Characters/Relationships: Mohinder Suresh/Matt Parkman
Word count: 755
Content Advisory: Humor, touch of crack
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
A/N: Written for Matt-A-Thon for dragon6593
Summary: Matt discovers that one of Sylar’s powers has rubbed off on him…
On Ao3 or below the cut
“A little to the left. Higher… perfect,” Mohinder said, and started the drill. Sweat dripped down Matt’s face, inevitable as he stood in the full sunshine of summer as he and his roommate (with benefits) attempted to hang up blinds to avoid the worst of the solar heating in the apartment so their poor air conditioner could actually try to work. God, he wanted a beer. They’d been at this for hours, and it was getting unbearable. Matt held up the bracket as Mohinder fiddled around with the screws and looked longingly towards the refrigerator.
He closed his eyes and thought about how opening it would release a burst of vaguely curry-scented cool air from the leftovers, how his beer bottles would be at the back of the shelf where it was coolest, how he’d grab one and lay it at the back on his neck before bringing it around to pop the top…
Something cool and wet pressed against Matt’s neck, and he sighed happily. “You’re a saint, Suresh.”
“Hmm?” Mohinder asked distractedly, and Matt opened his eyes to see Mohinder using both hands to handle a screw and drill. Mohinder looked back at him and yelped in surprise as the beer bottle dropped from Matt’s neck to smash on the floor, splashing them both with suds and broken glass.
“Where the hell did that come from?” Mohinder asked, eyes wide.
“I have no idea,” Matt said, staring at the bottle. He sighed. “I could really use a beer,” he said mournfully.
“Matt, where’s the remote?” Mohinder called. Something hit him in the back and he turned to find the remote sitting on the couch.
“Sorry, I took it into the kitchen, lemme get it for you,” Matt said from the other room.
“It’s… here,” Mohinder said faintly, walking to the kitchen door to show Matt what was in his hand.
Matt looked up from washing the dishes with an uncertain expression on his face. “Oh. Good?”
Matt looked at the steak in front of him and sighed. Of course he’d forgotten that Mohinder had swiped the steak knives as part of some experiment he was running, and now Matt was stuck with a lovely-smelling piece of meat and only a butter knife and fork to deal with it. Steam curled up from it temptingly and Matt pointed a finger at it in exasperation.
“I don’t want to have to eat you like a cave man,” he said. And part of the steak sliced apart without him touching it. Matt stared at the meat, then at his finger, and suddenly the incidences with the beer bottle and the remote made sense.
Matt chuckled as he picked up his fork, suddenly in a much more cheerful frame of mind. “Sylar, at least you’re good for something.”
“Ah, so we don’t have a poltergeist?” Mohinder asked, eyes a little wide as Matt held a book suspended in the air, turning it this way and that.
“Just a little compensation for having a passenger in my head for a few months,” Matt said, lowering the book to the table with a soft thump.
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“After everything I’ve been through?” Matt asked. “No. Not in the least. I’m calling it a fringe benefit and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Mohinder smiled a little and Matt raised a hand to clarify his statement.
“That was not, I want to point out, a bid for world domination, just so we’re clear.”
“Of course,” Mohinder said dryly. “So? What do you want to try with it?”
“I had a few ideas…” Matt looked Mohinder up and down, and Mohinder started when his belt suddenly unbuckled itself and his jeans hit the floor. “Pretty basic ones, really.”
“Pretty base ones, you mean,” Mohinder said, stepping out of his clothing and cocking his hip in a way that made it look like he’d missed his calling as an underwear model.
“That too,” Matt said, flushing and used his hands to bring Mohinder near and close the gap entirely. A light mental touch threaded down Mohinder’s spine, making him gasp, and Matt grinned into the side of his neck. Sylar was going to make up for a lot of the grief he’d given him tonight. Letting his hands and mind roam, Matt set out to see how many new noises he could get out of his boyfriend.
The number, he tallied up the next morning next to a semi-comatose Mohinder, was very impressive.