IT'S HOT .... in topeka.

Srsly, lab ray. What am I going to do with that shit? DAMN YOU, AQUATIYA. failpet.

DARIGAN CHOMBY.




WANT.

Title: Simple Job
Author: bevira
Written for: ever_obsessed
Rated: R
Summary: Angela leaves Claire with a simple job --- guard Level 5 for a night.
Warnings: Violence, sex, language.
A/N: Whee! I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you guys enjoy it! Any critiques are appreciated. I'm still getting back into the feel of writing. I also had no beta on this. Ignore any spelling or weird typos. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3.

( Simple Job. )

I'm cold.

I also have a new journal theme. I feel cute.

That is all.

Title: Why'd I Do It?
Author: bevira
Written for: liam22
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Sylar whisks Claire away before she makes the biggest mistake of her life, but wonders if it might be one of the biggest mistakes of his.
A/N: First time I've written a fic in a long, long time. Also did this without a beta. Hope it's okay. Also, beware -- SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 THUS FAR.

---

“Why’d I do it?” Sylar thought to himself.

Tick … tick … tick.

“This is your fault.”

Tick … tick … tick.

“Entirely.”

Tick … tick … tick.

“Why? Why couldn’t we just take a plane like a normal couple or -- would you stop staring at that clock!?”

To say the words of the pretty blonde in the white gown before him snapped him from his gaze would be a lie. Instead, her words seemed to lazily draw his eyes away from the tall clock tower in the middle of the otherwise modern plaza in the heart of bright Tokyo. “We didn’t take a plane because when I killed Nakamura last year, I never got a chance to properly test his power -- forgive me if I missed the mark by a litt-”

“We’re in Tokyo.”

“Not that far off from Paris.”

“Tokyo and Paris are very far off and you know it! We’re lucky we’re even in the same time frame!”

A hand rose to his temple and he rubbed it. He had a headache coming on. He was beginning to wish he had left her at the altar. Sure … the stolen nights and the secret looks they gave each other had been fine; but actually spending time with Claire Bennet was starting to get on his nerves. Fast. “ -- And I’m staring at that clock before it’s a whole two minutes off.”

He rose from his seat, gracefully waving a hand as he did so. The minute hand upon the clock he was so fascinated with wound back to the proper time and, like a load off his shoulders, he was satisfied.

And Claire rolled her eyes. “Good. The clock’s fixed. Now … Care to tell me where our suitcases are?”

“… Paris?”

---

Shopping in Tokyo. Blech. Everything was so … loud. Claire loved it. The woman was practically giddy at the sight of the Yamamoto store, as well as the other designers in the area. However -- there was one problem. When Sylar took out his wallet and looked into it, all he saw were American bills. Lots of them, due to some creative tricks he’d picked up with his powers over time … but still. American.

“I'm freezing time.” He said.

“What?!”

“It’s easy. I’m doing it.”

“Don’t! You already messed us up once tonight playing around with your powers! Sylar!”

But his mind was set. He closed his eyes and when they opened, Tokyo had come to a stop. As had Claire, frozen in the angry yell she had been spouting at him. He gave her forehead a little poke, tracing over the line he had cut there so long ago. Then, a finger dropped to her lips. He wondered if he should just leave her this way.

“Why did I do it?” He asked himself. It would have been easy to let that man -- boy, really -- marry Claire. Some businessman from Boston. Young, charming … Normal and boring. It would have been so easy, or so he told himself. When he first began to take powers, he had told himself that was the only time he felt special --- the only thing he could do to make himself happy.

That had changed on that rainy Boston night when, while walking down the street, he happened to witness an ever-clumsy Claire fall and bust her leg … only to get right back up. She hadn’t cried or even grunted. Of course she hadn’t … He had taken that long ago. He had followed her. Watched her.

Sad little smile. Green eyes. Cuddled on the couch with her dog -- not Mr. Muggles, but a Pomeranian. The girl had seemed so … detached. Not like the cheerleader he had first encountered. Some of her fire had gone out, or perhaps he had aided in smothering it.

He had gone in … and taunted her. Okay, maybe it had been a little immature. But after she shoved a fire poker through his shoulder and smacked him in the head with a heavy paperweight several times, they made progress.

After that … he followed her. Her father wasn’t around anymore. Either of them. She had no one. Her uncle .. Peter … he was off ‘saving the world.’ Who else was going to watch out for her? Surely not the silly businessman who really thought Claire’s tussled hair was really part of a new deconstructed fashion statement.

Then came the news. She was marrying the Bostonian -- that was all Sylar would call him. The man wasn’t even deserving of a name. His reaction to the news hadn’t exactly been tasteful. “Can we still sleep together?”

She’d smacked him and told him to leave. He’d shrugged and done so.

Yet, not really. He’d stuck around, using the chameleon power he’d picked up from some poor soul years ago. No. He didn’t feel good about himself. He watched as the wedding plans were made. Watched Claire try on her dress. Watched her pick out her veil and flowers. Watched her cry into her pillow.

He knew he had to make a move.

---

He gathered thousands of dollars worth of clothing, stuffing them into stolen Louis Vuitton suitcases.
He also stole some local currency from the cash register before, at last, returning to the still-frozen Claire on the street, his bags falling telekinetically behind him. They settled at their feet and then -- Boom -- everything came back to life.

“Don’t! It’ll j- .. Oh, you did it, didn’t you?” She frowned … but it softened when she realized little had changed and they now had suitcases. So, with a side of submission, she grabbed the pink suitcases -- since she somehow doubted Sylar had picked them for himself -- and started down the street.

“You’re welcome, Claire-Bear,” he purred in satisfaction. He loved being right.

“HEY! SPOCK! WHOOO!” Yelled the excited, Japanese-accented voice of a young man.

Sylar turned, just in time to have a camera flash go off in his face. In his past life, he had been nerdy enough to understand that reference … but he wasn’t copping to it now. Not in front of his former-cheerleader lover. Not when she was looking at him so confusedly. All he could do was shrug his shoulders and rubbed his stinging eyes. “The Japanese -- they’re weird.”

“… yeah.”

---

“Why did you get me so many pink things?” Claire asked from the bed of their hotel suite. She had tugged off the white silk stockings she had worn to the wedding and, instead, was tugging on a pair of pink knee-socks with white polka dots upon them.

“I like you in pink. It makes you look innocent.”

“I’m not.”

“I know.”

A grin was sent to Claire as he moved to the bed and took a seat on its edge. He had changed out of his clothes and into a pair of black boxer shorts. He reached down and took hold of Claire’s cloth-covered foot and gave it a quick tug, causing her to fall onto her back on the mattress. He then released it so that he could lay back next to her.

This was nice. It always was. He liked the way his temple felt pressed against her own.

“Why’d I do it?”

“Which ‘it’? You do a lot of things beyond my comprehension … You’re going to have to specify.”

“Take you away from your wedding. Bring you here. Why did I do it, Claire?”

“Oh. Because you love me.” It was answered without hesitation. The answer came so easily for Claire because she had known for some time but it made Sylar sit right up and glare at her. This only made her smirk more. “When you’re creeping around my apartment, wear less cologne … I can smell you.”

He settled back into the bed. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. When he had picked her brain long ago, he had seen the answers to so many questions. And Claire … she was special. If he had to love someone, at least it was her. So, with a grunt of reluctant submission to the whole idea, he curled her arms around her upper body and rested his head upon her breasts. The ticking of a clock had always been soothing to him, but so was the thub-dub of Claire’s heart.

“Thub-dub, thub-dub, thub-dub.”

“Claire?”

“Hm?”

“Your wedding dress. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Tomorrow … let’s get married.”

“Is that your idea of proposing?” She teased as her fingers played with his slicked back hair. Then, she looked down at her finger and noticed the glint of a diamond ring upon it. A stolen gem, certainly … but she could overlook that simply because it had come from him.

“No. That is.” He smirked. “See? One can do amusing things when they can freeze time.”

A laugh escaped Claire’s lips -- perhaps the first one not tainted with sadness in years. She then kissed the top of his head and settled back into the bed. That was the way they spent the rest of their night -- him listening to the beat of her heart and her watching the way the light caught her gem.

I feel like my lungs are trying to diiiiiiiiiiie.

:O

I go to the doctor's tomorrow.

Gah. I hate working in a daycare sometimes. I love the kids ( most of them ) but I get all their germs.

THE Rules:
Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle.
Say the following questions aloud, and press play.
Use the song titles that come up to answer each question.
NO CHEATING.

( lolmusic )

Blake: Can't damn sleep.
Vira: I'll take you to the candy shop! I'll let you lick the lollipop!
Blake: I feel like an emo fucking bas---
Blake: ......................
Blake: I lost all
Blake: faith in you
Blake: with just that one lyric.

Merry Christmas to all.

Know what I got this year?

A pseudotumor celebri diagnosis.

Fuck yeah.

>_>

WATCH THIS SHED.