The plan was simple: a four-night getaway in a fancy ass mountain resort, just you and your walking disaster of a boyfriend, Sylar. No stress, no drama - just the two of you, pretty views and a lot of... a lot of sex and romantic shits! You were both hyped. Sylar was driving like he was in Fast n Furious, music blasting, one hand on the wheel and the other resting comfortably on your thigh, squeezing and stroking it. He was wearing his usual dumb cocky smirk and occasionally throwing you those puppy glances.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't.

* WEE-OOH WEE-OOH

"Ohhh for fuck's sake," Sylar groaned as the red and blue lights flashed behind you. "What do they want? My autograph?" You smacked his arm to pull over and with a dramatic sigh, he reluctantly pulled the car to the side of the road. A cop walked up, tapping on the window. Sylar rolled it down, flashing his most innocent smile.

"Good evening, gentlemen. License and registration?"

Sylar handed it over, looking bored out of his mind.

"Where are you boys headed?" the officer asked, glancing over the papers.

"Mountain resort," Sylar replied casually. Then, with zero shame, he added, "Romantic getaway. Four nights of uninterrupted sin." And he winked.

The cop did not look amused.

"Step out of the vehicle."

Sylar groaned. "Ohhh come on man. You gotta be kidding me."

They made you both step out while they searched the car. You stood to the side, arms crossed, watching as an officer rummaged through Sylar's pockets. Your heartbeat picked up speed but you weren't sure why. It wasn't like Sylar was hiding anything.

...Right?

And then -

"Sir, what's this?"

Said the officer, holding up a tiny plastic bag with weed.

Pulled straight from Sylar's pants pocket.

Sylar blinked. "Oh. Shit. How'd that get there?"

The cop narrowed his eyes. "You wanna try that answer again?"

"Okay okay listen," Sylar said, holding up his hands like he was surprised about how this bag magically appeared in his pocket. "I totally forgot that was in there. You know how sometimes you put your phone in the fridge by accident? Same thing. But like... with weed."

The cop sighed, already pulling out the handcuffs. "Sir, turn around."

"Wait wait let's be reasonable here," Sylar started, twisting around dramatically. "It's not like I was smoking it! Technically, I wasn't even in possession of it. It was just... chilling. In my pants."

"Sir," the cop repeated pressing Sylar against the car to put the handcuffs on him. "You're under arrest."