Heroes fic: How We Wish
Oct. 29th, 2007 05:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: How We Wish
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, I make no money.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Heroes 2.03 (Kindred).
Notes: Set during 2.03, directly after the Matt/Mohinder/Molly scene. Will make no sense if you haven't seen that. Title from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s line: When we quarrel, how we wish we had been blameless. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
celli for audiencing and scribewraith for encouraging, and storydivagirl for betaing.
Summary: Matt wants to yell and shout, but this isn't Mohinder's fault. At least, it isn't all Mohinder's fault, but right now, Matt can't feel the difference.
It takes nearly an hour for Mohinder to get Molly back to sleep. They're both too excited. Molly wants to know all about the trip ("What's Cairo like? Did you get to see any pyramids?") and Mohinder's happy to tell her, to show her the cheap souvenirs he bought her. They're both thrilled that Mohinder's back for good.
Matt wishes he could be more excited. He wishes he could be excited at all, but he's dreading what this could mean. And he's angry for all the wrong reasons.
He's angry at Mohinder for promising that he'll never leave again -- he can't guarantee that and he shouldn't make promises he can't keep -- even though it's a promise to a child who needs the reassurance.
He's angry that the danger is now closer to home, closer to Molly. The Company may already know she's here, but this is waving it in their face. It's asking for trouble.
He's angry that the Company exists, that it's this huge influential thing that Matt himself is powerless to stop. He's angry that Mohinder's found a way to fight against them on his own.
It's not logical and it makes no sense, and he doesn't want to fight about it. But the anger is boiling under the surface of his skin, clenched inside closed fists as he sits on the sofa, surfing through channels of junk. It's nothing but reality television, evangelists, infomercials and reruns of shows that were never all that popular. It's annoying and irritating, and he's angry about that too. Tonight, the lack of anything decent to watch feels like a personal slight.
After an hour, when the voices coming from Molly's room have faded into silence, Mohinder pads out to the living room. "Matthew," he says, picking up his now-cold cup of tea and walking towards the sofa.
"Go to bed," Matt says, as casually as he can manage. "I want to watch the end of this. I'll be in later."
"And what are you watching?" Mohinder asks, smirking at the TV screen.
It's some fitness infomercial, a perfectly bronzed girl in skin-tight Lycra pushing and pulling, grinning for the camera. "Just go to bed. Sleep off the damn jetlag." It comes out harsher than he means.
"Matt--"
"Just--" Matt wants to yell and shout, but this isn't Mohinder's fault. At least, it isn't all Mohinder's fault, but right now, Matt can't feel the difference. "It's been a long day and tomorrow is going to be another long one too. I don't want to fight about this."
He looks over his shoulder at Mohinder, standing behind the couch, cup in hand. Mohinder's mouth is a tight line, and he's staring down into his cup, swirling the liquid carefully. After a moment, Mohinder sighs and nods, and heads to the bedroom.
It's a hollow victory, hearing Mohinder shuffle around the room, getting ready for bed. Matt listens to the bathroom tap running as Mohinder brushes his teeth, waits for the final click of the light switch being turned off. Then Matt lets out the breath he’s been holding -- holding for too damn long -- and searches for something to watch.
***
"Matt." There's a hand on his cheek, another pulling at his shoulder, urging him up. "Stand up. You need to come to bed."
Matt blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes, following Mohinder's instruction and lurching to his feet. "What?"
"You fell asleep on the couch," Mohinder says, voice soft and whispery in the darkness. "You need to come to bed and lie down."
"I wasn't asleep," Matt says, then yawns and stretches. From the ache in his back, he probably was.
Mohinder chuckles, low and right by Matt's ear, then guides him toward the door with a warm hand on the back of Matt's shoulder. Matt stumbles a little, still sleepy, and would have walked into the doorway if Mohinder didn’t pull him aside. He makes it to the bed in one piece and flops down on the mattress.
Lying horizontal is a wonderful feeling. He closes his eyes as Mohinder pulls the covers over him.
The bed shudders a bit as Mohinder gets in on the other side. He wiggles closer to Matt, one hand across Matt's chest, head on Matt's shoulder, and Matt shifts, making space for him. Matt moves his arms to rest a hand against the small of Mohinder's back, to rest his other along the curve of Mohinder's hip.
He has missed this. The last trip was nearly two weeks long -- two weeks of Molly and homework and nightmares, dealing with teachers and studying for his exam -- and he’s missed the simple reassurance of touch, of another warm body lying beside him.
He lifts a hand to push a few curls off Mohinder's forehead and even in the darkness he can see Mohinder's smile. "Not sleepy?" Mohinder whispers.
"Now that I'm lying in bed, I'm pretty much awake." Matt shrugs with the shoulder Mohinder isn't using as a pillow. "Typical, huh?"
"Maybe you should have come to bed earlier." Mohinder's tone is gentle, but there's a touch of recrimination there.
"I didn't want to fight."
"Then don't fight," Mohinder says simply, tapping his finger once against Matt's collarbone.
"I would have, okay?" Matt knows himself well enough to know his temper, to know the way it spills over if he's not careful. "I would have yelled and I would've woken Molly up, and there's no point."
"No point?" Mohinder pulls back. He rests his weight on his elbow, propping himself high enough to look down at Matt.
Matt sighs. He really doesn't want to fight about this. "Look, you'll do whatever you think is best and I need to trust you on that."
"We both agreed on this course of action. We discussed it, Matt."
"Sure, we discussed this, you're right," Matt says, running a hand over his scalp. "Can we not fight about this?"
"No."
"What happened to 'then don't fight'?"
"I meant don't pick a fight for no reason, don't encourage a pointless argument because you're tired and grumpy. I did not mean that you should sit in another room and sulk," Mohinder says, sitting up against the wall and pulling his knees up.
The words sting and Matt goes from feeling sheepish and tired straight back to annoyed and itching for a fight. "And I meant that arguing about it won't change anything. Molly is still here, the Company is still out there, and you're still working for them. And nothing I say right now is going to change that."
"No, it's not."
"Then what's the point of fighting?" Matt sits up, switching on the bedside lamp. If this fight is going to upset him, he wants to be able to see that it's upsetting Mohinder too.
"The point is that you are being irrational about this."
"You're going out there and courting danger. You’re standing in front of the firing squad and hoping they don't shoot," Matt hisses back, trying to keep his voice low. "Molly has already lost one set of parents. What do you think it's going to do to her when you don't come home?"
"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Matthew." Mohinder's tone is sharp enough to draw blood.
"This has nothing to do with confidence--"
"This is hypocrisy," Mohinder replies, turning to face Matt directly. It doesn't escape Matt's attention that Mohinder moves backwards as he turns, that the space between them grows bigger. "You are a member of the police. Your job is not without certain risks."
"It's my job. It's not some half-baked scheme--"
"It's a dangerous job," Mohinder interrupts. "It's a job where you could easily be hurt. And I have never once used the excuse of Molly to ask you to quit."
"But I would," Matt says, and the shock is written clearly on Mohinder's face. They talked about this, about his transfer, about how badly he's always wanted to be a cop. But as he says the words, he knows it's true. "If you asked me to quit, I would."
"You would give up your dream job for me and Molly?" Mohinder asks, disbelieving and surprised. "You would turn your back on all of your ideas of justice, of protecting other people, for the sake of your own family?"
"In a heartbeat."
Mohinder looks down, folding his hands in lap. His shoulders sag and Matt can feel his own anger start to steam away. Without looking up Mohinder says, "I can't. I believe you, that you would, but I can't."
"Yeah," Matt says softly, because he knows this. He has heard the focused way Mohinder talks about his father, about his father's research being right. He worries that as much as Molly means to Mohinder, old ghosts mean more. He worries that Mohinder will try to prove himself and will come back in a body bag, if he comes back at all.
"I wish I could, but..."
"But it's not enough," Matt finishes. "Molly and me, you care about us, but not enough to stop this."
Mohinder frowns at him, dark brows lowering. "Sometimes, you understand nothing."
Matt nearly laughs. Having his intelligence insulted is the least of his worries right now. "Sure, Einstein. I'm just the idiot who's been living with you for months. I wouldn't have a clue what's going on."
"A good man cannot stand by and do nothing while evil deeds are committed. To take no action against it is to be complicit in the act. To allow it to occur is an action in itself," Mohinder says, leaning forward to stress his point. "They take people. They force them to master their abilities or they kill them. And I know it is happening."
"They've killed people, as in a lot more than one, Mohinder. You think they're going to bat an eyelash if they have to kill you? You really think one guy can pull down an organisation like this?"
"No. But I think I can get Bennet the necessary information to do it. I think I can help." Mohinder leans closer, stretches out an arm and digs his fingers into Matt's bicep. Matt doesn't pull back but he doesn't move any closer, either. "I have to."
"Sure. You're such an ethical man--"
"You can't ask me to ignore what's happening and stay here playing happy family with you and Molly."
"I can ask," Matt says, spitting out the vicious words, "but we're not enough for you to say yes."
"For goodness sake," Mohinder says, making it sound like a curse. He's angry, furious, but Matt can see the hurt in his eyes. If Matt was a better man, he'd stop this and apologise; he wouldn't have started the fight in the first place. But he's not. He has been insulted and ignored, and he's frustrated. Because no matter what he says, no matter how painful and dirty this fight gets, Mohinder is a stubborn bastard who will do whatever the hell he wants, whatever he thinks is right.
"Look--" Matt starts, but he doesn't have any way to sum this up, to make this situation any better. So he shrugs. "Maybe I'm asking for too much."
"You are asking for the impossible, Matt," Mohinder says, one hand still holding onto to Matt's arm. It feels like a slap in the face, like a punch straight to his gut.
This is why he hates fighting with people, why he hated it with Janice. It always ends at an impasse, too tired to fight anymore, the anger draining away. Argue and fight, hiss and yell, until the only thing left is the ache in his chest, the insults ringing in his ears.
"Sure," Matt says. "Molly needs to go to school in a few hours. We should try to sleep."
"Matthew," Mohinder says softly. Maybe he realises that his fingers are digging into Matt's arm because he loosens his grip, slides his palm up to Matt's shoulder. "You can't ask me--"
"I'm not." Matt cuts him off quickly, pulling away to switch off the lamp. His throat feels tight and his eyes feel suspiciously watery, and it's cowardly to want this conversation to finish in the dark, but he does. "I'm not asking you. I'm not--you can't do it, so I'm not asking, okay?"
Matt lies down and beside him, he hears Mohinder sigh. He's tempted to scan Molly's thoughts -- make sure she's sleeping soundly -- but decides against it. He doesn't want to risk hearing Mohinder's, doesn't want to be hurt by something Mohinder has the self-control not to say out loud.
"You're both important to me." Mohinder's voice carries in the dark. Matt could ask him to stop, could tell him to go to sleep, but he's too wrung out. He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to be awake. He just wants tonight to be over.
He wants to wake up tomorrow with Mohinder making coffee, and just be pleased that Mohinder's back. He wants to stop worrying about scary organisations and Mohinder's choices and everything else he has no control over; he wants to take Molly to school and pick her up and pretend that meaning something to Mohinder is enough.
He wants to pretend it doesn't matter that he's head-over-heels for Mohinder.
He wants to be grateful for Molly, for the fact that Mohinder does care for them. Then he thinks, amused despite the sharp sting of the thought, at least he can be grateful that Mohinder isn't sleeping with his supposed best friend behind his back.
"Things could be worse," Matt says. He reaches over and finds Mohinder's wrist in the dark, tugs and waits for Mohinder to shimmy over until he's lying down beside Matt. "Things could always be worse."
He pulls Mohinder over to him because really, things aren't any different than they were before. Mohinder may still be acting on a twisted vendetta, proving his father right, proving to himself that he's a good man; Mohinder cares but not enough to stop. The situation isn't any different from yesterday. The only difference is that Matt's had definite confirmation.
He presses a kiss against Mohinder's forehead, kissing more hair than skin. "I probably shouldn't have asked."
"I just-- I can't," Mohinder says, clipped accent stressing the sharp consonants. "I can't live with that uncertainty."
Even in the darkness, Matt blinks. "Uncertainty?"
"I can't live here with you and Molly and simply wait for the day when the Company changes its mind. When they decide that locating other gifted individuals is more important than leaving you and Molly alone." Mohinder pauses, only for a moment. "For the day when they realise interrogation by telepath is far more effective."
"What?" Matt says, feeling blindsided.
"They are not trustworthy people, Matt. They know where we live, they brought it up in our first meeting. Eventually, they will act and--" Matt hears Mohinder swallow, feels Mohinder's arm hold him tighter. And maybe Matt's a total idiot because he didn't see this coming. He didn’t see this coming at all. "I can't do it. I can't go through every day and simply hope that you'll both be safe, that nothing will happen. And if it does and I'm merely lecturing somewhere, or driving a cab, I'll have no chance, no resources, no way of finding you."
Matt takes a deep breath, but he doesn't know what to say. He presses another kiss to Mohinder's forehead, then tucks his cheek against Mohinder's head.
"I would be helpless and I can't do that. Not when there is something I can do right now to avoid the situation, to minimize the chances as much as possible." For the first time, Mohinder sounds young and scared. Every time he has discussed this, explained his plans, he has been so certain, so blasé about the dangers, that Matt kept wishing he'd take it seriously. Now he realises that Mohinder's as frightened as he is; he just hides it better. "I know there are risks. I know this is drawing more attention to you and Molly. And I know that it would hurt Molly greatly if something should happen--"
"It would devastate her," Matt says, interrupting softly. "For the record, it'd devastate me, too."
Mohinder raises his head, staring in Matt's direction. "But I can't not do this. I need you to understand--"
This time, Matt interrupts by kissing Mohinder, a firm, blunt kiss on still-parted lips. It occurs to him that this is the first time he's properly kissed Mohinder since his return, so he kisses him again for good measure. "Fine, okay, do this. But be careful. Please. No unnecessary risks, no stupid bravado. No going near anyone with a gun."
"Trust me, I'd like to take as few risks as physically possible," Mohinder says, stubble catching as he slides his cheek across Matt's. "Also, the only person who's recently pointed a gun at me is you."
Matt chuckles, but he doesn't have a quick retort. He substitutes another kiss -- slower, deeper, sliding his tongue across Mohinder's sharp teeth -- and then remembers that they've only got a few hours before tomorrow starts and sleep actually is a necessity. "I'm not the one with an insane urge for tea at midnight."
"There is nothing insane about it." Matt doesn't need light to know that Mohinder just rolled his eyes. It's all in the tone of his voice. "Tea has relaxing qualities."
"Caffeine. Late at night. You get off a flight, have a cup of chai, and then complain about being jetlagged the next day. I'm just saying, professor. There's a cause and effect thing going on here."
"Of course, my tiredness would have nothing to do with changing time zones or the physical stresses of high-altitude travel."
"It's all in the tea," Matt says definitively.
"I don't know why I put up with you," Mohinder says, kissing Matt before he gets a chance to reply. The kiss segues into a second one, and then a third, and then Matt's pulling Mohinder closer and sliding a hand under his wifebeater. Mohinder moans, then pulls away. "As much as I have missed this, sleep is probably a better idea right now."
"I know."
"Then could you possibly remove your hands?" Mohinder asks, clearly amused by Matt's dramatic sigh as he runs his hand down Mohinder's side and leaves it resting at his waist. "There is always tomorrow night."
"But tomorrow is so far away." Matt leans up, catching Mohinder's mouth in another kiss. There's a moment, a moment when Mohinder opens his mouth and takes control of the kiss, pressing Matt down against the pillow when Matt thinks he can go without sleep. He slept for a few hours by Molly's bedside and maybe an hour on the couch. That's four hours, if he counts it really generously. It's been two weeks without sex. That's got to be more important.
Then Mohinder pulls back quickly, stifling a yawn. "Sorry."
"Time to be responsible parents and get some sleep?"
"I'm afraid so," Mohinder says, dropping a kiss on the corner of Matt's jaw as lies down beside him, arm across Matt's chest. Matt holds on to him, certain that he's not at all tired, but they fall asleep like that, curled around each other.
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, I make no money.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Heroes 2.03 (Kindred).
Notes: Set during 2.03, directly after the Matt/Mohinder/Molly scene. Will make no sense if you haven't seen that. Title from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s line: When we quarrel, how we wish we had been blameless. Thanks to
celli for audiencing and scribewraith for encouraging, and storydivagirl for betaing.Summary: Matt wants to yell and shout, but this isn't Mohinder's fault. At least, it isn't all Mohinder's fault, but right now, Matt can't feel the difference.
It takes nearly an hour for Mohinder to get Molly back to sleep. They're both too excited. Molly wants to know all about the trip ("What's Cairo like? Did you get to see any pyramids?") and Mohinder's happy to tell her, to show her the cheap souvenirs he bought her. They're both thrilled that Mohinder's back for good.
Matt wishes he could be more excited. He wishes he could be excited at all, but he's dreading what this could mean. And he's angry for all the wrong reasons.
He's angry at Mohinder for promising that he'll never leave again -- he can't guarantee that and he shouldn't make promises he can't keep -- even though it's a promise to a child who needs the reassurance.
He's angry that the danger is now closer to home, closer to Molly. The Company may already know she's here, but this is waving it in their face. It's asking for trouble.
He's angry that the Company exists, that it's this huge influential thing that Matt himself is powerless to stop. He's angry that Mohinder's found a way to fight against them on his own.
It's not logical and it makes no sense, and he doesn't want to fight about it. But the anger is boiling under the surface of his skin, clenched inside closed fists as he sits on the sofa, surfing through channels of junk. It's nothing but reality television, evangelists, infomercials and reruns of shows that were never all that popular. It's annoying and irritating, and he's angry about that too. Tonight, the lack of anything decent to watch feels like a personal slight.
After an hour, when the voices coming from Molly's room have faded into silence, Mohinder pads out to the living room. "Matthew," he says, picking up his now-cold cup of tea and walking towards the sofa.
"Go to bed," Matt says, as casually as he can manage. "I want to watch the end of this. I'll be in later."
"And what are you watching?" Mohinder asks, smirking at the TV screen.
It's some fitness infomercial, a perfectly bronzed girl in skin-tight Lycra pushing and pulling, grinning for the camera. "Just go to bed. Sleep off the damn jetlag." It comes out harsher than he means.
"Matt--"
"Just--" Matt wants to yell and shout, but this isn't Mohinder's fault. At least, it isn't all Mohinder's fault, but right now, Matt can't feel the difference. "It's been a long day and tomorrow is going to be another long one too. I don't want to fight about this."
He looks over his shoulder at Mohinder, standing behind the couch, cup in hand. Mohinder's mouth is a tight line, and he's staring down into his cup, swirling the liquid carefully. After a moment, Mohinder sighs and nods, and heads to the bedroom.
It's a hollow victory, hearing Mohinder shuffle around the room, getting ready for bed. Matt listens to the bathroom tap running as Mohinder brushes his teeth, waits for the final click of the light switch being turned off. Then Matt lets out the breath he’s been holding -- holding for too damn long -- and searches for something to watch.
***
"Matt." There's a hand on his cheek, another pulling at his shoulder, urging him up. "Stand up. You need to come to bed."
Matt blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes, following Mohinder's instruction and lurching to his feet. "What?"
"You fell asleep on the couch," Mohinder says, voice soft and whispery in the darkness. "You need to come to bed and lie down."
"I wasn't asleep," Matt says, then yawns and stretches. From the ache in his back, he probably was.
Mohinder chuckles, low and right by Matt's ear, then guides him toward the door with a warm hand on the back of Matt's shoulder. Matt stumbles a little, still sleepy, and would have walked into the doorway if Mohinder didn’t pull him aside. He makes it to the bed in one piece and flops down on the mattress.
Lying horizontal is a wonderful feeling. He closes his eyes as Mohinder pulls the covers over him.
The bed shudders a bit as Mohinder gets in on the other side. He wiggles closer to Matt, one hand across Matt's chest, head on Matt's shoulder, and Matt shifts, making space for him. Matt moves his arms to rest a hand against the small of Mohinder's back, to rest his other along the curve of Mohinder's hip.
He has missed this. The last trip was nearly two weeks long -- two weeks of Molly and homework and nightmares, dealing with teachers and studying for his exam -- and he’s missed the simple reassurance of touch, of another warm body lying beside him.
He lifts a hand to push a few curls off Mohinder's forehead and even in the darkness he can see Mohinder's smile. "Not sleepy?" Mohinder whispers.
"Now that I'm lying in bed, I'm pretty much awake." Matt shrugs with the shoulder Mohinder isn't using as a pillow. "Typical, huh?"
"Maybe you should have come to bed earlier." Mohinder's tone is gentle, but there's a touch of recrimination there.
"I didn't want to fight."
"Then don't fight," Mohinder says simply, tapping his finger once against Matt's collarbone.
"I would have, okay?" Matt knows himself well enough to know his temper, to know the way it spills over if he's not careful. "I would have yelled and I would've woken Molly up, and there's no point."
"No point?" Mohinder pulls back. He rests his weight on his elbow, propping himself high enough to look down at Matt.
Matt sighs. He really doesn't want to fight about this. "Look, you'll do whatever you think is best and I need to trust you on that."
"We both agreed on this course of action. We discussed it, Matt."
"Sure, we discussed this, you're right," Matt says, running a hand over his scalp. "Can we not fight about this?"
"No."
"What happened to 'then don't fight'?"
"I meant don't pick a fight for no reason, don't encourage a pointless argument because you're tired and grumpy. I did not mean that you should sit in another room and sulk," Mohinder says, sitting up against the wall and pulling his knees up.
The words sting and Matt goes from feeling sheepish and tired straight back to annoyed and itching for a fight. "And I meant that arguing about it won't change anything. Molly is still here, the Company is still out there, and you're still working for them. And nothing I say right now is going to change that."
"No, it's not."
"Then what's the point of fighting?" Matt sits up, switching on the bedside lamp. If this fight is going to upset him, he wants to be able to see that it's upsetting Mohinder too.
"The point is that you are being irrational about this."
"You're going out there and courting danger. You’re standing in front of the firing squad and hoping they don't shoot," Matt hisses back, trying to keep his voice low. "Molly has already lost one set of parents. What do you think it's going to do to her when you don't come home?"
"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Matthew." Mohinder's tone is sharp enough to draw blood.
"This has nothing to do with confidence--"
"This is hypocrisy," Mohinder replies, turning to face Matt directly. It doesn't escape Matt's attention that Mohinder moves backwards as he turns, that the space between them grows bigger. "You are a member of the police. Your job is not without certain risks."
"It's my job. It's not some half-baked scheme--"
"It's a dangerous job," Mohinder interrupts. "It's a job where you could easily be hurt. And I have never once used the excuse of Molly to ask you to quit."
"But I would," Matt says, and the shock is written clearly on Mohinder's face. They talked about this, about his transfer, about how badly he's always wanted to be a cop. But as he says the words, he knows it's true. "If you asked me to quit, I would."
"You would give up your dream job for me and Molly?" Mohinder asks, disbelieving and surprised. "You would turn your back on all of your ideas of justice, of protecting other people, for the sake of your own family?"
"In a heartbeat."
Mohinder looks down, folding his hands in lap. His shoulders sag and Matt can feel his own anger start to steam away. Without looking up Mohinder says, "I can't. I believe you, that you would, but I can't."
"Yeah," Matt says softly, because he knows this. He has heard the focused way Mohinder talks about his father, about his father's research being right. He worries that as much as Molly means to Mohinder, old ghosts mean more. He worries that Mohinder will try to prove himself and will come back in a body bag, if he comes back at all.
"I wish I could, but..."
"But it's not enough," Matt finishes. "Molly and me, you care about us, but not enough to stop this."
Mohinder frowns at him, dark brows lowering. "Sometimes, you understand nothing."
Matt nearly laughs. Having his intelligence insulted is the least of his worries right now. "Sure, Einstein. I'm just the idiot who's been living with you for months. I wouldn't have a clue what's going on."
"A good man cannot stand by and do nothing while evil deeds are committed. To take no action against it is to be complicit in the act. To allow it to occur is an action in itself," Mohinder says, leaning forward to stress his point. "They take people. They force them to master their abilities or they kill them. And I know it is happening."
"They've killed people, as in a lot more than one, Mohinder. You think they're going to bat an eyelash if they have to kill you? You really think one guy can pull down an organisation like this?"
"No. But I think I can get Bennet the necessary information to do it. I think I can help." Mohinder leans closer, stretches out an arm and digs his fingers into Matt's bicep. Matt doesn't pull back but he doesn't move any closer, either. "I have to."
"Sure. You're such an ethical man--"
"You can't ask me to ignore what's happening and stay here playing happy family with you and Molly."
"I can ask," Matt says, spitting out the vicious words, "but we're not enough for you to say yes."
"For goodness sake," Mohinder says, making it sound like a curse. He's angry, furious, but Matt can see the hurt in his eyes. If Matt was a better man, he'd stop this and apologise; he wouldn't have started the fight in the first place. But he's not. He has been insulted and ignored, and he's frustrated. Because no matter what he says, no matter how painful and dirty this fight gets, Mohinder is a stubborn bastard who will do whatever the hell he wants, whatever he thinks is right.
"Look--" Matt starts, but he doesn't have any way to sum this up, to make this situation any better. So he shrugs. "Maybe I'm asking for too much."
"You are asking for the impossible, Matt," Mohinder says, one hand still holding onto to Matt's arm. It feels like a slap in the face, like a punch straight to his gut.
This is why he hates fighting with people, why he hated it with Janice. It always ends at an impasse, too tired to fight anymore, the anger draining away. Argue and fight, hiss and yell, until the only thing left is the ache in his chest, the insults ringing in his ears.
"Sure," Matt says. "Molly needs to go to school in a few hours. We should try to sleep."
"Matthew," Mohinder says softly. Maybe he realises that his fingers are digging into Matt's arm because he loosens his grip, slides his palm up to Matt's shoulder. "You can't ask me--"
"I'm not." Matt cuts him off quickly, pulling away to switch off the lamp. His throat feels tight and his eyes feel suspiciously watery, and it's cowardly to want this conversation to finish in the dark, but he does. "I'm not asking you. I'm not--you can't do it, so I'm not asking, okay?"
Matt lies down and beside him, he hears Mohinder sigh. He's tempted to scan Molly's thoughts -- make sure she's sleeping soundly -- but decides against it. He doesn't want to risk hearing Mohinder's, doesn't want to be hurt by something Mohinder has the self-control not to say out loud.
"You're both important to me." Mohinder's voice carries in the dark. Matt could ask him to stop, could tell him to go to sleep, but he's too wrung out. He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to be awake. He just wants tonight to be over.
He wants to wake up tomorrow with Mohinder making coffee, and just be pleased that Mohinder's back. He wants to stop worrying about scary organisations and Mohinder's choices and everything else he has no control over; he wants to take Molly to school and pick her up and pretend that meaning something to Mohinder is enough.
He wants to pretend it doesn't matter that he's head-over-heels for Mohinder.
He wants to be grateful for Molly, for the fact that Mohinder does care for them. Then he thinks, amused despite the sharp sting of the thought, at least he can be grateful that Mohinder isn't sleeping with his supposed best friend behind his back.
"Things could be worse," Matt says. He reaches over and finds Mohinder's wrist in the dark, tugs and waits for Mohinder to shimmy over until he's lying down beside Matt. "Things could always be worse."
He pulls Mohinder over to him because really, things aren't any different than they were before. Mohinder may still be acting on a twisted vendetta, proving his father right, proving to himself that he's a good man; Mohinder cares but not enough to stop. The situation isn't any different from yesterday. The only difference is that Matt's had definite confirmation.
He presses a kiss against Mohinder's forehead, kissing more hair than skin. "I probably shouldn't have asked."
"I just-- I can't," Mohinder says, clipped accent stressing the sharp consonants. "I can't live with that uncertainty."
Even in the darkness, Matt blinks. "Uncertainty?"
"I can't live here with you and Molly and simply wait for the day when the Company changes its mind. When they decide that locating other gifted individuals is more important than leaving you and Molly alone." Mohinder pauses, only for a moment. "For the day when they realise interrogation by telepath is far more effective."
"What?" Matt says, feeling blindsided.
"They are not trustworthy people, Matt. They know where we live, they brought it up in our first meeting. Eventually, they will act and--" Matt hears Mohinder swallow, feels Mohinder's arm hold him tighter. And maybe Matt's a total idiot because he didn't see this coming. He didn’t see this coming at all. "I can't do it. I can't go through every day and simply hope that you'll both be safe, that nothing will happen. And if it does and I'm merely lecturing somewhere, or driving a cab, I'll have no chance, no resources, no way of finding you."
Matt takes a deep breath, but he doesn't know what to say. He presses another kiss to Mohinder's forehead, then tucks his cheek against Mohinder's head.
"I would be helpless and I can't do that. Not when there is something I can do right now to avoid the situation, to minimize the chances as much as possible." For the first time, Mohinder sounds young and scared. Every time he has discussed this, explained his plans, he has been so certain, so blasé about the dangers, that Matt kept wishing he'd take it seriously. Now he realises that Mohinder's as frightened as he is; he just hides it better. "I know there are risks. I know this is drawing more attention to you and Molly. And I know that it would hurt Molly greatly if something should happen--"
"It would devastate her," Matt says, interrupting softly. "For the record, it'd devastate me, too."
Mohinder raises his head, staring in Matt's direction. "But I can't not do this. I need you to understand--"
This time, Matt interrupts by kissing Mohinder, a firm, blunt kiss on still-parted lips. It occurs to him that this is the first time he's properly kissed Mohinder since his return, so he kisses him again for good measure. "Fine, okay, do this. But be careful. Please. No unnecessary risks, no stupid bravado. No going near anyone with a gun."
"Trust me, I'd like to take as few risks as physically possible," Mohinder says, stubble catching as he slides his cheek across Matt's. "Also, the only person who's recently pointed a gun at me is you."
Matt chuckles, but he doesn't have a quick retort. He substitutes another kiss -- slower, deeper, sliding his tongue across Mohinder's sharp teeth -- and then remembers that they've only got a few hours before tomorrow starts and sleep actually is a necessity. "I'm not the one with an insane urge for tea at midnight."
"There is nothing insane about it." Matt doesn't need light to know that Mohinder just rolled his eyes. It's all in the tone of his voice. "Tea has relaxing qualities."
"Caffeine. Late at night. You get off a flight, have a cup of chai, and then complain about being jetlagged the next day. I'm just saying, professor. There's a cause and effect thing going on here."
"Of course, my tiredness would have nothing to do with changing time zones or the physical stresses of high-altitude travel."
"It's all in the tea," Matt says definitively.
"I don't know why I put up with you," Mohinder says, kissing Matt before he gets a chance to reply. The kiss segues into a second one, and then a third, and then Matt's pulling Mohinder closer and sliding a hand under his wifebeater. Mohinder moans, then pulls away. "As much as I have missed this, sleep is probably a better idea right now."
"I know."
"Then could you possibly remove your hands?" Mohinder asks, clearly amused by Matt's dramatic sigh as he runs his hand down Mohinder's side and leaves it resting at his waist. "There is always tomorrow night."
"But tomorrow is so far away." Matt leans up, catching Mohinder's mouth in another kiss. There's a moment, a moment when Mohinder opens his mouth and takes control of the kiss, pressing Matt down against the pillow when Matt thinks he can go without sleep. He slept for a few hours by Molly's bedside and maybe an hour on the couch. That's four hours, if he counts it really generously. It's been two weeks without sex. That's got to be more important.
Then Mohinder pulls back quickly, stifling a yawn. "Sorry."
"Time to be responsible parents and get some sleep?"
"I'm afraid so," Mohinder says, dropping a kiss on the corner of Matt's jaw as lies down beside him, arm across Matt's chest. Matt holds on to him, certain that he's not at all tired, but they fall asleep like that, curled around each other.
