Fic (White Collar): And I Feel Fine
Title: And I Feel Fine
Author: cookielaura
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Sara, mentions of Mozzie, Peter, et al, a smidge of Neal/Sara
Wordcount: 602
Rating: PG, references to apocalypse
Summary: Post-apocalypse, Neal and Sara go on a supply run
Notes: Written for sholio's fandom stocking; title from REM
“You’ll thank me when the world ends,” Mozzie had always said, when Neal had gently teased him about his safe-houses, his over-amped security, and his stockpiling. Neal had tended to think that his precautions against nuclear war, the next big plague and the zombie apocalypse were unnecessary at best.
Of course, in the end, it had been Mozzie that had saved them all, and Neal hadn’t been the only one to thank him. Even Peter had, grudgingly, told him he didn’t know what they’d have done without him.
(Died along with everyone else, no doubt.)
It was Neal and Sara’s turn, today, to do the foraging. They all knew that Mozzie’s supplies would start to run low eventually, with such a large group drawing from them. Fortunately, the city was safe enough now to emerge, once a week or so, to pick up a few more provisions. As long as they went in pairs, and stayed together. And were heavily armed.
The trunk of their car was now filled with canned food and bottled water, and the back seat was covered in the other things that only Neal and Sara ever risked taking - art supplies, clothes, designer heels. Peter would put his hands on his hips when they returned, and give them another lecture on the needlessness of endangering their lives for material goods, but Neal would just shrug and smile, and Sara would tell Peter once again that the end of the world was no excuse for dressing poorly, and eventually he’d sigh and help them unload the goods.
(Peter had mellowed a little, now that there were no longer any laws to uphold, or to chastise Neal for breaking).
The city was quieter than usual today. The sun was bright and the sky was clear, and those were the safest times. Neal had suggested a small deviation from the usual shopping route, and Sara hadn’t been able to resist. For old time’s sake.
So there they stood, on the roof of the FBI building, one of the few urban structures left mostly intact. For a while, they looked out across the charred, jagged remains of the New York City skyline without speaking.
“Our first date,” Neal said at last, smiling across at Sara. The sunlight was glinting off her hair, and she was the one bright, shining point in a landscape of grey and black.
“It wasn’t a date,” Sara replied automatically. “And it was a little noisier then.” Neal nodded, remembering the hum of the traffic, the car horns, the shouts on the street below them. The soundtrack to his life, back then.
It was silent now. If he made himself forget why, then it was oddly peaceful.
“Confucius was right about you, you know,” Sara said, after a while.
Neal gave her a questioning look.
“You do make great soups,” she said with a smile.
“Ah, yes. Bet you never thought you’d have to eat so many of them,” Neal replied. They’d consumed a huge amount of Neal’s soups over the last few months, alongside June and El’s stews compiled from canned goods, and Peter’s occasional attempt at making a pot roast with some animal he’d found and killed.
Sara shrugged. “It could be worse,” she said, and reached out for Neal’s hand.
Neal drew her in close. It seemed wrong to say that, when the city was empty and bereft beneath them. And yet, they had each other. And Peter, El, Moz, Diana, Jones and June. Even Satchmo and Bugsy. Somehow, Sara was right.
“Yeah,’ Neal said, kissing the top of her head. “It could be worse.”
Author: cookielaura
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Sara, mentions of Mozzie, Peter, et al, a smidge of Neal/Sara
Wordcount: 602
Rating: PG, references to apocalypse
Summary: Post-apocalypse, Neal and Sara go on a supply run
Notes: Written for sholio's fandom stocking; title from REM
“You’ll thank me when the world ends,” Mozzie had always said, when Neal had gently teased him about his safe-houses, his over-amped security, and his stockpiling. Neal had tended to think that his precautions against nuclear war, the next big plague and the zombie apocalypse were unnecessary at best.
Of course, in the end, it had been Mozzie that had saved them all, and Neal hadn’t been the only one to thank him. Even Peter had, grudgingly, told him he didn’t know what they’d have done without him.
(Died along with everyone else, no doubt.)
It was Neal and Sara’s turn, today, to do the foraging. They all knew that Mozzie’s supplies would start to run low eventually, with such a large group drawing from them. Fortunately, the city was safe enough now to emerge, once a week or so, to pick up a few more provisions. As long as they went in pairs, and stayed together. And were heavily armed.
The trunk of their car was now filled with canned food and bottled water, and the back seat was covered in the other things that only Neal and Sara ever risked taking - art supplies, clothes, designer heels. Peter would put his hands on his hips when they returned, and give them another lecture on the needlessness of endangering their lives for material goods, but Neal would just shrug and smile, and Sara would tell Peter once again that the end of the world was no excuse for dressing poorly, and eventually he’d sigh and help them unload the goods.
(Peter had mellowed a little, now that there were no longer any laws to uphold, or to chastise Neal for breaking).
The city was quieter than usual today. The sun was bright and the sky was clear, and those were the safest times. Neal had suggested a small deviation from the usual shopping route, and Sara hadn’t been able to resist. For old time’s sake.
So there they stood, on the roof of the FBI building, one of the few urban structures left mostly intact. For a while, they looked out across the charred, jagged remains of the New York City skyline without speaking.
“Our first date,” Neal said at last, smiling across at Sara. The sunlight was glinting off her hair, and she was the one bright, shining point in a landscape of grey and black.
“It wasn’t a date,” Sara replied automatically. “And it was a little noisier then.” Neal nodded, remembering the hum of the traffic, the car horns, the shouts on the street below them. The soundtrack to his life, back then.
It was silent now. If he made himself forget why, then it was oddly peaceful.
“Confucius was right about you, you know,” Sara said, after a while.
Neal gave her a questioning look.
“You do make great soups,” she said with a smile.
“Ah, yes. Bet you never thought you’d have to eat so many of them,” Neal replied. They’d consumed a huge amount of Neal’s soups over the last few months, alongside June and El’s stews compiled from canned goods, and Peter’s occasional attempt at making a pot roast with some animal he’d found and killed.
Sara shrugged. “It could be worse,” she said, and reached out for Neal’s hand.
Neal drew her in close. It seemed wrong to say that, when the city was empty and bereft beneath them. And yet, they had each other. And Peter, El, Moz, Diana, Jones and June. Even Satchmo and Bugsy. Somehow, Sara was right.
“Yeah,’ Neal said, kissing the top of her head. “It could be worse.”