Fiction: Season's End
Jan. 9th, 2010 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Season’s End
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: 15 for minor sexual language.
Warnings: None
Note: Happy Birthday![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cmarie972! I hope you like this. I actually got partway through a completely different story idea, and then scraped it in favour of this.
Word count: 3850 approximately
Summary: Matt and Mohinder find that love and attraction aren’t as simple as they assumed.
It’s winter, the snow is sharp and crisp outside. The ice jingles in the air.
‘You’re an ass!’
‘Well you’re an arse!’
‘That’s just the same thing in a fruitier accent!’ Matt retorts.
‘I don’t believe I said it wasn’t!’ Mohinder says smugly. He snatches his mug of tea from the counter and heads for the sofa.
‘Just because you’re British doesn’t mean you’re smarter or classier than me,’ Matt grumbles, walking over to the armchair with his coffee.
‘No,’ Mohinder says, opening up one of those stupidly large papers that the news guy gets from England. ‘Being smarter and classier than you is entirely down to my personality and nothing to do with my paternal nationality.’
Matt beans him in the head with a cushion.
‘Ow,’ Mohinder says, scowling. ‘Was that called for?’
‘No but it was fun,’ Matt says sweetly.
‘Arse.’
‘Ass.’
Claude holds up a six-pack of beer. ‘Alright? Claude. Bennet invited me, said to bring booze.’
‘Great, come in, I’m Matt, your countryman over there is Mohinder,’ Matt says, pointing over at the counter where Mohinder is painstakingly setting out chips, dips, and pizza.
‘Alright mate?’ Claude says, dropping the beers down on the counter. ‘Where’s Specs?’
‘Specs... oh he’s in the bathroom,’ Mohinder says pushing back his hair. ‘Probably hiding aces and Jacks about his person. You’re a Manc, long way from home aren’t you?’
Claude shrugs and opens one of the beers. ‘Home’s always best appreciated a long way from it.’
‘Excuse me!’ Matt says, putting his hand in the air. ‘Can a colonial get a word in edgewise?’
Claude snorts and lopes past Matt to sit down at the table. ‘I love the way Yanks think they’re being hilarious by calling themselves ‘colonials’ to us, like we still want them. It’s been more than two hundred years, get over it mate.’
Bennet deals quickly and inspects his cards impassively. ‘Small group tonight,’ he says, not looking up. ‘Petrelli boys not available?’
‘Pete’s too busy for stuff like playing cards,’ Matt says, throwing down a matchstick. ‘Far too busy playing Batman.’
Claude flicks a match next to Matt’s. ‘Batman, that whiny brat? I’d have thought the older one, JFK without the class, would be more suited.’
Matt laughs and almost chokes on his beer. ‘His name’s Nathan and no way in hell would he do something anonymously when he could spin it into a ‘vote winner.’
Mohinder laughs suddenly. ‘Dear god, did you hear the pile of bull that Angela and Arthur Petrelli pushed on Sylar? They both tried telling him he was their long lost son!’
Bennet blinks slowly. ‘What?’
‘First Angela gave him this spiel about him being her missing son, Peter’s twin, and then Arthur did the same only stopping to say that Angela had tried to kill him!’ Mohinder laughs.
‘She told Sylar, the mentally disturbed serial killer with mommy issues, that she was his mother?’ Bennet checks. ‘Had she suffered a blow to the head?’
Claude snorts and finishes his beer. ‘Whole bleeding family are barking. I need to leak, where’s the khazi?’
Matt looks at Mohinder blankly. ‘What?’
‘The strange foreign man would like you use our bathroom to relieve his bladder,’ Mohinder says crisply before turning to Claude. ‘Down the hall, first on the right.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Did Nathan know about this?’ Bennet asks Mohinder. ‘About this Sylar business?’
Mohinder shrugs and sips his beer. ‘I seriously doubt it. Peter might’ve believed it but Nathan would’ve never.’
‘Peter would believe anything,’ Matt says dryly.
‘Hmm,’ Bennet stares at his cards. ‘Nathan’s been very quiet recently. I don’t like it.’
‘Nathan’s a grown man and can look after himself,’ Mohinder says firmly.
Behind him, one of the bowls of dip shifts marginally, and Bennet rolls his eyes.
‘Claude, if you’re going to cheat by turning invisible and prowling around at least have the decency to do it carefully,’ Bennet says.
‘Bastard,’ Claude grumbles.
It’s spring, and the struggling flowers are choking on the blackening, clinging, stinking polluted air.
Mohinder paces the room, staring at the ghostly pale, paper delicate figure lying in the bed.
‘Mohinder?’ Matt slurs, peering at him half-shut eyes.
‘You got yourself shot?’ Mohinder snaps, waving his arms. ‘Again? What the hell is wrong with you?’
Matt looks up at the ceiling before answering. ‘Bad luck?’
‘Do you want to die?’
‘Is the alternative having my roommate yelling at me?’ Matt asks. ‘Because then I think maybe I do.’
‘Oh self-pity, that’s always a good plan.’
‘Mohinder, getting shot really hurts,’ Matt says, closing his eyes.
Mohinder leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. ‘I saw the wedding invitation,’ he says gently.
‘We getting married?’ Matt asks lightly. ‘Pretty sure that’s not legal, even if we weren’t both straight.’
‘Janice’s wedding invitation.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘I didn’t deliberately get myself shot,’ he says, turning to look at Mohinder. ‘And I sure as hell wouldn’t try to get myself killed over Janice.’
Mohinder walks over and sits on the side of the bed. ‘You were married a long time.’
‘I’m okay, Mohinder,’ Matt says quietly. ‘I’m in a shitload of pain, and yeah, the wedding invite wasn’t great ,but I’m okay. Not great, but okay.’
Mohinder clucks his tongue. ‘Even a big dumb ape like you will meet someone else,’ he promises.
Matt smiles slightly at that. ‘Well, gee, when you put it like that,’ he says, rolling his eyes.
‘Good evening, Sugar,’ the nurse says cheerfully as Mohinder walks in. She’s a petite, buxom redhead, with big blue eyes and dimples at the corners of her mouth.
‘Hi Harmony,’ Mohinder says, putting his scarf and his jacket on the hook. ‘How’s the patient?’
‘Impatient,’ she laughs, putting away her equipment. ‘You know how he is.’
‘Do I ever,’ Mohinder laughs. He picks up Harmony’s coat and helps her into it. ‘Uh...’
She looks up at him.
‘Have a safe drive,’ Mohinder says quickly. He walks with her to the door, and locks it behind her, before making two mugs of tea and walking over with them to Matt’s bedroom. ‘Knock, knock?’
‘Come in if you’ve got beer,’ Matt calls back.
‘You’re not allowed to drink,’ Mohinder retorts, opening the door and wandering in.
‘Some friend you are,’ Matt grumbles.
‘More of a friend than if I let you mix your painkillers with booze,’ Mohinder says, handing him his mug of tea. ‘Harmony would rip me a new one.’
Matt raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of tea. ‘You ask her out yet?’
‘Me? You’re the one always making goo-goo eyes at her,’ Mohinder protests.
Matt smiles, and shakes his head. ‘Yeah, you tell yourself that. Ass.’
‘Arse,’ Mohinder says, smiling back.
It’s summer, and even the air is sweating, sweltering, and steam rises from sticky clothes and salt-grimed skin.
Matt knocks on the door again. ‘Mohinder, come on man, quit being a baby.’
‘Go away!’
Matt rolls his eyes. ‘What are you fifteen? You going to sit in your room and play gloomy records like some emo kid? Maybe I can get you some black nail varnish.’
‘Fucking arsehole,’ Mohinder mutters.
Matt pushes open the door and gropes for the light switch. ‘Man, I didn’t actually think you were lying around in here like a moping kid.’
‘Leave me alone,’ Mohinder mutters, curling up under the covers.
‘Not going to happen,’ Matt says, throwing open the curtains. ‘Come on Mo, you’ve been in here for three days.’ He pulls the covers back and sweeps the hair off Mohinder’s face. ‘Jesus Christ, Mohinder! It’s not enough you haven’t showered in days but you’re completely wasted too?’
Mohinder wraps his arms around his head. ‘Go away.’
‘Let’s just pretend that we had this conversation and I won. Save us both a lot of effort,’ Matt says, pulling Mohinder up into a sitting position. ‘Damn Mohinder, when was the last time you ate?’
‘Not hungry,’ Mohinder moans. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Yeah, yeah, after I wash the mushrooms from behind your ears and feed you,’ Matt says easily. ‘Come on Mo, work with me here, upsy daisy.’
Mohinder looks up at him with eyes red-rimmed and glazed in misery and alcohol. ‘She... she...’
‘I know,’ Matt says nicely, pulling him up to his feet before half-walking, half-dragging Mohinder out of the bedroom. ‘And you’ve got drunk and felt sorry for yourself in the best traditions of jilted guys everywhere. But you can’t stay in your bedroom being drunk, unwashed, and unfed.’
‘I’m a... I’m a nice guy!’ Mohinder protests. ‘I’m a good guy.’
Matt leans him against the wall and starts undressing him. ‘Yeah, you’re a good guy. But you know, sometimes these things just don’t work out.’
‘Matt,’ Mohinder says mournfully.
‘Yeah?’ Matt says, moving Mohinder under the shower.
Mohinder screws up his face as the water splashes down. ‘I forgot what I was going to say.’
Matt laughs and lathers up a sponge. ‘Yeah, that happens to me all the time.’
‘Why didn’t you ask Audrey out?’
Matt holds up Mohinder’s arms to pass the sponge over quickly. ‘Stop talking you ass, you’re swallowing half the water.’
‘Matt.’
‘Damn, what part of ‘stop talking’ is so hard to understand?’ Matt scrubs quickly over Mohinder’s chest.
‘You’re my best friend,’ Mohinder slurs, patting Matt’s chest, and soaking his shirt.
Bennet carefully place two matches onto the pile. ‘I’ll see you.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Parkman?’
‘Hmm?’ Matt asks. ‘Oh, sorry. Just admiring your decor.’
‘Frat boy chic is very ‘in’ this time of year,’ Mohinder laughs.
‘Do you think afterwards we can have a panty raid?’ Matt suggests.
‘Hey Bennet, you got some sheets we can use as togas?’ Mohinder suggests brightly.
Nathan rolls his eyes. ‘Are you planning on keeping this up long?’
Bennet shakes his head. ‘When they’re in this kind of mood it’s best to let them get it out of their systems.’
‘They do this a lot now?’ Nathan asks.
‘More than you’d think,’ Bennet says with a shrug. ‘Your bet Nathan.’
‘I made it,’ Nathan lies smoothly. ‘When Abbot and Costello were doing their routine.’
‘Oh, you did not,’ Mohinder laughs.
‘Damn Nathan, you’re such a politician,’ Matt says sadly.
‘Exactly,’ Mohinder agrees. ‘If this is how you approach poker, gods alone know how much money you’re siphoning out of the budget!’
‘Suresh, your turn,’ Bennet says sharply. ‘Nathan, bet or you’re out.’
‘Oh,’ Matt says winking at Mohinder. ‘Daddy’s getting grouchy.’
It’s Fall, and the sidewalks are splashed with gold, red, orange, and brown.
Mohinder scowls at himself in the mirror, and adjusts his tuxedo. ‘I still think you should come.’
‘Oh Rifat would like that,’ Matt scoffs, sitting down in front of the TV and shovelling a handful of popcorn into his maw. ‘She’d be thrilled at her boyfriend bringing along his pal.’
‘It’s my award,’ Mohinder says petulantly, leaning out of the bedroom door to look at Matt. ‘I think you just don’t want to get dressed up.’
Matt mutes the sound on the TV and looks across at the other man, handsome and dapper in his tuxedo. ‘Mohinder, the walls in here aren’t thick enough for screaming matches to go unheard,’ he says mildly. ‘She doesn’t like me and she thinks you spend too much time with me.’
‘You don’t like her either,’ Mohinder points out weakly.
Matt shakes his head. ‘You were never on the debating team, huh? That’s not a great argument for me coming along.’
‘I want you to get along together,’ Mohinder says, walking into the living room, holding his shoes.
Matt shrugs and leans back on the sofa. ‘She thinks I’m messing you guys up somehow. “Three people in this relationship.” She’s not going to want to get along with me is she?’
‘That was a quote,’ Mohinder explains. ‘It was a mangled quote anyway. Princess Diana said there were “three people” in her marriage.’
‘Only three?’
‘Shut up,’ Mohinder says with a smile.
‘Fine, go, be an award-winning scientist,’ Matt says lightly.
As Mohinder kneels to put on his shoes, the phone rings and Matt answers it.
‘Matt Parkman. Yeah, speaking.’
Mohinder stands up and gathers his things together. He’s opening the front door when he hears Matt speak again.
‘Oh.’
Just ‘oh’, but it makes Mohinder stop and turn around.
‘How?’ Matt asks in the same strangely quiet, hollowed-out voice.
Mohinder closes the door and walks back to the sofa. Matt’s shrunk somehow; grown smaller and greyer; his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth tight.
Mohinder sits down next to him and waits.
‘Oh,’ Matt says again. ‘No. There’s just me. Yes. She was. Oh. I didn’t know that. Okay, I’ll be there in the morning. Thank you for calling.’ He finally opens his eyes, puts phone away, and wipes his eyes.
‘Who?’ Mohinder asks softly.
‘My mom.’ Matt pulls his legs up onto the sofa. ‘She had a heart attack in her sleep. They uh... they say she must’ve had a heart condition she didn’t know about.’ He looks across at Mohinder. ‘I have to get checked for the same thing.’
Mohinder silently takes Matt’s hand.
‘I haven’t seen her since Christmas. What kind of a shitty son am I?’
‘She lives three thousand miles away. You talk to Miriam three or four times a week,’ Mohinder says gently. ‘For hours! I can never use the damn phone!’
Matt laughs a little and nods. ‘You better get going. You’re going to be late.’
‘It’s not important.’
Matt tries to say something else, but the words are clogged, heavy, and drowning.
Mohinder pulls him close, puts his arms around him, and holds him as he cries.
Hiro arrives in a dark suit and sombre expression. He bows lows to Matt and says something complex and sad in Japanese.
‘Thank you,’ Matt says, returning the bow. ‘And thank you for helping me out.’
‘At this time all hearts are open and understanding,’ Hiro says seriously. ‘My mother died when I was young. People say that the pain stops. It does not. But in time, it will be... smaller than the happy things.’
‘I hope so.’
From Mohinder’s bedroom comes a sharp exchange of words and Rifat sweeps out. Her long hair whips about her face as she storms across the room, and then halts suddenly in front of Matt.
‘I regret your loss,’ she says, forcing the anger from her voice. ‘My condolences, Matt.’
‘Thanks,’ he says awkwardly.
She nods, gives Hiro a look, and stalks out of the apartment.
‘Right then,’ Mohinder says, walking over and straightening his suit. ‘Hello Hiro.’
‘Hello Doctor,’ Hiro says, bowing. ‘I think your friend is not happy.’
‘Ex-friend,’ Mohinder says crisply. ‘Do you know where we’re going?’
Matt holds up his hands. ‘Hey, whoa, go after her. We’ve got time.’
Mohinder shakes his head firmly and brushes an imagined spec of lint from his jacket. ‘No, that’s done. Let’s go shall we?’
Matt takes his elbow and draws him a few feet away, while Hiro looks politely interested in Mohinder’s atlas.
‘Mohinder you guys fight all the time and then you make up,’ he says quietly. ‘You’re good together.’
Mohinder smiles slightly and puts his hand on Matt’s shoulder. ‘Matt, today is not about me. I’m not important, Miriam is.’
‘I’ve never been to a Jewish funeral before,’ Mohinder says anxiously, watching Matt talking to the funeral director. ‘I didn’t realise the burial would be done so quickly after death.’
‘I have never been to a Western funeral,’ Hiro says, pulling at his sleeves.
Mohinder smiles at the smaller man. ‘I’m sure that Matt would understand if you decided not to stay.’
‘No,’ Hiro says quietly. ‘I will show my respect. Matthew Parkman is a good friend to me. His mother deserves no less.’
Mohinder nods, still watching Matt. ‘I’m sure he appreciates it.’
‘Did you know her?’
‘Hmm?’ Mohinder looks at him. ‘Oh, Miriam? Somewhat, I spoke to her on the phone a few times and I met her at Christmas. She was a nice woman, very much like Matt in temperament.’
Matt walks over to them, fiddling with his notes. ‘We’re ready to start.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Mohinder promises as they find their place.
‘I think I preferred the old way,’ Matt mutters. ‘When a rabbi spoke instead, but my mom was all new-fangled; liked family and friends speaking instead.’
Mohinder smiles and squeezes his arm.
‘Thank you for being here,’ Matt says to him quietly. ‘And you Hiro.’
‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else,’ Mohinder promises.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and the streets are full of revellers. Matt sits alone in the apartment: watching an old movie, drinking a beer, and ignoring the ringing phone.
Eventually, as the clock ticks down, the apartment door is unlocked and Mohinder stumbles in, wearing a party hat.
‘Why aren’t you answering the phone?’ he demands, wandering over and looming between Matt and the television.
‘Because I got fed up of someone continually ringing and telling me I should come to a party.’ Matt says shortly.
‘What’s wrong?’
Matt leans around him to turn off the television with his remote. ‘I just told you.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Mohinder elaborates. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve!’
‘Yeah,’ Matt agrees. ‘And I’m alone, again.’
Mohinder squints at him. ‘That’s because you wouldn’t come to Nathan’s party,’ he points out.
Matt rolls his eyes and looks up at Mohinder. ‘Nathan’s not my friend, he’s just an acquaintance. He doesn’t care about me really. Nobody does. I’m nearly forty years old and I have nobody in my life.’
Mohinder grabs Matt by the t-shirt and hauls him up bodily. ‘You’re an arse,’ he says, shaking Matt. ‘People care about you. People love you!’
‘Then why am I alone, huh?’ Matt asks.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ Mohinder scowls.
‘Not enough.’
Mohinder pulls him over to the window. ‘Look out there, Matt. The world is full of people. Happy people. That’s the reason you don’t want to be at Nathan’s party. Because you want to sit here and wallow in... in misery. Well, stop it, okay? Your mom wouldn’t want it, Janice isn’t worth it, and I’m fed up of the poor-little-me routine.’
Matt finally manages to pry Mohinder’s hands from his t-shirt. ‘I’m alone.’
‘No,’ Mohinder says quietly. ‘You’re not.’
The clock strikes twelve. Mohinder leans forward and kisses Matt on the lips.
Matt’s fingers find Mohinder’s and entwine.
‘I’m not gay,’ Matt whispers.
‘Me neither.’
‘Huh.’
‘What do we do now?’ Mohinder asks.
‘I don’t know. You kissed me.’
‘You kissed me back.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt agrees. ‘This is kind of weird.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hey, did you say you loved me?’ Matt asks.
‘Oh please,’ Mohinder scoffs. ‘Like you don’t love me.’
‘Ass,’ Matt charges.
‘Arse,’ Mohinder retorts.
Mohinder rubs his thumb over the back of Matt’s hand and smiles.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and the stores are filled with desperate men buying gifts for wives, girlfriends, or both.
Matt stares around the restaurant; at the balloons, love hearts, and cherubs festooning it, at the cooing couples, and at the special menu strewn with words like ‘romantic’ and ‘special evening.’
He stands up when Mohinder finally approaches the table and then doesn’t know what to do.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Mohinder says, rubbing his hands together. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
‘Not really,’ Matt says quickly.
‘We should sit down, huh?’ Mohinder says eventually.
‘This feels really weird,’ Matt admits, once they’re seated and settled.
‘We’ve eaten together before. Even in restaurants.’
Matt shrugs and pokes a plaster cherub on the table. ‘Not as a date.’
‘Technically every meal we’ve eaten together for the past six weeks has been a date,’ Mohinder points out.
Matt snorts a laugh. ‘Oh yeah, even when I’m eating cereal and mainlining coffee, while you snipe at me for not having a balanced breakfast?’
Mohinder smiles sweetly. ‘Unconventional doesn’t mean it’s not a date.’
‘What about last week; when we sat around on the sofa, in our underwear, eating pizza and laughing at America’s Got Talent?’
‘One of the best dates I’ve ever had,’ Mohinder says firmly, looking up as the waiter approaches.
Matt jingles his keys in his pocket, as they walk towards the apartment door. ‘Will you think I’m a slut if I ask you in for coffee?’ he asks lightly.
‘After six weeks of dating without putting out; I’m starting to think you’ve signed a chastity pledge,’ Mohinder says, unlocking the door.
‘You haven’t been putting out either,’ Matt laughs, following him inside.
‘I’m shy,’ the other man says with dignity. He puts his jacket on the hook. ‘My bedroom?’
‘Oh, yeah, I can see the shyness now.’ Matt takes Mohinder’s hand, and moves in for a kiss.
Mohinder slides his other hand around Matt’s waist and leans in. ‘Well, we’ve been perfecting the kissing,’ he says between kisses.
‘Mmm,’ Matt agrees. ‘You have to have your fundamentals right. For six weeks though?’
Mohinder steps back and turns around, towing Matt into his bedroom. ‘We were perfect after two,’ he says, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes. ‘The handjobs...’
‘Yeah.’ Matt nods and fumbles with his shirt. ‘But lots of girls struggle there, so I don’t think we should blame ourselves for taking our time.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Mohinder slaps Matt’s hands away and unbuttons his shirt easily. ‘We’ve just been thorough and methodical.’
‘Oh,’ Matt says, unbuttoning Mohinder’s trousers. ‘Is that what we are? I thought we were scared half to death,’ he jokes.
Mohinder pushes down his trousers and pulls off his sweater. ‘I didn’t say that’s all we are,’ he says, sitting on the bed. ‘We’re men of intelligence and emotional maturity. We can certainly be thorough, methodical, and scared half to death.’
Matt strips down to his shorts and sits next to him. ‘Ah, we’re pretty good at this multitasking thing for being two guys, huh?’
‘Yes,’ Mohinder says sweetly, and pulls Matt into a kiss.
Matt’s hand strokes up Mohinder’s leg and hooks his fingers over Mohinder’s boxers, sliding them down as Mohinder raises himself up helpfully.
‘You sure about this?’ Mohinder asks quietly, as Matt lies back on the bed.
‘Yeah,’ Matt promises. ‘Probably.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses him softly. ‘Here we go.’
The sunlight creeps through the gap in the curtains and slices across the bed.
‘You awake?’ Matt asks softly, playing with Mohinder’s hair.
‘No.’
‘Oh okay then, I won’t tell you I love you.’
Mohinder rolls onto his front and props himself up on Matt’s chest. ‘I won’t say, “I love you too”, then.’
‘Darn,’ Matt says mildly.
‘Besides, you said it last night,’ Mohinder points out. ‘Not that I don’t like hearing it again.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt says, wrapping his arms around Mohinder’s waist. ‘But that was all post-sex snugly time. This is light of day stuff. It’s different.’
‘Better or worse?’
‘Well there’s less warm fuzzy feeling and more soreness and desire for breakfast,’ Matt says thoughtfully. ‘But on the other hand there’s less warm fuzzy feeling so you can be sure it’s how I genuinely feel.’
‘Oh, okay. You better make us both breakfast then hadn’t you?’ Mohinder says, waggling his eyebrows.
‘Ass.’
‘Arse.’
The End
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: 15 for minor sexual language.
Warnings: None
Note: Happy Birthday
cmarie972! I hope you like this. I actually got partway through a completely different story idea, and then scraped it in favour of this. Word count: 3850 approximately
Summary: Matt and Mohinder find that love and attraction aren’t as simple as they assumed.
It’s winter, the snow is sharp and crisp outside. The ice jingles in the air.
‘You’re an ass!’
‘Well you’re an arse!’
‘That’s just the same thing in a fruitier accent!’ Matt retorts.
‘I don’t believe I said it wasn’t!’ Mohinder says smugly. He snatches his mug of tea from the counter and heads for the sofa.
‘Just because you’re British doesn’t mean you’re smarter or classier than me,’ Matt grumbles, walking over to the armchair with his coffee.
‘No,’ Mohinder says, opening up one of those stupidly large papers that the news guy gets from England. ‘Being smarter and classier than you is entirely down to my personality and nothing to do with my paternal nationality.’
Matt beans him in the head with a cushion.
‘Ow,’ Mohinder says, scowling. ‘Was that called for?’
‘No but it was fun,’ Matt says sweetly.
‘Arse.’
‘Ass.’
Claude holds up a six-pack of beer. ‘Alright? Claude. Bennet invited me, said to bring booze.’
‘Great, come in, I’m Matt, your countryman over there is Mohinder,’ Matt says, pointing over at the counter where Mohinder is painstakingly setting out chips, dips, and pizza.
‘Alright mate?’ Claude says, dropping the beers down on the counter. ‘Where’s Specs?’
‘Specs... oh he’s in the bathroom,’ Mohinder says pushing back his hair. ‘Probably hiding aces and Jacks about his person. You’re a Manc, long way from home aren’t you?’
Claude shrugs and opens one of the beers. ‘Home’s always best appreciated a long way from it.’
‘Excuse me!’ Matt says, putting his hand in the air. ‘Can a colonial get a word in edgewise?’
Claude snorts and lopes past Matt to sit down at the table. ‘I love the way Yanks think they’re being hilarious by calling themselves ‘colonials’ to us, like we still want them. It’s been more than two hundred years, get over it mate.’
Bennet deals quickly and inspects his cards impassively. ‘Small group tonight,’ he says, not looking up. ‘Petrelli boys not available?’
‘Pete’s too busy for stuff like playing cards,’ Matt says, throwing down a matchstick. ‘Far too busy playing Batman.’
Claude flicks a match next to Matt’s. ‘Batman, that whiny brat? I’d have thought the older one, JFK without the class, would be more suited.’
Matt laughs and almost chokes on his beer. ‘His name’s Nathan and no way in hell would he do something anonymously when he could spin it into a ‘vote winner.’
Mohinder laughs suddenly. ‘Dear god, did you hear the pile of bull that Angela and Arthur Petrelli pushed on Sylar? They both tried telling him he was their long lost son!’
Bennet blinks slowly. ‘What?’
‘First Angela gave him this spiel about him being her missing son, Peter’s twin, and then Arthur did the same only stopping to say that Angela had tried to kill him!’ Mohinder laughs.
‘She told Sylar, the mentally disturbed serial killer with mommy issues, that she was his mother?’ Bennet checks. ‘Had she suffered a blow to the head?’
Claude snorts and finishes his beer. ‘Whole bleeding family are barking. I need to leak, where’s the khazi?’
Matt looks at Mohinder blankly. ‘What?’
‘The strange foreign man would like you use our bathroom to relieve his bladder,’ Mohinder says crisply before turning to Claude. ‘Down the hall, first on the right.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Did Nathan know about this?’ Bennet asks Mohinder. ‘About this Sylar business?’
Mohinder shrugs and sips his beer. ‘I seriously doubt it. Peter might’ve believed it but Nathan would’ve never.’
‘Peter would believe anything,’ Matt says dryly.
‘Hmm,’ Bennet stares at his cards. ‘Nathan’s been very quiet recently. I don’t like it.’
‘Nathan’s a grown man and can look after himself,’ Mohinder says firmly.
Behind him, one of the bowls of dip shifts marginally, and Bennet rolls his eyes.
‘Claude, if you’re going to cheat by turning invisible and prowling around at least have the decency to do it carefully,’ Bennet says.
‘Bastard,’ Claude grumbles.
It’s spring, and the struggling flowers are choking on the blackening, clinging, stinking polluted air.
Mohinder paces the room, staring at the ghostly pale, paper delicate figure lying in the bed.
‘Mohinder?’ Matt slurs, peering at him half-shut eyes.
‘You got yourself shot?’ Mohinder snaps, waving his arms. ‘Again? What the hell is wrong with you?’
Matt looks up at the ceiling before answering. ‘Bad luck?’
‘Do you want to die?’
‘Is the alternative having my roommate yelling at me?’ Matt asks. ‘Because then I think maybe I do.’
‘Oh self-pity, that’s always a good plan.’
‘Mohinder, getting shot really hurts,’ Matt says, closing his eyes.
Mohinder leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. ‘I saw the wedding invitation,’ he says gently.
‘We getting married?’ Matt asks lightly. ‘Pretty sure that’s not legal, even if we weren’t both straight.’
‘Janice’s wedding invitation.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘I didn’t deliberately get myself shot,’ he says, turning to look at Mohinder. ‘And I sure as hell wouldn’t try to get myself killed over Janice.’
Mohinder walks over and sits on the side of the bed. ‘You were married a long time.’
‘I’m okay, Mohinder,’ Matt says quietly. ‘I’m in a shitload of pain, and yeah, the wedding invite wasn’t great ,but I’m okay. Not great, but okay.’
Mohinder clucks his tongue. ‘Even a big dumb ape like you will meet someone else,’ he promises.
Matt smiles slightly at that. ‘Well, gee, when you put it like that,’ he says, rolling his eyes.
‘Good evening, Sugar,’ the nurse says cheerfully as Mohinder walks in. She’s a petite, buxom redhead, with big blue eyes and dimples at the corners of her mouth.
‘Hi Harmony,’ Mohinder says, putting his scarf and his jacket on the hook. ‘How’s the patient?’
‘Impatient,’ she laughs, putting away her equipment. ‘You know how he is.’
‘Do I ever,’ Mohinder laughs. He picks up Harmony’s coat and helps her into it. ‘Uh...’
She looks up at him.
‘Have a safe drive,’ Mohinder says quickly. He walks with her to the door, and locks it behind her, before making two mugs of tea and walking over with them to Matt’s bedroom. ‘Knock, knock?’
‘Come in if you’ve got beer,’ Matt calls back.
‘You’re not allowed to drink,’ Mohinder retorts, opening the door and wandering in.
‘Some friend you are,’ Matt grumbles.
‘More of a friend than if I let you mix your painkillers with booze,’ Mohinder says, handing him his mug of tea. ‘Harmony would rip me a new one.’
Matt raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of tea. ‘You ask her out yet?’
‘Me? You’re the one always making goo-goo eyes at her,’ Mohinder protests.
Matt smiles, and shakes his head. ‘Yeah, you tell yourself that. Ass.’
‘Arse,’ Mohinder says, smiling back.
It’s summer, and even the air is sweating, sweltering, and steam rises from sticky clothes and salt-grimed skin.
Matt knocks on the door again. ‘Mohinder, come on man, quit being a baby.’
‘Go away!’
Matt rolls his eyes. ‘What are you fifteen? You going to sit in your room and play gloomy records like some emo kid? Maybe I can get you some black nail varnish.’
‘Fucking arsehole,’ Mohinder mutters.
Matt pushes open the door and gropes for the light switch. ‘Man, I didn’t actually think you were lying around in here like a moping kid.’
‘Leave me alone,’ Mohinder mutters, curling up under the covers.
‘Not going to happen,’ Matt says, throwing open the curtains. ‘Come on Mo, you’ve been in here for three days.’ He pulls the covers back and sweeps the hair off Mohinder’s face. ‘Jesus Christ, Mohinder! It’s not enough you haven’t showered in days but you’re completely wasted too?’
Mohinder wraps his arms around his head. ‘Go away.’
‘Let’s just pretend that we had this conversation and I won. Save us both a lot of effort,’ Matt says, pulling Mohinder up into a sitting position. ‘Damn Mohinder, when was the last time you ate?’
‘Not hungry,’ Mohinder moans. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Yeah, yeah, after I wash the mushrooms from behind your ears and feed you,’ Matt says easily. ‘Come on Mo, work with me here, upsy daisy.’
Mohinder looks up at him with eyes red-rimmed and glazed in misery and alcohol. ‘She... she...’
‘I know,’ Matt says nicely, pulling him up to his feet before half-walking, half-dragging Mohinder out of the bedroom. ‘And you’ve got drunk and felt sorry for yourself in the best traditions of jilted guys everywhere. But you can’t stay in your bedroom being drunk, unwashed, and unfed.’
‘I’m a... I’m a nice guy!’ Mohinder protests. ‘I’m a good guy.’
Matt leans him against the wall and starts undressing him. ‘Yeah, you’re a good guy. But you know, sometimes these things just don’t work out.’
‘Matt,’ Mohinder says mournfully.
‘Yeah?’ Matt says, moving Mohinder under the shower.
Mohinder screws up his face as the water splashes down. ‘I forgot what I was going to say.’
Matt laughs and lathers up a sponge. ‘Yeah, that happens to me all the time.’
‘Why didn’t you ask Audrey out?’
Matt holds up Mohinder’s arms to pass the sponge over quickly. ‘Stop talking you ass, you’re swallowing half the water.’
‘Matt.’
‘Damn, what part of ‘stop talking’ is so hard to understand?’ Matt scrubs quickly over Mohinder’s chest.
‘You’re my best friend,’ Mohinder slurs, patting Matt’s chest, and soaking his shirt.
Bennet carefully place two matches onto the pile. ‘I’ll see you.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Parkman?’
‘Hmm?’ Matt asks. ‘Oh, sorry. Just admiring your decor.’
‘Frat boy chic is very ‘in’ this time of year,’ Mohinder laughs.
‘Do you think afterwards we can have a panty raid?’ Matt suggests.
‘Hey Bennet, you got some sheets we can use as togas?’ Mohinder suggests brightly.
Nathan rolls his eyes. ‘Are you planning on keeping this up long?’
Bennet shakes his head. ‘When they’re in this kind of mood it’s best to let them get it out of their systems.’
‘They do this a lot now?’ Nathan asks.
‘More than you’d think,’ Bennet says with a shrug. ‘Your bet Nathan.’
‘I made it,’ Nathan lies smoothly. ‘When Abbot and Costello were doing their routine.’
‘Oh, you did not,’ Mohinder laughs.
‘Damn Nathan, you’re such a politician,’ Matt says sadly.
‘Exactly,’ Mohinder agrees. ‘If this is how you approach poker, gods alone know how much money you’re siphoning out of the budget!’
‘Suresh, your turn,’ Bennet says sharply. ‘Nathan, bet or you’re out.’
‘Oh,’ Matt says winking at Mohinder. ‘Daddy’s getting grouchy.’
It’s Fall, and the sidewalks are splashed with gold, red, orange, and brown.
Mohinder scowls at himself in the mirror, and adjusts his tuxedo. ‘I still think you should come.’
‘Oh Rifat would like that,’ Matt scoffs, sitting down in front of the TV and shovelling a handful of popcorn into his maw. ‘She’d be thrilled at her boyfriend bringing along his pal.’
‘It’s my award,’ Mohinder says petulantly, leaning out of the bedroom door to look at Matt. ‘I think you just don’t want to get dressed up.’
Matt mutes the sound on the TV and looks across at the other man, handsome and dapper in his tuxedo. ‘Mohinder, the walls in here aren’t thick enough for screaming matches to go unheard,’ he says mildly. ‘She doesn’t like me and she thinks you spend too much time with me.’
‘You don’t like her either,’ Mohinder points out weakly.
Matt shakes his head. ‘You were never on the debating team, huh? That’s not a great argument for me coming along.’
‘I want you to get along together,’ Mohinder says, walking into the living room, holding his shoes.
Matt shrugs and leans back on the sofa. ‘She thinks I’m messing you guys up somehow. “Three people in this relationship.” She’s not going to want to get along with me is she?’
‘That was a quote,’ Mohinder explains. ‘It was a mangled quote anyway. Princess Diana said there were “three people” in her marriage.’
‘Only three?’
‘Shut up,’ Mohinder says with a smile.
‘Fine, go, be an award-winning scientist,’ Matt says lightly.
As Mohinder kneels to put on his shoes, the phone rings and Matt answers it.
‘Matt Parkman. Yeah, speaking.’
Mohinder stands up and gathers his things together. He’s opening the front door when he hears Matt speak again.
‘Oh.’
Just ‘oh’, but it makes Mohinder stop and turn around.
‘How?’ Matt asks in the same strangely quiet, hollowed-out voice.
Mohinder closes the door and walks back to the sofa. Matt’s shrunk somehow; grown smaller and greyer; his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth tight.
Mohinder sits down next to him and waits.
‘Oh,’ Matt says again. ‘No. There’s just me. Yes. She was. Oh. I didn’t know that. Okay, I’ll be there in the morning. Thank you for calling.’ He finally opens his eyes, puts phone away, and wipes his eyes.
‘Who?’ Mohinder asks softly.
‘My mom.’ Matt pulls his legs up onto the sofa. ‘She had a heart attack in her sleep. They uh... they say she must’ve had a heart condition she didn’t know about.’ He looks across at Mohinder. ‘I have to get checked for the same thing.’
Mohinder silently takes Matt’s hand.
‘I haven’t seen her since Christmas. What kind of a shitty son am I?’
‘She lives three thousand miles away. You talk to Miriam three or four times a week,’ Mohinder says gently. ‘For hours! I can never use the damn phone!’
Matt laughs a little and nods. ‘You better get going. You’re going to be late.’
‘It’s not important.’
Matt tries to say something else, but the words are clogged, heavy, and drowning.
Mohinder pulls him close, puts his arms around him, and holds him as he cries.
Hiro arrives in a dark suit and sombre expression. He bows lows to Matt and says something complex and sad in Japanese.
‘Thank you,’ Matt says, returning the bow. ‘And thank you for helping me out.’
‘At this time all hearts are open and understanding,’ Hiro says seriously. ‘My mother died when I was young. People say that the pain stops. It does not. But in time, it will be... smaller than the happy things.’
‘I hope so.’
From Mohinder’s bedroom comes a sharp exchange of words and Rifat sweeps out. Her long hair whips about her face as she storms across the room, and then halts suddenly in front of Matt.
‘I regret your loss,’ she says, forcing the anger from her voice. ‘My condolences, Matt.’
‘Thanks,’ he says awkwardly.
She nods, gives Hiro a look, and stalks out of the apartment.
‘Right then,’ Mohinder says, walking over and straightening his suit. ‘Hello Hiro.’
‘Hello Doctor,’ Hiro says, bowing. ‘I think your friend is not happy.’
‘Ex-friend,’ Mohinder says crisply. ‘Do you know where we’re going?’
Matt holds up his hands. ‘Hey, whoa, go after her. We’ve got time.’
Mohinder shakes his head firmly and brushes an imagined spec of lint from his jacket. ‘No, that’s done. Let’s go shall we?’
Matt takes his elbow and draws him a few feet away, while Hiro looks politely interested in Mohinder’s atlas.
‘Mohinder you guys fight all the time and then you make up,’ he says quietly. ‘You’re good together.’
Mohinder smiles slightly and puts his hand on Matt’s shoulder. ‘Matt, today is not about me. I’m not important, Miriam is.’
‘I’ve never been to a Jewish funeral before,’ Mohinder says anxiously, watching Matt talking to the funeral director. ‘I didn’t realise the burial would be done so quickly after death.’
‘I have never been to a Western funeral,’ Hiro says, pulling at his sleeves.
Mohinder smiles at the smaller man. ‘I’m sure that Matt would understand if you decided not to stay.’
‘No,’ Hiro says quietly. ‘I will show my respect. Matthew Parkman is a good friend to me. His mother deserves no less.’
Mohinder nods, still watching Matt. ‘I’m sure he appreciates it.’
‘Did you know her?’
‘Hmm?’ Mohinder looks at him. ‘Oh, Miriam? Somewhat, I spoke to her on the phone a few times and I met her at Christmas. She was a nice woman, very much like Matt in temperament.’
Matt walks over to them, fiddling with his notes. ‘We’re ready to start.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Mohinder promises as they find their place.
‘I think I preferred the old way,’ Matt mutters. ‘When a rabbi spoke instead, but my mom was all new-fangled; liked family and friends speaking instead.’
Mohinder smiles and squeezes his arm.
‘Thank you for being here,’ Matt says to him quietly. ‘And you Hiro.’
‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else,’ Mohinder promises.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and the streets are full of revellers. Matt sits alone in the apartment: watching an old movie, drinking a beer, and ignoring the ringing phone.
Eventually, as the clock ticks down, the apartment door is unlocked and Mohinder stumbles in, wearing a party hat.
‘Why aren’t you answering the phone?’ he demands, wandering over and looming between Matt and the television.
‘Because I got fed up of someone continually ringing and telling me I should come to a party.’ Matt says shortly.
‘What’s wrong?’
Matt leans around him to turn off the television with his remote. ‘I just told you.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Mohinder elaborates. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve!’
‘Yeah,’ Matt agrees. ‘And I’m alone, again.’
Mohinder squints at him. ‘That’s because you wouldn’t come to Nathan’s party,’ he points out.
Matt rolls his eyes and looks up at Mohinder. ‘Nathan’s not my friend, he’s just an acquaintance. He doesn’t care about me really. Nobody does. I’m nearly forty years old and I have nobody in my life.’
Mohinder grabs Matt by the t-shirt and hauls him up bodily. ‘You’re an arse,’ he says, shaking Matt. ‘People care about you. People love you!’
‘Then why am I alone, huh?’ Matt asks.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ Mohinder scowls.
‘Not enough.’
Mohinder pulls him over to the window. ‘Look out there, Matt. The world is full of people. Happy people. That’s the reason you don’t want to be at Nathan’s party. Because you want to sit here and wallow in... in misery. Well, stop it, okay? Your mom wouldn’t want it, Janice isn’t worth it, and I’m fed up of the poor-little-me routine.’
Matt finally manages to pry Mohinder’s hands from his t-shirt. ‘I’m alone.’
‘No,’ Mohinder says quietly. ‘You’re not.’
The clock strikes twelve. Mohinder leans forward and kisses Matt on the lips.
Matt’s fingers find Mohinder’s and entwine.
‘I’m not gay,’ Matt whispers.
‘Me neither.’
‘Huh.’
‘What do we do now?’ Mohinder asks.
‘I don’t know. You kissed me.’
‘You kissed me back.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt agrees. ‘This is kind of weird.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hey, did you say you loved me?’ Matt asks.
‘Oh please,’ Mohinder scoffs. ‘Like you don’t love me.’
‘Ass,’ Matt charges.
‘Arse,’ Mohinder retorts.
Mohinder rubs his thumb over the back of Matt’s hand and smiles.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and the stores are filled with desperate men buying gifts for wives, girlfriends, or both.
Matt stares around the restaurant; at the balloons, love hearts, and cherubs festooning it, at the cooing couples, and at the special menu strewn with words like ‘romantic’ and ‘special evening.’
He stands up when Mohinder finally approaches the table and then doesn’t know what to do.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Mohinder says, rubbing his hands together. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
‘Not really,’ Matt says quickly.
‘We should sit down, huh?’ Mohinder says eventually.
‘This feels really weird,’ Matt admits, once they’re seated and settled.
‘We’ve eaten together before. Even in restaurants.’
Matt shrugs and pokes a plaster cherub on the table. ‘Not as a date.’
‘Technically every meal we’ve eaten together for the past six weeks has been a date,’ Mohinder points out.
Matt snorts a laugh. ‘Oh yeah, even when I’m eating cereal and mainlining coffee, while you snipe at me for not having a balanced breakfast?’
Mohinder smiles sweetly. ‘Unconventional doesn’t mean it’s not a date.’
‘What about last week; when we sat around on the sofa, in our underwear, eating pizza and laughing at America’s Got Talent?’
‘One of the best dates I’ve ever had,’ Mohinder says firmly, looking up as the waiter approaches.
Matt jingles his keys in his pocket, as they walk towards the apartment door. ‘Will you think I’m a slut if I ask you in for coffee?’ he asks lightly.
‘After six weeks of dating without putting out; I’m starting to think you’ve signed a chastity pledge,’ Mohinder says, unlocking the door.
‘You haven’t been putting out either,’ Matt laughs, following him inside.
‘I’m shy,’ the other man says with dignity. He puts his jacket on the hook. ‘My bedroom?’
‘Oh, yeah, I can see the shyness now.’ Matt takes Mohinder’s hand, and moves in for a kiss.
Mohinder slides his other hand around Matt’s waist and leans in. ‘Well, we’ve been perfecting the kissing,’ he says between kisses.
‘Mmm,’ Matt agrees. ‘You have to have your fundamentals right. For six weeks though?’
Mohinder steps back and turns around, towing Matt into his bedroom. ‘We were perfect after two,’ he says, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes. ‘The handjobs...’
‘Yeah.’ Matt nods and fumbles with his shirt. ‘But lots of girls struggle there, so I don’t think we should blame ourselves for taking our time.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Mohinder slaps Matt’s hands away and unbuttons his shirt easily. ‘We’ve just been thorough and methodical.’
‘Oh,’ Matt says, unbuttoning Mohinder’s trousers. ‘Is that what we are? I thought we were scared half to death,’ he jokes.
Mohinder pushes down his trousers and pulls off his sweater. ‘I didn’t say that’s all we are,’ he says, sitting on the bed. ‘We’re men of intelligence and emotional maturity. We can certainly be thorough, methodical, and scared half to death.’
Matt strips down to his shorts and sits next to him. ‘Ah, we’re pretty good at this multitasking thing for being two guys, huh?’
‘Yes,’ Mohinder says sweetly, and pulls Matt into a kiss.
Matt’s hand strokes up Mohinder’s leg and hooks his fingers over Mohinder’s boxers, sliding them down as Mohinder raises himself up helpfully.
‘You sure about this?’ Mohinder asks quietly, as Matt lies back on the bed.
‘Yeah,’ Matt promises. ‘Probably.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses him softly. ‘Here we go.’
The sunlight creeps through the gap in the curtains and slices across the bed.
‘You awake?’ Matt asks softly, playing with Mohinder’s hair.
‘No.’
‘Oh okay then, I won’t tell you I love you.’
Mohinder rolls onto his front and props himself up on Matt’s chest. ‘I won’t say, “I love you too”, then.’
‘Darn,’ Matt says mildly.
‘Besides, you said it last night,’ Mohinder points out. ‘Not that I don’t like hearing it again.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt says, wrapping his arms around Mohinder’s waist. ‘But that was all post-sex snugly time. This is light of day stuff. It’s different.’
‘Better or worse?’
‘Well there’s less warm fuzzy feeling and more soreness and desire for breakfast,’ Matt says thoughtfully. ‘But on the other hand there’s less warm fuzzy feeling so you can be sure it’s how I genuinely feel.’
‘Oh, okay. You better make us both breakfast then hadn’t you?’ Mohinder says, waggling his eyebrows.
‘Ass.’
‘Arse.’
The End
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 08:23 pm (UTC)Hiro showing his respect and friendship to Matt at his mother's funeral was so sweet and sad. His comment about the pain of his mothers death getting smaller but never really going away was so true.
Claude was a plesant surprise at the beginning.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 09:07 pm (UTC)I really didn't want to do a poor copy of Boudecia7's awesome 'Touch' so I was trying to avoid angst as much as possible. I really like the idea of their feelings not just being physical attraction or lust :)
I couldn't see Hiro just dropping them off and leaving, not at Matt's mum's funeral. It just didn't seem like something he'd do. Peter, quite possibly might do that but not Hiro. I was originally going to have Maury and Mohinder talk about losing his dad, but the timeline was wrong. I thought Hiro talking about his mum's death was slightly unexpected.
I originally started with a storyline where the Petrelli's couldn't be at the poker game for a particular reason so I wrote Claude in. I really liked the scene though so I kept it even though I changed the rest of the story.
Thanks hon! <333
no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 07:08 am (UTC)Thanks very much, I'm really glad you liked it :D I haven't really done 'straight guys falling for each other' before so I wanted it to happen slowly.
I'm a sucker for writing stories where characters are playing games and winding each other up, it's so much fun to write.
Thanks again! <3
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 07:23 am (UTC)‘One of the best dates I’ve ever had,’ Mohinder says firmly Mmmmm, and you know Mohinder truly means that. The image of those two on the sofa in their underwear watching TV and having a blast makes me all warm inside :D
OFF TOPIC: Heehee, "Feed Me Seymour" <3333
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 08:49 am (UTC)I wanted their physical relationship to come out of their friendship rather than be a sudden 'whoa, he's sexy!' moment so I tried not to have their friendship change too much when they started dating. They both know they're trying to ease their nerves so neither of them takes it the wrong way.
Mmmmm, and you know Mohinder truly means that. The image of those two on the sofa in their underwear watching TV and having a blast makes me all warm inside :D
I really wanted them to be still be able to be comfortable
with each other and not totally weirded out. Just being able to hang out and have fun is sexier to me than them dressing up and making small talk at a posh restaurant :)
LOL! I was bored and fiddling around with a few things.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 04:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 05:06 pm (UTC)<333
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Date: 2010-01-10 05:16 pm (UTC)Also I am oddly over-joyed at Claude's appearance ^ ^ I have developed a major love for Eccleston just lately so its awesome to see Claude. And Hiro was lovely, Heroes started to make me dislike him so its good to finally see him being honourable and thoughtful once more.
xxx
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 05:39 pm (UTC)I haven't done much with Claude but I really like him as a character. Christopher Eccleston is so much fun :D
Oh god, recently I've absolutely hated Hiro. When he dumped Mohinder in that asylum the air here was absolutely blue.
Thanks so much! <333
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 07:20 pm (UTC)I agree with what you wrote: Just being able to hang out and have fun is sexier to me than them dressing up and making small talk at a posh restaurant :) . It is always strange for me to read fics where they go to a fancy restaurant for Valentine's day. It doesn't "fit".
Including Claude and Hiro was an original idea, bringing fun and emotion.
Thank you again, your the best,
cmarie972
no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 07:45 pm (UTC)It's not something I've really done before and I was quite anxious about it :) One night stand's are far easier as are stories where both characters are gay.
I didn't want it to be that Matt and Mohinder get together purely because they don't have anyone else. The poker games and Hiro's appearance seemed a nice way of showing they're friends, and later lovers, by choice and not necessity.
Thanks! <333
no subject
Date: 2010-01-20 01:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-20 04:09 pm (UTC)I real like ones with slowly developing relationships although they can be difficult to gauge if you're writing them. I didn't want them to lose their friendship as they became lovers either. I'm really glad it worked for you :D
Thanks! <333