out_there: B-Day Present '05 (M3 Glee)
[personal profile] out_there
Title: Mohinder's Mom
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: R
Word Count: Approximately 23,000.
Disclaimer: I own the ideas, not the characters.
Notes: I can't believe a silly idea that made me giggle got so long. Huge thanks to [livejournal.com profile] celli who listened to me talk about this story for weeks and happily let me steal entire ideas from her. (No, really. At least a third of this is cannibalised straight from her head.) Thanks to everyone who commented with enthusiasm and glee as I worked on this and thank you to [livejournal.com profile] boymommytotwo for the careful beta.

Summary: Mohinder's mom didn't know about Molly or Matt, not until she stayed with her son for three weeks.

Continued from Part One




***

The storm, such as it was, came a few days later when Matt came home to find his little girl wearing a pale pink sari. The sari itself wasn't a problem (although the shiny material slid beneath his fingers and he nearly dropped Molly by accident). It was Molly's explanation of it.

"Do you like it, Matt? Mira gave this one to me and a blue one, and I don't know which one I like more. I think they're both really pretty."

"I'm sure they are," Matt said, pulling off his jacket. Then, "Who's Mira?"

"She's Mohinder's friend. She's in New York for a few days."

The name didn't ring a bell. "Yeah?"

"She and Mohinder went out to dinner to talk," Molly added. "Can we order Chinese?"

"Sure." Matt glanced over at the table, and Mohinder's mom smiled. There was something a little too satisfied about the brief nod that she gave him.

***

Matt only met Mira briefly when Mohinder came home, but after making small-talk, he found out several facts.

They'd done their Masters together, studying genetics.

They used to stay up all night drinking chai and trying to memorise text books.

She was now the head of genetics research at a company back in India. A while ago, she'd offered Mohinder a job there but he'd refused.

She was politely spoken and very attractive. Mira was walking, talking china-doll gorgeous with shiny black hair and big dark eyes, a sweet smile and espresso-coloured skin.

Matt tried not to think it, but the thought sprung upon him: she was almost a female version of Mohinder. He didn't say it out loud because Mohinder might take offence, but he couldn't help thinking it.

"So, old friend from college?" he asked that night, settling into bed.

"Yes," Mohinder said quickly, pulling off his shirt.

"Were you two lab partners?" Matt teased gently as Mohinder got into bed. "She seems like the lab partners type."

Then Mohinder moved over to his side and slid a hand under the waistband of Matt's boxers. Propped up on one elbow, he leaned over Matt, close enough to breathe the words against Matt's lips. "Can we talk about this later?"

Matt didn't get a chance to answer because Mohinder kissed him. Wet and deep, tongue fucking his mouth, a kiss that had a definite plan for where tonight was going. Matt was more than okay with that.

It was rushed and fumbling and fast, like teenagers trying to secretly get some action (unsurprising since Mohinder's mom was snoring in the next room) but it was good.

It was so good: Mohinder's hands on him, fingers scraping over skin; Mohinder breathing hard and fast, lining their cocks up and rocking through his fist.

Good enough that Matt had to bite down on Mohinder's shoulder to stay quiet; good enough that when Mohinder wanted to talk afterwards, Matt could barely manage grunts, let alone words.

"About Mira..."

"Huh?" Matt managed, lying against Mohinder's chest and still a little short of breath. He tried opening his eyes to force himself awake, but gave up quickly.

"When we met at university, we dated for a while."

Matt felt himself start to drift off. "Uh-huh."

"It lasted for a few years."

"Hmmmmm."

"In fact, we were engaged."

"Mmmm," Matt said, too asleep to say anything else.

***

Matt kept a tight hold on his cell phone as he walked around the station. He waited until he found an empty interview room and shut the door behind him before calling.

"Hello," Mohinder said, adding, "This isn't the best time for me to talk."

"Then I suggest you make your excuses and find somewhere you can talk," Matt growled.

"Ah."

Matt took a deep breath. If Mohinder fobbed him off, he'd be totally justified in stealing a squadron car and yelling at him in person. Then he heard the muffled sounds of Mohinder covering the phone and saying, "Excuse me, I need to take this."

Matt let the breath out slowly. He waited in silence as background noises got louder, then softer, until Mohinder said gently, "Matthew--"

"Your ex-fiancée!" Matt exploded. "Your mother brought over your ex-fiancée! And you go out to dinner with her?"

"Mira's in New York visiting the American labs of her company. It's not as if my mother flew her over to see me," Mohinder said, sounding far too self-righteous for Matt's liking.

"You do not get the moral high ground here. After sneaking out this morning before I even woke up, you've lost the moral high ground on this issue forever."

"I had an early meeting."

"Don't even try it. I don't need telepathy to know that little stunt was planned," Matt lowered his voice, "but I can always use it to double-check."

"You're over-reacting, Matthew."

That was clearly a lie.

"Over-reacting would be showing up at your lab with sirens blaring and dragging you away in handcuffs so I can yell at you until my throat's raw," Matt said, trying very, very hard to keep his voice close to a reasonable volume. "This, right now? This is me being an example of self-control."

"I went out to dinner with an old acquaintance and you are acting as if--"

"I'm acting as if you went out to dinner with a woman you once promised to marry!" Matt looked over at the window and saw Bendell and Lamb watching him with amused grins. Matt lowered his arm -- realised he'd been waving it around for emphasis -- and rolled his eyes at them. "You know it's a big deal. If it hadn't been a big deal, you wouldn't have told me like that."

There was quiet on the other end of the line. Then Mohinder said slowly, "I don't want this to be a big deal."

"Yeah, well..." Matt shrugged, not that Mohinder could see it. Then he remembered Lamb and Bendell, and closed the blind. "Taking your gorgeous ex out for a romantic meal makes it that."

"There was nothing romantic about it," Mohinder said earnestly. "We caught up on old times and spent most of the night discussing research. She's looking into seeing if she can arrange for me to visit her company's labs here. They're doing some amazing work with primate DNA and air-borne viruses."

"Since we're on the phone and all, I get that you can't see my eyes glazing over," Matt interrupted, surprisingly reassured by the scientific enthusiasm in Mohinder's tone, "but they are."

When really excited about research, Mohinder lost track of time and lost track of people. It wasn't intentional. He'd nearly missed Molly's birthday party last year due to 'an unexpected anomaly in the cellular reproductive cycle'. A chance to play with someone else's chemistry set would completely blind him to the social blunder of combining candlelight, a nice meal, and an ex.

"It's truly fascinating. There's a chance that similar genetic mutations have appeared in--"

"Glazing over. Right now." Matt paused and took a deep breath. "I want it noted for the record that I'm the world's best boyfriend."

"Indeed?"

"Not only have I put up with your mother for weeks -- weeks that have taken years off my life -- but I'm also going to say," Matt closed his eyes, as if that made the next sentence easier to force out, "invite your ex-fiancée over to our place for dinner."

"Really?" Judging by Mohinder's tone, that was the last thing he'd expected Matt to say.

"Really. I'll even cook." At Mohinder's snort, Matt added, "Well, I'll pick up Chinese. That's almost cooking."

***

It could be worse. Matt repeated that to himself: it could be worse.

Mohinder's ex might have been an outrageous flirter. Or a tacky blonde from Las Vegas with cleavage spilling out every time she leaned forward. She could have been like Janice's ex and spent the entire night talking about the number of touch downs she'd scored in high school. Okay, that wasn't so likely, but the point was: it could have been worse.

She showed up on time and brought a lemon meringue pie for dessert. She spoke in English at the dinner table and included Molly in the conversation. For some reason, having her there encouraged Mohinder's mom to stay silent, so Matt counted that as another point in Mira's favour. Mira was friendly and told stories about university where they'd stayed up all night studying or -- Molly's favourite tale of the evening -- how Mohinder had got caught on the university's roof wearing Mira's floral, pink pyjamas.

"There was a perfectly reasonable explanation," Mohinder had spluttered around a mouthful of tea, and then been begged and bribed for the full tale. It involved an accident in the chemistry labs and a lack of clean clothes to change into and managing to lock himself out of the building. "I was planning on climbing back in one of the open windows except the Applied Mathematics professor saw me first. It was very embarrassing."

"But very funny," Mira said and helped clear the table.

She even offered to help wash the dishes, but Matt's smile had started to feel a bit strained so he waved her back towards Mohinder and the table. As he wiped up, he eavesdropped but it didn't help much. Half of the conversation was in Tamil and the other half was scientific mumbo-jumbo. But he couldn't detect any flirting. There were no teasing glances or subtle touches.

They weren't acting like two long-lost lovers. They were two scientists around a table, scribbling down notes and talking excitedly as they switched pages. Watching their dark heads bent over the table, pens scratching furiously, Matt wondered if Mohinder had been right this morning. Maybe Matt was over-reacting.

Then Mohinder's mom came to put on the kettle.

She nodded towards Mohinder and Mira and said softly, "They look so good together. Don't you agree, Detective Parkman?"

Matt stared at her, lost for words.

She smiled and asked, "Did my son mention they used to be engaged?"

Matt clenched his teeth hard and reminded himself why he wasn't allowed to grab his gun and shoot her right now: cops don't do well in prison.

***

"I have seen the face of evil," Matt hissed as soon as Mohinder closed the bedroom door.

Mohinder smiled indulgently. "Really?"

"I have seen the face of evil," he repeated, "and it's your mother."

"Don't you think you're--"

"If you say I'm over-reacting, I swear I'm going to beat you to a pulp."

"I was going to say 'being overly dramatic'," Mohinder amended, grinning as if this was funny, "but I suppose it amounts to the same thing." Then he stepped up behind Matt and wrapped his arms around Matt's chest, sliding his stubbled cheek against the side of Matt's neck.

"She stood our kitchen and told me you should be marrying Mira," Matt said as Mohinder's warm mouth started sucking at his skin. "Will you stop that? Having your mother point out you should be seeing someone else pretty much ruins the mood. Also, your mother's still awake."

"I know." Mohinder sounded mischievous, instead of properly frightened. "But if we were very quiet…"

"What? No!" Matt pushed Mohinder's hands away and spun around to face him. "Not the time, not the place. Not when your mother is living under our roof and matchmaking."

"You know my mother," Mohinder said, sliding hands down Matt's back. "In this instance, she is very misguided."

"Misguided isn't the word for it. The word for it is something I'm not allowed to say in front of Molly!"

"I can't believe you're upset--" Mohinder paused, hands freezing on Matt's ass, and studied him. Then he said gently, "You're genuinely upset about this?"

Matt didn't dignify that with a reply. He gave it a glare instead.

"Mira is the girl my mother always expected me to marry. Our families were friends, we'd been close to each other since childhood and as far as my mother is concerned, Mira would be the perfect wife for me."

Matt pushed Mohinder's arms away from him. "That is not comforting."

"Try to understand," Mohinder started, ignoring the clear signal of Matt's crossed arms and settling his hands on Matt's shoulders. "The situation is slightly complicated."

"The situation is simple. Your mom likes Mira. Molly likes Mira. You like Mira enough that after a few hours with her, you've completely forgotten about your mom in the next room. I don't know." Matt shrugged, but it didn't dislodge Mohinder's hands. "Maybe some people would be flattered that spending time with your ex gets you in the mood. But I'm not one of them."

Mohinder boggled at him. Then he blinked a couple times and sat down on the bed. Reaching out a hand, he pulled Matt down beside him.

"What?" Matt demanded.

"There's no reason for you to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Matt bit back. Then he saw Mohinder's patient, raised eyebrow. "Well, fine. Maybe there's a little jealousy here. Just a little."

A warm arm wrapped around Matt, tugging him against Mohinder's side. "You truly have no reason to be jealous."

"Why don't you tell me again how long you've known Mira and how she's your ideal wife." Closing his eyes, Matt sighed and let the anger go. He didn't really want to fight; he just wanted a little bit of reassurance. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

"I never said she was my ideal. Perhaps," Mohinder said, starting to rub his hand up and down Matt's back, slow and comforting, "I should have told you more about me and Mira."

"Yeah?"

"We were very close growing up and shared many of the same interests. We went to university together, studied the same classes. Prepared for the same exams. If I was going to a party, it made perfect sense that she would be the person I took with me."

Mohinder sighed softly. "If I'm being honest, we started dating without me really noticing. It fell into place and suddenly we were a couple. We had so much in common. Our families spent a great deal of time together, we shared goals and wanted similar things from our future. It made sense."

Matt had almost forgotten this tone of voice. When he'd first met Mohinder, he'd been amazed the man could be so enthusiastic about research, so doting when it came to Molly, and yet spoke about himself in cold, detached terms. He was the disconnected scientist, objective, taking no personal pride in his achievements and only gently mocking his failures. Matt hasn't missed hearing him like this.

"Spending time around Mira," Mohinder said softly, "it reminds me of how I felt then. How young I was, full of potential and insecurities. So invested in my studies and career, because I was ambitious. So worried about my father's opinion, because family is important. And because I was a good young man, so sensible, so mature, I wasn't distracted by lust or possessiveness."

Matt listened carefully. He was a cop; he could hear the confession coming.

"I had so many reasons and rationales for why other things were always more important than Mira. We made perfect sense but we never would have worked, simply because I never loved her enough. Certainly not as much as she deserved."

"You were young," Matt offered quietly. "You were young and you thought you were in love. There are worse crimes."

"I was young and I never questioned further. I assumed." For Mohinder, taking assumptions at face value was a crime. "I assumed that it since it was logical it must be right. I assumed any lack of feeling was a failure on my part, that perhaps I was incapable of loving anyone like that."

Matt swallowed and wished he knew what to say. Confessions like that -- raw acknowledgements of insecurities -- they hurt. Hurt to say, hurt to admit. But Matt didn't know how to make it better.

"Seeing her," Mohinder paused, took a breath, "has made me think about possibilities, about the future I could have had. Married. Still in India. A successful academic or a well-paid researcher. Surrounded by people I have known since childhood, perhaps with children of my own. Telling myself that love and passion only belong in stories, not in real life. That no-one actually feels like that. In that life, I would be comfortable and content, but not happy."

Matt might not have the words, but sometimes actions were enough. With a hand on Mohinder's cheek, he tilted Mohinder's face towards him and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Mohinder's. He had to trust that Mohinder would read the right things into one little kiss.

"We make no sense," Mohinder said, resting his forehead against Matt's. "Absolutely no sense. We have very little in common and there's no logical reason why this should work, yet I'm happy here. Here with you and Molly. It's not always easy, but it feels right."

They were quiet for a moment. Sitting close, shoulders touching, and the only sounds Matt could hear were the distance sound of traffic and televisions in other apartments. And the growing noise of snoring.

The background noises belonged in this city, in this moment, but the snoring seemed out of place. It didn't belong in their apartment, Matt thought to himself with a smile, but it wouldn't be in their apartment for too much longer.

Mohinder leaned his head sideways, dropping it to Matt's shoulder. Matt wrapped an arm around him in return, and Mohinder sighed contentedly. "You were right. I like Mira. In fact, I'm terribly fond of her but…"

Matt grinned. "But there's nothing for me to be jealous about?"

"Nothing at all."

***

Nothing to be jealous about, Matt reminded himself as Molly cheerfully babbled about plans for the four of them (Mira, Molly, Mohinder and his mom) to go shopping on Saturday. Matt was working, so of course he couldn't come. And he probably wouldn't want to even if he could. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that he hadn't been asked to spend a day doing something he desperately didn't want to do. It was the principle of the thing.

He wasn't jealous of Mira specifically. It was just... annoying to have Molly and Mohinder wandering around the place, looking for backpack and wallet and keys, and calling goodbyes over their shoulders as he left for his shift.

***

There was a chance -- a very slim chance, but still -- that his bad mood had followed him to the station. Matt realised this as he overheard, "God, poor Parkman."

He stopped, looking down at the file in his hands, trying to understand how he'd heard that. He'd become pretty good at not mentally eavesdropping at work, except for when dealing with suspects or witnesses, of course. He usually didn't have to hear every officer's pointless thought. Maybe he was slipping...

Then he heard with normal hearing, not the mind-reading kind: "Yeah, I know. I feel sorry for the guy."

Matt looked over at the open door of the break room, and shook his head. Someone should tell Matheison (it was definitely Matheison's voice) to close the door if he was going to gossip. Rolling his eyes, Matt carefully walked closer.

Peaking around the door, he saw Matheison, Lamb and Bendell helping themselves to coffee.

"Mother-in-law," Bendell said, nodding meaningfully.

Lamb helped himself to three spoons of sugar. "Driving him insane by the looks of it."

"Have you seen his other half?" Matheison asked, and Bendell nodded. Lamb shook his head and was told, "Indian, brainy, scarily good-looking."

Lamb snorted. "Scarily?"

"Wait till you see him. He is way out of Parkman's league. I'm just saying."

"Clearly, Parkman has hidden depths."

"Or hidden talents," Bendell replied with a ridiculous leer and they laughed.

Matt shook his head and shoved a hand over his mouth to stay quiet. He was still silently chortling when Matheison said, "But, still, what sort of mother-in-law do you get from that?"

"If she's anything like my mother-in-law," Lamb groaned, "he'll be wearing a turban to work by Friday."

"Wrong religion," Matt said, choosing that moment to casually walk in and help himself to coffee. "Also, you're cops. How can your lives be so boring you have to stand around and discuss mine?"

Bendell and Lamb shared a glance. "Paperwork," they chorused.

***

"You're in a good mood," Mohinder said as Matt came home. He sounded a little surprised but he was also smiling.

The room behind Mohinder was empty, Matt noticed as he locked the apartment door. "My co-workers think I'm a stud." When he turned around, Mohinder had one brow raised.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The common consensus is that you're with me because I'm a stud in bed," Matt explained, expecting Mohinder to laugh.

Instead, Mohinder stepped closer, sliding his hands around Matt's hips. "So the truth is out, hmmm?" Then he caught Matt in a kiss, lips warm and parted. It was slow and welcoming, and the type of hello kiss Matt had been missing during the last two weeks.

"Well, they're detectives," Matt said softly when Mohinder pulled back an inch. "They were bound to figure it out sooner or later."

Mohinder chuckled and kissed him again. A step backwards and Matt was leaning against the coat closet, wrapping an arm around Mohinder's waist to pull him closer.

Then someone knocked the door beside them.

Mohinder stepped away. "That would be Molly."

"And your mother," Matt mouthed, but it was hard to be suitably annoyed with the taste of Mohinder's sweet tea still in his mouth.

***

On Sunday, Mohinder suggested the movies. Technically, he suggested going to see a documentary on the Dandy Walker Syndrome as it looked "incredibly interesting" but that idea was quickly vetoed.

"You can't take a little girl to the movies to watch a documentary." Matt was firm. "It's cruel and unusual punishment."

"It's educational," Mohinder replied from the couch.

"It's cruel and unusual education, then," Matt said and the corner of Mohinder's mouth twitched, meaning Matt had already won. He pointed over at Molly sitting at the table. She'd commandeered the iPod and was listening to headphones as she drew with coloured pencils. "You've seen the way she sits up every time the ad for that new Pixar thing comes on. Suggest that and she'll love you forever."

"Are you suggesting I need bribes to secure her affection?"

"I wouldn't use those terms." Matt grinned, leaning over the back of the couch to see the newspaper spread across Mohinder's lap. Recognising the advertising logo, he tapped at the page. "That one," he said, turning his head to see Mohinder's answering smile up close.

Mohinder gave a long-suffering sigh and folded like a house of cards. "Very well."

"Perhaps," Mohinder's mom said from the kitchen, and Matt stood up slowly, casually, like he hadn't been caught this close to necking her son, "Detective Parkman and I could take Molly to the movies today?"

"Sure," Matt said warily. It could be a peace offering. It could be a show of good faith. Personally, Matt suspected this was when the camera spanned across calm seas and the Jaws theme music started to play.

Mohinder looked decidedly more pleased. "I'm certain Molly would enjoy it."

"Mira mentioned that documentary yesterday. If you called her, I'm sure she would love to see it with you." Mohinder's mom smiled sweetly, putting the kettle on to boil and then looked directly at Matt. "They have always had such similar tastes in entertainment."

Matt grit his teeth and looked down for support but Mohinder was suddenly fascinated by screening times. "It is a very interesting documentary, and I would like to see it."

With Mohinder's mom standing right there, Matt couldn't reply, 'With your very interesting ex-fiancée?' so he said, "Fine. But I'm buying Molly as much popcorn as she can eat."

***

Once the cinema went dark, Matt could ignore the woman sitting beside Molly and pretend it was just him and her, sharing a ridiculously huge bucket of popcorn while animated robots explored the galaxy. One of the best things about being a parent was having an automatic excuse to get excited about a kids' movie.

When the explosion happened onscreen, he was the one who gasped. Molly leaned closer, wrapped her tiny arm around his, and whispered, "In case you get scared."

"Thanks, Molly." He pressed a quick kiss to her head, watching the screen out of the corner of his eye.

When the ship's power began to fail, she squeezed his hand tightly. He rested his other hand on top of hers, and watched avidly as the energy percentages dropped lower.

***

The documentary was long as well as boring. Okay, Matt was assuming the last part, but it was a documentary. The boring bit went without saying.

The documentary took long enough that he was left alone with Mohinder's mom as she cooked. Molly -- the little traitor -- had disappeared into her room with the phone talking to Micah about robots. So Matt was left drying dishes as Mohinder's mom started to slice and dice.

She held the knife firmly, showing the wrinkles on her hand. Matt figured it was petty to take pleasure in the thought that her age showed somewhere. Petty, but not completely undeserved.

The real problem with being alone with her was the silence. Matt had never done well with silence. He was a talker: liked to chat, liked to banter and since moving in with Mohinder and Molly, there hadn't been a lot of silence in his life. He wasn't used to it.

So he did something really stupid. He tried to talk to her.

"You know," he said, putting away a plate, "Mohinder would have been happy to come with us today."

"I'm sure he had a better time with Mira," she said. It could have been an innocent comment.

And Matt could be the Tooth Fairy. (Well, he had been the one to sneak into Molly's room when she lost a tooth, but that didn't count.) "He would have had a good time with us. He usually does."

She watched him, face impassive, and then let out a small sigh. "Detective Parkman, I understand that you have a vested interest in this situation but I would ask you to try to support Mohinder's happiness."

"You think pushing him towards Mira at every opportunity will make him happy?" Matt scoffed.

"They were engaged," she said, as if that meant everything, "and they share a great many things."

"Then why aren't they together right now?"

"My son needed some time to recuperate from his father's death." There was something sad in her eyes and for a moment, Matt felt bad about arguing. Then she continued, "Now it's time for him to come home and settle down. Mira would be perfect for him."

"He is home," Matt bit back, aware his temper was rising.

"Home is where he belongs, where he has family, where he is accepted."

"As I said," Matt replied sharply, "he is home."

Her mouth pulled into the rough approximation of a smile. "He will never be accepted here. He will always be a foreigner, surrounded by people who simply do not understand."

Matt frowned, wishing he had something to say to that.

Her expression softened, the hard glint fading from her dark eyes. "I do understand your position, Detective Parkman. My son has always had certain… appetites." She shot a meaningful look at their bedroom door.

"Hey," Matt spluttered, not sure what to say but she talked through him.

"As a parent, you must understand: what a child wants is not always what is best for them. Molly may love sweets, but you could not in good conscience allow her to live on a diet of them."

"I'm not going to rot his teeth!" Matt said, which sounded like the dumbest reply possible.

"Of course not." She actually stepped forward and patted his forearm. "But the fact remains that Mira is better for Mohinder. They come from the same culture, from similar families."

"Like that means anything."

"It means they have a similar past and can share a prosperous future together. If my son stays here, what will his future be? Will it be planned around a child that is not his, around the conveniences of babysitting while you arrest criminals?" The way she said it almost made Matt sound like he was no better than the crooks he arrested. "What is it that life in New York could offer him?"

"He has a family." Matt ignored the churning in his stomach. "He has a home."

"With Mira, my son could raise his own family in a country that understands what family means. They have similar goals, similar priorities, even similar levels of education." She paused, looking at him closely. "Have you even been to college, Detective Parkman?"

Matt blinked. It wasn't something Mohinder had ever asked him. He'd assumed it wasn't that important. "No."

Thankfully, he was saved: the door opened with Mohinder and Mira laughing as they stepped inside.

Whatever he was feeling, it clearly showed on his face because Mohinder, smile barely faltering, asked, "If you would excuse us?" and nodded his head towards the bedroom. "I need to talk to Matt."

Matt followed, too shocked to do anything else.

The bedroom door closed and the first thing Mohinder did was kiss him softly. Warm mouth on Matt's, tender and reassuring; arms solid around him, sure enough to make any doubts Matt had disappear.

Then Mohinder whispered, right in his ear, "There is no reason for you to be jealous."

"Sure," Matt said, dropping his head to Mohinder's shoulder and just holding on for a moment. "But you should keep reminding me anyway."

***

Lamb was twenty-eight, looked about nineteen and tended to work a bit harder to compensate. He came from Boston Irish stock -- you could see it in the sandy-red hair -- and had moved to New York for his girlfriend. Generally, Matt liked him well enough.

But 'generally' didn't apply when he was standing over Matt's desk with six inches of files in his arms. Matt was ignoring him -- he had the phone to his ear and an endless repeat of eighties music playing -- but he kept standing there, far too patiently.

Sighing, Matt gave up the pretence. "I'm on hold."

"I was hoping you'd be able to give me a hand."

"To look through those?" Matt eyed the stack of files warily. "I'd rather stay on hold."

"You heard about the robbery on Tenth?" Lamb asked and Matt nodded. He'd heard the basics: white female, thirty-three years old, taken the day off sick. Someone had picked her lock, taken her purse, jewellery and anything else they could carry, and left her sprawled face-down on bed with two messy shots through her torso. She'd bled out. "I've got the case. I thought check the other burglaries in the area, see if there's any connection."

"Unsolved burglaries, right?"

Lamb nodded. "Yeah."

"So check the fingerprints." Matt moved the receiver to his other ear before 'Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)' drove him insane. "Other than that, how are you going to tell there's a link?"

"That was my reasoning, too. But, you know." He looked over at Detective Fuller's office, and Matt understood completely. "Anyway, who's got you on hold so long?"

"Airline."

Lamb grinned, and looked like a kid who'd just managed to buy his first beer. "Making sure the in-laws' flight is still leaving?"

Matt groaned. "I swear, the next week is going to be hell."

"She really that bad?"

"Every time I turn my back, she's setting him up with his ex-fiancée. Every time."

Lamb rested his stack of files on the desk. "I ever tell you about the first Christmas after I married Trish?" he asked, leaning on the edge of Matt's desk and obscuring the post-it note filled with tiny stick figures heavily scribbled out.

"No."

"We go over to her parents place for Christmas Eve and they also invite her high school boyfriend. He's now an investment banker. He drives a BMW. He makes way more than a basic cop's salary. He goes to the theatre. You get the idea?"

Matt grinned, despite himself. "It's sounding very familiar."

"End of the day, though? She spends half the trip home saying what a pretentious bore he is and she's so glad she dumped him in senior year. If the ex was so great," Lamb said, standing up, "they wouldn't have broken up in the first place. They're with us for a reason."

Nodding, Matt hung up the phone. "I'd say it was the uniform, but these days..."

"It's the suits." Lamb grinned, and then divided the tower of files into two. "Now do you feel like wasting a couple hours looking through crime scene reports for very little useful information?"

"Sure," Matt said, but then Detective Fuller's loud voice rang out across the room.

"Hey, Lamb! There's been another robbery-shooting. Get down there and check it out."

Matt stared at the files, then looked up at Lamb. "You want company?"

"Sure," Lamb said, then raised his voice. "Me and Parkman are heading over now!"

***

The door was forced this time. The apartment was a mess with plugs left hanging -- from a DVD player, Matt guessed -- and drawers still open.

There was also another body: Hispanic male, twenty-four years old from the drivers licence, shot twice in the kitchen with the phone cord curled next to him, yanked out of the wall. Photos were being taken, surfaces dusted for prints so Matt wandered out to the hallway. Uniformed officers were interviewing the neighbours, asking about unusual sounds, suspicious behaviour.

Using his powers, Matt sent a gentle encouragement -- Tell us the truth -- and waited. After a moment, the woman at the end of the hall said, "There was a guy there when I came home. He'd dropped his keys, I think. I wasn't paying that much attention."

"Can you tell us what he looked like?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "He seemed ordinary. Maybe thirty, um, brown hair, maybe. I don't know."

She looked uncertain, and Matt didn't need to read the officers mind to know she's already been dismissed as a useless witness. So Matt read her mind, heard the jumble of 'I didn't look, I should have looked, he just seemed ordinary, he seemed familiar, I was too busy.'

Matt walked over, smiling. A gentle smile was almost as good as telepathy for encouraging witnesses. "Is it possible you'd seen him before?"

"Maybe," she said.

"Do you think he lives in the area?"

She shook her head, grimacing. "I don't think so. But… I couldn't say. I just… didn't look that close."

***

It wasn't much but it was enough to keep them busy, enough to keep Matt a couple hours late.

When he let himself in the door, the apartment was quiet but still lit. Mohinder's mom was sitting on the sofa-bed, lamp on, reading a book. She nodded at him, which Matt completely ignored and headed straight for the bedroom.

Mohinder was already in bed, lights off, so he closed the door, shed the suit and crawled under the covers. Mohinder gave a sleepy, unintelligible mutter and shifted closer to him, curling a loose hand around Matt's bicep. Matt pressed a kiss against his forehead and then relaxed on the mattress, waiting for sleep.

He thought about how strong the locks on their front door were.

Then he remembered who was sleeping in their living room. The thought of some burglar pulling a gun on Mohinder's mom -- and getting a lecture on bad decisions they'd made in life, no doubt -- almost made him laugh.

***

In some ways, the case was a god-send.

The case gave Matt a genuine reason to hang back at the station after his shift, reason that wouldn't draw Mohinder's attention. It wouldn't make Mohinder carefully ask, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" (This was a good thing since Matt wasn't sure how to say, "As far as your mom's concerned, liking cock is just another trait you share with Mira," without saying it exactly like that.)

Chasing up leads kept him occupied. It stopped him calling up the airline every day, just to make sure the flight was definitely leaving. He'd prefer it left on time, but as long as it got that woman out of his home, he didn't care if there was a delay.

Going through evidence found at the crime scene kept him too busy to grumble about the way Mohinder's mom had cornered him that morning. He'd been standing in the kitchen, gulping down his coffee, when she said sweetly, "Thank you for considering what we discussed," and smiled approvingly as if Matt working late had something to do with her bizarre match-matching. As if one insulting conversation had convinced Matt that the right thing to do was step down and stay out of sight so his incredibly hot boyfriend could hook up with an ex.

Again, there was no way Matt could argue against her interpretation of events, not without yelling that his real reason was to avoid Mohinder's mom in all of her evil, small-minded glory.

Matt had good reasons to appreciate the case.

Then they got the call about the third body.

***

The phone rang. Matt looked up from the pages spread across his desk -- receipts and diaries, his own scribbled notes on a pad of paper -- and glared at it. If there had been anyone else in the room, he would've let it ring, let someone else get it.

With an annoyed sigh, he picked it up. "Parkman."

"I wanted to make sure you're planning to come home tonight," Mohinder said warmly.

"Yeah, in a minute," Matt said, checking his watch. Then he checked it again. It was past nine. "I hadn't realised the time."

"I thought as much." There was the sound of a door closing behind Mohinder. "But there was still a chance my mother's snoring may have made sleeping under your desk look attractive."

"But that would mean tidying the boxes of crap living under my desk," Matt said, and heard Mohinder snort. "I'm not staying here all night. I'm just trying to figure this out."

"Mmmm?"

"There's a connection. There's got to be, but I can't see it." Matt rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling stubble. "These people must have more in common than just living in the same block."

"People?" Mohinder asked. "I thought there were only two victims."

Matt knew he shouldn't talk about cases. It wasn't professional -- victim's right to privacy and all -- and it wasn't a smart idea to make loved ones worry too much. But Mohinder always sounded interested and asked careful questions that Matt found himself answering before he thought about it. "The third came in today. Same damn block."

"Oh," Mohinder said quietly. There was a pause. "Your dinner will be waiting in the microwave. Try not to work too late."

This was where Matt should have said, 'Don't wait up,' but there wasn't any point. No matter what he said, Mohinder would still be awake when he got home, lying in bed and reading some apparently fascinating article. He wouldn't nag about the hours Matt kept, wouldn't passive-aggressively accuse him of not caring (with Janice, it was always some variation of not caring enough, not caring in the right way). He'd just be there, and read until Matt got into bed, sometimes until Matt fell asleep.

If he stayed, he could spend the next three hours sifting through pages, trying to find a connection that only his gut said was there. Mohinder wouldn't punish him for it. But if he left now… He could crawl into bed, lie on his side and have Mohinder curl an arm around Matt as he read. And the rest of this would still be waiting for him in the morning.

So Matt tidied the piles of papers on his desk and said, "I'll be home in half an hour."

***

Part Three

Date: 2008-03-15 06:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] teecub.livejournal.com
Mmmm~ Again, awesome! I'm wondering now what kind of connection the crimes could have.

Also, whoa. Mohinder's mom is EVIL! She invited MIRA? KNOWING what the guys were up to? *Facepalms* Understandable, yes, considering her views and how parents act in situations they dislike, but EEP? EVIL! :(

Date: 2008-03-15 10:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] out-there.livejournal.com
I'm wondering now what kind of connection the crimes could have.

Well that is awesome. Because plot -- like the non-romance kind -- is not my forte, so I'm glad that the bits about Matt's work got you interested too.

Mohinder's mom is EVIL! She invited MIRA? KNOWING what the guys were up to?

Mohinder's mom just... *sighs* Yeah, it's amazing how badly people can act thinking that they're doing the Right Thing.

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