Fandom: White Collar Characters/Pairing(s): Neal/Peter/El magic AU Word Count: 736 Words/Prompts Used: let the cat out of the bag
[Spoiler (click to open)] It's one of Neal's earliest memories: a cheap motel room, curled up in his mom's arms. He's crying because they can't go home, and it's his fault, and he can't feel his mom at all.
Looking back, Neal knows that she was just trying not to share her own feelings of self-blame and stark terror at what the future might hold for them. Two powerful empaths could feed off each others' emotions; two guilt-stricken empaths could spiral into a cloud of despair so thick people would be committing suicide for blocks around.
But at the time, all he knew was that she'd left him. She'd abandoned him inside his heart where it mattered most. It was the first time he'd ever felt alone, and he hated it.
Neal had learned how to be alone in his own skin; how not to feel what others felt. He learned how to make people feel even when he didn't, so he could con them more easily. But he'd never learned to like it.
Mozzie kept a barrier around himself at all times, like a hedge of thorns in a fairy tale. Neal couldn't read him at all. He couldn't touch him, either. Their partnership was based entirely on the idea that Neal would stay outside, and Neal didn't violate that trust. He needed someone who accepted him, even if he couldn't touch them.
Kate felt like home. She let him move inside her heart, and Neal fell gratefully in love with every emotion she had. If he let her drown him -- sometimes, always, joyfully -- it was his choice. Only his choice.
He'd thought it was her home, too. But then she left, and took all the color out of the world. Getting arrested, wearing a suppression collar in prison -- those were just acknowledgements of what was already true: he couldn't reach her.
Working for the BPI -- no, let's be precise, working with Peter -- was a revelation.
Peter never flinched away from Neal's touch; Neal had permission to feel Peter's emotions and share his own. But Peter made sure that Neal knew whose emotions were whose -- their boundaries were drawn in marker and easily crossed, but always, always present: This is Peter's; this is Neal's; these are the edges that touch.
Peter wouldn't let Neal drown, but he didn't leave Neal alone, either. It was maddening.
The few times Neal asked about it -- jokingly, of course -- Peter said that Neal deserved it. That drowning someone is taking away their free will, and though the law and the BPI might limit Neal's freedom, they should never enslave him.
So that first moment of the kiss, when Neal's lips touch El's, with Peter pressed against his back and magic flaring all around the three of them --
-- when Peter's emotions carve through Neal like a knife -- when Peter's desire burns in Neal's chest like a wildfire -- Neal dives into them without a moment's hesitation. He takes El's, too, currents swift and strong and coiling together, too strong for one body to hold. This is what he's been missing all these months, and even if all he gets is this kiss --
-- and he can feel Peter's swift denial at the thought, El's promise of more, both of them demanding that this is not the end but the beginning --
-- but even if this is all Neal can have, he wants it. All of it. Enough to drown in.
Neal feels the moment when Peter understands, Peter's hesitation -- disbelief, concern, determination -- and the moment when El refuses to allow him to pull back entirely.
Everything shimmers for a moment, off-balance and hazy in magic too strong to dissipate and too divided to coelesce --
-- and then Peter carefully, deftly, re-draws their boundaries.
This is Neal's.
This is Peter's.
This is El's.
This is Ours.
The shift settles in with the snick of a spell, a sharp pop like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Peter's talent, obviously, although none of them had ever thought it could work this way.
Neal doesn't know if it will work once they're not touching -- the anklet, the BPI, all the ways this will make no sense to the world. But for this moment, and as many moments as three determined people can make -- he has a home.
Characters/Pairing(s): Neal/Peter/El magic AU
Word Count: 736
Words/Prompts Used: let the cat out of the bag
[Spoiler (click to open)]
It's one of Neal's earliest memories: a cheap motel room, curled up in his mom's arms. He's crying because they can't go home, and it's his fault, and he can't feel his mom at all.
Looking back, Neal knows that she was just trying not to share her own feelings of self-blame and stark terror at what the future might hold for them. Two powerful empaths could feed off each others' emotions; two guilt-stricken empaths could spiral into a cloud of despair so thick people would be committing suicide for blocks around.
But at the time, all he knew was that she'd left him. She'd abandoned him inside his heart where it mattered most. It was the first time he'd ever felt alone, and he hated it.
Neal had learned how to be alone in his own skin; how not to feel what others felt. He learned how to make people feel even when he didn't, so he could con them more easily. But he'd never learned to like it.
Mozzie kept a barrier around himself at all times, like a hedge of thorns in a fairy tale. Neal couldn't read him at all. He couldn't touch him, either. Their partnership was based entirely on the idea that Neal would stay outside, and Neal didn't violate that trust. He needed someone who accepted him, even if he couldn't touch them.
Kate felt like home. She let him move inside her heart, and Neal fell gratefully in love with every emotion she had. If he let her drown him -- sometimes, always, joyfully -- it was his choice. Only his choice.
He'd thought it was her home, too. But then she left, and took all the color out of the world. Getting arrested, wearing a suppression collar in prison -- those were just acknowledgements of what was already true: he couldn't reach her.
Working for the BPI -- no, let's be precise, working with Peter -- was a revelation.
Peter never flinched away from Neal's touch; Neal had permission to feel Peter's emotions and share his own. But Peter made sure that Neal knew whose emotions were whose -- their boundaries were drawn in marker and easily crossed, but always, always present: This is Peter's; this is Neal's; these are the edges that touch.
Peter wouldn't let Neal drown, but he didn't leave Neal alone, either. It was maddening.
The few times Neal asked about it -- jokingly, of course -- Peter said that Neal deserved it. That drowning someone is taking away their free will, and though the law and the BPI might limit Neal's freedom, they should never enslave him.
So that first moment of the kiss, when Neal's lips touch El's, with Peter pressed against his back and magic flaring all around the three of them --
-- when Peter's emotions carve through Neal like a knife -- when Peter's desire burns in Neal's chest like a wildfire -- Neal dives into them without a moment's hesitation. He takes El's, too, currents swift and strong and coiling together, too strong for one body to hold. This is what he's been missing all these months, and even if all he gets is this kiss --
-- and he can feel Peter's swift denial at the thought, El's promise of more, both of them demanding that this is not the end but the beginning --
-- but even if this is all Neal can have, he wants it. All of it. Enough to drown in.
Neal feels the moment when Peter understands, Peter's hesitation -- disbelief, concern, determination -- and the moment when El refuses to allow him to pull back entirely.
Everything shimmers for a moment, off-balance and hazy in magic too strong to dissipate and too divided to coelesce --
-- and then Peter carefully, deftly, re-draws their boundaries.
This is Neal's.
This is Peter's.
This is El's.
This is Ours.
The shift settles in with the snick of a spell, a sharp pop like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Peter's talent, obviously, although none of them had ever thought it could work this way.
Neal doesn't know if it will work once they're not touching -- the anklet, the BPI, all the ways this will make no sense to the world. But for this moment, and as many moments as three determined people can make -- he has a home.
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