Luke was ADHD personified. Sylar had managed to stop him tapping on the dashboard by threatening to slice off his fingers. He had managed to stop him using his power for amusement by threatening to leave his ass behind again. The problem was, he had no medication, and so his condition had to manifest. It just had to be directed properly.
This was a compromise. Two days ago they had been at the Sunny Side Diner when Sylar began to get irritated by the tap tap tap of Luke’s fingertips on the vinyl covered booth seat.
“Can you keep your damn fingers still for one minute? I swear to God I’m going to slice them off like I promised. One by one.”
Luke averted his eyes from Sylar’s murderous look and tried to find something soft to tap on, something that wouldn’t make a noise. He tapped on his leg, the denim soaking up the sound, but obviously not enough for Sylar’s liking. He growled into his ear menacingly, “I won’t tell you again, now stop it or I will fucking kill you you irritating little bastard.”
Luke’s shoulders dropped. “It’s not my fault, I can’t control it without my Ritalin, I’m trying, okay? I can’t stop it just like that just like you can’t stop…killing people!” He whispered the last part and his lip wobbled as the frustration built inside him.
Sighing, Sylar tried to think of a solution. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over his lap, unzipping his fly. Then he took Luke’s hand and slipped it inside his pants, letting it settle on his crotch. “If you can’t keep it still at least do something useful.”
Luke smiled and started eating his pie with his right hand while his left let soft fingers dance over Sylar’s erection. After a while his brain forgot what his left hand was doing and Luke drifted off whilst eating, looking out of the diner window and wondering what the bird was he could see in the tree over there. He was just debating whether it was a Yellow-bellied Flycatcher or a Peewee when he felt warm wetness on his hand and turned to see Sylar’s face reddening. “Oh, er…sorry I didn’t..”
“S’fine.” Sylar coughed. “Can you go into my wallet and leave some money, I need to…use the restroom.” He jumped up, holding the jacket to his crotch and walking in a strange manner to the restrooms at the back of the diner. Luke cleaned his hand off on a napkin and left a twenty on the table, smiling to himself. He had a feeling that Sylar wouldn’t be complaining about his restless hands any more.