Title: Brick
Author:
Jack Velvet
Rating:
Light M / R
Spoilers:
Up to Season 4: "The Wall"
Characters/Pairings:
Matt, implied Peter/Sylar
Warnings:
None really - general stuff covered by the rating.
Summary:
Matt bricks up Sylar as Peter lays unconscious against the wall.
Note:
My thoughts on the Peter/Sylar "Wall" fics, and what that would look like to Matt outside of the nightmare. Apologies if this has been done before.
Disclaimer:
Heroes (c) Tim Kring/NBC. Just a fan-fiction for fun. No infringement is intended.

Brick
by Jack Velvet

Matt lifted Peter's heavy body and rested it against the more complete side of the drying brick wall. He never understood why people were so incredibly heavy when they weren't conscious. Either way, he wasn't sure how far apart the two men could be when they were practically mind-melding.

Matt picked up the next brick and swathed it in mortar, then set it down on the growing wall. He heard Peter let out a pained groan.

"You okay?" Matt asked him, unsure if the man was already waking or if something was happening to him. He set down the tool in his hand and checked Peter's vitals. The man still had a pulse, and he was still breathing, although it was a bit more labored.

"Are you two fighting in there?"

Peter responded with a twisted, discomforting grimace.

"Damn it."

Matt picked up the tool again, and continued bricklaying. Peter was quiet for an hour. Matt looked down at the man again‒there was a spot of mortar on his sleeve.

"Sorry man," Matt apologized. His eyes traveled to Peter's face, and he noticed the sweat beads on his forehead. "I'll get you some water."

Hurrying upstairs, he used the restroom, washed his hands as best as he could, and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. He exhaled, feeling some of the grit from the dust in the basement leave his lungs, and then coughed hard. He was wearing himself thin. He was barely in shape as is, and today he'd faced Sylar, loaded and unloaded a shitload of bricks from the car by himself, and worked almost non-stop to brick the killer up in his basement.

"Idiot," Matt mumbled to himself. "Damn idiot. Just add this to the long list of reasons you'll never be a cop again."

The upset man shook his head and grabbed a clean kitchen towel out of a drawer. Moistening the towel, he lumbered back down to the cellar, and set the bottles down next to Peter. The unconscious man was moaning, his head turning from side to side. He heard Sylar making similar noises.

"Oh no you don't, Peter," Matt said, dabbing Peter's face with the towel. "He's gotta stay in there, you hear me? Maybe you'll understand when you have a wife and a son."

Matt took a large gulp of water, debating on whether or not to let Peter have some from the other bottle yet. He decided against it, just in case the man choked. He continued on with the wall, occasionally checking up on Peter, and ignoring some of the sounds Sylar made.

"I hope you can't die in there, Peter."

Peter responded with a loud moan.

"Shit, Peter?" Worried, Matt knelt down beside the man again, setting aside the job that was nearly done and the few bricks that were left.

Peter writhed, moaning, his legs curling up to his chest. Matt tried to gain access to his mind, but was blocked, and he poured some of his own water on the damp cloth, trying to keep the seemingly feverish Peter alive.

But Peter had more important things to do. His right hand pawed at his groin, and a smile curled on his lips.

"Whoa," Matt stepped back. "Hang on, Peter. You can stop that now."

Peter couldn't hear him, because if he could, he would have. A sudden exclamation escaped Sylar's lips, quite audible from behind the bricks, and Matt jumped back from Peter and picked up the masonry tool again.

"Please don't tell me that the two of you are doing what I think you're doing."

Peter let out a muffled giggle in conjunction with Sylar. Matt's hands shook as he placed the first of the remaining bricks down.

"No, seriously," Matt started, his voice going from calm to yelling. "You two can stop it now!"

"Mmmm," Peter mumbled.

"Cut it out! You've been in there for less than a day! Not even half a day!"

The second to last brick was placed.

"I didn't even know you two were-"

Peter shifted, laying his legs back down.

"Are you done?"

Matt put down the last brick and began cleaning up. Peter's apparent wet-dream subsided. The man was laying peacefully against the wall.

"Okay, here's what's gonna happen," Matt announced. "I'm going to give this thing a chance to dry. I'll come down here and give you water, and hope you keep your hands to yours‒I mean‒just keep them down, period, and after I eat something and take a shower I'm getting you out of there." Matt dusted his hands off. "And then go into therapy, or something. Start packing. I don't know."

Putting the items away, Matt trudged up the stairs. Calling back down to Peter, he shouted, "The whole point of this was supposed to be a nightmare, Peter. He's not supposed to enjoy it!"

The last thing he heard was the beginning of another orgasmic groan.

"And I thought flying with Nathan was awkward," Matt muttered.

End.