If there were any one word to describe his wardrobe, Sylar would call it 'cool'. If it were Mohinder describing Sylar's wardrobe, he would say it was 'gloomy'. Compared to Mohinder's flamboyantly colorful clothing, Sylar's outfits were, in fact, gloomy. Before Sylar decided to move in (ignoring Mohinder's hopes for no one to find out about them), his closet was bright and cheerful. Now, the colorful scarves and sweaters were mixed with Sylar's expansive, black garments. He wondered how it was possible that someone could wear so much black without mixing in some sort of color. He didn't exactly mind at first, but when there was no more room in his dresser for neatly folded scarves, he had enough.

"But… But I thought you liked my style!"

"I do, but-"

"You said the dark renegade look was sexy!"

"It is, but-"

"You don't love me any more!"

"What?! Of course I do, what a ridiculous thing to say!" Mohinder replied. Sylar continued to pout, ignoring Mohinder's pleas for him to go shopping.

"Look, if you agree to come with me, you can keep your old clothes along with the new ones." He bribed. His lover continued to refuse, and he only knew of only one thing that would get him to agree.

"Fine then," Mohinder sighed, "Have it your way."

"Yes, thank you!" Sylar cheered, kissing him on the forehead. There was a pause before he realized the meaning behind his easy victory; that look. Mohinder's raised eyebrows and folded arms meant only one thing, and Sylar knew it.

"Hold on… You aren't thinking…"

…

"No! We have to, I mean…"

…

"You know you're going to give in eventually!"

…

"Oh, come on Mohinder!"

"I am not coming anywhere! Not unless you agree to get new clothing!"

There was a few seconds of silence and a loud sigh before Sylar spoke.

"Alright, fine. Only if it means we'll-"

"Of course."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

Finally arriving at their destination, they made their way into the building. Receiving strange looks from onlookers, Mohinder pulled his lover through the doors. As if the brightly colored clothing wasn't enough, fluffy pop music was emitting from the speakers, causing Sylar to wince.

"Here we go." Mohinder said cheerfully as he brought a glaring Sylar over to a rack of multicolored shirts. He held one up to Sylar's chest to see how it would look, ignoring the taller man's glare.

"This one looks nice, I'll hold on to it. How about orange? Oh, there's some over there, let's look." He said as he walked over to some other racks. At first Sylar reluctantly followed him, but veered to the right as he saw something he liked. It was a black peacoat, quite like the one that was stained by his own blood three years ago in Kirby Plaza.

"Did you find something you like?" he heard from behind him, just now noticing Mohinder was standing behind him. He spun around and saw that Mohinder's arms were full of a variety of colorful shirts. Sylar smiled sweetly and held up the coat hopefully.

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's too dark! Here, try this one." He said, putting the back the black one, and pulling out a red one. He held it up to Sylar's chest to get a better look at it.

"Mo… That looks like a woman's jacket." He commented.

"So?"

"So?! Mohinder, I'm gay, not a drag queen." He told him, receiving a funny look by a man walking by, which he glared at.

"Alright, fine." Mohinder sighed, "Can you at least come try these on?"

He looked at the shirts his lover held, quite disgusted.

"Mo, those are so loud, I can't hear Kelly Clarkson over them." He remarked.

He was then pulled towards the dressing rooms against his will and shoved into one, clothes thrown at him before the door was slammed shut. After about five minutes of waiting, Mohinder was becoming anxious.

"Sy, what's taking so long? Come on out, I want to see."

"No."

"What? Why not?"

"I'm not wearing any of these." He said simply.

"I'm coming in there!" he proclaimed. He turned the knob, but it was locked. Sylar began to laugh, but it was short lived when Mohinder rolled in under the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Dressing you." Mohinder said as he began to pull Sylar's shirt over his head.

"Actually, it kind of seems like your undressing me." He laughed as Mohinder began to work on his belt. After his pants were successfully removed, Sylar stood with arms folded over his chest, covering pale, exposed skin. Mohinder took out a pair of faded, tight looking jeans.

"I'm not wearing those!"

"Oh, yes you are!" he said, advancing on him.

"You know," he said, backing into the bench, "this is the first time your trying to put clothes on me instead of take them o- Hey, watch it!" he yelled as Mohinder grabbed at his legs.

"Just let me put these on you!" he pleaded. Sylar inched back into the corner, almost sitting on the bench, with nowhere to go. He began to kick his long legs outward, forcing Mohinder to back up in the cramped fitting room.

"Fine!" he huffed, putting down the pants and picking up a shirt. "This will be easier."

Sylar laughed. "And why do you think that?" he asked, backing up further into the corner, legs outstretched.

Mohinder lunged out at his partner, straddling his legs, surprisingly pinning him. Suddenly the tabled were turned when Mohinder was pushed into the wall by an unseen force. Sylar smiled mischievously as she looked down at his almost naked self, then at Mohinder.

"Well, we're half way there."

"What are you- oh!" he exclaimed at Sylar pushed his body into him. He let Mohinder free of the telekinesis, but he was still pinned in place by his lover's strength. Sylar pinned is arms to the wall by his wrists, growling slightly into his ear before licking it lightly.

"I promise we'll do it later, you still need to try on-" with a flick of his wrist, Sylar sent a few shirts and a pair of pants flying over the door.

"Wait, there's still one left! Look, it has black on it!" he attempted to convince him.

"Yes," he said, grinding into his hip, "but it's also pink."

Sylar's hands gripped onto Mohinder's belt, letting the darker man's arms free from his grasp. He began moving up Mohinder's neck with his mouth, alternating between kissing and biting, before kissing his lips forcefully. Mohinder ceased resisting and grasped to the back of Sylar's head, pulling him in. He reached down his boxers to massage the taller man's hardening erection with the other hand. Sylar undid Mohinder's belt, tossing it aside and ripping his shirt open with telekinesis. He ran his long, cold fingers down Mohinder's chest, causing him to shiver, before pulling down his pants. As Mohinder began to increase the speed in which he pumped Sylar's member, Sylar moaned into a rough kiss.

He put up his hand to cover Sylar's mouth, quieting him. Usually when they had sex in a public place, Mohinder wanted to be as silent as possible, not wanting anyone to find them. Sylar, on the other hand, liked to see Mohinder try his hardest not to scream, being as rough as possible without hurting him badly.

He reached down and grabbed Mohinder's already hard member, pumping it harder and faster then Mohinder was him. With each stroke, Mohinder bit his own bottom lip harder, preventing himself from letting out a needed moan. Sylar suddenly released his grip and shoved him to the side forcefully. Mohinder stopped himself from falling any further by planting his palms firmly on the fitting room's bench, panting like a dog in heat. He kept his hands on the bench as his head was wrenched back by his hair. Sylar brought his mouth to his ear and whispered.

"If you scream, I'll keep wearing black." He smiled, knowing that he'd be wearing black for a long time.