heroslayer | i hope i didn't bore you with the story of my life (rp for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="headofap

He'd let her sleep until somewhere nearing nine o'clock the next morning, occupying his own time spent awake thumbing through a book, sure that it was the safest of all of his options. She'd gotten up, surprisingly without complaint, taken a few minutes to get her bearings, then slipped out the door to bring back the breakfast she'd promised him the night before. He wasn't sure why she hadn't asked what he'd wanted, whether she figured they liked the same things or if she'd simply forgotten, but it had amused him just the same.

Returning to the couch, a hint of a smile on his face, he'd pulled his book back into his lap and waited for her to return. And some twenty minutes later she had, carrying two take-out plates full of surprisingly decent pancakes and a half gallon of ice cream -- for the pancakes, of course. They'd moved into the kitchen and she'd pestered him into telling the rest of his life story as they ate.

Now out of words, or at least things he could talk about without having to edit immensely, the sat in silence as they finished up their breakfast. After a moment, though, he couldn't help but suggest, "Your turn."

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"It hurts less than it did the first time. The first time I passed out from it, so this is definitely an improvement." She stopped to just watch him for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, and a small smile was on her face. "How long had it been?"

She did leave the room after that question, though, shooing a cat away from licking at the blood in the process as she went to wash of her hand. Ew - brain goo.

He followed after her lazily, intent on washing his hands when she finished just for propriety's sake. "Months? I'm not sure, actually. My concept of time's a little skewed when it comes to the past few months."

She turned at that, not moving away from the sink, and peered curiously up at him. "Months? Why?"

"I warned you about Parkman, did I?" He made a face, but it was decidedly less violent than it would have been otherwise. "He mindfucked me into thinking I was Nathan Petrelli. Or, well, mindfucked part of me."

A paused and then clarified, "Part of me -- my consciousness, I guess -- just didn't want to die. I got stuck in tubby's head for however long until I got my body back. I made him pay for it, though, and I'll make him pay for it again. First time wasn't enough."

"But you didn't really give me thorough details, now did you? Just said that he was bad for us. You, flyboy, could have just left the country if he was bothering you here."

But then her jaw dropped slightly at that, a disgusted look appearing on her face. "A telepath can do that? Make you think you're someone else? That's..."

A bit of a smile. "And now I understand why you want to get to him so badly." She bit her lip, and then lifted a hand up to touch his brow, and then letting her hand - fingers just ghosting over the skin, go down to his cheek. "So...this. Is this you? The real you?"

Edited 2010-04-02 01:44 (UTC)

He leaned into her hand just a bit, closing his eyes. "Yeah, this is me. You think I'd be wearing someone else's face on a regular basis after what Parkman did to me? It's why I didn't just shift into Bennet in the alley -- why I thought about it."

And her hand stayed put, thumb to his cheek as she frowned. Worried even from his reactions. "Well, I know I wouldn't. But if you were worried about them catching up with you again, or something like that, you might."

Her voice trailed off a bit, because she could understand that. "I'm glad you didn't."

Closing his eyes, he took a moment leaning into her hand. "They won't find me. Most of them still think I'm dead and the ones that do know the truth ... " He could evade Peter until he had enough power to kill the sonovabitch.

"That's...good. That they're not looking for you, obviously. It buys you time. And the element of surprise." She stopped herself for a moment, letting her hand drop, before leaning up to do something she was half expecting to get her sent across the room. He looked like he needed it though, and it got him a brief kiss on his cheek. "And the ones that know the truth we can take care of together."

The kiss took him by surprise, and he straightened a bit but did not send her flying. When he relaxed, on a whim, he returned the gesture, something between a smirk and a smile caught on his lips, though dimly. The idea of, well, kissing himself was somewhat amusing.

"Noah Bennet. Angela Petrelli. Matt Parkman. Peter Petrelli. Claire Bennet." Hiro, thankfully, still thought him dead, and he doubted that anyone would find the time to tell him. The heroes were stupid like that.

She'd closed her eyes, in preparation of being sent, but then cracked one open when it was returned, a bit of a laugh bubbling up at it. That was unexpected.

"So they're going to be our targets, then?" A smirk curled onto her lips again, the headache forgotten for a moment as plotting took over. "We'll have to devise a plan for each."

He hummed, staying close as he thought. "Angela will be the hardest. She can see the future in her dreams. She'll know we're coming and that we're going after the others, if we don't kill her first."

"Right right, I see. So Angela first, and preferably as soon as possible?" She looked at him, waiting for confirmation as her hand took on a life of its on. Fingers wandered up his chest, just for an instant before she dropped it again, letting it linger by his hip.

"Dreaming of the future seems handy, too."

He glanced down at her wandering fingers, frowning. This was -- odd. When Candace had offered him the chance to play out such a narcissistic fantasy, he'd been horrified and disgusted in equal part, but this didn't seem to bother him half as much. He wonder hazily if it had something to do with the high of the kill or if a part of him had simply decided that this wasn't quite the same, seeing as how she was a woman and how she was him but not quite him, their experiences differing just enough, and then decided he didn't care. If nothing else, he was a hedonist -- the fact that he killed as much for the high as he did the power proof enough of that -- and he had no complaints about what she was doing. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe that would change later.

Finally looking back up, he popped one shoulder in a shrug. "I want her dead more than I want her power. It'll be a nice perk, but if I have to tear the bitch's head off with my bare hands, I will."

She, however, noticed the frown, and misunderstood it, dropping her hand away completely then and instead crossing them over her chest. However, she didn't make any move away from him, staying leaned against the sink, and then smirked.

"Well then Sylar, it's a good thing all we need is the head, now isn't it?"

He looked passingly disappointed, but the expression faded quickly, a smirk taking it's place. "Guess it is."

She smiled a bit at the look, in a way hinting that she wouldn't exactly stop him from doing anything, but didn't say a word. Times when it would be goo to have telepathy? This was one of them.

"So it's a win-win situation." A beat. "Do you want to wash your hands? I'll finally...move for you."

"I probably should." He didn't move, however, instead watching her with wide, hungry eyes. This look was somehow removed from the one he'd given Crystal before they killed her, though -- this was not a look of murderous intent but something else.

i hope i didn't bore you with the story of my life (rp for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="headofap

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