Halfway Around the World Before The Truth Puts Its Pants On

Heroes. Sylar/Claire. R. Written for arcticwolf_89 the Sylaire ficathon. Prompt: When Sylar catches Claire working at a kissing booth, he decides to take advantage. Does not at all follow canon. Mega thanks to my fabulous beta Brandie.


"Oh, ladies," Mindy, their pledge master said with a quick double clap. Claire tried not to cringe as she sat down with the rest of the pledges. If someone had told Claire that cloning was possible, she would have believed it; Mindy was pretty much a carbon copy of Jackie, right down to the double clap. "As you all know, this is the last Rush event, and it's super important for any of you hanging on the fringe." Mindy shot Claire a dirty look - that brought back memories of Jackie too. But she didn't need to be told she was a disappointing Legacy. Claire already knew she was on that oh-so-short list. Wasn't she always? If joining Beta Pi hadn't been so important to both her mother and grandmother, she would have long ago given up on this hopeless venture.

"...a sort of fundraiser," Mindy continued, although Claire was only sort-of paying attention. The girls around her seem to titter with excitement. Her attempts at matching it are half-assed at best. It was a good thing the girls around her didn't have enough braincells to rub together and figure that one out. The thought made her feel guilty, but only slightly, and only for a few seconds. "The pledge who raises the most money will get extra consideration come selection time."

So this was it, Claire thought. She pretty much had to win whatever silly fundraiser contest thing Beta Pi was putting on if she wanted to become a member. She'd rather help Peter crash another plane filled with refugee specials. Or you know, sit through Calc classes for the rest of forever. But, whatever...

"So what's the fundraiser?" The overexcited bottle-blond to her right asked. Suck up.

"We're having a kissing booth." Claire bit back a groan as the others giggle with excitement.

She should have known. She really should have.


The next afternoon, Claire sat at her spot at end of the Beta Pi kissing booth, trying not to pick at her nail polish. She was all dressed up in official event wear - a too-short denim shirt and white tank with her blue and gold pledge pin haphazardly attached on the thin left strap - and that alone was making her anxious. If her mother was here, she'd be getting a lecture about drawing the right kind of attention.

Stop it. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself with that yoga crap her hopefully-soon-to-be sisters were so fond of. Gotta be in the mood to kiss all those horny frat boys, after all.

"Gosh, you're not nervous, are you?" the girl next to her teased, in a southern accent thicker than hers. Oh look, it was Little Miss Suck-up from yesterday. Just what Claire needed to make today all better. "You're acting like you've never been kissed before or anything."

An unladylike snort almost bubbles out of Claire. Fortunately, she's able to stop herself from proving to the girl just how off base that assumption was. That was a close one. Claire put on her best 'Debbie Does Dallas' smile, "Just excited that's all."

The girl's answering smile was thin - not 'I don't believe you' thin, but 'don't you even think I'm going to let you beat me' kind of thin - so Claire could relax a little. It was just kissing, after all.


The first couple of hours are relatively slow, at least for her. The fish bowl in front of Claire only had a couple of crumpled ones in it, compare to the bowls that were filling up around her. This whole thing didn't bode well for her at all. So much for not disappointing her mother and grandmother. At least she was saving on lip gloss by not having to reapply every two seconds.

A hand slaps a five on the table in front of her, breaking her from her self-pity. She was so stuck on the sweater vest, and then the thick black glasses, that she almost missed the quick press of chapped lips to hers. There's a bit of an electric spark. But it's probably just static cling.

Weird.

The boy (no man, he was definitely a man) had turned and started to walk away before Claire froze in recognition.

"Sylar." She half-grunted, half-whispered. Her hands curl around the edge of the table in front of her. Her breathe must have been telekinetically held in her chest or something, because her lungs didn't seem to be working.

Ms. Snobby-Snob next to her snorted. "What a loser."

Claire cringed. Could he hear that? Geez. Why did she even care?

The girl's fish bowl seemed to blow over in a large gust of wind. Claire knew better than that. She also couldn't force herself to feel sorry for the other girl, scurrying to chase cash bills across the quad.

Maybe she'd been "hanging out" with Sylar too much.


An hour later, like precisely, on the dot, and he was waiting in her line again behind two less threatening looking jocks. He's lost the glasses and sweater, and he's got the sleeves of his button down rolled up to this elbows. She really shouldn't find his exposed forearms as attractive as she did. Man, him being around was messing with his head.

He waited patiently. Although she's not sure why she expected otherwise; it wasn't like he was going to start playing Fruit Ninja with frat boys heads just to get a kiss...from her. He slapped down another five on the table when everyone else had been given her ones. The knowing smirk on his face makes her want to jump over the table separating them and smack him in the head with her Calculus textbook.

He braced his hands across the table in front of her, but she leaned back before he could steal another kiss. "What are you doing here?" she hissed under her breath instead.

"Like I would miss out on this gem of humiliation?" His eyebrow raised like it had a life of its own.

Oh god, she could see it now. She'd never live this down. They'd spend eternity running into each other - not on purpose - and each time, and each time he would tease her "Remember that time you kissed me - completely on purpose". She glared back at him.

It's like he knew she was trying to find a way to weasel out of this mess, because in the next instant he titled his head towards Mindy at the other side of the tent, and asked, "Friend of yours?"

For a second, and only a second, she thought about denying it. But what he was planning was so well telegraphed that she didn't even need the added threat of his raised finger. Or maybe they had just been "hanging out" too much.

"Don't you even dare." She hissed and he looked triumphant.

"Kiss me back, then."

And she did. But only a little. And only because she liked this tank way too much to get blood all over it.


He returned exactly one hour later. She was really starting to hate his obsession with punctuality. He might be dressed in dark jeans and a slightly too-tight, white tee-shirt, but she didn't see that as an excuse for her other pledge sisters not to notice that he was the only repeat customer. There was no way her customer service was that good.

"Back again so soon?" See, she could match his constant level of sarcasm.

"What can I say, you're like a drug I need another hit of." Egh, really. She so didn't need to be reminded of his obsession like that. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone else heard. Everyone was either on the other side of the tent, or not paying any attention to them at all. She couldn't find it in herself to be relieved.

She had a reply ready, she does. But he was quicker, and as soon as her mouth opened to answer, his lips are on hers. And ewh, did he just slip her some tongue?

His hand gripped her bare thigh right below her skirt, but she didn't need to be reminded of his earlier warning. Neither of them need the action, not with the way her mouth was moving along with his – without the permission of her brain, might she add. He was a surprisingly good kisser for someone doubted got a lot (or any) practice.

When they break apart, she was breathing hard, practically panting, and she doesn't even want to think about the embarrassing moan that may or may not have come from her only moments before. "That was more than one kiss," is all she can say when the fuzz started to clear from her head.

"I know." He was completely in control of his breathing (and how unfair was that). He stuck a whole handful of perfectly folded in half fives into her fish bowl. "I'll be back," he said, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she was mocking him for using such a clichéd line - even though he'd probably beat the pin-striped pants of the Govenator. "Don't leave until I return."

She sunk back into her chair, not even thinking of defying him. It's only then does she notice Alice, the girl next to her, staring. She's slightly nicer than Ms. Perky-Pants from before, so Claire felt a little back about blowing her off. You know the type, a freshman in her fourth year at UCLA, and studying to become a veterinarian because she loves working with children. "Yes Alice?" Claire asked as nicely as she could muster.

"Wow, that was some kiss." No kidding, sweetheart. "Are you and him like..."

It's not like she could shout "God, no. I'd rather choke down rusted switch blades," so Claire settled for the much more expected, "Well, it's not like we're Facebook Official or anything..."

Alice gave a knowing nod. Claire had no idea what the other girl thought she knew. "I'm sure that will change any day now. He's got it bad, girly."

"Really?"

If 'it' meant 'insanity', then sure, Claire could see that.

"Oh come on, you don't have to be a rocket surgeon to see he's practically panting all over you." Alice was right about that...and it should have worried Claire a lot more than it did.

Too bad she was more preoccupied with trying to remember if he told her that her watch ran a minute fast (or maybe it was a minute slow?).


It had been more than one hour (and yes, she had been counting down the minutes), closer to two actually. The sun was starting to sink down low on the horizon. Most of the other girls had started to pack it up for the day once the tent started to be covered in shadows that were surely only ominous looking to Claire.

Only Her Royal Perkiness at the other end of the tent was the only one left, counting up the winnings stuffed into her fish bowl. Claire crossed her arms and looked at her own in dismay. Why hadn't she gotten her father to teach her how to pickpocket or something?

"Well I think it's time we call it a night," the other blonde said with enough saccharine triumph in her voice to make a monk want to strangle her. Or maybe Claire had just been "hanging out" with Sylar for too long.

"Can't I get one more kiss?" The question came from the shadows and both girls swing around towards it. And there he was (finally?), standing there, leaning one hip up against a forgotten table. He was dressed in all black this time, and from the look on her not-friend's face, once out of pleated pants and grandma's knitting accident sweaters, he was good looking enough to drop the panties of anything female with a heartbeat. His smirk was downright sinful, like he completely knew this, and it made the pit of her stomach crinkle up. But only a bit.

"I'll take him," Claire jumped in before the other girl even had a chance. His smirk got a little wider, as if to say "Oh I know you will".

"Run along now." The girl does it, and Claire swore he must have used one of those puppet command things. She could have never gotten the girl to leave. Claire narrowed her eyes, dropping the act now that they were alone.

"Ok, now really. What do you want?"

"Oh, I think it's more about what you want."

"So you're going to let me roast you on a barbecue spit then?"

"Close, but no." He pulled out mob-movie sized stack of bills. "You want to win, don't you?"

What he was proposing was dangerous. She couldn't help but take a step towards him. "What do you know of that?"

"Mind reading, babydoll. I'm special remember."

It took her a second to weight the possibilities - kissing Sylar again or disappointing her mother (of course, she'd be disappointing her father either way, but that wasn't something to think about now). "Fine. One more kiss."

"One?" He thumbed the wad of bills. "You seemed to be a lot more behind than that."

She grabbed the money from him anyways. "You only get one more kiss, so make it worth it."

He grinned like he won the damned lotto, and Claire couldn't help but wonder what mess she'd gotten herself into this time. "Fine. But I get to pick the location of said kiss."

"Location? What do you..." At her blonde moment, he stared, moments away from breaking out guffawing and why wasn't that stupid textbook handy when she needed it. And then, "Oooh..."

Claire couldn't help the flush of what was definitely not arousal (well...). He was smirking again, like he could smell it on her or something twisted like that, and his eyes had darkened with that dangerous look he got when he was in complete control. That breathing thing was coming a bit harder for her than it should have.

"Sit." he said, practically grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to do so. It was probably a good thing he moved a chair right behind her anyways; she wasn't sure how much longer her wobbly knees could keep her upright. He knelt down in front of her, right between legs that were spread for some unladylike reason. She would have snapped them shut, she really would have, but he's there now, and oh, what the hell...

His hands skim up her thighs and she can barely feel the wisp of her denim skirt as it was being raised up along with them. He ripped her panties to the side, pocketing them with an equal amount of grace. And then she's bare, and probably wetter than she should be, considering he was, well...Sylar.

She could feel the flush spreading all the down to the top of her chest and she was sure her pupils were dilated to the size of 'sorry you're not a planet anymore, Pluto'. Who the hell did he kill to get the power to turn her on like this? This shit just isn't natural.

He reached forward with one finger, but before he can ghost it over her, she hissed "Kiss, remember."

That was all the consent he needed, ducking forward. He kissed her bare outer lips first with only a light touch. Why oh why did she pick yesterday to do something as embarrassing as waxing for the first time. She tried to ignore how intense the feelings were.

Yeah, cause that was most definitely his tongue.

Claire squirmed closer in the chair. The arch of her back was almost obscene and her legs fell open wider – because hey, what was the point of being an ex-cheerleader if you couldn't be extra bendy in situations like this. Her whole world was centered there between her thighs and his mouth. She can't even find it in herself to get angry over the fact he was deliberately breaking her rules by bring his fingers to the party.

Her head leaned back so far it touched the metal back of the chair. She was no longer in control of the fact her legs shook with every swipe of his tongue. The weirdest thought came to her then. "This…your fault…stayed away…cause of you…" The words are broken up by a low groan and a couple hisses of sucked in breath, but she's sure he got what she was trying to say. Hey, you try and be coherent when your public enemy number one is going down on you.

He looked up at her and even in the dim light she can see her wetness smeared along the edges of his mouth. "Pretty much, babydoll."

Figures.

"Did I at least win?" She managed to gasp out.

He ducked back down between her thighs to finish her off and his reply shook right though her. "Oh, I'd say you won."