks of Elle, mind drifting to how he looked under him, skin slicked with sweat, her eyelids fluttering as she broke. He shifts a little, imagining the way her nails dug into his spine on reflex, his skin breaking briefly before healing, and then the way she'd pressed the tips of her fingers against new skin as if she knew how good it felt. As if she knew how sensitive and raw he was, after he healed, and thought she could use it to send him tumbling over the edge with her. Not that it didn't work--it had, gloriously--but God, how had she known? How had she gotten that lucky? How had he, because sleeping with her had been anything but the chore fucking Maya had been.
Elle had known everything he'd liked almost intuitively, and if he didn't regret what he'd done to her--what she'd done to him--for reasons of love, he's pretty sure he would have at least missed the sex. He's pretty sure he does, if only with her even though it's been two months and they only had the chance for one time before Bennet got trigger happy and his world fell apart. He doesn't consider himself a sexual animal, but he misses the way her mouth felt on his collar bone. The way she felt around him. His hands on her sides, on her thighs, at her breasts.
While he hasn't moved an inch, however, refusing to give Luke the impression that he's ever had a girlfriend, let alone known what it's like to be in a sexual dry spell, he can feel the kid's eyes on him. And so he's quick to shoulder his thoughts of Elle, pushing her away and shutting down, just like he does with everything else. "Shut up and let me sleep," he growls, turning on his side, and the idiot kid thankfully stops pressing him.
He drifts off slowly, half hoping for dreams of Elle and heat, if only because he's not sure he's going to get a cold shower any time soon and he'd deny himself anything else, even if the kid wasn't there.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1322
