White Collar fic
According to my Feedback Poll, (please fill it in, if you haven't already) my issue with leaving comments on older fics is not largely prevalent, which is good to know, I will try to get over it.
Anyway. The idea for this fic came to me on the train a few days ago, and I actually started writing it on my iphone. White Collar is so shiny.
Five Things Peter Burke learns from Neal Caffrey
~1500 Words, PG, Peter/Elizabeth, sort of Peter/Neal and Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
1 - How to bend the rules
After they bid the Mitchells goodbye, Elizabeth orders in celebratory takeaway and, per Peter's request, they eat it on the sofa straight out of the plastic containers. Peter is happy to have his house back, but that feeling is a little overshadowed by the nagging worry that he is throwing away his moral compass. This worry must have been written on his face, because Elizabeth gives him the look. Peter has never been able to resist it but he tries to anyway - by stuffing his mouth with food.
“What is on your mind?” she finally asks, a raised eyebrow indicating that she knows everything that has ever been on his mind and it is only her good manners that are leading her to inquire.
“It’s Neal,” Peter says vaguely around a mouthful of noodles.
She rolls her eyes and nudges his shoulder with hers. “I am shocked and appalled,” she deadpans. “And?”
“I’m afraid that I’m being too soft on him, you know?” Peter sighs.
She actually laughs at that, but the frown lines on his forehead must have deepened enough for her to soften it to a soothing smile.
“Oh honey, do you really think that being hard on him will get you anywhere?”
She is right of course, but he suddenly feels the need to explain.
“I should be teaching him the value of obeying the law and not positively encouraging his dubiously legal methods of obtaining evidence.” And enjoying it remains unsaid, but it is no less true.
“Dubiously legal?” she asks, a twitch at the corner of her mouth the only indication of her amusement.
“Sure. Plausible deniability,” he shrugs.
“Look, I am not going to absolve you of your guilt, but I know you and you will not allow a little rule bending to get out of hand,” Elizabeth pats his knee and her eyes are large and luminous when she looks up at him.
He covers her hand with his own, squeezes her fingers.
“I know, but I am not the one bending the rules, Neal is, with my permission, isn’t that like letting the fox guard the chicken?”
“When I was young, my parents always offered me a glass of wine with my meal, they never treated alcohol as forbidden and it taught me how to be responsible in college. I think your case is more wine than fox,” Elizabeth says and she picks up her glass from the table.
“Are you saying that you don’t think Neal Caffrey can corrupt me?” He selects his words carefully and he swears he can see a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“No, at least not without my permission,” she says and leans in to kiss him lightly, but he holds her in, deepening the kiss.
2 - How to understand metaphors
Neal flounces into Peter’s office without a pause or a knock, as is his custom, and he is holding coffee and some files, but Peter doesn’t see that. He can’t see much beyond blue eyes and that smile that lights up a room, stops traffic, or any other metaphors that until now he could have sworn were not to be taken literally.
Peter is a serious man - he is an FBI agent and carries a gun, loves football and doesn’t cry at movies - and waxing poetic about someone’s smile is not like him at all. Damn Neal Caffrey and his sunshine smile and his perfect teeth and his lilting voice - because Neal is speaking now and Peter blinks a little before the meaning of the words can settle in.
“Are the results back from the lab yet?”
Neal is waiting for a reply, and frowning a little, and is it Peter’s imagination, or did the sun really choose that precise moment to hide behind a cloud. Surely it is beyond even Neal’s skills to control the weather?
Peter mumbles an affirmative and the smile is back (also, the sun) and he has a hunch - another of Neal’s magical hunches - they solve the case and for once no one tries to kill either of them.
That night Peter can’t fall asleep for hours and when he finally does he is Icarus. And Neal is the sun. He wakes up just before crashing, wings burned off from the smile’s proximity and all he remembers from the dream is the warmth of the sun and the freedom of flight.
3 - How to appreciate the little things
“There is a fine line,” Peter is saying. They are having a by now customary after work drink and discussing their latest case - stolen museum jewellery - and Peter is trying to explain why he will not allow Neal to actually break in the museum at night in order to test the loyalty of the guards, when it hits him. He is enjoying himself - he is having fun on the job in a way he cannot remember having since he’d put Neal Caffrey behind bars.
The drinks - the drinks are just an excuse. He is unwilling to process what for, but definitely an excuse. The realisation is long overdue and yet Peter has to stop talking for a second and take a swig of his beer in an attempt to compose his thoughts.
They are sitting in an alcove, a little away from the noise of the crowded bar and this is not one of Peter’s usual haunts, but Neal had insisted on taking him there and Peter had been unable to think of a reason to say no.
It is expensive and crowded, but Neal had smiled and said something to a barman in a low voice and a moment later they had been shown to a table and given drinks with happy hour prices. Things tend to work out when he is around Neal and (illegal) superpowers or regular charm, Peter has learned to just go with it.
Neal certainly looks the part of a superhero, with his fancy clothes and ridiculous hat and Peter had called him a cartoon that one time and he still stands by that - a superhero straight out of a cartoon complete with crazy antics and fancy gadgets. Peter wonders briefly if that makes him the sidekick, but that’s the road to crazy town, so he tries to think about the case again.
“What line?” Neal’s question is innocent enough, but his eyes are laughing and perhaps there are more levels to the conversation than Peter has planned for.
4 - How to make a romantic gesture
Peter is sitting on a park bench by the lake and feeding the ducks. He feels like he’s stepped into an old school spy flick.
The image of Neal walking towards him - jauntily slanted fedora and retro black briefcase in hand - does nothing to dispel that image.
“Do you have it?” Peter asks, conscious of the insanity of it all.
Neal nods tightly. “It’s here.”
They look at each other and crack up, Peter has long been aware of Neal’s flare for the dramatic, but he is only just discovering his own.
He opens the briefcase and it’s just as beautiful as the picture. Elizabeth would be so happy.
5 - How to ask for what he wants
Neal is sitting on Peter’s sofa next to Elizabeth and they are laughing in each other’s personal space and Peter would feel possessive if he could figure out which one to be possessive of. He stops at the door of his living room - just watches them. Interrupting seems rude. They make such a pretty picture; he’s always had a weakness for dark hair and blue eyes.
Peter wants to say something flippant about them missing him and should he have knocked, but a moment later they notice him and he is met with identical looks of such fondness that he no longer feels excluded at all.
“Elizabeth here was just telling me about the incident with the pool on your third date, why Peter I would have never pegged you for a --”
And Peter puts his hands up and interrupts, “Okay, stop right there! We are not talking about this. Ever.”
Neal shrugs, smiles innocently and melts back into the sofa, looking for all the world like the cat that always gets the cream.
“Hi, honey,” Peter hopes his tone clearly conveys the message - stop telling Neal intimate details of our private life - but her eyes are twinkling mischievously and he has the urge to kiss her. He leans and does it, because he can - because he wants to. It is supposed to be a quick hello kiss, but she doesn’t pull back and neither does he and he slowly coaxes her mouth open, drinks her in for a long moment before he remembers where he is. His eyes fly open only to be met with Neal’s unguarded gaze and he can’t look away as he slowly pulls back; feels stupid but also a little vindicated because Neal is the one that looks down first and it may be Peter’s imagination, but his cheeks are unusually pink.
“Enjoying the show?” Peter asks, but his voice sounds shaky even to him.
When Neal grins, it is sharp, there is no trace of the innocence.
“I don’t belong in the audience, you know that.”
Anyway. The idea for this fic came to me on the train a few days ago, and I actually started writing it on my iphone. White Collar is so shiny.
Five Things Peter Burke learns from Neal Caffrey
~1500 Words, PG, Peter/Elizabeth, sort of Peter/Neal and Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
1 - How to bend the rules
After they bid the Mitchells goodbye, Elizabeth orders in celebratory takeaway and, per Peter's request, they eat it on the sofa straight out of the plastic containers. Peter is happy to have his house back, but that feeling is a little overshadowed by the nagging worry that he is throwing away his moral compass. This worry must have been written on his face, because Elizabeth gives him the look. Peter has never been able to resist it but he tries to anyway - by stuffing his mouth with food.
“What is on your mind?” she finally asks, a raised eyebrow indicating that she knows everything that has ever been on his mind and it is only her good manners that are leading her to inquire.
“It’s Neal,” Peter says vaguely around a mouthful of noodles.
She rolls her eyes and nudges his shoulder with hers. “I am shocked and appalled,” she deadpans. “And?”
“I’m afraid that I’m being too soft on him, you know?” Peter sighs.
She actually laughs at that, but the frown lines on his forehead must have deepened enough for her to soften it to a soothing smile.
“Oh honey, do you really think that being hard on him will get you anywhere?”
She is right of course, but he suddenly feels the need to explain.
“I should be teaching him the value of obeying the law and not positively encouraging his dubiously legal methods of obtaining evidence.” And enjoying it remains unsaid, but it is no less true.
“Dubiously legal?” she asks, a twitch at the corner of her mouth the only indication of her amusement.
“Sure. Plausible deniability,” he shrugs.
“Look, I am not going to absolve you of your guilt, but I know you and you will not allow a little rule bending to get out of hand,” Elizabeth pats his knee and her eyes are large and luminous when she looks up at him.
He covers her hand with his own, squeezes her fingers.
“I know, but I am not the one bending the rules, Neal is, with my permission, isn’t that like letting the fox guard the chicken?”
“When I was young, my parents always offered me a glass of wine with my meal, they never treated alcohol as forbidden and it taught me how to be responsible in college. I think your case is more wine than fox,” Elizabeth says and she picks up her glass from the table.
“Are you saying that you don’t think Neal Caffrey can corrupt me?” He selects his words carefully and he swears he can see a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“No, at least not without my permission,” she says and leans in to kiss him lightly, but he holds her in, deepening the kiss.
2 - How to understand metaphors
Neal flounces into Peter’s office without a pause or a knock, as is his custom, and he is holding coffee and some files, but Peter doesn’t see that. He can’t see much beyond blue eyes and that smile that lights up a room, stops traffic, or any other metaphors that until now he could have sworn were not to be taken literally.
Peter is a serious man - he is an FBI agent and carries a gun, loves football and doesn’t cry at movies - and waxing poetic about someone’s smile is not like him at all. Damn Neal Caffrey and his sunshine smile and his perfect teeth and his lilting voice - because Neal is speaking now and Peter blinks a little before the meaning of the words can settle in.
“Are the results back from the lab yet?”
Neal is waiting for a reply, and frowning a little, and is it Peter’s imagination, or did the sun really choose that precise moment to hide behind a cloud. Surely it is beyond even Neal’s skills to control the weather?
Peter mumbles an affirmative and the smile is back (also, the sun) and he has a hunch - another of Neal’s magical hunches - they solve the case and for once no one tries to kill either of them.
That night Peter can’t fall asleep for hours and when he finally does he is Icarus. And Neal is the sun. He wakes up just before crashing, wings burned off from the smile’s proximity and all he remembers from the dream is the warmth of the sun and the freedom of flight.
3 - How to appreciate the little things
“There is a fine line,” Peter is saying. They are having a by now customary after work drink and discussing their latest case - stolen museum jewellery - and Peter is trying to explain why he will not allow Neal to actually break in the museum at night in order to test the loyalty of the guards, when it hits him. He is enjoying himself - he is having fun on the job in a way he cannot remember having since he’d put Neal Caffrey behind bars.
The drinks - the drinks are just an excuse. He is unwilling to process what for, but definitely an excuse. The realisation is long overdue and yet Peter has to stop talking for a second and take a swig of his beer in an attempt to compose his thoughts.
They are sitting in an alcove, a little away from the noise of the crowded bar and this is not one of Peter’s usual haunts, but Neal had insisted on taking him there and Peter had been unable to think of a reason to say no.
It is expensive and crowded, but Neal had smiled and said something to a barman in a low voice and a moment later they had been shown to a table and given drinks with happy hour prices. Things tend to work out when he is around Neal and (illegal) superpowers or regular charm, Peter has learned to just go with it.
Neal certainly looks the part of a superhero, with his fancy clothes and ridiculous hat and Peter had called him a cartoon that one time and he still stands by that - a superhero straight out of a cartoon complete with crazy antics and fancy gadgets. Peter wonders briefly if that makes him the sidekick, but that’s the road to crazy town, so he tries to think about the case again.
“What line?” Neal’s question is innocent enough, but his eyes are laughing and perhaps there are more levels to the conversation than Peter has planned for.
4 - How to make a romantic gesture
Peter is sitting on a park bench by the lake and feeding the ducks. He feels like he’s stepped into an old school spy flick.
The image of Neal walking towards him - jauntily slanted fedora and retro black briefcase in hand - does nothing to dispel that image.
“Do you have it?” Peter asks, conscious of the insanity of it all.
Neal nods tightly. “It’s here.”
They look at each other and crack up, Peter has long been aware of Neal’s flare for the dramatic, but he is only just discovering his own.
He opens the briefcase and it’s just as beautiful as the picture. Elizabeth would be so happy.
5 - How to ask for what he wants
Neal is sitting on Peter’s sofa next to Elizabeth and they are laughing in each other’s personal space and Peter would feel possessive if he could figure out which one to be possessive of. He stops at the door of his living room - just watches them. Interrupting seems rude. They make such a pretty picture; he’s always had a weakness for dark hair and blue eyes.
Peter wants to say something flippant about them missing him and should he have knocked, but a moment later they notice him and he is met with identical looks of such fondness that he no longer feels excluded at all.
“Elizabeth here was just telling me about the incident with the pool on your third date, why Peter I would have never pegged you for a --”
And Peter puts his hands up and interrupts, “Okay, stop right there! We are not talking about this. Ever.”
Neal shrugs, smiles innocently and melts back into the sofa, looking for all the world like the cat that always gets the cream.
“Hi, honey,” Peter hopes his tone clearly conveys the message - stop telling Neal intimate details of our private life - but her eyes are twinkling mischievously and he has the urge to kiss her. He leans and does it, because he can - because he wants to. It is supposed to be a quick hello kiss, but she doesn’t pull back and neither does he and he slowly coaxes her mouth open, drinks her in for a long moment before he remembers where he is. His eyes fly open only to be met with Neal’s unguarded gaze and he can’t look away as he slowly pulls back; feels stupid but also a little vindicated because Neal is the one that looks down first and it may be Peter’s imagination, but his cheeks are unusually pink.
“Enjoying the show?” Peter asks, but his voice sounds shaky even to him.
When Neal grins, it is sharp, there is no trace of the innocence.
“I don’t belong in the audience, you know that.”