Mason:Inked Reapers MC(117)

"Jesus!" Brea exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "Where the hell did you get all those scars, Sylar?"



He scowled at her before storming back towards the bathroom. "Just let me dry off," he shouted, not bothering to look back.



Troubled Brea wandered through the family open plan living area. The  house smelt mustier than usual in her absence. Old pizza boxes were  piled up on the kitchen counter and the sink was overflowing with dirty  plates. Brea made a mental note to thoroughly clean the pig sty that her  brother developed before she left.



"It wouldn't kill you to vacuum once in a while," Brea informed her  brother tersely as he re-emerged from the bathroom in loose fitting  sweat pants, pulling on a white t-shirt.



"I've been busy," he told her gruffly.



"Busy like you were when you came to visit me?" Brea raised her eyebrows  at him. Try as she might she knew she'd never be able to erase the  sound of her brother having sex from her mind.                       
       
           



       



"Jeez, Brea, did you just come here to fight?" Sylar seemed deflated by  her presence. He pushed past her to drop on the sofa and reach for the  TV remote.



"No," Brea softened her tone and went to sit beside him. "I came here  because … because I miss you. And I feel like when you were in Colridge we  didn't exactly take the time to catch up with each other."



She watched Sylar's jaw tighten a degree. He clearly agreed with her though she knew his pride would never let him say it.



"So how have you been?" Brea asked brightly, trying to force him to open up. "How's work?"



"How's work?" Sylar repeated with a sneer. "Come on, Brea. If you want  to catch up, that's fine but at least be real with me. You know I never  talk about work."



Brea looked sadly at her hands.



"My job is going really well," she informed him. "People love my work  and I've been getting repeat business and really generous tips."



"That's good," Sylar turned off the TV and shifted his weight so that he  was facing her. "I'm sorry for being a dick, Brea. I'm really glad that  you're enjoying your job." He patted her knee before getting up and  making his way over towards the kitchen.



"Want a beer?" he slung the question over his shoulder.



"Sure," Brea gave a non-committal shrug. Sylar returned with two cooled bottles and handed one to her after he'd uncapped it.



"Colridge seems a nice enough place," he offered before taking a deep, long drink from his bottle.



"It is nice," Brea agreed with an enthusiastic nod. "I like it there."



"Was Gina okay after I … left?" he queried carefully.



"Yeah," Brea sipped at her beer. "I mean, she was probably a bit pissed, I don't know. She called you dangerous."



This made Sylar straighten. He stared at Brea, his eyes wide.



"She did? Why?"



Brea shrugged. "I don't know, bitter about you leaving maybe."



"Was that all she said, that she thinks I'm dangerous?"



"Yep, that's it."



Sylar leaned back against the sofa, looking troubled.





Chapter 42



Miles wasn't drinking. He dutifully bought each round at the bar and  watched his friends down countless shots and bottles of beer, but he  ensured that he remained stone cold sober. A part of him was ready to  spring into action if anything kicked off.



But to his surprise the night was going by without any real hitch. Hank  and Colin were getting merry and trying to chat up any girls who were  within their radius. The music from the jukebox was set to some pretty  decent rock and Miles actually started to relax. But then he stiffened,  remembering that Brea was out of town. He missed her more than he cared  to admit.



Hank was getting cozy with a hard faced brunette who wore too much  makeup. She was perched up on his knee, letting him grope up and down  her legs. No doubt Hank would be fixing to take her back to the motel  with them. A busty blonde was sitting next to Colin, hanging on his  every word. It never failed to surprise Miles how women would flock to  gang members. They were drawn to the danger he supposed. Stupid, he  thought.



As he lingered by the bar, he worked tirelessly to discourage a drunken  woman's advances. He didn't have eyes for any of them, not matter how  much they purred in his ear or gazed at him with their "fuck-me" eyes.



They'd been out for almost three hours when Hank staggered over, one arm draped around his soon to be conquest.



"We're heading back to the motel," he informed Miles, slurring his words.



"Okay, sure," Miles nodded in approval.



"You coming?" a mischievous light shone out from Hank's gaze.



"No, I'll hang back here a while longer," Miles leaned against the bar,  emphasizing how he had no intention of going back just yet.



"You sure?" the brunette batted her eyelashes at him. "Could be fun to add one more."



Hank laughed and slapped her on the ass. "Me and Miles ain't becoming  tunnel buddies yet, honey. Unless you wanna ride her both ways with me?"



Miles' younger self would have accepted such an offer. He'd have gone  back to the motel with Hank and placed the brunette on all fours between  them. They'd toss a coin to see who got heads and who got tails.



"I'll pass," Miles gave them a tight smile. "But thanks."



"Your loss, buddy," Hank slapped him on the shoulder before walking out  with his prize under his arm. Colin followed shortly after, stumbling  out the door towards the parking lot. Miles decided to take his time  before heading back to the motel himself, afraid of what sight might  await him if he headed back too soon.                       
       
           



       



***

"So I've got a boyfriend," Brea blurted out after her second bottle of  beer. Sylar had actually laughed a couple of times while she'd been  there. The atmosphere between them felt relaxed and comfortable, or  maybe that was just the beer she'd been drinking. But suddenly it felt  extremely important to be honest with Sylar about Miles.



"A boyfriend?" Sylar lowered his bottle of beer which had been half-way to his lips.



"Uh huh," Brea nodded a little too quickly, making herself feel dizzy. "His name is Miles."



"Miles," Sylar mouthed the name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "What does this Miles do?"



Brea opened her mouth to respond and then snapped it shut. She wasn't exactly sure of what Miles did.



"He's a businessman," she said after a pause.



"Hmm," Sylar seemed unconvinced as he had a swig of beer.



"He makes me very happy," Brea hiccupped. "He's a … a good guy."



"I'm sure he's swell," Sylar declared bitterly.



"Why aren't you happy for me?" Brea demanded contritely, feeling hurt by her brother's lack of enthusiasm.



"Brea," he sighed as he said her name. "You've been in Colridge for  what? A month? And you're already involved with some guy. You don't want  to be rushing into anything. You're young."



"So what? You can fuck someone, but I can't!" Brea raged, staggering up to her feet.



"He better not be fucking you," Sylar also stood up, firmly gripping her  shoulders. "You best be conducting yourself like a lady, Brea!"



"I am!" she insisted, shrugging him off. "And Miles cares about me! He doesn't just leave me in the morning. He sticks around."



If shame was a color, she saw it on her brothers face right at that moment.



"He's not like you," she added coldly, digging that dagger deeper into her brother's heart.



"Fine," Sylar dropped back onto the sofa. "I'm a dick and this guy Miles is a saint, whatever. You got a picture of him?"



"Hmm? Yeah," Brea reached for her cell phone but in her drunken state she struggled to work it.



"Hang on," she forced herself to focus really hand on scrolling through the menu.



"There's one here somewhere … "



"Am I going to meet this Miles guy?" Sylar wondered. He didn't sound thrilled at the idea.



"Uh huh," Brea nodded, still fixated on her phone. She just knew that  Sylar and Miles would hit it off. After all they both liked motorcycles.



She only had the one picture of Miles on her phone. She'd taken it one  morning when they were in bed together and the sunlight coming through  the window had hit his face in such a way that it made him look perfect  and she felt compelled to capture the moment forever.



"Here," she handed the phone over to her brother. "That's Miles."