likedillinger | sixwordstories : I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

Who: Dean and Sylar (

intuitivelyapt )
What: Dean and Sylar have a lot of manly issues to work out in a manly matter. So they kick the shit out of each other. It's how real men resolve things.
When: Thursday night. Immediately following this.
Where: NYC, an alley behind a bar.
Verse: Brave New World

If Sylar didn't have a clear idea of how pissed off Dean was from the way he banged the back door of the bar open hard enough to send it crashing against the wall, then he might have gotten a hint when he ignored Sylar's verbal jab and marched in silence down the steps.

He ran a hand over his face, taking a few paces down the dingy alley way. Something moved inside a dumpster, and he heard a cat rrowing. In the distance, there was the muted noise of traffic, and street bustle. Everything else in the world just moving along, all hunky dory, even if a couple days ago there were giant rocks of fire that killed people, destroyed property, wrecked cars. The city didn't seem to give a shit. It was like New York was daring the Apocalypse to try and touch it.

Dean had no doubt that if they didn't act soon enough, the Apocalypse was the one who'd win that game of chicken.

The city seemed just as oblivious now, to the fact that this guy who'd killed several innocent girls off the streets was just walking free. That he was rooming with the demon who'd screwed over him and Sam royally.

New York didn't care.

But he sure as hell did.

He turned back to face Sylar, fixing him with a baleful glare.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kick your ass all the way back to the Company myself, right now."

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"Sometimes I wonder if it all really matters to him." Sylar tilted his head to one side, thoughtful. It was pretty hard to deny that Sam and Claire tended to wear blinders to the rest of the world whenever they were in the presence of each other. "You should probably... talk to him. Or something."

Dean had had the same thoughts but hearing them out loud was a different matter. He gazed out over the heads of the other patrons, not meeting Sylar's eyes. "Not sure it'd do a load of good anyway. His favorite hobby's not listenin' to me."

He shrugged, pushing his now empty plate away from himself. "Is there anyone he does listen to? Besides maybe Claire, I mean." He felt it went without saying that he wasn't on the short list of Sam's confidantes.

"Gandhi?"

He shoved some more fries down the hatch, and washed it all down with the remainder of his beer. Whether it would work or not, he'd at least have to yell at Sam to get his ass back here.

"Get me his toothbrush and I'll see what I can do." His tone was dry and biting. He called the waitress over for a refill on his coke. Despitr his words, he had no plans to shapeshift into Ghandi. Dean was on his own there.

"As entertaining as that would be," Dean commented, "he might just think you were some freak pagan god. Trust me. It wouldn't end pretty for anybody."

He yanked out his wallet, to dig out some bills to cover his meal. His. :|

He shrugged, but didn't push the matter. Because he didn't actually care.

Since he can count, he's disappointed to see... Dean isn't covering him. Begrudgingly, he digs into his pocket for the other half of the bill. All he has is... money that was in the apartment whenever Ruby killed all those people. It's a hard life.

Despite rumors to the contrary, Dean can count too. He just sighs, and then flips an extra ten down. You dick.

He pushes out of the booth and to his feet. "I should get back to the hotel."

"Yeah, I should... get back too." To his den of sin with Ruby. It sucked, but it was better than a garbage can, he guessed.

And it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

"Uh... thanks."

"For beating you up? Hey, dude. Any time." He chuckled, but the whole thing... wasn't very funny. Especially not when he worried Sylar was going back to see Ruby again and this was just going nowhere good, fast.

"Just... get her off your tail as fast as you can," he advised. He didn't really feel like saying her name, and he knew Sylar would get the message anyway.

" ... I meant dinner." Even though he did mean beating up, too. But Dean didn't need to know that, either. He also chuckled dryly, appreciating the... total lack of humor in their lives.

He gave Dean a short nod. "I'm working on it." But it was harder in practice than it was in theory, especially when Ruby seemed intent on digging her harpy claws into him as deeply as she could. But he kept that detail to himself.

"Hey, you're payin' me back for dinner sometime."

'Working on it' didn't sound like much of a promise to him, and he had a feeling he'd be monitoring this situation one way or another. Just great. Like he didn't have enough to deal with. He headed for the door, nodding at the waitress, and earning a flirtatious little smile from her.

That reminded him of something - that he was supposed to go over to Liz's. Like... probably hours ago.

Crap.

sixwordstories : I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

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