for theatrical_muse: wake up
Sep. 25th, 2009 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayer"Wake up."
The command, he knew, was relatively pointless, the fact that he was there, standing at the foot of the bed, proof enough that Matt wasn't entirely asleep. He could be here without the cop being conscious, thoughts so deeply ingrained in Parkman's that he could manifest in his dreams as well as he could the waking world, but he wouldn't be here. To date, the other man hadn't dreamed about home once the entire time he'd been stuck in his head, after all, so Matt had to be awake on some level.
Not that he showed it at all, not even bothering to stir, and so Sylar repeated himself, this time louder. "I said wake up. Or Matty gets to join the list of the recently deceased." Matt stirred at that, pulling himself out of the bed with a groan, and Sylar couldn't help but smirk before pressing forward. "I mean, that's where I am, right? Everyone has to think I'm dead, or you wouldn't be here living the American Dream -- you'd be out there, trying to put the monster behind bars so the world would be safe for ickle Matty."
"Shut up," Matt hissed, fingers curling into fists in the sheets.
"Make me -- oh, wait. You can't." He made a soft noise at the back of his throat that might have been a laugh. "You did this to me, you're suffering for it, and you just can't cope with that. With the idea that you might have screwed up -- that you might have become just as bad as me -- in doing what you did. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"
Childish, maybe -- hypocritical, definitely -- but Parkman had gone ramrod straight on the bed, wide awake now, his teeth gritted as he seethed, at a loss for words. He half-expected the cop to take a flying leap off the bed at him, but that didn't frighten him in the least. It wasn't as though Matt could touch him like this, and even if he could, any beating the other man could give him would be well worth it just for the look on his face. Just to know that he was getting under his skin.
His grin widening, he sank back against the wall behind him and folded his arms over his chest. "But you could make it all better if you'd just tell me where my body is."
"Screw you."
The smile disappeared suddenly, his face falling into a sneer. "Let me make this easier for you. You tell me where the hell my body is, or we're back to the part where I murder the wife and kid and make you watch."
"You're not real!"
"Oh, I'm real enough, Matt. Real enough to get you to tell the water boy to get lost, when you were so adamant about not using your powers again. And while, okay, maybe I couldn't be the one to off the little woman, since we're back to the whole no body thing, I bet I could talk you into it. You're easy. A couple words here, a few sleepless nights there, and you've got one of the knives from the kitchen through her chest." Skipping a beat, he tilted his head to one side, affecting a mock thoughtful look. "Or maybe two bullets in the back of the head. I haven't decided which would be more fun to watch just yet."
He swore he could have done a countdown -- three, two, one -- and then as if on cue, Matt was throwing himself at him, howling obscenities. Fortunately for him, as the other man was so fond of telling him, he didn't quite exist on a physical level, so he had the luxury of disappearing from one spot and reappearing in another. Not so fortunately for Parkman, it meant his head had a rather messy encounter with the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Ouch," he commented dryly, corners of his mouth twisting upwards again as he watched Matt all but peel himself off of the wall.
He took a moment to savor the moan that followed, watching with idle interest as he reached up to press his fingers to his nose to make sure it wasn't broken, and then he went on, back to their original topic of conversation. "All you have to do to stop me from sending you from your little addict class to the psych ward is tell me where my body is. But I know that you're a little slow -- I get it; it runs in your family -- so I'll give you a few hours to think about it. You won't be getting back to sleep any time tonight, anyway."
And in the instants before he sunk back into the parts of Matt's mind that he'd claimed as his, he got the distinct impression that he was right. Not that it would have taken a rocket scientist.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 828
The command, he knew, was relatively pointless, the fact that he was there, standing at the foot of the bed, proof enough that Matt wasn't entirely asleep. He could be here without the cop being conscious, thoughts so deeply ingrained in Parkman's that he could manifest in his dreams as well as he could the waking world, but he wouldn't be here. To date, the other man hadn't dreamed about home once the entire time he'd been stuck in his head, after all, so Matt had to be awake on some level.
Not that he showed it at all, not even bothering to stir, and so Sylar repeated himself, this time louder. "I said wake up. Or Matty gets to join the list of the recently deceased." Matt stirred at that, pulling himself out of the bed with a groan, and Sylar couldn't help but smirk before pressing forward. "I mean, that's where I am, right? Everyone has to think I'm dead, or you wouldn't be here living the American Dream -- you'd be out there, trying to put the monster behind bars so the world would be safe for ickle Matty."
"Shut up," Matt hissed, fingers curling into fists in the sheets.
"Make me -- oh, wait. You can't." He made a soft noise at the back of his throat that might have been a laugh. "You did this to me, you're suffering for it, and you just can't cope with that. With the idea that you might have screwed up -- that you might have become just as bad as me -- in doing what you did. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"
Childish, maybe -- hypocritical, definitely -- but Parkman had gone ramrod straight on the bed, wide awake now, his teeth gritted as he seethed, at a loss for words. He half-expected the cop to take a flying leap off the bed at him, but that didn't frighten him in the least. It wasn't as though Matt could touch him like this, and even if he could, any beating the other man could give him would be well worth it just for the look on his face. Just to know that he was getting under his skin.
His grin widening, he sank back against the wall behind him and folded his arms over his chest. "But you could make it all better if you'd just tell me where my body is."
"Screw you."
The smile disappeared suddenly, his face falling into a sneer. "Let me make this easier for you. You tell me where the hell my body is, or we're back to the part where I murder the wife and kid and make you watch."
"You're not real!"
"Oh, I'm real enough, Matt. Real enough to get you to tell the water boy to get lost, when you were so adamant about not using your powers again. And while, okay, maybe I couldn't be the one to off the little woman, since we're back to the whole no body thing, I bet I could talk you into it. You're easy. A couple words here, a few sleepless nights there, and you've got one of the knives from the kitchen through her chest." Skipping a beat, he tilted his head to one side, affecting a mock thoughtful look. "Or maybe two bullets in the back of the head. I haven't decided which would be more fun to watch just yet."
He swore he could have done a countdown -- three, two, one -- and then as if on cue, Matt was throwing himself at him, howling obscenities. Fortunately for him, as the other man was so fond of telling him, he didn't quite exist on a physical level, so he had the luxury of disappearing from one spot and reappearing in another. Not so fortunately for Parkman, it meant his head had a rather messy encounter with the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Ouch," he commented dryly, corners of his mouth twisting upwards again as he watched Matt all but peel himself off of the wall.
He took a moment to savor the moan that followed, watching with idle interest as he reached up to press his fingers to his nose to make sure it wasn't broken, and then he went on, back to their original topic of conversation. "All you have to do to stop me from sending you from your little addict class to the psych ward is tell me where my body is. But I know that you're a little slow -- I get it; it runs in your family -- so I'll give you a few hours to think about it. You won't be getting back to sleep any time tonight, anyway."
And in the instants before he sunk back into the parts of Matt's mind that he'd claimed as his, he got the distinct impression that he was right. Not that it would have taken a rocket scientist.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 828
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:04 am (UTC)i'm tired. idk why i am still up but it was worth it, because this fic was fucking awesome.
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:06 am (UTC)And, yeah, I have no idea why I'm still awake, either. But thank you, hon. ♥
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Date: 2009-09-25 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 04:32 am (UTC)