Fic: A Matter of Trust (White Collar, Neal/Peter/El)
Title: A Matter of Trust
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me!
Word Count: ~4200
Summary: When Peter makes it clear he doesn't trust Neal, and Neal is forced to move in with him and El, he at least has the brief satisfaction of knowing his presence is interfering with their sex life.
A/N: For redandglenda, who not only generously donated to help_nz, but also saw the list of 5 fandoms I’d be willing to write, said ‘fuck that’ and asked for a 6th, thus getting me to try a fandom I've never written before. Thank you, bb. Kindly betaed by mintyfiend, all remaining mistakes are mine. Set between the second and third seasons.
Neal forces a smile on his face as the door opens.
Elizabeth smiles back in greeting.
“Neal!” she says, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “Come in. Do you need a hand with your bags?”
Neal shakes his head. He has a small leather duffle in one hand and a clothing bag tossed over his shoulder. He doesn’t plan to stay for long.
Elizabeth steps aside and lets him walk in, which gives him time to steady himself. Elizabeth’s apparent real delight at seeing him has thrown him off balance- he’d assumed Peter would have told Elizabeth of his suspicions, and that Elizabeth would have immediately thought the worst of Neal.
“You can leave those here,” Elizabeth says, gesturing to the foot of the stairs. “And I’ll show you the spare room later. But first, help me drink this wine?”
Neal’s never been one to turn down a glass of good wine, so he places his bags down carefully and follows her out to the patio.
They’re laughing over something when Peter comes home, and for a split second Neal forgets why he’s there and can imagine this is just a regular day where he’s been invited round for dinner.
But then Peter’s face hardens and it’s like a slap in the face.
“Everything alright here?” Peter says. It’s something he’s said multiple times before and Neal is about to automatically reply when he notes that Peter’s eyes are only on Elizabeth, and there’s a steel to his voice, like he’s assuming Neal is busy trying to corrupt his wife into a life of crime and debauchery.
“Fine,” Elizabeth says, holding out a glass of wine to Peter. He hesitates before he accepts it, then excuses herself. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she says before disappearing back inside.
Peter stands awkwardly until Neal gestures to Elizabeth’s vacated chair.
“Peter,” he says politely. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Peter grunts and sits down, and Neal knows what he’s thinking so he pushes, just enough to get under Peter’s skin.
“After all,” Neal says, “it’s my home too, now. So I should feel comfortable inviting you to sit.”
Peter’s eyes narrow.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment, then Neal sighs.
“I don’t have to stay here,” he says. “You clearly don’t want me here and I’m perfectly safe and monitorable at June’s.”
Peter shakes his head. “No, I want to keep an eye on you. I know you had something to do with it, Neal. I just know.”
Neal bristles. He’s been accused of many things over the years, some of which he did and some of which he didn’t. He doesn’t know why Peter is so adamant that Neal was involved with this heist- he’s certainly not sharing any evidence he might think he has. It’s not the fact that Neal’s innocent that hurts so much though. It’s the fact that it’s Peter who’s calling him a liar.
“Dinner’s ready!” Elizabeth calls, a welcome distraction and the move inside, Peter letting Neal go ahead of him, just like always.
Dinner is delicious, of course, and again, it doesn’t take long to fall back into familiarity, as if it’s any old night. Peter even smiles and laughs at one of Neal’s stories, and it isn’t until they’re cleaning up together afterwards, alone in the kitchen, that the tension rises again.
Neal’s elbow bumps against Peter as they put the dishes away and it’s something that normally wouldn’t be anything to think about. But Peter moves away, automatically, as if he’s trying to distance himself from Neal (ironic, Neal things, seeing as how he’s trying to live in Neal’s pocket, or have Neal live even more in his by making him move into the house with them). And it hurts. It surprises Neal how much it hurts, because it’s not supposed to.
Neal Caffrey has learned not to care too much. And he hadn’t thought he cared this much about Peter, or about Peter’s belief in him.
“Peter,” Elizabeth calls, “Why don’t you show Neal to his room?”
Peter leaves the kitchen wordlessly and when Neal catches up with him, Peter has already picked up Neal’s belongings and is carrying them up the stairs.
He leads Neal to the guest bedroom, tastefully decorated by Elizabeth’s hand, of course. Peter gives a perfunctory tour, pointing out everything Neal might need.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Peter says, hesitating in the door. “Make yourself at home, Neal.”
Neal looks up, surprised, and is about to smile and say thanks (even though he’d rather be in his own apartment, living his own life as much as he’s able with the tracking anklet) but Peter continues.
“Because you’re going to be here for awhile, until I get to the bottom of this whole Nazi art thing,” Peter says before he leaves, closing the door behind him.
Neal stares at the closed door, the turns to carefully unpack his things.
~~~
Neal is sure Peter is going to tire of his suspicion in a matter of days, but a week passes, and then another, and Peter shows no signs of actually believing Neal.
Neal is desperate to get out and away, but his movements are being monitored even more closely than before. An address is itching in his brain, the one he’d found on the card in his apartment, the one he’d destroyed immediately afterwards, just in case it was incriminating. He wants to know what’s there and who left the card. He’d been on his way there when Peter had shown up, informed Neal of his new living arrangements and placed a security detail to trail him at all times.
It was seriously cramping Neal’s style, and the curiosity was killing him. He was tempted to call Mozzie, to send him in Neal’s place, but he wasn’t sure if there was danger involved and it wouldn’t be fair to rope Mozzie into Neal’s issues. Besides, Mozzie seemed to be avoiding him- their last phone call, where Neal had invited Mozzie to visit, had resulted in a long lecture about spending too much time with the Suits.
Neal spends his days with Peter in the office, doing what he’d been doing for the past two years and wondering how long he’d be allowed to keep this job, if Peter decides he really couldn’t trust him. There’s always that worry that Peter might grow tired of him and throw him back in jail, somewhere that not even Neal could break out of.
At least Neal has the pleasure of knowing it isn’t just his style being cramped- after two weeks of living in each other’s pockets, even Peter is starting to get twitchy. It doesn’t register at first why, but late one night, as Neal is heading down to the kitchen to get a drink to hopefully help him sleep, he hears Peter and Elizabeth talking.
Their bedroom door is closed, but Neal’s ears are keen and it’s the tone of Elizabeth’s voice that catches his attention, that makes him stop and listen.
“...we’ll be quiet,” Elizabeth says. There’s a soft noise, and it takes Neal a moment to realise they’re kissing.
“We can’t,” Peter says. “I don’t want to risk Neal hearing.”
Elizabeth’s answering sigh would be audible even if Neal didn’t have his ear pressed to the door.
“It’s been two weeks, Peter. I understand you’re trying to prove something, but all this time has shown is that Neal looks innocent and we’re suddenly practicing abstinence.”
“That’s the whole point,” Peter says, and Neal can imagine the half smile on his face when he adds, “Not the abstinence part. The part where Neal is innocent. I’m keeping him here because I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s guilty, if he did this. All the evidence points to guilt but...El, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost-”
Peter stops short, suddenly, leaving Neal frustrated out in the hallway. He wishes Peter hadn’t stopped talking, that he’d said what evidence he had so Neal could refute it. And he wishes Peter had explained what he didn’t want to lose.
“Peter,” Elizabeth says softly. “This isn’t just about work. Maybe you should tell him.”
Peter makes a frustrated noise. “We talked about this, El. Our relationship is strictly professional. And for all of the wild personas he portrays when it suits him, Neal’s a traditionalist at heart. Suggesting that the three of us...well. It’s hardly conventional. Besides, I have no way of knowing he’d be interested, even if it was just me and him.”
“Believe me,” Elizabeth says. “A woman knows when someone has secret feelings for her husband. I don’t think he’d say no.”
“But would he say yes for the right reasons?” Peter asks, and they both fall silent.
Outside in the hallway, Neal is silently freaking out. He doesn’t know what’s unnerved him most- that Peter seems to be suggesting what Neal thinks he’s suggesting (and that it’s something he and Elizabeth have discussed before), or that Elizabeth has somehow seen through his carefully placed walls, designed to ensure no one sees Neal’s true emotions.
Neal doesn’t know what to do, and he hates that. He’s always had an escape plan before, but ever since Peter came into his life, those plans have gotten more and more vague. He has no idea what his next move should be so he stands up, intending to go back to his room to try and figure out the next step.
Which is, of course, when the floorboard creaks. Neal curses silently to himself, squinting his eyes shut in annoyance. He’d been so careful walking down the hall, testing each step before committing himself. He hates being distracted enough that he makes mistakes.
The bedroom door opens and Neal opens his eyes to find Peter staring back at him. He looks embarrassed, cheeks tinged pink, off-balance in a way that Neal has really never seen him before.
“Neal!” Peter says, too cheerfully, which means he’s hoping Neal didn’t hear a thing.
“I...was just going to get some water,” Neal says, truthfully, and Peter looks hopeful for a minute before Elizabeth appears at his elbow.
“How much did you hear?” she asks, bluntly, looking him dead in the eyes.
Neal doesn’t respond but after a moment she nods.
“Everything, then,” Elizabeth says, and Neal chances a look at Peter. His eyes are a little wider than usual, his face carefully set as to not betray emotion. “We should probably talk.”
There’s a long awkward pause in which Peter and Neal avoid looking at each other, and then Elizabeth sighs.
“Neal, come in,” she says, and nudges Peter aside so Neal can step into their bedroom.
He’s been in there before of course, when Elizabeth had wanted to show off some new curtains she’d had installed, but Neal had been very careful to avoid thinking about it as ‘place where Peter and Elizabeth sleep together’. Now that was impossible to do- the covers on the bed were rumpled, as if someone had been in bed already (Elizabeth, Neal supposes, based on the books on that bedside table). There’s a casual disarray of discarded clothing that feels so comfortable, so lived in, so unlike anything Neal has ever had that it takes him a few moments to realise that they’re all standing around in their pyjamas, waiting for each other to talk.
He chances a glimpse- first at Elizabeth because that seems easier. Her negligee is typically simple, what Neal would have imagined her to wear if he’d ever chosen to picture her undressed. Peter is wearing a ratty grey Quantico t-shirt and sweat pants, slung low enough on his hips that there’s a flash of skin when he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
It jars so much from the suited up Peter Neal knows that he finds himself staring at that bare patch of skin until Elizabeth clears her throat. Neal looks up at her guiltily, knowing he’s been caught, and wondering what that means, after what he overheard.
“It’ll be morning before the two of you start talking,” Elizabeth says, “So I might as well start. You heard our conversation.”
It’s not a question, but Neal nods anyway, noting the way they’re standing- the three of them in a circle at the foot of the bed- Neal closest to the door so he can make a quick escape, Peter closest to the bathroom door, presumably for the same reason, and Elizabeth closest to the bed. There isn’t much space between them all- if Neal reached out an arm it’d graze Peter’s side- but it feels like miles.
“Most of it,” Neal admits, and Peter makes a strange noise. His face is turned from Neal, but Elizabeth can see it clearly and she pauses for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Neal wonders what that’s like, to have that ability to be so in tune with someone that you don’t need words to understand them.
“This can go two ways,” Elizabeth says. “You can walk out of this room and forget what you heard and nothing will have changed. Tomorrow we’ll all wake up and carry on as if nothing has changed. This affecting your working relationship is not an option. There will be no hard feelings, no sense of rejection or obligation. ”
Neal nods, seeing Peter do the same out of the corner of his eye. It’s a relief to know that- Neal can compartmentalise better than the best, but Peter has to fight much harder to stop things from getting under his skin. Sometimes that’s a good quality- after all, he’d never have caught Neal if he hadn’t made the case so personal- but at other times, like this, it could be life destroying.
“And the other?” Neal asks, clearing his throat when he realises his voice sounds thick. “You said there were two ways.”
Elizabeth glances at Peter again then nods, a smile playing at her lips. “The other way is that you stay, and spend the night with us.”
Even though he’d known it was coming, the offer makes Neal’s heart race in his chest. He turns away to hide his face as he considers- knowing Elizabeth can read him like a book still unnerves him more than he can admit even to himself- and he catches sight of the open door.
It would be so easy, he knows, to take four steps and be out in the hallway. Eight more steps and he’d be back in his room, back pressed against the door. And in the morning he’d act like nothing had changed and life would go on.
But.
Things would be different. There would be a wedge between them and slowly it would widen until Neal did something stupid to lose Peter’s trust- to prove Peter right that Neal always has been and always will be a criminal, nothing more, and Neal will slip his shackles and make a run for it and start life somewhere else and never think of Peter again.
Two years ago there was nothing Neal wanted more than that. Today...today Neal cares about Peter in a way that hurts, and the possibility of not having Peter as that rock to cling to is too scary to contemplate.
Life is a series of risks and Neal has never been one to play it safe when the gain outweighed the dangers.
He turns back, pretending that he hadn’t been prepared to say yes from the moment he stepped into the bedroom.
Peter and Elizabeth glance at each other, and Neal’s heart aches. He wants that, what they have, to be a part of it and to feel that connection to another human.
“Okay,” Neal says, and watches the way Peter’s tongue flicks out and licks his lips nervously.
“Okay?” Peter repeats, sounding surprised, then pleased. “Okay.”
Peter strides past Neal and closes the door, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob. Neal wonders for a moment if he’s the one thinking about running away now, but when he turns there’s a nervous smile on his face.
It makes something deep down inside of Neal clench- it’s a feeling similar to the one he gets when he dreams up a big con, when he knows that what is just beginning is going to be amazing.
So he hates himself a little when he says. “But.”
The smile starts to fade from Peter’s face.
“What happens then?” Neal says, glancing between Peter and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth frowns. “What do you mean?”
Neal opens his mouth to explain, but Peter speaks before he can say anything.
“Everything is a chess game for Neal,” Peter explains. “He thinks three or four steps ahead. He wants to know that if this is step one- the three of us spending the night together- what will step two, three and four be.”
Neal looks at Peter in surprise. “How did you know that?”
Peter shrugs. “I know you,” he says simply and for a moment Neal forgets where he is or what’s going on and feels a surge of happiness at that knowledge- Peter knows him, understands how he thinks, and he still wants him.
“I don’t know what happens next,” Peter says, looking serious. “Maybe nothing- maybe one night and you want to walk away. Or maybe you stay the next night, and the next, and the next. It’s up to you.”
“Up to me?” Neal frowns, confused. “What about-”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve spoken about it,” Elizabeth interrupts. “We’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what we wanted if this ever happened.”
It takes Neal a few seconds to process that, and Elizabeth takes the opportunity to move closer to him.
Her hand slides across his chest- the silk pyjamas he’d inherited from June’s late husband do nothing to mask the head of her touch and Neal shivers.
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth says. “Relax.”
And then lifts her face and presses her mouth to Neal’s.
It feels wrong at first- Neal might not know right from wrong when it comes to taking expensive pieces of art from wealthy people, but he knows you don’t kiss someone else’s wife- especially not the wife of your best friend. Knowing Peter is there, watching, makes it feel even more like something he should stop immediately.
As if Elizabeth knows what he’s thinking she pulls back, moving so that he can see Peter. Peter is still standing by the door, but he’s watching them carefully. Neal expects to see anger, or jealousy but all he sees is raw hunger and so Neal pulls Elizabeth closer to himself and kisses her, keeping one eye on Peter as he does.
Elizabeth smells of freesias and toothpaste and Neal breathes in the smell as he kisses her, wondering what it must be like to wake to that smell on your pillow each morning. Her hair is soft against his cheek and her body warm against his and once he sees that Peter seems to enjoy watching them kiss, Neal lets his eyes fall shut so he can concentrate.
Kissing Elizabeth is sweet and easy, their bodies fitting together better than he’d expected. Neal thinks for a moment that he could kiss her forever, but then there’s a rustle of cotton and footsteps and Peter is there beside them.
Neal breaks away from Elizabeth, looking at Peter. Peter isn’t much taller than him but the symbolism of having to look up to him isn’t lost on Neal.
“That’s just...” Peter starts, then trails off. He stares at Neal for a long moment, then crowds closer to him.
Neal feels Elizabeth step away from his side but when he turns to look at her Peter’s hands are on his face, cupping his jaw on either side.
“Neal,” Peter says, voice low and needy, and then kisses him.
Neal isn’t a stranger to kissing men- he’s played many a role that has necessitated it and he’s never shied away from a good cover story. But, like so many other things in his life, it was all an act and he’d never put emotion into those kisses.
Kissing Peter is something Neal has never thought of before, although now they’re doing it he can’t imagine why. Peter’s mouth is softer than Neal would have expected, and he kisses Neal like there’s nothing he wants more in the world than to have Neal kiss him back.
So Neal does, hesitantly lifting his hand to Peter’s chest, palm flat so he can feel Peter’s heart beating through the thin fabric of his shirt. Even if Peter were to stop now, if he pushed Neal away, Neal doesn’t want to lose Peter from his life.
“Peter,” Neal says, pulling away. Peter’s hands linger on Neal’s face for a moment before falling down to his side. “I have to tell you-”
Peter’s face is instantly guarded, but Neal pushes on.
“I didn’t take that Nazi art,” he says. “I swear, I swear I didn’t. You have to believe me.”
Elizabeth makes a soft noise beside him and Neal turns to her. He’s surprised to see that he can read Elizabeth as easily as she can read him. She believes him, at least, which makes it easier to look back at Peter.
Neal expects to see suspicion but all he sees is relief.
“Thank god,” Peter says, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know what I would have done if-”
For all that Neal had wished Peter had finished that sentence before, when he’d been listening out in the hallway, he thinks it’ll break him if Peter continues. Because of who he is Neal can’t guarantee that one day he won’t run away and leave all this behind and knowing it would hurt Peter makes that possibility even harder.
For a brief moment Neal considers walking away now, before he gets in any deeper.
And then Elizabeth says, “Come to bed with us, Neal,” and holds out a hand.
Peter’s hand moves to the small of Neal’s back, ready to guide him if he says yes, and Neal does the only thing that makes any sense.
He nods and lets them lead him to the bed.
~~~
Neal wakes up feeling warm and comfortable. There’s something soft under his cheek and when he lifts his head he sees it’s Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Good morning,” she says, smiling down at him.
“Morning,” Neal says sleepily, rubbing his hand over his face and yawning as he sits up.
His movements make the sheets fall down, exposing Elizabeth’s naked breasts. Elizabeth catches his look and they both laugh.
“It’s going to take me awhile to get used to that,” he says, pulling the sheets back up.
Elizabeth smiles as she smoothes the sheets over herself. “I take it that means you’re planning to stay tonight too?” she asks and Neal is surprised at himself.
“I guess so,” Neal says, even though he hadn’t realised he’d decided what his next move would be.
He’s smiling as he glances at the empty space beside him. “Where’s Peter?”
Elizabeth looks amused. “Making breakfast,” she tells him. “He did this after the first time we slept together too.”
“I feel special,” Neal says, and Elizabeth laughs.
“Save that judgment until you taste the food.”
Neal smiles back, then turns his attention to the design on the duvet cover. There’s a moment of silence.
“You can ask me, you know,” Elizabeth says.
Neal glances up with a chuckle. “Am I that transparent?” he asks, hoping that the answer is no.
“Only when it comes to Peter.”
Neal isn’t sure he should be pleased by that. The man he used to be, before he’d been caught, wouldn’t have been.
“You don’t mind?” he asks, finally speaking the question that had been on his mind since he’d first overheard their conversation in the hallway.
“Sharing Peter?” Elizabeth finishes the question, and Neal nods.
She shakes her head. “I’ve been sharing Peter since you came into his life,” she says simply. There’s no resentment there, but Neal feels he should apologise anyway.
Elizabeth laughs when he does. “Think of it this way- I haven’t lost anything. I’ve gained something.”
She leans in and kisses Neal softly, her hand resting on his cheek.
There are footsteps on the stairs and the sound of someone singing as Elizabeth pulls away.
“Does he always sing when he cooks?”
“That means he’s happy,” Elizabeth says, and Neal files that bit of information away with every other bit of knowledge he’s been collecting about Peter in his mind.
“Breakfast is served!” Peter announces, coming through the door, brandishing a tray.
He sets it down beside the bed, and Neal laughs. The toast is burnt and the omelette looks sloppily made, but when Peter serves it to them and all three sit in the bed eating, chatting and reading the morning paper, Neal thinks that maybe it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me!
Word Count: ~4200
Summary: When Peter makes it clear he doesn't trust Neal, and Neal is forced to move in with him and El, he at least has the brief satisfaction of knowing his presence is interfering with their sex life.
A/N: For redandglenda, who not only generously donated to help_nz, but also saw the list of 5 fandoms I’d be willing to write, said ‘fuck that’ and asked for a 6th, thus getting me to try a fandom I've never written before. Thank you, bb. Kindly betaed by mintyfiend, all remaining mistakes are mine. Set between the second and third seasons.
Neal forces a smile on his face as the door opens.
Elizabeth smiles back in greeting.
“Neal!” she says, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “Come in. Do you need a hand with your bags?”
Neal shakes his head. He has a small leather duffle in one hand and a clothing bag tossed over his shoulder. He doesn’t plan to stay for long.
Elizabeth steps aside and lets him walk in, which gives him time to steady himself. Elizabeth’s apparent real delight at seeing him has thrown him off balance- he’d assumed Peter would have told Elizabeth of his suspicions, and that Elizabeth would have immediately thought the worst of Neal.
“You can leave those here,” Elizabeth says, gesturing to the foot of the stairs. “And I’ll show you the spare room later. But first, help me drink this wine?”
Neal’s never been one to turn down a glass of good wine, so he places his bags down carefully and follows her out to the patio.
They’re laughing over something when Peter comes home, and for a split second Neal forgets why he’s there and can imagine this is just a regular day where he’s been invited round for dinner.
But then Peter’s face hardens and it’s like a slap in the face.
“Everything alright here?” Peter says. It’s something he’s said multiple times before and Neal is about to automatically reply when he notes that Peter’s eyes are only on Elizabeth, and there’s a steel to his voice, like he’s assuming Neal is busy trying to corrupt his wife into a life of crime and debauchery.
“Fine,” Elizabeth says, holding out a glass of wine to Peter. He hesitates before he accepts it, then excuses herself. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she says before disappearing back inside.
Peter stands awkwardly until Neal gestures to Elizabeth’s vacated chair.
“Peter,” he says politely. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Peter grunts and sits down, and Neal knows what he’s thinking so he pushes, just enough to get under Peter’s skin.
“After all,” Neal says, “it’s my home too, now. So I should feel comfortable inviting you to sit.”
Peter’s eyes narrow.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment, then Neal sighs.
“I don’t have to stay here,” he says. “You clearly don’t want me here and I’m perfectly safe and monitorable at June’s.”
Peter shakes his head. “No, I want to keep an eye on you. I know you had something to do with it, Neal. I just know.”
Neal bristles. He’s been accused of many things over the years, some of which he did and some of which he didn’t. He doesn’t know why Peter is so adamant that Neal was involved with this heist- he’s certainly not sharing any evidence he might think he has. It’s not the fact that Neal’s innocent that hurts so much though. It’s the fact that it’s Peter who’s calling him a liar.
“Dinner’s ready!” Elizabeth calls, a welcome distraction and the move inside, Peter letting Neal go ahead of him, just like always.
Dinner is delicious, of course, and again, it doesn’t take long to fall back into familiarity, as if it’s any old night. Peter even smiles and laughs at one of Neal’s stories, and it isn’t until they’re cleaning up together afterwards, alone in the kitchen, that the tension rises again.
Neal’s elbow bumps against Peter as they put the dishes away and it’s something that normally wouldn’t be anything to think about. But Peter moves away, automatically, as if he’s trying to distance himself from Neal (ironic, Neal things, seeing as how he’s trying to live in Neal’s pocket, or have Neal live even more in his by making him move into the house with them). And it hurts. It surprises Neal how much it hurts, because it’s not supposed to.
Neal Caffrey has learned not to care too much. And he hadn’t thought he cared this much about Peter, or about Peter’s belief in him.
“Peter,” Elizabeth calls, “Why don’t you show Neal to his room?”
Peter leaves the kitchen wordlessly and when Neal catches up with him, Peter has already picked up Neal’s belongings and is carrying them up the stairs.
He leads Neal to the guest bedroom, tastefully decorated by Elizabeth’s hand, of course. Peter gives a perfunctory tour, pointing out everything Neal might need.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Peter says, hesitating in the door. “Make yourself at home, Neal.”
Neal looks up, surprised, and is about to smile and say thanks (even though he’d rather be in his own apartment, living his own life as much as he’s able with the tracking anklet) but Peter continues.
“Because you’re going to be here for awhile, until I get to the bottom of this whole Nazi art thing,” Peter says before he leaves, closing the door behind him.
Neal stares at the closed door, the turns to carefully unpack his things.
~~~
Neal is sure Peter is going to tire of his suspicion in a matter of days, but a week passes, and then another, and Peter shows no signs of actually believing Neal.
Neal is desperate to get out and away, but his movements are being monitored even more closely than before. An address is itching in his brain, the one he’d found on the card in his apartment, the one he’d destroyed immediately afterwards, just in case it was incriminating. He wants to know what’s there and who left the card. He’d been on his way there when Peter had shown up, informed Neal of his new living arrangements and placed a security detail to trail him at all times.
It was seriously cramping Neal’s style, and the curiosity was killing him. He was tempted to call Mozzie, to send him in Neal’s place, but he wasn’t sure if there was danger involved and it wouldn’t be fair to rope Mozzie into Neal’s issues. Besides, Mozzie seemed to be avoiding him- their last phone call, where Neal had invited Mozzie to visit, had resulted in a long lecture about spending too much time with the Suits.
Neal spends his days with Peter in the office, doing what he’d been doing for the past two years and wondering how long he’d be allowed to keep this job, if Peter decides he really couldn’t trust him. There’s always that worry that Peter might grow tired of him and throw him back in jail, somewhere that not even Neal could break out of.
At least Neal has the pleasure of knowing it isn’t just his style being cramped- after two weeks of living in each other’s pockets, even Peter is starting to get twitchy. It doesn’t register at first why, but late one night, as Neal is heading down to the kitchen to get a drink to hopefully help him sleep, he hears Peter and Elizabeth talking.
Their bedroom door is closed, but Neal’s ears are keen and it’s the tone of Elizabeth’s voice that catches his attention, that makes him stop and listen.
“...we’ll be quiet,” Elizabeth says. There’s a soft noise, and it takes Neal a moment to realise they’re kissing.
“We can’t,” Peter says. “I don’t want to risk Neal hearing.”
Elizabeth’s answering sigh would be audible even if Neal didn’t have his ear pressed to the door.
“It’s been two weeks, Peter. I understand you’re trying to prove something, but all this time has shown is that Neal looks innocent and we’re suddenly practicing abstinence.”
“That’s the whole point,” Peter says, and Neal can imagine the half smile on his face when he adds, “Not the abstinence part. The part where Neal is innocent. I’m keeping him here because I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s guilty, if he did this. All the evidence points to guilt but...El, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost-”
Peter stops short, suddenly, leaving Neal frustrated out in the hallway. He wishes Peter hadn’t stopped talking, that he’d said what evidence he had so Neal could refute it. And he wishes Peter had explained what he didn’t want to lose.
“Peter,” Elizabeth says softly. “This isn’t just about work. Maybe you should tell him.”
Peter makes a frustrated noise. “We talked about this, El. Our relationship is strictly professional. And for all of the wild personas he portrays when it suits him, Neal’s a traditionalist at heart. Suggesting that the three of us...well. It’s hardly conventional. Besides, I have no way of knowing he’d be interested, even if it was just me and him.”
“Believe me,” Elizabeth says. “A woman knows when someone has secret feelings for her husband. I don’t think he’d say no.”
“But would he say yes for the right reasons?” Peter asks, and they both fall silent.
Outside in the hallway, Neal is silently freaking out. He doesn’t know what’s unnerved him most- that Peter seems to be suggesting what Neal thinks he’s suggesting (and that it’s something he and Elizabeth have discussed before), or that Elizabeth has somehow seen through his carefully placed walls, designed to ensure no one sees Neal’s true emotions.
Neal doesn’t know what to do, and he hates that. He’s always had an escape plan before, but ever since Peter came into his life, those plans have gotten more and more vague. He has no idea what his next move should be so he stands up, intending to go back to his room to try and figure out the next step.
Which is, of course, when the floorboard creaks. Neal curses silently to himself, squinting his eyes shut in annoyance. He’d been so careful walking down the hall, testing each step before committing himself. He hates being distracted enough that he makes mistakes.
The bedroom door opens and Neal opens his eyes to find Peter staring back at him. He looks embarrassed, cheeks tinged pink, off-balance in a way that Neal has really never seen him before.
“Neal!” Peter says, too cheerfully, which means he’s hoping Neal didn’t hear a thing.
“I...was just going to get some water,” Neal says, truthfully, and Peter looks hopeful for a minute before Elizabeth appears at his elbow.
“How much did you hear?” she asks, bluntly, looking him dead in the eyes.
Neal doesn’t respond but after a moment she nods.
“Everything, then,” Elizabeth says, and Neal chances a look at Peter. His eyes are a little wider than usual, his face carefully set as to not betray emotion. “We should probably talk.”
There’s a long awkward pause in which Peter and Neal avoid looking at each other, and then Elizabeth sighs.
“Neal, come in,” she says, and nudges Peter aside so Neal can step into their bedroom.
He’s been in there before of course, when Elizabeth had wanted to show off some new curtains she’d had installed, but Neal had been very careful to avoid thinking about it as ‘place where Peter and Elizabeth sleep together’. Now that was impossible to do- the covers on the bed were rumpled, as if someone had been in bed already (Elizabeth, Neal supposes, based on the books on that bedside table). There’s a casual disarray of discarded clothing that feels so comfortable, so lived in, so unlike anything Neal has ever had that it takes him a few moments to realise that they’re all standing around in their pyjamas, waiting for each other to talk.
He chances a glimpse- first at Elizabeth because that seems easier. Her negligee is typically simple, what Neal would have imagined her to wear if he’d ever chosen to picture her undressed. Peter is wearing a ratty grey Quantico t-shirt and sweat pants, slung low enough on his hips that there’s a flash of skin when he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
It jars so much from the suited up Peter Neal knows that he finds himself staring at that bare patch of skin until Elizabeth clears her throat. Neal looks up at her guiltily, knowing he’s been caught, and wondering what that means, after what he overheard.
“It’ll be morning before the two of you start talking,” Elizabeth says, “So I might as well start. You heard our conversation.”
It’s not a question, but Neal nods anyway, noting the way they’re standing- the three of them in a circle at the foot of the bed- Neal closest to the door so he can make a quick escape, Peter closest to the bathroom door, presumably for the same reason, and Elizabeth closest to the bed. There isn’t much space between them all- if Neal reached out an arm it’d graze Peter’s side- but it feels like miles.
“Most of it,” Neal admits, and Peter makes a strange noise. His face is turned from Neal, but Elizabeth can see it clearly and she pauses for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Neal wonders what that’s like, to have that ability to be so in tune with someone that you don’t need words to understand them.
“This can go two ways,” Elizabeth says. “You can walk out of this room and forget what you heard and nothing will have changed. Tomorrow we’ll all wake up and carry on as if nothing has changed. This affecting your working relationship is not an option. There will be no hard feelings, no sense of rejection or obligation. ”
Neal nods, seeing Peter do the same out of the corner of his eye. It’s a relief to know that- Neal can compartmentalise better than the best, but Peter has to fight much harder to stop things from getting under his skin. Sometimes that’s a good quality- after all, he’d never have caught Neal if he hadn’t made the case so personal- but at other times, like this, it could be life destroying.
“And the other?” Neal asks, clearing his throat when he realises his voice sounds thick. “You said there were two ways.”
Elizabeth glances at Peter again then nods, a smile playing at her lips. “The other way is that you stay, and spend the night with us.”
Even though he’d known it was coming, the offer makes Neal’s heart race in his chest. He turns away to hide his face as he considers- knowing Elizabeth can read him like a book still unnerves him more than he can admit even to himself- and he catches sight of the open door.
It would be so easy, he knows, to take four steps and be out in the hallway. Eight more steps and he’d be back in his room, back pressed against the door. And in the morning he’d act like nothing had changed and life would go on.
But.
Things would be different. There would be a wedge between them and slowly it would widen until Neal did something stupid to lose Peter’s trust- to prove Peter right that Neal always has been and always will be a criminal, nothing more, and Neal will slip his shackles and make a run for it and start life somewhere else and never think of Peter again.
Two years ago there was nothing Neal wanted more than that. Today...today Neal cares about Peter in a way that hurts, and the possibility of not having Peter as that rock to cling to is too scary to contemplate.
Life is a series of risks and Neal has never been one to play it safe when the gain outweighed the dangers.
He turns back, pretending that he hadn’t been prepared to say yes from the moment he stepped into the bedroom.
Peter and Elizabeth glance at each other, and Neal’s heart aches. He wants that, what they have, to be a part of it and to feel that connection to another human.
“Okay,” Neal says, and watches the way Peter’s tongue flicks out and licks his lips nervously.
“Okay?” Peter repeats, sounding surprised, then pleased. “Okay.”
Peter strides past Neal and closes the door, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob. Neal wonders for a moment if he’s the one thinking about running away now, but when he turns there’s a nervous smile on his face.
It makes something deep down inside of Neal clench- it’s a feeling similar to the one he gets when he dreams up a big con, when he knows that what is just beginning is going to be amazing.
So he hates himself a little when he says. “But.”
The smile starts to fade from Peter’s face.
“What happens then?” Neal says, glancing between Peter and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth frowns. “What do you mean?”
Neal opens his mouth to explain, but Peter speaks before he can say anything.
“Everything is a chess game for Neal,” Peter explains. “He thinks three or four steps ahead. He wants to know that if this is step one- the three of us spending the night together- what will step two, three and four be.”
Neal looks at Peter in surprise. “How did you know that?”
Peter shrugs. “I know you,” he says simply and for a moment Neal forgets where he is or what’s going on and feels a surge of happiness at that knowledge- Peter knows him, understands how he thinks, and he still wants him.
“I don’t know what happens next,” Peter says, looking serious. “Maybe nothing- maybe one night and you want to walk away. Or maybe you stay the next night, and the next, and the next. It’s up to you.”
“Up to me?” Neal frowns, confused. “What about-”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve spoken about it,” Elizabeth interrupts. “We’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what we wanted if this ever happened.”
It takes Neal a few seconds to process that, and Elizabeth takes the opportunity to move closer to him.
Her hand slides across his chest- the silk pyjamas he’d inherited from June’s late husband do nothing to mask the head of her touch and Neal shivers.
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth says. “Relax.”
And then lifts her face and presses her mouth to Neal’s.
It feels wrong at first- Neal might not know right from wrong when it comes to taking expensive pieces of art from wealthy people, but he knows you don’t kiss someone else’s wife- especially not the wife of your best friend. Knowing Peter is there, watching, makes it feel even more like something he should stop immediately.
As if Elizabeth knows what he’s thinking she pulls back, moving so that he can see Peter. Peter is still standing by the door, but he’s watching them carefully. Neal expects to see anger, or jealousy but all he sees is raw hunger and so Neal pulls Elizabeth closer to himself and kisses her, keeping one eye on Peter as he does.
Elizabeth smells of freesias and toothpaste and Neal breathes in the smell as he kisses her, wondering what it must be like to wake to that smell on your pillow each morning. Her hair is soft against his cheek and her body warm against his and once he sees that Peter seems to enjoy watching them kiss, Neal lets his eyes fall shut so he can concentrate.
Kissing Elizabeth is sweet and easy, their bodies fitting together better than he’d expected. Neal thinks for a moment that he could kiss her forever, but then there’s a rustle of cotton and footsteps and Peter is there beside them.
Neal breaks away from Elizabeth, looking at Peter. Peter isn’t much taller than him but the symbolism of having to look up to him isn’t lost on Neal.
“That’s just...” Peter starts, then trails off. He stares at Neal for a long moment, then crowds closer to him.
Neal feels Elizabeth step away from his side but when he turns to look at her Peter’s hands are on his face, cupping his jaw on either side.
“Neal,” Peter says, voice low and needy, and then kisses him.
Neal isn’t a stranger to kissing men- he’s played many a role that has necessitated it and he’s never shied away from a good cover story. But, like so many other things in his life, it was all an act and he’d never put emotion into those kisses.
Kissing Peter is something Neal has never thought of before, although now they’re doing it he can’t imagine why. Peter’s mouth is softer than Neal would have expected, and he kisses Neal like there’s nothing he wants more in the world than to have Neal kiss him back.
So Neal does, hesitantly lifting his hand to Peter’s chest, palm flat so he can feel Peter’s heart beating through the thin fabric of his shirt. Even if Peter were to stop now, if he pushed Neal away, Neal doesn’t want to lose Peter from his life.
“Peter,” Neal says, pulling away. Peter’s hands linger on Neal’s face for a moment before falling down to his side. “I have to tell you-”
Peter’s face is instantly guarded, but Neal pushes on.
“I didn’t take that Nazi art,” he says. “I swear, I swear I didn’t. You have to believe me.”
Elizabeth makes a soft noise beside him and Neal turns to her. He’s surprised to see that he can read Elizabeth as easily as she can read him. She believes him, at least, which makes it easier to look back at Peter.
Neal expects to see suspicion but all he sees is relief.
“Thank god,” Peter says, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know what I would have done if-”
For all that Neal had wished Peter had finished that sentence before, when he’d been listening out in the hallway, he thinks it’ll break him if Peter continues. Because of who he is Neal can’t guarantee that one day he won’t run away and leave all this behind and knowing it would hurt Peter makes that possibility even harder.
For a brief moment Neal considers walking away now, before he gets in any deeper.
And then Elizabeth says, “Come to bed with us, Neal,” and holds out a hand.
Peter’s hand moves to the small of Neal’s back, ready to guide him if he says yes, and Neal does the only thing that makes any sense.
He nods and lets them lead him to the bed.
~~~
Neal wakes up feeling warm and comfortable. There’s something soft under his cheek and when he lifts his head he sees it’s Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Good morning,” she says, smiling down at him.
“Morning,” Neal says sleepily, rubbing his hand over his face and yawning as he sits up.
His movements make the sheets fall down, exposing Elizabeth’s naked breasts. Elizabeth catches his look and they both laugh.
“It’s going to take me awhile to get used to that,” he says, pulling the sheets back up.
Elizabeth smiles as she smoothes the sheets over herself. “I take it that means you’re planning to stay tonight too?” she asks and Neal is surprised at himself.
“I guess so,” Neal says, even though he hadn’t realised he’d decided what his next move would be.
He’s smiling as he glances at the empty space beside him. “Where’s Peter?”
Elizabeth looks amused. “Making breakfast,” she tells him. “He did this after the first time we slept together too.”
“I feel special,” Neal says, and Elizabeth laughs.
“Save that judgment until you taste the food.”
Neal smiles back, then turns his attention to the design on the duvet cover. There’s a moment of silence.
“You can ask me, you know,” Elizabeth says.
Neal glances up with a chuckle. “Am I that transparent?” he asks, hoping that the answer is no.
“Only when it comes to Peter.”
Neal isn’t sure he should be pleased by that. The man he used to be, before he’d been caught, wouldn’t have been.
“You don’t mind?” he asks, finally speaking the question that had been on his mind since he’d first overheard their conversation in the hallway.
“Sharing Peter?” Elizabeth finishes the question, and Neal nods.
She shakes her head. “I’ve been sharing Peter since you came into his life,” she says simply. There’s no resentment there, but Neal feels he should apologise anyway.
Elizabeth laughs when he does. “Think of it this way- I haven’t lost anything. I’ve gained something.”
She leans in and kisses Neal softly, her hand resting on his cheek.
There are footsteps on the stairs and the sound of someone singing as Elizabeth pulls away.
“Does he always sing when he cooks?”
“That means he’s happy,” Elizabeth says, and Neal files that bit of information away with every other bit of knowledge he’s been collecting about Peter in his mind.
“Breakfast is served!” Peter announces, coming through the door, brandishing a tray.
He sets it down beside the bed, and Neal laughs. The toast is burnt and the omelette looks sloppily made, but when Peter serves it to them and all three sit in the bed eating, chatting and reading the morning paper, Neal thinks that maybe it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.