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heroslayer"Doctor Suresh? It's Nathan--Nathan Petrelli."
He knows he shouldn't have to clarify, even though this is a phone call rather than their usual face to face, but he can't help it. He's just coming down from a long day at the office, and he hasn't quite gotten around to losing the tie or the politician mindset just yet, so it's almost reflexive. Mohinder seems to find it funny, amusement apparent in his tone; he all but cringes. It should be funny--on any other day, it would be--but given their oddly addictive intimacy, he can't help but feel the fool. He tries to shrug it off.
"Look," he says into the phone, winding the cord around his fingers so that he doesn't trip on it as he moves around the office. Why the hell doesn't he had a cordless in here? "I've got something I want to run by you, but it's going to take some time. You free tonight?"
The answer is affirmative, and whatever reasons he had to kick himself earlier evaporate in a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. Somehow, however, he manages to keep it out of his tone. "Great. I drove myself in today, so I can swing by and pick you up in--" He shoots a glance at the anniversary clock, running perfectly thanks to him in its cabinet across the room, and takes a moment to consider the time and the traffic. "--twenty minutes?"
Another yes, and he's sure he can hear Mohinder's curiosity spiking, despite his best efforts, but he's not about to show his hand just yet. "I'll see you then." A pause, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and then he adds, "Oh, and Mohinder? Wear something warm."
He doesn't wait for a reply this time, instead crossing the room swiftly to return the phone to its cradle, fingers working to free themselves from the cord. A deep breath, once it's down, and then he's reaching up to loosen his tie, before working a hand under it to slip it off entirely, once there's space. He feels oddly naked without it, like he's been wearing the damn thing for months--he practically has--and he has a feeling that his mother would be scandalized to see him without it, but he wants to look more casual. And seeing as how his own given time frame won't allow him a trip home, tie-less with the top two buttons of his shirt undone for added effect is the best he can do.
Casting a quick glance at the mirrored panels of the curio cabinet to check his reflection, he heads for the door, flipping his assistant a wave and a bright smile as he passes. She returns it, bids him good night, and then he's outside, keys jingling in his pocket as he all but bounds down the steps. He probably looks all too obvious, but he's too tired of trying to hide things, affairs or otherwise, so he doesn't give it a second thought, instead fumbling for his keys as he reaches the car, so that he can let himself in.
He doesn't even bother thinking about the fact that he somehow manages to start the car up automatically, never gives thought to the fact that he's still getting used to driving on his own again, still half-terrified of cars, thanks to the accident that he really only half took part in. It should strike him as odd--so much has, lately, and he can't explain why--but it doesn't. He's equal parts excited and nervous, and that more or less overwrites thoughts of anything else, at the moment.
He inhales sharply anyway, letting the breath out a sigh, though not to banish the shadows of Linderman and his ghosts, then he's curling his fingers around the steering wheel, and pulling out of the parking lot.
It takes him less than twenty minutes to get to Mohinder's, somehow, but the geneticist is already waiting for him, a scarf draped over his shoulders, clutching at the jacket he's brought along like it's a safety net. He probably realizes how silly he looks, dressed in fall clothes in the middle of May, but clearly his trust for him is greater than his pride, and he can't help but smile. It's nice to be trusted, however fragile that trust is, given everything he's done in the last few months.
"Hey." He leans across the seat to push the passenger door open, the leather of the seats protesting as he does so, and Mohinder climbs in, flashing him a brief, bright smile.
"Hello, Nathan."
For a moment, he gets the feeling that this is all entirely backwards, somehow, but he shrugs it off, not letting it strip the smile from his face. "Ready?" Not that he gives him a chance to answer, putting the car in drive again, to take them away from the building.
"I don't suppose I have much a choice in the matter," Mohinder answers, wryly. "Do I at least get to ask where we're going? I'd imagine it's not back to the office, given your missing tie."
"Good call." He shoots Mohinder a small, sideways look, a hand coming to rest on his thigh, lightly. "But sorry, Suresh, where we're going is on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know--not yet, anyway. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, alright?"
The geneticist studies him for a moment, mutely, and then he's nodding. "Alright."
Save that and a bit of idle small talk, that's the extent of their conversation as he leads them out of the city. They drive for more than an hour, the lights of the city fading to small, winking dots on the horizon, past the ruins of Hartsdale--he shudders as they pass, for some reason--and out into the wilderness. Or, well, as wild as New York gets anyway, signs of human life still apparent, even out here in the dark.
He manages a wry smile at the thought, rolling the car to a stop in the middle of a field, and casts Mohinder a glance as he kills the engine. He's pretty sure they're trespassing on private property--no one in their right mind would leave this kind of undeveloped space hanging around upstate without laying claim to it--but he's not sure he cares much. If there's really a problem, he can always use his influence to sway whoever it is with the issue. It's one of the perks of being a senator.
"C'mmon," he suggests, and then he's getting out of the car.
Mohinder follows suit, taking a moment to look around, and then he's staring at him. "Why are we out here?"
He half-figures that the Indian is expecting another Coyote Sands, and so he shakes his head, before rounding the vehicle to stand beside him, gesturing out to the relative nothingness before them. "There's less light from the city out here," he tells him, raising his eyes to the sky. "Take a look."
Mohinder's gaze follows his, and for a moment they stare in silence at the blanket of stars stretched out above them. He half expects a shooting star to streak across the night, just for them, but no light ever falls from the sky, and eventually, he has to pull his attentions away from the white-studded black of the sky. "What do you think? Feel like seeing it first hand."
"It's beautiful," the Indian murmurs, dragging his eyes down from the sky to look at him. "I'd love to."
A smirk of a smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards, and he steps forward wrapping his arms around Mohinder's waist. And he ignores the second part of that statement entirely for a moment, focusing on the first. "So are you."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Nathan."
"It's not flattery." He pauses, the smile turning a bit sheepish, and looks away to the stars again, hoping that they'll save him, somehow. "Ok, so it's flattery, but I was trying to be romantic--I figured it'd be a nice change from all the cold, cynical politician crap."
Wordlessly, and with what he takes as approval, Mohinder is leaning in to kiss him. Maybe flattery--or romanticism, however you want to look at it--will get him somewhere, after all.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1386
Note: Mohinder is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
witnessof_fate and is used with permission.
He knows he shouldn't have to clarify, even though this is a phone call rather than their usual face to face, but he can't help it. He's just coming down from a long day at the office, and he hasn't quite gotten around to losing the tie or the politician mindset just yet, so it's almost reflexive. Mohinder seems to find it funny, amusement apparent in his tone; he all but cringes. It should be funny--on any other day, it would be--but given their oddly addictive intimacy, he can't help but feel the fool. He tries to shrug it off.
"Look," he says into the phone, winding the cord around his fingers so that he doesn't trip on it as he moves around the office. Why the hell doesn't he had a cordless in here? "I've got something I want to run by you, but it's going to take some time. You free tonight?"
The answer is affirmative, and whatever reasons he had to kick himself earlier evaporate in a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. Somehow, however, he manages to keep it out of his tone. "Great. I drove myself in today, so I can swing by and pick you up in--" He shoots a glance at the anniversary clock, running perfectly thanks to him in its cabinet across the room, and takes a moment to consider the time and the traffic. "--twenty minutes?"
Another yes, and he's sure he can hear Mohinder's curiosity spiking, despite his best efforts, but he's not about to show his hand just yet. "I'll see you then." A pause, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and then he adds, "Oh, and Mohinder? Wear something warm."
He doesn't wait for a reply this time, instead crossing the room swiftly to return the phone to its cradle, fingers working to free themselves from the cord. A deep breath, once it's down, and then he's reaching up to loosen his tie, before working a hand under it to slip it off entirely, once there's space. He feels oddly naked without it, like he's been wearing the damn thing for months--he practically has--and he has a feeling that his mother would be scandalized to see him without it, but he wants to look more casual. And seeing as how his own given time frame won't allow him a trip home, tie-less with the top two buttons of his shirt undone for added effect is the best he can do.
Casting a quick glance at the mirrored panels of the curio cabinet to check his reflection, he heads for the door, flipping his assistant a wave and a bright smile as he passes. She returns it, bids him good night, and then he's outside, keys jingling in his pocket as he all but bounds down the steps. He probably looks all too obvious, but he's too tired of trying to hide things, affairs or otherwise, so he doesn't give it a second thought, instead fumbling for his keys as he reaches the car, so that he can let himself in.
He doesn't even bother thinking about the fact that he somehow manages to start the car up automatically, never gives thought to the fact that he's still getting used to driving on his own again, still half-terrified of cars, thanks to the accident that he really only half took part in. It should strike him as odd--so much has, lately, and he can't explain why--but it doesn't. He's equal parts excited and nervous, and that more or less overwrites thoughts of anything else, at the moment.
He inhales sharply anyway, letting the breath out a sigh, though not to banish the shadows of Linderman and his ghosts, then he's curling his fingers around the steering wheel, and pulling out of the parking lot.
It takes him less than twenty minutes to get to Mohinder's, somehow, but the geneticist is already waiting for him, a scarf draped over his shoulders, clutching at the jacket he's brought along like it's a safety net. He probably realizes how silly he looks, dressed in fall clothes in the middle of May, but clearly his trust for him is greater than his pride, and he can't help but smile. It's nice to be trusted, however fragile that trust is, given everything he's done in the last few months.
"Hey." He leans across the seat to push the passenger door open, the leather of the seats protesting as he does so, and Mohinder climbs in, flashing him a brief, bright smile.
"Hello, Nathan."
For a moment, he gets the feeling that this is all entirely backwards, somehow, but he shrugs it off, not letting it strip the smile from his face. "Ready?" Not that he gives him a chance to answer, putting the car in drive again, to take them away from the building.
"I don't suppose I have much a choice in the matter," Mohinder answers, wryly. "Do I at least get to ask where we're going? I'd imagine it's not back to the office, given your missing tie."
"Good call." He shoots Mohinder a small, sideways look, a hand coming to rest on his thigh, lightly. "But sorry, Suresh, where we're going is on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know--not yet, anyway. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, alright?"
The geneticist studies him for a moment, mutely, and then he's nodding. "Alright."
Save that and a bit of idle small talk, that's the extent of their conversation as he leads them out of the city. They drive for more than an hour, the lights of the city fading to small, winking dots on the horizon, past the ruins of Hartsdale--he shudders as they pass, for some reason--and out into the wilderness. Or, well, as wild as New York gets anyway, signs of human life still apparent, even out here in the dark.
He manages a wry smile at the thought, rolling the car to a stop in the middle of a field, and casts Mohinder a glance as he kills the engine. He's pretty sure they're trespassing on private property--no one in their right mind would leave this kind of undeveloped space hanging around upstate without laying claim to it--but he's not sure he cares much. If there's really a problem, he can always use his influence to sway whoever it is with the issue. It's one of the perks of being a senator.
"C'mmon," he suggests, and then he's getting out of the car.
Mohinder follows suit, taking a moment to look around, and then he's staring at him. "Why are we out here?"
He half-figures that the Indian is expecting another Coyote Sands, and so he shakes his head, before rounding the vehicle to stand beside him, gesturing out to the relative nothingness before them. "There's less light from the city out here," he tells him, raising his eyes to the sky. "Take a look."
Mohinder's gaze follows his, and for a moment they stare in silence at the blanket of stars stretched out above them. He half expects a shooting star to streak across the night, just for them, but no light ever falls from the sky, and eventually, he has to pull his attentions away from the white-studded black of the sky. "What do you think? Feel like seeing it first hand."
"It's beautiful," the Indian murmurs, dragging his eyes down from the sky to look at him. "I'd love to."
A smirk of a smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards, and he steps forward wrapping his arms around Mohinder's waist. And he ignores the second part of that statement entirely for a moment, focusing on the first. "So are you."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Nathan."
"It's not flattery." He pauses, the smile turning a bit sheepish, and looks away to the stars again, hoping that they'll save him, somehow. "Ok, so it's flattery, but I was trying to be romantic--I figured it'd be a nice change from all the cold, cynical politician crap."
Wordlessly, and with what he takes as approval, Mohinder is leaning in to kiss him. Maybe flattery--or romanticism, however you want to look at it--will get him somewhere, after all.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1386
Note: Mohinder is
witnessof_fate and is used with permission.
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Date: 2009-05-16 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
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