Armistice

[flying_monkees]

Title: Armistice
Author:
Characters: Peter/Sylar
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU but no spoilers
Word Count: 1,152
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did.
Summary: Peter and Sylar meet up again after a very long time
Table/Prompt:  Written for mission_insane's Un-Themed #1/Wings.
A/N:  This is the first tentative chapter of a series.  I want to give much love and thanks to my beta for helping me with the story and with hashing out the story arc.  Love ya flwrpwr_vampyre!

 

Peter walked down the street, glancing over his shoulder.  He could sense that he was being followed, the feeling had been growing strong over the last couple of weeks but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of him yet.  Nonetheless, he knew who it was.

 

“Sylar.”  Peter whispered, hearing a quiet chuckle echoing after him.  He shook his head and kept walking.  When he got to his current residence he went inside, curious to see if Sylar would follow him that far.  It had been a long time since they’d even seen each other, let alone talked.

 

Sylar stood outside Peter’s door, debating on whether or not he should go in.  Last time they’d talked it hadn’t gone well.  With a soft sigh, he opened the door, knowing that of course Peter would leave it unlocked for him.  As much as they disliked each other, they needed each other too.

 

Peter looked up as Sylar came in.  “Would you like some tea?  I seem to remember you liking Earl Grey but I’ve got others.”  He busied himself filling the kettle, trying not to show his nervousness or his concern.  It was hard not to be leery with the other in his house.  Even though it’d been centuries, old habits died hard.

 

“Do you happen to have any chai?  I got a taste for it recently.  A nice Indian doctor showed me how good it was,” Sylar grinned, seating himself at the table.  “It's strange.  We haven’t done this in a long time.”  He looked around Peter’s house, taking in the spartan furnishings.  Some things never changed.

 

Peter dug through the cupboards.  “No, no chai.  Sorry.  I can make some Earl Grey instead.”  He started the water boiling, sitting across from Sylar.  “What are you doing here?  Why have you been following me?” he demanded and kept his gaze level at the other.  Sylar tapped his fingers on the table, thinking.

 

“I guess I wanted to see how you were doing.  It’s been a while since we last saw each other and maybe I was feeling a bit bored.  You used to keep me on my toes Peter and I guess I miss our…discussions.”  He grinned at Peter.

 

Peter rolled his eyes.  “You’re the one that left Sylar.  When was it again…?  Oh yeah, just after the fall of the Egyptian Pharaohs.  That was a bit of fun.”  He chuckled, getting up to take the whistling tea kettle off of the burner.

 

“Actually, I think the last time we talked was during that mess in the 1300s.  The Black Plague I think they ended up calling it.  Talk about a busy time.”  Sylar smiled gently, reminiscing.  He gave his head a little shake.  “So what have you been up to now?  Why are you here of all places.  New York doesn’t seem your type of place.” 

 

Peter brought the tea and kettle over to the table, setting them down next to the cream and sugar.  “There’s talk about some big disaster going on here in the near future.  I thought I should get in on the action.  You haven’t heard anything?”  He poured the water, handing a tea ball to Sylar as he filled his own before letting it seep in the water.

 

Sylar filled his and drummed his fingers on the table as he set his tea ball into his cup.  “I’ve heard some things too but I’m not sure how much to believe.  But then again, the sources of the information aren’t very trustworthy.”  He looked pointedly at Peter.

 

Peter shrugged.  “I haven’t heard much either, but I do trust the person I heard them from.”  He stirred his tea, thinking.  “We’re going to have to go home and tell them what we’ve heard you know.”  Looking up at Sylar, he grinned.  “It’ll be nice to go home for a while.  Maybe they’ll even let us stay for once.”

 

Sylar snorted.  “That’s not how it works and you know it.  They’ll send us right back here to clean up whatever happens.”  He took his tea ball out, adding some sugar and sipping at the hot liquid.  “Not bad.  I’ve forgotten how good Earl Grey tastes.”  He set his cup down.  “It will be nice to go home.  See the family.” 

 

Both sat quietly, drinking their tea.  It had been a long time since either man had been able to just sit like this so they enjoyed it while they could.  They shared a sneaking suspicion that this would be the last time they got to relax for a while.

 

After a time, Sylar stood up.  “I should go.  I have to go tell the boss man what you told me.  I’m sure he’ll be able to shed some light on the subject.”  He looked down at Peter.  “Thanks for the tea.  I know the others don’t understand us Peter, but I’m glad we can be friendly.  It’s too bad our sides can’t get along, it’s not like we aren’t on the same side.  So to speak.”  He briefly rested a hand on Peter's shoulder.

 

“I know Sylar.  Demons and angels should be able to get along.  We’re both trying to stop the world from ending, why we have to fight all the time I just don’t understand.”  He let out a long sigh.  “I suppose I won’t see you again, huh?” 

 

Sylar shook his head.  “I doubt it.  If what you’re saying is true and the boss man figures it out, I’ll probably be too busy to look you up.  We’ll have to get together after this is all over.  Is it okay if I…?” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow.  Peter rolled his eyes.

 

“No, you’d better go from the roof.” 

 

Peter and Sylar were silent as they left the apartment and went up to the roof.  It was easier to go home from here then from the inside and there was a smaller chance anyone would see them.  Not that it would matter; they wouldn’t believe what they saw anyways. 

 

Sylar looked over at Peter again.  “Take care, okay?  Don’t want anything to happen to you before I kick your ass again.”  He chuckled quietly at his own joke, letting his white wings unfurl from his back.  How he’d missed this, being able to fly free.  It wasn’t the same, having to take a plane everywhere.  Damn rules.  He hoped the boss man knew what was going on though, so they’d have time to stop it before everything got out of control.  With a wink to Peter, he flew straight up into the sky.

 

“Show off,” Peter laughed, unfurling his own black wings.  Sometimes he didn’t understand how the angel and he had gotten to be friends but he was glad for it.  It had certainly made the centuries less boring.  He dove down towards the street, phasing through concrete and dirt to head home and talk to his father.