2010-12-08 14:35![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerCharacter: Sylar, Gabriel, Elle, Luke, Peter
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 700
Rating: PG
Prompts:
Rannie: I baked a pie full of rat poison. I thought I could eat it, you know, without being suspicious. My nana, who is 86...she really likes sweets. She had three pieces. for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
On the Seventh Day of Sylar, my true love gave to me – Seven Pieces of Pie. forheroes_sylar
Notes: 7 canon based Drabbles each featuring a pie from various points in Sylar/Gabriel's life.
The First Slice –
“Would you like some pie, Gabe?” Mommy asked, brushing some of her dark hair out of her eyes. She smiled at me then frowned at daddy.
“Martin and Virginia can give him pie. We’re leaving as soon as they get here.” His eyes were like a raven’s under his bushy eyebrows.
Mommy ignored him and ordered me pie. It was peach, and I took a big bite when it was put on the table in front of me. Daddy grabbed mommy’s hand and told her in his funny voice to wait in the car. She left without kissing me goodbye.
The Second Slice –
“I don’t like it,” I said, poking at the weird brown pie on my plate. It smelled like booze, and it was lumpy and gross. “I don’t want it.”
My new daddy snorted and looked at my new mommy. “I told ya. The kid is not about to eat mincemeat pie, Virginia.”
“Meat?” I dropped my fork and stared at my mommy. “What kind of meat? Is it made of bunny?”
“Cat, Gabe,” my dad said. “It’s made of puppies and kittens. They call it mincemeat, because it’s a secret.”
He laughed while I ran to the bathroom to barf.
The Third Slice –
She wasn’t talking. It had been three days since my father left us. I cut a big slice of the apple pie and scooped some ice cream on it. When I put it on the table in front of her she didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even tell me to take it back to the kitchen table because civilized people do not eat in front of the TV.
“Mom, please it’s your favorite.” Not a sound. “You gotta eat.”
I spent the next hour watching the ice cream melt into slimy slag before dumping the pie down the disposal.
The Fourth Slice –
“You brought a pie!” I know I’m smiling from ear to ear. This incredibly pretty girl not only saved my miserable life, agreed to come to dinner, but she made me a pie. “Peach pie is my favorite.”
I feel so decadent sitting on the living room floor eating the pie with Elle, surrounded by my books and stuff. She’s so sweet, and I think the next time she comes over that I might try to kiss her. I wish I was brave enough to try to now, but I’m not.
“Want to watch a movie?” I’m such a coward.
The Fifth Slice –
I stopped listening long before I finished my cheeseburger. I don’t think he took a breath the entire time I was eating. I couldn’t figure out how he ate at all around the constant yammering.
The waitress slid the last piece of cherry pie to me. I gave her a smile, and made a note to leave a good tip on our way out.
“Sylar?” Luke looked all butt hurt. “None for me?”
“If you want some, order it yourself, and do me a favor. Shut the fuck up for fifteen minutes before I put you in the deep fryer.”
The Sixth Slice –
Every time I let my fork hit the pie plate, either Angela or Peter would jump. I held them tight on Peter’s rickety chairs.
“Gotta tell ya. I’m disappointed. I was hoping for the big ass Petrelli Thanksgiving like the ones I remember.” I licked my teeth and curled my lips into a snarl, looking at Angela. “You know. The ones where you’d get drunk and get in a big fight with Dad?”
“Those aren’t your memories!” Peter slapped his hand on the table.
“They are now. Do you want to know what mom and dad did to make up?”
The Seventh Slice –
It was Christmas. Peter didn’t think it was. He still insisted that he hadn’t been here nearly a year hammering away at the never ending Wall.
I spent the day cooking some canned ham, covering it with cloves and brown sugar. It smelled so good. Everything came out of a can or a jar. That was how we lived, but I had gone a lot further into the empty city to find treats for our special dinner.
The last thing I did was dump cherry pie filling in a crust that I’d made from scratch. He better say ‘thank you’.
12 Days of Sylar
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.
Author:
thewatchmaker Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 700
Rating: PG
Prompts:
Rannie: I baked a pie full of rat poison. I thought I could eat it, you know, without being suspicious. My nana, who is 86...she really likes sweets. She had three pieces. for
scifi_musesOn the Seventh Day of Sylar, my true love gave to me – Seven Pieces of Pie. for
heroes_sylarNotes: 7 canon based Drabbles each featuring a pie from various points in Sylar/Gabriel's life.
The First Slice –
“Would you like some pie, Gabe?” Mommy asked, brushing some of her dark hair out of her eyes. She smiled at me then frowned at daddy.
“Martin and Virginia can give him pie. We’re leaving as soon as they get here.” His eyes were like a raven’s under his bushy eyebrows.
Mommy ignored him and ordered me pie. It was peach, and I took a big bite when it was put on the table in front of me. Daddy grabbed mommy’s hand and told her in his funny voice to wait in the car. She left without kissing me goodbye.
The Second Slice –
“I don’t like it,” I said, poking at the weird brown pie on my plate. It smelled like booze, and it was lumpy and gross. “I don’t want it.”
My new daddy snorted and looked at my new mommy. “I told ya. The kid is not about to eat mincemeat pie, Virginia.”
“Meat?” I dropped my fork and stared at my mommy. “What kind of meat? Is it made of bunny?”
“Cat, Gabe,” my dad said. “It’s made of puppies and kittens. They call it mincemeat, because it’s a secret.”
He laughed while I ran to the bathroom to barf.
The Third Slice –
She wasn’t talking. It had been three days since my father left us. I cut a big slice of the apple pie and scooped some ice cream on it. When I put it on the table in front of her she didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even tell me to take it back to the kitchen table because civilized people do not eat in front of the TV.
“Mom, please it’s your favorite.” Not a sound. “You gotta eat.”
I spent the next hour watching the ice cream melt into slimy slag before dumping the pie down the disposal.
The Fourth Slice –
“You brought a pie!” I know I’m smiling from ear to ear. This incredibly pretty girl not only saved my miserable life, agreed to come to dinner, but she made me a pie. “Peach pie is my favorite.”
I feel so decadent sitting on the living room floor eating the pie with Elle, surrounded by my books and stuff. She’s so sweet, and I think the next time she comes over that I might try to kiss her. I wish I was brave enough to try to now, but I’m not.
“Want to watch a movie?” I’m such a coward.
The Fifth Slice –
I stopped listening long before I finished my cheeseburger. I don’t think he took a breath the entire time I was eating. I couldn’t figure out how he ate at all around the constant yammering.
The waitress slid the last piece of cherry pie to me. I gave her a smile, and made a note to leave a good tip on our way out.
“Sylar?” Luke looked all butt hurt. “None for me?”
“If you want some, order it yourself, and do me a favor. Shut the fuck up for fifteen minutes before I put you in the deep fryer.”
The Sixth Slice –
Every time I let my fork hit the pie plate, either Angela or Peter would jump. I held them tight on Peter’s rickety chairs.
“Gotta tell ya. I’m disappointed. I was hoping for the big ass Petrelli Thanksgiving like the ones I remember.” I licked my teeth and curled my lips into a snarl, looking at Angela. “You know. The ones where you’d get drunk and get in a big fight with Dad?”
“Those aren’t your memories!” Peter slapped his hand on the table.
“They are now. Do you want to know what mom and dad did to make up?”
The Seventh Slice –
It was Christmas. Peter didn’t think it was. He still insisted that he hadn’t been here nearly a year hammering away at the never ending Wall.
I spent the day cooking some canned ham, covering it with cloves and brown sugar. It smelled so good. Everything came out of a can or a jar. That was how we lived, but I had gone a lot further into the empty city to find treats for our special dinner.
The last thing I did was dump cherry pie filling in a crust that I’d made from scratch. He better say ‘thank you’.
12 Days of Sylar
Comments to my LJ, please. Thanks for reading.
