Dribbling Fool

Author's Note: Piece of complete and utter crack, inspired by the Sophisticated Song by Hugh Laurie.

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes

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Sylar had the hair. Spiky, combed over, whatever, it was always so damn cool. Even his eyebrows radiated coolness. People were always telling him so.

He had the clothes. Even clothes which normally would have had people crying 'Geek' were cool on him. And don't get him started on the mysterious, dark clothing he wore normally.

Everything he said was just so damn quotable. Usually it was only a word.

'Cake.'

'Murder.'

'Boom.'

Damn, even his hands and feet radiated cool. Who else could say that about their feet, possibly the most ugly appendage a human being has?

Really, was it any wonder people (well, minus those people he may have killed once or twice) liked him so much? He didn't think so.

And then he came along. Obviously he didn't know what a comb was, let along how to use one. And don't even get him started about the clothing (if it could be called that). Or the things that came out of that pretty mouth of his (the verbal equivalent of dribble, he thought).

So why was Sylar suddenly wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his form-fitting jeans? Why was it that whenever he put a hand to his (also very attractive) mouth it came away wet with drool? And why (why?) was it that whenever he turned those adorable chocolate brown eyes in his direction and said anything, all Sylar could think to say was, "Fluh-uh?"

Damn, he was in serious trouble. Peter had turned him into a dribbling fool.

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Hehe. I just had to write this after listening to that song. And also my last one was pretty emotional. A release was needed.

Review please.