Chapter 1 (of 1): Beeping
Couple: Sylar/Gabriel GrayxLuke Campbell
Rating: K+ (for swearing)
Summary: There's something about Luke's digital watch that bothers Sylar.
Spoilers: Certainly. All of which are from a strange mix of Volume 3 and Volume 4. If you haven't gotten thus far, I wouldn't recommend spoiling all the slashy-imagination fun. But when and if you have, I hope you enjoy the beautiful spin on the story.
Disclaimer: Are you mocking me? I have yet to have possession on anything Heroes related, like, at all. Not even an awkward bracelet that I would never wear. *forever alone*
Author's Note: This coupling is wrong in so many ways. Age differences, serial killer and teenager, run-away and supposed kidnapper, both have superpowers. The list is strange. And I love it.
Chapter 1 (of 1): Beeping
There were several reasons why Sylar couldn't stand the presence of one seventeen year old Luke Campbell.
He was annoying as hell; always blathering about Sylar's father and that history test he'd be missing and how fucking awesome that was. Children—and yes, Sylar thought of teenagers as children—had always gotten under Sylar's skin. They lacked the basic necessities of life: common sense, street and book smarts, and independence. All of these, Luke lacked, especially common sense. He would walk around obliviously when they stopped at a gas station, motel, or diner. Sylar would be forced to save him for simple things, always grabbing him at random times as he was about to step into something or onto something. It wasn't the first time Sylar figured it wouldn't matter if the boy broke a bone or two; it would help him learn his lesson. And yet Sylar ways found himself saving the boy from whatever would have occurred.
He'd talk to strangers; ask silly questions that only children would ask ("Do you have any duct tape?" "How many people do you see a day, because it surely can't be too many, right?" "Is it bad that I'm skipping history for this?"). The need for attention was only one factor of his annoyance. He would do stupid things: trip, stumble, put his shirt on backwards after a shower, fall out of bed in the morning, spill his drink, and say the wrong thing. All of which was an unneeded attempt at getting Sylar's attention. The boy had it, though obviously not the type he desired; he would just too thick-head to see it.
Luke considered them friends, which in its self was strange. The brunette would always attempt conversation, which always led to him being shoved into one wall or window, only to point out how needed he was and that he shouldn't be killed. It was like a stab in the gut whenever the teen reminded Sylar of his dependency upon him and the information he held. The boy would ask which station Sylar preferred on the radio, always ending up with a theme similar to "psycho killer." And a ridiculous side-glance and a teenage giggle at the irony. He insisted they eat at diners across or next to each other, asked Sylar what he was going to have, check his wallet, asked if Sylar had enough to pay for his own. He even, in desperate times when Sylar had finally decided to ignore the brunette, would use his powers to impress him.
But above the annoyance and idiotic imaginary friendship, was his digital watch.
Yes. His digital. Fucking. Watch.
It beeped. There was no tick, no way for Sylar to know exactly how it ran. It had a screen, not glass. It had wiring, not gears. It had numbers, but no hands. It didn't run on the same logic that all of Sylar's timepieces did. There was technology where it shouldn't be: on a wrist. Inset in its mediocre construction was a time-set. Every day at precisely 7:05 in the morning, it beeped. Loudly, annoyingly, obnoxiously; exactly like its owner. But it wasn't the object itself that bothered Sylar. In a way he could appreciate that Luke's generation (because clearly he was from a different one) even wore watches anymore. The constant beeping clouded over Luke's internal tick. It transformed it into a technology induced blip. Sylar wasn't familiar with blips and beeps. He was familiar with ticks and tocks. It was what made sense to him, what told him "It's alright to kill this person; they are of no use to you." How was Sylar to know if Luke was of use to him? He had no tick to be guided by.
For once in his life, Sylar would have to do it the normal way. He would have to decode the beeps: the fast ones, the sporadic ones, the slow ones, the heavy ones. He would have to find out how Luke worked.
And it pissed him off.