"More Sweet Than Tart", Peter/Neal, PG
Title: More Sweet Than Tart
Author: coffeethyme4me
Pairing: pre-Peter/Neal
Rating: PG
Words: 300
Prompts: "strawberries" from elrhiarhodan and "154 -- tart" at whitecollar100.
Summary: Peter tries to catch Neal dieting.
Warnings: none (except maybe for an anti-dieting pov)
A/N: Just flexing my weakened writing muscles with this, to see if they still work. No beta, so forgive my foibles.
Neal says it's just exercise and genetics, but Peter has a hard time believing that body ingests more than one cheeseburger a month, if that.
"Three or four," Neal tells him with a dazzling smile.
"But no fries."
"I love fries, Peter."
But Peter's been watching what Neal eats, just to catch him at some secret dieting.
The only thing that might count is the strawberries.
Neal brings baggies of them to work. Peter feels he's finally on to something. The man eats fruit for a snack. That's almost negative calories. Sometimes they're not even sweet, right? Peter's had some butt-puckering strawberries in his time.
Peter is convinced this is how Neal does it: office strawberries, and no deviled ham.
And the gym. Push-ups and pull-ups and wet, almost-naked swimming...
Peter hates dieting. He won't do it -- doesn't believe in it. He almost hates exercise. But he loves running his dog. He loves baseball. He really loves chasing a perp and wrestling him into submission. He never had to wrestle Neal, a fact he laments. But there was running. A lot of running.
Neal gets up from his desk and makes his way to the break room now. After a moment's indecision, Peter follows.
He finds Neal with his strawberries.
And sour cream.
And brown sugar.
Neal's mouth is full, the cream smeared across his cheek. "Hey, Peever."
Peter smiles.
"What?"
"Nothing," Peter says.
"Want some?" Neal holds out a strawberry.
Peter shakes his head.
Neal shrugs. "You should live a little, Peter." He dips a new strawberry. It's more cream and sugar than fruit.
"Want to come over tonight?" Peter blurts.
Neal hesitates. Then he lights up. "Sure."
Peter nods. The scent of fresh strawberries fills the air. Peter licks his lips. "Good," he says, and walks away.
Author: coffeethyme4me
Pairing: pre-Peter/Neal
Rating: PG
Words: 300
Prompts: "strawberries" from elrhiarhodan and "154 -- tart" at whitecollar100.
Summary: Peter tries to catch Neal dieting.
Warnings: none (except maybe for an anti-dieting pov)
A/N: Just flexing my weakened writing muscles with this, to see if they still work. No beta, so forgive my foibles.
Neal says it's just exercise and genetics, but Peter has a hard time believing that body ingests more than one cheeseburger a month, if that.
"Three or four," Neal tells him with a dazzling smile.
"But no fries."
"I love fries, Peter."
But Peter's been watching what Neal eats, just to catch him at some secret dieting.
The only thing that might count is the strawberries.
Neal brings baggies of them to work. Peter feels he's finally on to something. The man eats fruit for a snack. That's almost negative calories. Sometimes they're not even sweet, right? Peter's had some butt-puckering strawberries in his time.
Peter is convinced this is how Neal does it: office strawberries, and no deviled ham.
And the gym. Push-ups and pull-ups and wet, almost-naked swimming...
Peter hates dieting. He won't do it -- doesn't believe in it. He almost hates exercise. But he loves running his dog. He loves baseball. He really loves chasing a perp and wrestling him into submission. He never had to wrestle Neal, a fact he laments. But there was running. A lot of running.
Neal gets up from his desk and makes his way to the break room now. After a moment's indecision, Peter follows.
He finds Neal with his strawberries.
And sour cream.
And brown sugar.
Neal's mouth is full, the cream smeared across his cheek. "Hey, Peever."
Peter smiles.
"What?"
"Nothing," Peter says.
"Want some?" Neal holds out a strawberry.
Peter shakes his head.
Neal shrugs. "You should live a little, Peter." He dips a new strawberry. It's more cream and sugar than fruit.
"Want to come over tonight?" Peter blurts.
Neal hesitates. Then he lights up. "Sure."
Peter nods. The scent of fresh strawberries fills the air. Peter licks his lips. "Good," he says, and walks away.