Fic (White Collar): Identity Crisis
Title: Identity Crisis
Author: cookielaura
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Mozzie, Neal, gen (pretty much)
Wordcount: 1,400
Rating: PG... mentions of nakedness!
Summary: One day, Neal will stop touching mysterious objects and being transformed into animals, but today is not that day.
Notes: Written a year ago for elrhiarhodan's fandom stocking! I was sorting out a GYWO recap post for 2016 and noticed I'd never posted this here, so...
Peter had everything he needed for a perfect, quiet Saturday afternoon. Beer, Satchmo, a comfortable couch, a baseball game on TV and the promise of dinner with Elizabeth when she arrived home later. It was almost too good to be true, and as he settled down to watch the pre-game, he couldn’t stop himself from checking Neal’s tracking data, just to reassure himself that this wasn’t the quiet before the storm. To his relief, the dot that represented Neal’s anklet was steadily blinking away in the center of his apartment. Nothing to worry about, for once.
Peter had just raised the bottle of beer to his lips when his cell rang. He fished it from his pocket, hoping to see El’s name on the screen, but it simply said Unknown Number.
“Hello?” he said, a little reluctantly. The only people who called him from unknown numbers were salespeople or, on the odd occasion, Mozzie, from one of his many burner phones. He had no desire to speak to either.
“Suit,” came the curt response, and Peter sighed heavily and set down his beer.
“What is it, Mozzie?”
“I was hoping you might be able to provide a little...assistance to our mutual friend,” said Mozzie.
Peter sat up straighter. “Assistance? Is Neal okay?”
There was a pause, and a small shuffle. “He appears to be in fine health,” came the eventual response.
Fine health? “Then what do you need me for? Is he in trouble?” Again? “What law have you broken this time?”
“I can assure you that no laws have been broken today,” Mozzie said, a little indignantly. “Neal is simply suffering what you might call… an identity crisis.”
Peter frowned and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. Having a conversation with Mozzie was rarely straightforward, but this was oblique even for him.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Mozzie sighed down the phone line. “Just come over, okay?” He hung up without further ado, and Peter found himself staring at the cell phone in his hand and wondering what had possessed him to pick up the call in the first place.
---
Peter had barely started to knock on Neal’s apartment door when it swung open to reveal Mozzie.
“You took your time,” Mozzie said by way of welcome, standing back to let Peter - who had left immediately and driven above the speed limit all the way from Brooklyn - into the room.
“Where’s Neal?” Peter asked, stepping in and scanning the room. Neal’s tracking dot hadn’t moved, but he couldn’t see him in the apartment. He was just about to round the corner and see if Neal was on the couch, when a small, black bundle of fur skittered over to him, skidding on the wooden floor, and landed in a pile at his feet.
He glanced down with a frown. “Neal’s got a cat?” he asked.
Mozzie grimaced. “Not exactly.”
“Have you and Neal stolen a cat?” Peter said, feeling the beginnings of a headache. The little kitten got to its feet and rose up on its hind legs, putting its paws on Peter’s shins. It looked up at him beseechingly.
“Ah - no,” said Mozzie. “Maybe you should sit down.” He motioned Peter over to the couch.
“I don’t want to sit, I want to know where Neal is,” Peter snapped, but he followed Mozzie anyway and perched on the edge of the couch. The kitten followed him determinedly, and once Peter was seated, it leapt up onto the cushion next to him.
Mozzie remained standing, looking a little uncomfortable. “Neal is...right here,” he said, nodded at the fluffy creature that had pressed itself against the side of Peter’s leg and was resting its head on Peter’s thigh, its blue eyes focused on Peter’s face.
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“He’s a cat,” Mozzie said, in a tone that suggested he thought this further explanation should have been redundant.
Peter tried not to growl at Mozzie. “Very funny. Tell me where Neal is right now.”
“I have told you,” Mozzie said firmly. Then he spoke to the kitten. “You could help me out here, Neal.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words, the black kitten lifted its head from his thigh, uncurled its little body and jumped up onto Peter’s lap. It pushed its head in between Peter’s open jacket and his shirt, and started nosing around in the inside pocket of the jacket.
Peter blinked, and then tried to gently push the cat’s head away, but the little animal was determined and ducked under his hand. After a few moments, the cat had latched onto something with its teeth, and after a few seconds more, the cat had sat back down on Peter’s lap, Peter’s leather wallet firmly grasped in his mouth. The kitten dropped the wallet onto Peter’s crotch and then sat back, looking very pleased with itself.
Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he stared, first at the kitten and then at Mozzie. “What…?” he said, stunned.
Mozzie shrugged. “I came into possession of an object that has been rumored to change those who touch it into animals. Temporarily, thankfully. I was smart enough not to touch it, but Neal…” He sighed. “Neal didn’t think it would work. Obviously, he was wrong.”
Peter felt as though he were dreaming. “But… this will undo itself? Neal will turn back to normal soon?”
Mozzie nodded. “Yes, but unfortunately I have a prior appointment with… well, let's just say I have a prior appointment. And I didn’t want to leave him on his own, so, here you are.” He checked his watch. “And now I really must be going.”
Peter started, alarmed. “You’re just going to leave me here with him?”
Mozzie gave him a condescending look. “He’s a kitten, Suit. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“But…” Peter was utterly out of his element, but Neal seemed unbothered by the proceedings. He had nosed Peter’s wallet out of the way so that it had fallen onto the couch cushion, and had curled himself back up into a tight ball on Peter’s jeans-clad lap. He blinked lazily up at Peter and looked utterly content.
“It’ll only be a matter of hours, maybe even minutes, if the rumors are true,” Mozzie said, as he headed towards the door.
“Wait!” Peter said, his eyes following Mozzie and suddenly noticing the pile of clothes on the floor in the middle of apartment. “Are those Neal’s?” he asked, pointing. It wasn’t really necessary, as a moment later he spotted the anklet peeking out from under the edge of a pair of pants, its green dot shining away happily.
“Of course,” Mozzie said, opening the door.
“But -” Peter started. “What will he be wearing when he turns back?”
“Nothing, I presume,” Mozzie said over his shoulder, and then the door banged shut and Peter was left staring down at the kitten on his lap.
“Well, that’s not acceptable,” Peter said grimly, wrapping his hands around the cat’s body in an attempt to place him elsewhere and cover him with a blanket, but the kitten meowed pitifully and dug its claws into Peter’s legs, holding on for dear life.
“Ow! Stop that! What’s wrong?” Peter asked exasperatedly, rolling his eyes at himself for talking to a kitten. He wouldn’t put it past Neal and Mozzie for this to all be an elaborate prank, and for them to be filming him for their amusement.
The kitten just settled down again and pushed its head into Peter’s stomach, giving a soft purr that very definitely said: I’m staying right here.
Peter gazed down at the very small, very warm kitten, who had pressed himself as close to Peter as possible. He supposed it was possible the kitten - Neal - was scared. Peter slowly, hesitantly, let his hand settle gently on Neal’s curled back, and stroked the cat carefully, feeling more than a little embarrassed. He was taken aback when a much louder, heartier purr came from the cat’s throat, and the cat pushed itself up into Peter’s touch.
Peter sighed and carried on stroking, resigning himself to the fact that the kitten wasn’t going anywhere, and in a few minutes or hours, he was going to find himself with a lap full of a very naked Neal Caffrey.
And he found himself thinking, against his will... Things could be worse.
Author: cookielaura
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Mozzie, Neal, gen (pretty much)
Wordcount: 1,400
Rating: PG... mentions of nakedness!
Summary: One day, Neal will stop touching mysterious objects and being transformed into animals, but today is not that day.
Notes: Written a year ago for elrhiarhodan's fandom stocking! I was sorting out a GYWO recap post for 2016 and noticed I'd never posted this here, so...
Peter had everything he needed for a perfect, quiet Saturday afternoon. Beer, Satchmo, a comfortable couch, a baseball game on TV and the promise of dinner with Elizabeth when she arrived home later. It was almost too good to be true, and as he settled down to watch the pre-game, he couldn’t stop himself from checking Neal’s tracking data, just to reassure himself that this wasn’t the quiet before the storm. To his relief, the dot that represented Neal’s anklet was steadily blinking away in the center of his apartment. Nothing to worry about, for once.
Peter had just raised the bottle of beer to his lips when his cell rang. He fished it from his pocket, hoping to see El’s name on the screen, but it simply said Unknown Number.
“Hello?” he said, a little reluctantly. The only people who called him from unknown numbers were salespeople or, on the odd occasion, Mozzie, from one of his many burner phones. He had no desire to speak to either.
“Suit,” came the curt response, and Peter sighed heavily and set down his beer.
“What is it, Mozzie?”
“I was hoping you might be able to provide a little...assistance to our mutual friend,” said Mozzie.
Peter sat up straighter. “Assistance? Is Neal okay?”
There was a pause, and a small shuffle. “He appears to be in fine health,” came the eventual response.
Fine health? “Then what do you need me for? Is he in trouble?” Again? “What law have you broken this time?”
“I can assure you that no laws have been broken today,” Mozzie said, a little indignantly. “Neal is simply suffering what you might call… an identity crisis.”
Peter frowned and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. Having a conversation with Mozzie was rarely straightforward, but this was oblique even for him.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Mozzie sighed down the phone line. “Just come over, okay?” He hung up without further ado, and Peter found himself staring at the cell phone in his hand and wondering what had possessed him to pick up the call in the first place.
---
Peter had barely started to knock on Neal’s apartment door when it swung open to reveal Mozzie.
“You took your time,” Mozzie said by way of welcome, standing back to let Peter - who had left immediately and driven above the speed limit all the way from Brooklyn - into the room.
“Where’s Neal?” Peter asked, stepping in and scanning the room. Neal’s tracking dot hadn’t moved, but he couldn’t see him in the apartment. He was just about to round the corner and see if Neal was on the couch, when a small, black bundle of fur skittered over to him, skidding on the wooden floor, and landed in a pile at his feet.
He glanced down with a frown. “Neal’s got a cat?” he asked.
Mozzie grimaced. “Not exactly.”
“Have you and Neal stolen a cat?” Peter said, feeling the beginnings of a headache. The little kitten got to its feet and rose up on its hind legs, putting its paws on Peter’s shins. It looked up at him beseechingly.
“Ah - no,” said Mozzie. “Maybe you should sit down.” He motioned Peter over to the couch.
“I don’t want to sit, I want to know where Neal is,” Peter snapped, but he followed Mozzie anyway and perched on the edge of the couch. The kitten followed him determinedly, and once Peter was seated, it leapt up onto the cushion next to him.
Mozzie remained standing, looking a little uncomfortable. “Neal is...right here,” he said, nodded at the fluffy creature that had pressed itself against the side of Peter’s leg and was resting its head on Peter’s thigh, its blue eyes focused on Peter’s face.
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“He’s a cat,” Mozzie said, in a tone that suggested he thought this further explanation should have been redundant.
Peter tried not to growl at Mozzie. “Very funny. Tell me where Neal is right now.”
“I have told you,” Mozzie said firmly. Then he spoke to the kitten. “You could help me out here, Neal.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words, the black kitten lifted its head from his thigh, uncurled its little body and jumped up onto Peter’s lap. It pushed its head in between Peter’s open jacket and his shirt, and started nosing around in the inside pocket of the jacket.
Peter blinked, and then tried to gently push the cat’s head away, but the little animal was determined and ducked under his hand. After a few moments, the cat had latched onto something with its teeth, and after a few seconds more, the cat had sat back down on Peter’s lap, Peter’s leather wallet firmly grasped in his mouth. The kitten dropped the wallet onto Peter’s crotch and then sat back, looking very pleased with itself.
Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he stared, first at the kitten and then at Mozzie. “What…?” he said, stunned.
Mozzie shrugged. “I came into possession of an object that has been rumored to change those who touch it into animals. Temporarily, thankfully. I was smart enough not to touch it, but Neal…” He sighed. “Neal didn’t think it would work. Obviously, he was wrong.”
Peter felt as though he were dreaming. “But… this will undo itself? Neal will turn back to normal soon?”
Mozzie nodded. “Yes, but unfortunately I have a prior appointment with… well, let's just say I have a prior appointment. And I didn’t want to leave him on his own, so, here you are.” He checked his watch. “And now I really must be going.”
Peter started, alarmed. “You’re just going to leave me here with him?”
Mozzie gave him a condescending look. “He’s a kitten, Suit. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“But…” Peter was utterly out of his element, but Neal seemed unbothered by the proceedings. He had nosed Peter’s wallet out of the way so that it had fallen onto the couch cushion, and had curled himself back up into a tight ball on Peter’s jeans-clad lap. He blinked lazily up at Peter and looked utterly content.
“It’ll only be a matter of hours, maybe even minutes, if the rumors are true,” Mozzie said, as he headed towards the door.
“Wait!” Peter said, his eyes following Mozzie and suddenly noticing the pile of clothes on the floor in the middle of apartment. “Are those Neal’s?” he asked, pointing. It wasn’t really necessary, as a moment later he spotted the anklet peeking out from under the edge of a pair of pants, its green dot shining away happily.
“Of course,” Mozzie said, opening the door.
“But -” Peter started. “What will he be wearing when he turns back?”
“Nothing, I presume,” Mozzie said over his shoulder, and then the door banged shut and Peter was left staring down at the kitten on his lap.
“Well, that’s not acceptable,” Peter said grimly, wrapping his hands around the cat’s body in an attempt to place him elsewhere and cover him with a blanket, but the kitten meowed pitifully and dug its claws into Peter’s legs, holding on for dear life.
“Ow! Stop that! What’s wrong?” Peter asked exasperatedly, rolling his eyes at himself for talking to a kitten. He wouldn’t put it past Neal and Mozzie for this to all be an elaborate prank, and for them to be filming him for their amusement.
The kitten just settled down again and pushed its head into Peter’s stomach, giving a soft purr that very definitely said: I’m staying right here.
Peter gazed down at the very small, very warm kitten, who had pressed himself as close to Peter as possible. He supposed it was possible the kitten - Neal - was scared. Peter slowly, hesitantly, let his hand settle gently on Neal’s curled back, and stroked the cat carefully, feeling more than a little embarrassed. He was taken aback when a much louder, heartier purr came from the cat’s throat, and the cat pushed itself up into Peter’s touch.
Peter sighed and carried on stroking, resigning himself to the fact that the kitten wasn’t going anywhere, and in a few minutes or hours, he was going to find himself with a lap full of a very naked Neal Caffrey.
And he found himself thinking, against his will... Things could be worse.