New Story!!!
Title: Waking Up In Vegas
Author: Angelshinigami
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth
Disclaimer: I Do not own the White Collar Characters. I simply use them for my own demented purposes.
Warnings: Mentioned almost Non-con, Slash!!!
AN: This story was written for a prompt on Collarkink on LiveJournal. Please go check it out if you’re into White Collar.
Chapter 1
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It was three something in the morning when ‘Waking Up in Vegas’ started blaring out of the speakers of the Nokia something or other on the bed side table.
Peter Burke sat straight up in bed and started at the phone as if it were a silly string bomb with a lime jello cooling system set on a Mickey mouse watch timer. He hadn’t heard that ring tone in four months, not since he’d last heard from the most frustrating criminal in all of existence. How the man had stolen his cell phone and reprogrammed it to play that strangely catchy song whenever said criminal called, Peter would never know, but it didn’t seem to mater what phone number showed up on the caller ID, that ring tone was only ever one person.
It was strange how much he’d missed hearing it, but before the smile could last to long, Peter remembered why he hadn’t heard that ring tone and immediately snatched up the phone and pressed the send key.
“Caffery.” He practically barked. “How are you calling me?”
There wasn’t an immediate answer, in fact there wasn’t an answer at all, just the occasional shiver of breathe, as if someone were trying very hard not to cry.
“Caffery?” Peter tried again, any thought of ‘How’ the convict was calling him gone and replaced by the question of ‘Why’.
“Neal?” The almost silence was frightening him and before he could stop himself, Peter was tossing the warm covers off his body and hopping into a pair of jeans while trying to balance the phone and find his badge at the same time.
“I’ll be right there. Neal? Do you hear me?” Peter asked, zipping his pants and stepping into the run down tennis shoes he always left near his bed for his morning jogging.
“Peter?” It was that soft, almost broken whisper that twisted the FBI agent’s heart and had him kissing his barely awake wife goodbye as he ran from the house, he keys almost an after thought as he hung up the phone after promising Neal he’d be there in ten minuets.
Fifteen minuets and twelve traffic violations later, Peter Burke slid into a parking space just outside the high concrete and barbed wire lined walls of the maximum security prison the housed some of the world worst criminals and one art thief whose unexpected call had Peter’s stomach in knots.
It took smooth talking and a lot of well placed threats, but Peter was finally escorted through the halls, passed the cells, through six different security check points, and finally into the isolation chambers.
“Don’t know how you found out about this,” The middle aged guard grumbled as he shuffled the keys on the over stuffed ring until he found the one he was looking for. “Wasn’t that bad. Didn’t even make it in, if you know what I mean.”
“What?” Peter asked, staring at the blasé guard as if he had antlers and a second head.
“It happens around here.” The man replied, shrugging and opening the heavy iron door to reveal darkness and the tips of white shoes that pulled away from the light as if it burned.
“Yell when you’re done.” The guard said, leaving the crude innuendo hanging in the air before he closed the door once the agent entered the room.
“Neal?” Peter questioned, kneeling down so as not to loom over the younger man.
There was a choked cry as the air shifted and Peter suddenly found himself with an arm full of sobbing dark haired beauty.
“He grabbed me,” Neal sobbed, his face buried in his captors’ warm neck. “He told me to scream all I wanted, no one would care if they heard…he hit me. Kept telling me how pretty I was.”
As the story spilled out, Peter’s arms wrapped tighter and tighter around the slim body. Pain, humiliation, fear, emotions he wasn’t good at dealing with, but if there was ever an instance he wished he was, this was it.
“He… he bit me, over and over. Peter, it hurt so much!” Neal cried, holding tighter, his grip suggesting he was afraid the man in his arms would disappear if he let go, even a fraction.
“It’s ok, Neal I swear, I’ll never let it happen again.” Peter whispered, rocking back and forth slightly to calm the terrified man. “Never again. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it…”
It took another twenty or so minuets for Neal to calm enough to breathe properly. He still hadn’t moved from the now loose circle of strength around his waist, but now that he was were he wanted to be, he wasn’t going to move for anything less than the world ending…maybe not even then.
Rubbing his cheek against his agent’s shoulder, Neal paused and leaned back just far enough to see the plain white t-shirt in the dim light that seeped in from under the door.
“You’re not in a suit.” He said, the odd tone actually making Peter laugh, despite the situation there were in.
“Neither are you.” He replied, sliding a hand over the rough orange jumper that did nothing for anyone, but looked good on Neal’s frame the last time he’d seen him.
“Touché.”
“I’m sorry.” Peter said, gently stroking Neal’s side, mindful of the deep finger like bruises the other man had mentioned before at some point in the story, in between the black eye and the ’love bites’.
“It’s not your fault. You caught me. I was careless and someone died because of it.” Neal replied, trailing his hands over the soft material that covered the firm, well toned back of his agent.
Peter couldn’t argue with that. He still remembered the small little girl whose father had died due to the miscalculation in Neal’s mark and the explosive temper the man‘s lawyers and multiple character witnesses swore didn‘t exist. But as there were only three people in the room at the time of the shooting, Neal was the only on left standing without six lawyers and a pocketed judge on his side.
“It’s only four years,” He whispered, “With the right precautious, you can do that in your sleep.”
“Four years…” Neal murmured back, slowly leaning down to brush his lips over the junction of neck and shoulder. “Four years is an awful long time without a loving touch…”
“Neal?” Peter asked, leaning away from the next kiss he knew Caffery couldn’t resist placing on his body.
“I don’t want his hands to be the last hands to touch me like that Peter.” Neal replied, quickly kissing the other mans strong jaw before it could be removed from his proximity.
“What about your girl?” Peter shot back, firmly holding the younger man away from his body and locking eyes through the dim blackness.
It was strange how Neal’s eyes stood out. Even in this ugliness, this setting, this instance, his eyes were still brilliant. They still made Peter’s stomach flutter and his will to say ‘No’ melt away, like ice cream in a four hundred degree oven.
“Kate said she didn’t like seeing me like this. She said she might come see me, but not to hope for to much.” Neal’s blue eyes seemed to dim at those words, as if speaking them actually made them more real for him and Peter wasn’t sure that wasn’t so true.
“What about the security camera?” Peter tried again, motioning up to the night vision camera his hard earned tax dollars had helped pay for.
“Oh that?” The younger man turned and even in the dark, Peter could tell he was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah…I should really write a letter to my congressmen. The tax dollars aren’t being spent properly if the security cameras keep blinking on and off like that…”
Peter directed his gaze to the corner he knew the camera should be at and when he didn’t see the small red light indicating a working piece of equipment, he knew Neal had done something. He didn’t know what, but something crafty, to be sure.
“I’m married.” He said.
“I know.” Neal replied.
And that was the end. Peter had run out of excuses, out of viable reasons not to lean forward and kiss the stubbled jaw he encountered.
“Neal I-”
“Don’t talk. Please. Just touch me. Burn him away from my body. Please Peter…only you can do this for me…”
Peter nodded his head and reached around to unbutton the un-seeable orange jumper.
“Anything for you.” He whispered. Those being the last words that were actually said with any thought behind them.
8888888888888888888
It had taken most of the morning after he’d left his soft hearted convict sleeping in his isolation cell to get a hold of the warden to talk about certain accommodations least certain attitudes towards the treatment of inmates become public knowledge, but by noon Peter Burke watched from the upper levels as six guards escorted Neal Caffery into his new single cell.
Peter saw those electric blue eyes shift around, seeming to look for something, someone and as he turned to leave, he purposely crossed in front of the dark haired man’s cell so that his sneaker clad feet could be seen.
When he arrived home later that afternoon, after reporting to his office to fill out the proper paper work about his ‘visit’, Peter drove back home and caught his wife on her lunch hour.
“Is everything ok?” The dark haired beauty asked from the kitchen table, immediately setting the papers she’d been looking through down in favor of giving her full attention to her husband.
“It will be.” Peter replied, smiling and remembering another dark haired beauty he’d been with only hours before. “Elizabeth, I love you.”
“And I love you.” Elizabeth replied with a throaty laugh, abandoning her seat and sauntering across the room to stand in front of her sloppily put together spouse. “But whenever you say my name before those word you feel like you’ve done something wrong.”
Peter sighed and wrapped his arms around the tiny woman’s’ trim waist, pulling her flush to his body.
“Neal called me this morning.” He said, not saying anything more as he lay his head upon Elizabeth’s soft hair.
“I see.” She replied, twining her arms around Peter’s waist in return. “Is he ok?”
Peter nodded and sighed, to tired and emotionally drained to do much more than kiss the top of her head.
“It’s ok you know. I told you I didn’t mind then, and I don’t now.” Elizabeth sighed and stroked her husbands back as they stood in the middle of their living room, each thinking about the same person in very different ways. “You need him Peter. And I need you. And you need me. And he needs you. It is what it is.”
Peter pulled away enough to tilt the small woman’s face up so he could lean down and kiss her lush lips with a kiss the professed his love to her. She truly was something special.
Peter knew today wouldn’t be the last time he heard ‘Waking up in Vegas’ screaming from his speakers at odd hours of the day or night. He knew it like he knew he’d wake up and rush out the door before being able to take the first sip of the coffee Elizabeth would push into his hands before kissing him as she did every morning.
The End
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This is my first White Collar story, but I love the series, so I hope you like it! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!
Your Loyal Author,
Kat
Author: Angelshinigami
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth
Disclaimer: I Do not own the White Collar Characters. I simply use them for my own demented purposes.
Warnings: Mentioned almost Non-con, Slash!!!
AN: This story was written for a prompt on Collarkink on LiveJournal. Please go check it out if you’re into White Collar.
Chapter 1
88888888
It was three something in the morning when ‘Waking Up in Vegas’ started blaring out of the speakers of the Nokia something or other on the bed side table.
Peter Burke sat straight up in bed and started at the phone as if it were a silly string bomb with a lime jello cooling system set on a Mickey mouse watch timer. He hadn’t heard that ring tone in four months, not since he’d last heard from the most frustrating criminal in all of existence. How the man had stolen his cell phone and reprogrammed it to play that strangely catchy song whenever said criminal called, Peter would never know, but it didn’t seem to mater what phone number showed up on the caller ID, that ring tone was only ever one person.
It was strange how much he’d missed hearing it, but before the smile could last to long, Peter remembered why he hadn’t heard that ring tone and immediately snatched up the phone and pressed the send key.
“Caffery.” He practically barked. “How are you calling me?”
There wasn’t an immediate answer, in fact there wasn’t an answer at all, just the occasional shiver of breathe, as if someone were trying very hard not to cry.
“Caffery?” Peter tried again, any thought of ‘How’ the convict was calling him gone and replaced by the question of ‘Why’.
“Neal?” The almost silence was frightening him and before he could stop himself, Peter was tossing the warm covers off his body and hopping into a pair of jeans while trying to balance the phone and find his badge at the same time.
“I’ll be right there. Neal? Do you hear me?” Peter asked, zipping his pants and stepping into the run down tennis shoes he always left near his bed for his morning jogging.
“Peter?” It was that soft, almost broken whisper that twisted the FBI agent’s heart and had him kissing his barely awake wife goodbye as he ran from the house, he keys almost an after thought as he hung up the phone after promising Neal he’d be there in ten minuets.
Fifteen minuets and twelve traffic violations later, Peter Burke slid into a parking space just outside the high concrete and barbed wire lined walls of the maximum security prison the housed some of the world worst criminals and one art thief whose unexpected call had Peter’s stomach in knots.
It took smooth talking and a lot of well placed threats, but Peter was finally escorted through the halls, passed the cells, through six different security check points, and finally into the isolation chambers.
“Don’t know how you found out about this,” The middle aged guard grumbled as he shuffled the keys on the over stuffed ring until he found the one he was looking for. “Wasn’t that bad. Didn’t even make it in, if you know what I mean.”
“What?” Peter asked, staring at the blasé guard as if he had antlers and a second head.
“It happens around here.” The man replied, shrugging and opening the heavy iron door to reveal darkness and the tips of white shoes that pulled away from the light as if it burned.
“Yell when you’re done.” The guard said, leaving the crude innuendo hanging in the air before he closed the door once the agent entered the room.
“Neal?” Peter questioned, kneeling down so as not to loom over the younger man.
There was a choked cry as the air shifted and Peter suddenly found himself with an arm full of sobbing dark haired beauty.
“He grabbed me,” Neal sobbed, his face buried in his captors’ warm neck. “He told me to scream all I wanted, no one would care if they heard…he hit me. Kept telling me how pretty I was.”
As the story spilled out, Peter’s arms wrapped tighter and tighter around the slim body. Pain, humiliation, fear, emotions he wasn’t good at dealing with, but if there was ever an instance he wished he was, this was it.
“He… he bit me, over and over. Peter, it hurt so much!” Neal cried, holding tighter, his grip suggesting he was afraid the man in his arms would disappear if he let go, even a fraction.
“It’s ok, Neal I swear, I’ll never let it happen again.” Peter whispered, rocking back and forth slightly to calm the terrified man. “Never again. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it…”
It took another twenty or so minuets for Neal to calm enough to breathe properly. He still hadn’t moved from the now loose circle of strength around his waist, but now that he was were he wanted to be, he wasn’t going to move for anything less than the world ending…maybe not even then.
Rubbing his cheek against his agent’s shoulder, Neal paused and leaned back just far enough to see the plain white t-shirt in the dim light that seeped in from under the door.
“You’re not in a suit.” He said, the odd tone actually making Peter laugh, despite the situation there were in.
“Neither are you.” He replied, sliding a hand over the rough orange jumper that did nothing for anyone, but looked good on Neal’s frame the last time he’d seen him.
“Touché.”
“I’m sorry.” Peter said, gently stroking Neal’s side, mindful of the deep finger like bruises the other man had mentioned before at some point in the story, in between the black eye and the ’love bites’.
“It’s not your fault. You caught me. I was careless and someone died because of it.” Neal replied, trailing his hands over the soft material that covered the firm, well toned back of his agent.
Peter couldn’t argue with that. He still remembered the small little girl whose father had died due to the miscalculation in Neal’s mark and the explosive temper the man‘s lawyers and multiple character witnesses swore didn‘t exist. But as there were only three people in the room at the time of the shooting, Neal was the only on left standing without six lawyers and a pocketed judge on his side.
“It’s only four years,” He whispered, “With the right precautious, you can do that in your sleep.”
“Four years…” Neal murmured back, slowly leaning down to brush his lips over the junction of neck and shoulder. “Four years is an awful long time without a loving touch…”
“Neal?” Peter asked, leaning away from the next kiss he knew Caffery couldn’t resist placing on his body.
“I don’t want his hands to be the last hands to touch me like that Peter.” Neal replied, quickly kissing the other mans strong jaw before it could be removed from his proximity.
“What about your girl?” Peter shot back, firmly holding the younger man away from his body and locking eyes through the dim blackness.
It was strange how Neal’s eyes stood out. Even in this ugliness, this setting, this instance, his eyes were still brilliant. They still made Peter’s stomach flutter and his will to say ‘No’ melt away, like ice cream in a four hundred degree oven.
“Kate said she didn’t like seeing me like this. She said she might come see me, but not to hope for to much.” Neal’s blue eyes seemed to dim at those words, as if speaking them actually made them more real for him and Peter wasn’t sure that wasn’t so true.
“What about the security camera?” Peter tried again, motioning up to the night vision camera his hard earned tax dollars had helped pay for.
“Oh that?” The younger man turned and even in the dark, Peter could tell he was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah…I should really write a letter to my congressmen. The tax dollars aren’t being spent properly if the security cameras keep blinking on and off like that…”
Peter directed his gaze to the corner he knew the camera should be at and when he didn’t see the small red light indicating a working piece of equipment, he knew Neal had done something. He didn’t know what, but something crafty, to be sure.
“I’m married.” He said.
“I know.” Neal replied.
And that was the end. Peter had run out of excuses, out of viable reasons not to lean forward and kiss the stubbled jaw he encountered.
“Neal I-”
“Don’t talk. Please. Just touch me. Burn him away from my body. Please Peter…only you can do this for me…”
Peter nodded his head and reached around to unbutton the un-seeable orange jumper.
“Anything for you.” He whispered. Those being the last words that were actually said with any thought behind them.
8888888888888888888
It had taken most of the morning after he’d left his soft hearted convict sleeping in his isolation cell to get a hold of the warden to talk about certain accommodations least certain attitudes towards the treatment of inmates become public knowledge, but by noon Peter Burke watched from the upper levels as six guards escorted Neal Caffery into his new single cell.
Peter saw those electric blue eyes shift around, seeming to look for something, someone and as he turned to leave, he purposely crossed in front of the dark haired man’s cell so that his sneaker clad feet could be seen.
When he arrived home later that afternoon, after reporting to his office to fill out the proper paper work about his ‘visit’, Peter drove back home and caught his wife on her lunch hour.
“Is everything ok?” The dark haired beauty asked from the kitchen table, immediately setting the papers she’d been looking through down in favor of giving her full attention to her husband.
“It will be.” Peter replied, smiling and remembering another dark haired beauty he’d been with only hours before. “Elizabeth, I love you.”
“And I love you.” Elizabeth replied with a throaty laugh, abandoning her seat and sauntering across the room to stand in front of her sloppily put together spouse. “But whenever you say my name before those word you feel like you’ve done something wrong.”
Peter sighed and wrapped his arms around the tiny woman’s’ trim waist, pulling her flush to his body.
“Neal called me this morning.” He said, not saying anything more as he lay his head upon Elizabeth’s soft hair.
“I see.” She replied, twining her arms around Peter’s waist in return. “Is he ok?”
Peter nodded and sighed, to tired and emotionally drained to do much more than kiss the top of her head.
“It’s ok you know. I told you I didn’t mind then, and I don’t now.” Elizabeth sighed and stroked her husbands back as they stood in the middle of their living room, each thinking about the same person in very different ways. “You need him Peter. And I need you. And you need me. And he needs you. It is what it is.”
Peter pulled away enough to tilt the small woman’s face up so he could lean down and kiss her lush lips with a kiss the professed his love to her. She truly was something special.
Peter knew today wouldn’t be the last time he heard ‘Waking up in Vegas’ screaming from his speakers at odd hours of the day or night. He knew it like he knew he’d wake up and rush out the door before being able to take the first sip of the coffee Elizabeth would push into his hands before kissing him as she did every morning.
The End
888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
This is my first White Collar story, but I love the series, so I hope you like it! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!
Your Loyal Author,
Kat