sirenspull_logs | i'd go lengths and lengths

Entry tags:

i'd go lengths and lengths

Who: McCoy (

askedtobe), and Sylar (

gabriel_gray)
When: Forward dated to the 12th
Where: Cafe in the Underground Mall
Summary: It's a double date~ Except McCoy doesn't have his own date, oops.
Warnings: Excessive coffee drinking.

[ Sylar had phoned McCoy, or at least that's what he had told Peter, and while the other man hadn't exactly responded they still made their way to the cafe in the Underground Mall, figuring he would show. Remaining inconspicuous was easy when you could teleport, even easier when you could do it invisibly. They both knew that that the two of them together made an excellent target, so whatever Peter could do to make it simpler for them both to be hiding in plain sight, he was going to do. Pushing thoughts on the entire mall would have been a little difficult, but he'd try to do it if he had to -- Peter just didn't think those lengths were required. Yet. Even so, they turned visible back inside the shadow of a corner before stepping into the bright, fluorescent lights of the mall, and finally slipped inside the cafe, picking a seat in the corner.

Admittedly, Peter was more than a little bit pleased that he got to tag along this time. He had thought for sure that no one was going to be willing to speak to him anymore after their post to the network, but the fact that McCoy seemed to be somehow able to stand them both gave Peter a fairly large appreciation for him. He didn't need to overly like Sylar or approve of him, as far as Peter was concerned. But they could both use the additional company every once in awhile.

Resting his elbows on the table, having taken the spot closest to the wall, Peter ran his fingers back through his hair before looking over and up at Sylar. Nosing at Sylar's arm to get his attention, he gave their surroundings a quick look around before his gaze fell back on the other. ]

You sure he's coming?

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[ Sylar had to admit that he was incredibly proud of himself for what he'd made out of Peter. This man, who only a few months ago had been locked in his apartment with next to no food, barely taking care of himself, overcome by powers he didn't trust himself to try to control, was now here, teleporting him into crowded cafes, walking with him amongst the bright lights and other patrons.

He had transformed him, from a pitiful shell of a man into someone happy and confident, someone who could give life as well as take it away, and used his powers easily, as though he were trickling water through his fingers.

But for once they weren't out having coffee because it was some complicated way of manipulating someone. He was actually here to do a good turn, removing the telepathic compulsion from McCoy so that he would be free from his sleep walking. The doctor had done exactly what Sylar had wanted him to, sought out Peter and given him his ability, and now everything was better than he could have expected it to be. Peter had never been so content, even despite his revelation to the network, and even Sylar had gone so far as to save a small girl's life. It didn't make up for the murders, but if it came to people accusing him of corrupting Peter, the truth was there staring them in the face, that what he had actually done was provide him with the tools, and the confidence, to be the hero he had always wanted to be.

And because of that, he really couldn't be all that bad. ]

Sure he is. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life sleepwalking to Captain Kirk in the middle of the night, right? Not if he's the prodigeous lover Star Trek always said he was.

[McCoy hadn't exactly responded to the message left on his recorder, at first it was because he'd been too busy, then when he'd finally gotten around to it he just hadn't been sure how, he wasn't really the chatty sort, and just because he'd developed a sort of curious tolerance for Sylar, he couldn't bring himself to just call the guy up. It left him with an out of course, but he knew damn well he couldn't just avoid the guy. Besides, there was still that whole sleepwalking issue that needed to be dealt with. Blackmail wasn't exactly the best way to make friends, but he had to hand it to him... it certainly kept him wriggling on the hook.

He'd even managed a day off work, which would have been great if he knew what to do with himself otherwise. So yup, he just sucked it up and showed, a little late perhaps but some people couldn't just teleport about, thanks.

His greeting comes in a dropped news paper on the table top before he parked himself in an adjacent chair. The thing about cafe's, they were usually quiet crowds, so he catches the tail end of whatever Sylar had been saying, though he doubts he'd snuck up on either one of them.]

"He's lucky he's not crawling with STI's, do you have any idea how many diseases there are in space?"

Edited 2012-04-09 05:46 (UTC)

[ Hey, it's not like they expect other people to get places as fast as they do. Really, it was just a convenience sort of thing, not a 'show up the person you're meeting for coffee' kind of thing. But don't worry, McCoy, you're in good company. You're not the only one sitting at the table that was initially blackmailed into becoming friends with Sylar.

But that's entirely besides the point. Peter lifts his gaze up at the dropping of the newspaper, giving McCoy a greeting in the form of a slight nod. He hadn't been entirely convinced he was going to show, Sylar infuriated more than his fair share of people, though he couldn't help but snort at the other man's additional commentary to what Sylar had been saying. ]

Actually I don't have the slightest idea how many diseases there are in space. Guessing it's more than there are in the Port.

[ Inching slightly away from Sylar so as not to make anybody uncomfortable with the possibility of PDA's, Peter finally leaned back into his chair, glancing around to see if he could catch the eye of a passing waitress. ]

[ Sylar reaches out to take the newspaper as McCoy finds his seat, seemingly much more interested in what was on the front page than the conversation. Peter was looking for a waitress, though, and Sylar dipped the paper slightly to look over the top of it at the doctor. ]

Still not the kind of thing you want your friends walking in on, no matter how good their bedside manner is.

[ He dropped his eyes again to the paper, which had become a lot more interesting to him since he'd set Peter off in his new path as a healer. He didn't read for long, because it wasn't exactly social, and at last he set the newspaper down again, sitting forward. ]

Shall we sort that out first?

[Thankfully he had plenty of experience when it came to dealing with infuriating people, a knack for it even, for some reason they seemed to be the only ones that could withstand his prickly exterior for long. Just his luck, huh?]

That was mostly a rhetorical question. [He gets the words in before arching a brow at Sylar, his jaw tightening. Thankfully the few times he did end up finding himself at his friends doorway hadn't been too awkward. Of course McCoy was trying his damned hardest to avoid him now.]

Oh cutting to the chase for once.[He puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender.] So what's the catch 22?

[ After making eyes at a waitress to snag her attention, Peter once again slides further down into his seat before shifting so that he could lean up against the wall and stare between the two men. He had been fully aware that Sylar had blackmailed McCoy into sharing his ability - as if it was actually that hard to get Peter abilities - but he wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about now. ]

Do I even want to know?

[ He already knew what the answer was going to be from McCoy's side at least, but all things considered, Sylar wasn't always completely forthcoming with him either. He wasn't gonna complain either way, really. ]

[ Sylar just smiled across at Peter, then back at McCoy again. Yes, he usually preferred to keep his secrets, but in this case he could make it into a challenge, tilting his head back toward the other man once more. ]

I planted a suggestion in the doctor's mind. I promised to remove it now that I have what I wanted. [ He motioned to Peter. ] But you know how mercurial I am. Maybe you should help him slip the noose of my telepathy?

[ Because he wanted to know if Peter could, more than anything else, and perhaps a small part of him wanted to know if Peter would plant something else. Whether he had the ability to play with his food - or his friends - the way that Sylar did, or whether keeping McCoy's friendship would be more important to him than games. If it was, then Sylar would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Including being nice. ]

[He was pointedly trying not to look at either one of them, at his best he was schooling his expression, which meant a perpetual look of mild annoyance. But he let Sylar field the answer, because his would have been 'your asshole boyfriend's got me walking in my sleep.' His gaze snapped up quick though.]

Oh what, you both go poking around in people's heads? I'm not a damn lab rat I'll have you know.

[He wasn't exactly pleased with all the fun other people seemed to have at his expense lately. Certainly the 'mess with the new guy' syndrome should have worn off by now.]

[ Listening to Sylar, at the last comment, Peter furrowed his brow as he stared at him, almost confused. Eyes darting over to McCoy at the other man's comment, Peter huffed a frustrated breath, not liking being pegged for things that he hadn't even ever done. ]

No, I don't go poking through people's heads as a hobby. Usually I keep my telepathy to myself unless I've got a good reason for it. [ Tipping his head as he turned back to Sylar, Peter wanted to tell him that he never had to do that, but he knew Sylar well enough now to know that had never been the point. Sylar liked the games more than Peter did, and while he understood he couldn't stop them, he didn't have interest in partaking.

With a quiet sigh, he eased his gaze back over towards McCoy, giving the other man an apologetic look, though he doubted it would go far enough. ] Doesn't mean I can't help though. Only if you'd rather have me do it than Sylar.

[ Because no, he wouldn't put anything else in its place. Peter kind of figured that McCoy had been put through enough, courtesy of them. ]

[It isn't easy, but his frown deepens a tick as he sits back and regards them both.] That's like asking me which of you I should hand over my keys to, when neither one of you seem like a qualified mechanic. [He didn't even let the damn Vulcan near his head, and he at the very least could trust that guy.]

[He flattens his hands on the table top, but doesn't make a motion to get up, nor does he raise his voice.] I get that you two like glaavanting around, playing with your powers like you've discovered your dick for the first time. And I'm sure it warms the heart that you're off having such a great ol' time with mine. [He lifts his chin towards the paper. Yes, he'd been reading it and no, he wasn't stupid.] But people aren't toys, and this place isn't your damn sandbox.

[Finally he points to Sylar.] You put it in, you can take it out... and mind your damn manners while you're in there this time.

Edited 2012-04-16 15:13 (UTC)

Just for the record, you're both terrible sports.

[ He casts each of them a sharp look before leaning back forward again. It only takes a few seconds, head angling in toward his left ear. There was a brief flicker of residual resistance, if only because the initial suggestion had been there for a while, but nothing that he couldn't push through.

Whe he leant back he looked particularly smug, considering the other man's still lingering distaste at the whole thing. ]

All science and medicine develops by means of experimentation, Doctor. Just because you've arrived at your final destination doesn't mean that anything that came before is worthless. [He inclined his head toward Peter. ] The only reason why Peter is still sane, right now, is because I've been helping him to learn about his powers. [ And maybe play with his dick but that wasn't exactly crucial to the conversation. ] Ignoring them was never an option.

[ Fortunately the waitress chose that moment to arrive, and since they'd come for lunch rather than just coffee, he ordered a chicken sandwich as well, before looking expectantly toward the others. ]

[ Shrinking a little lower at the admonishment, Peter kept anything he had to say in return to himself for a few seconds while he simply watched Sylar. McCoy could say what he want, but they both had a complete understanding of telepathy and even though Peter'd never done that express task before, he should've been more than able to do it.

Not that it really mattered one way or another.

At the appearance of the waitress, Peter looked back up, making do with a small smile and just ordering a coffee. Ducking his face afterword, he poked his foot at Sylar's chair a little petulantly, flicking his gaze back up at the other while they waited for McCoy to order. ]

It's not galavanting. [ Spoken under his breath more than anything, and directed back at Sylar, Peter had never once acted like people were toys, and getting boxed into that belief was just a bit frustrating. Though he supposed the irritation from McCoy was well earned to a certain extent, he glanced back down towards the table, trying to keep himself looking pointedly unbothered. ]

And i'm pretty sure he doesn't care about whether or not i'm sane. Nobody did.

[All Sylar get in reply to that is a grunt, but lucky for Peter all of his frustration is aimed at the other man, even if he's an admitted accomplice to a degree.]

Since you're a criminal, and apparently delightedly so, I'm not about to argue the line between what's ethical when it comes to experimentation, this isn't the dark ages. Now a days people need to ask the eggs before you go cracking them for an omelette. [He goes quiet for the waitress, ordering a coffee as well, with a bit of relief that she isn't the one from before... that was the last thing he needs.]

Also, you're right. [He nods to Peter.] But apparently I'm not in my own damn mind either because I somehow keep ending up here despite myself, so this place must just breed crazy.

Edited 2012-04-17 04:01 (UTC)

[ When the waitress was gone, he touched back on the conversation again, tilting his head toward McCoy. If he wanted to go throwing labels around: ]

In the end it's all just assumed civilisation, and it exists only because we make it so.

[ He motioned toward the crowds. ]

Evolution is all about opportunity. One steps away crowd and becomes a predator, hunting the rest, taking advantage of the opportunity they represent. You say I have to ask the eggs before I break them, but does a sparrowhawk pause to ask the sparrow if it minds kindly being dinner? No. It does what it has to do.

[ There was a certain sadness in his smile when he looked back up at Peter. He knew the other man could see it. There was concern in his eyes, too--for Peter himself. He reached out to touch his hand, curling it into his own, muttering under his breath. ]

Who wants to be sane when crazy feels so right?

[ At this point, Peter was starting to guess that if they pushed their luck, it would just be him and Sylar out for coffee and McCoy would get up and go home. Not that he could truly blame the other man, he was more than shocked by the simple fact that he was here in he first place.

That didn't exactly make the interaction easy, however. And Peter didn't know where to draw the line between defending Sylar and excusing his actions. He couldn't play both sides of the board, people had made that perfectly clear. But Peter still watched as Sylar's hand curled into his own and he glanced up at him, sighing almost complacently; he was trying. ]

Sane stopped being an option awhile ago. And hey-- [ He finally glanced back up at McCoy, looking unassuming. ] You didn't have to show up.

[ Or maybe that was just Peter's attempt to convince himself, he wasn't entirely sure. ] And what Sylar's trying to say, without the use of metaphors, is that we're trying to figure out how to make his ability work without having to crack-- [ Sigh. Right, no metaphors. ]

We're just finding better ways to deal with it. What you see as experimentation, I see as a far better use of something that could be a lot more problematic. That's all it is, if you don't want to think of it as something else. An alternative. [ Because really, if Peter had gotten any closer to losing it, the Port would have two Sylar's on their hands. ]

[Lucky for them McCoy was stubborn and a bit of a glutton for punishment, he was curious enough to stay put, prickly enough to keep up an argument because that's what he did; he liked to bare teeth and argue, even if it was about what was moral or not. And if he got a little pissy well, that was just the way he was.]

Those are animals, if ya want to talk about evolution, then we've evolved long past who eats whom for dinner. The sparrow hawk doesn't invite the sparrow out for coffee first. We keep our civilization because we're smart enough to work it out, and you're right, with out it we'd probably all be bashing eachother's heads in with rocks... but that's sure as hell not the way things are. Evolving past that doesn't turn you into some great enlightened predator, it turns you into a child given powers and responsibility you can't even fully grasp yet.

[His gaze turns to Peter as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck.] Sure I did, I don't rightly care for the idea of sleep walking outside in the middle of the night and becoming monster chow.

And I'm well aware of what the alternative is, I don't like either option personally, but I'm hardly in any position to stop either one of you, I don't even imagine you really need to try and justify yourselves because what the hell am I supposed to do about it?

We're still animals, even if we dress ourselves up as something better. And no, it's not the way things are. It was only an example--a metaphor, like Peter said.

[ Sylar tilted his head away, watching the waitress crossing the coffee shop with their tray. He took a breath, exhaling what seemed to be tension in his shoulders, then looking toward McCoy again. ]

Don't get me wrong, I'm only trying to make conversation. If it'd make you more comfortable to speak about the weather, I don't mind letting the topic drift.

[ Because he really didn't want McCoy leaving feeling like he couldn't come back. If it was true that he was only here to get the telepathic compulsion taken from him, then it was all for nothing, and he had no desire to push away one of the last people who could stand being around either of them.

In fact, if he wanted to keep Peter sane, it was essential that he didn't. Fortunately the waitress arrived before his mind could wander too far. ]

[ Peter was more than happy to steal the opportunity of the waitress bringing their coffee, and Sylar's lunch, to hopefully lighten the potential load of the conversation. There was tense conversations, and then there were tense arguments, and Sylar was right -- he wasn't really looking to chase off one of the few people who was still willing to talk to both of them. Sylar got his fill of human interactions differently than Peter did, and he wasn't quite used to not having any friends just yet.

Dragging his coffee closer, Peter blew across the top of the cup, glancing carefully back over at Sylar once more before looking back at McCoy. ]

I'd say you could do what everybody else does, but you're still here. And I don't know if talking about the weather's any better of an idea, we'd bore ourselves into leaving. [ Peter almost took a sip of his coffee before he hesitated for a second. ]

Still gotta wonder about that one time it rained blood red the whole day, though. [ Shrug. ]

[He's about as equally grateful for the coffee distraction, or at least letting any sort of conversation lull, but then he could probably argue until the cows come home, it was hardly the same as a confrontation to him. Words were harmless enough.]

And what's everyone else do? Raise their hackles and lock their doors? I get it, you two are a regular souped-up Bonnie and Clyde, even if I can't figure out what the hell your M.O is for the life of me. But if you want something else from me, you may as well just come out and say it... [Because lets be honest, he's crabby at his best and usually shit for company, so if that's what they're after they shook the wrong damn tree.]

My M.O. Peter isn't a killer. He may not keep the best company, but the greatest crime he's committed is keeping me under his roof.

[ Oh, and the murders. But there's no need for anyone to know what Peter can do. ]

I'm here for him. And because you're one of the few people on this island who can still stand both of us. I didn't kill you, because there's something to be said for still having friends, especially if - like Peter - you're not used to being villainised for something you can't help.

[ He split his sandwich in two, offering one part to Peter, if he wanted it. ]

Besides which I like the conversation. The question is whether you care for it too.

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