Fanfic (White Collar): Let Yourself Rest
Title: Let Yourself Rest
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Peter, El, gen
Wordcount: 1,580
Rating: G
Summary: Neal is recuperating from an injury at the Burkes, and really wants to earn his keep
Notes: Written for
whitecollarhc advent calendar - happy holidays everyone! Inspired by a prompt from
kanarek13 (I'm sorry I couldn't fit more cuddles into this one for you!). This was written pretty late in the day and is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes :) This is set around season 1 when Peter was still pretending he didn't adore Neal :D
Elizabeth was already unwinding her scarf as she stepped through the front door. Her Saturday afternoon event had dragged on and on, and she was happy to finally be home, ready to spend the evening with her husband - and, of course, their current visitor. She could hear them now, talking in the living room as she slipped out of her shoes and started to brush the snow from her coat.
“I could do the laundry,” Neal was saying.
“No,” came Peter’s voice, with a weariness that implied it was the hundredth time he’d said the word that day.
“I could decorate the tree,” Neal offered.
“No.”
“Why not? It’s not exactly a strenuous task, Peter.”
“Because you’ve got an injured ankle and a head wound, and the doctor said you’re to rest, that’s why not,” Peter said firmly. “If you don’t follow his advice, you’ll delay your recovery and you’ll still be darkening my couch well into the new year.”
Elizabeth entered the living room just in time to see the smile on Neal’s face falter a little at Peter’s words, but when he saw her his grin returned full force.
“Elizabeth!” he said happily, and she couldn’t help but smile at the image of him lying on her couch, wearing sweats, his hair un-gelled and falling over his bandaged forehead. It wasn’t often she got to see Neal when he wasn’t projecting a carefully crafted image.
“Hi sweetie,” she said, patting him on his uninjured foot and then crossing the room to kiss Peter.
“Hey hon,” he said, putting down his newspaper. “How did it go?”
“Exhausting,” El replied. “The toasts lasted forever, and everything ran behind schedule. I thought I was never going to get home.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” Peter said with a grin. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of wine?”
Elizabeth gladly accepted, curling her feet up on the chair. “How are you feeling, Neal?” she asked as she got comfortable.
“Better, thanks,” Neal said. “My head barely even hurts. In fact, I was just suggesting to Peter that I decorate the tree, save you a job?”
Elizabeth repressed a smile. “I’m pretty sure I heard him give you an answer to that, too,” she said.
Neal rolled his eyes. “I’ve been resting all day. I can manage to hang some ornaments. Or whatever else you need.”
“We don’t need anything,” El replied. “Besides, you wouldn’t even be injured if Peter hadn’t asked you to help him put the lights up on the roof. You’ve done enough.”
Neal shrugged. “I was happy to help. I’m just sorry you ended up with an unexpected house guest. I know the run-up to Christmas is busy enough without that.”
“You’re no trouble,” Elizabeth said. “Just relax.” And then, when it looked as though Neal was going to argue, she followed it up with: “Maybe you can help me when I decorate the tree tomorrow. You can supervise from the couch and tell me whether the ornaments are evenly placed. I could use your artistic eye. Peter always just tells me they look fine.”
Neal smiled, and as always it was dazzling. “Deal,” he said.
----
“Do you think Neal’s okay?” Elizabeth asked Peter a half hour later, in their bedroom. Peter was rooting around under the bed for a box of Christmas decorations El was sure she had stored there.
“Uhuh,” Peter said distractedly. He pulled out a shoebox. “This one?”
“No, I think it’s a red box,” El said. “Hon, do you think he’s all right?”
“He’ll be fine,” Peter said, sitting back on his heels. “He’ll be able to put weight on his ankle in a couple days. And the meds seem to be helping with the pain.”
“No, I mean…” Elizabeth hesitated, unsure how to explain. “He just seems a little over-eager to help. Like he’s worried. About being useful enough.”
Peter frowned, his face clouding over, and then he shook his head. “No, I’m sure… he wouldn’t have taken it to heart.”
“Taken what to heart?” El asked, her voice sharper than intended.
“When I asked him to help me put the lights on the roof,” Peter said, slowly, “he joked that he thought an evening up a ladder in the cold didn’t sound much fun. And I might have told him to…make himself useful for once.”
“Peter!”
“What? It’s just an expression. And he knows exactly how useful and talented he is.”
El sighed. She knew Peter cared about Neal far more than he let on, but he had a habit of making offhand remarks that needled their way under Neal’s skin.
“Why don’t -” she started, but was interrupted by a crash from downstairs. She exchanged a worried look with Peter, and they both started for the stairs.
By the time they made it to the kitchen, Neal was on his hands and knees, clearing up pieces of broken china from the floor.
“Neal! What are you doing?” Peter asked, stepping carefully over to him. He pulled him gently away from the mess by his arm.
“I broke a bowl. I’m sorry - I just thought I’d make dinner, but I guess I’m still a bit wobbly on these meds, and…” Neal shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Elizabeth’s heart went out to him.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll clear it up. And there’s stew in the fridge that I was going to reheat for tonight, so you don’t need to worry about dinner. Peter will help you back to the couch.”
“I don’t need -” Neal started, but Peter was already guiding him out of the kitchen.
Elizabeth swept up the china remnants, tipped them into the garbage and then poked her head back into the living room to check on Neal. She swallowed a laugh when she saw Peter standing guard, arms folded, at the end of the couch, to make sure Neal didn’t move again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to keep that up all evening.
----
“I do love your beef stew,” Peter declared, putting his knife and fork down at the end of his second helping.
Elizabeth smiled. “I can see that,” she teased.
Peter stood to start clearing the plates, and Neal automatically followed suit, reaching for the pot in the center of the table. Elizabeth put her hand out and gently stopped him.
“Probably not a good idea,” she said lightly. “Besides, it’s definitely Peter’s turn to do the dishes tonight. I don’t want him slacking off.”
Neal stood, his weight on his good ankle, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to insist he could help or not.
“You know what you could do, though?” El said, before Neal made up his mind. She cast around for a job that would make Neal feel useful, but that could be done sitting down and didn’t require much energy. “You could help me figure out a napkin design for my next event.”
Neal grinned. “I can definitely do that.”
----
“That is stunning,” Elizabeth said, running a finger over the Christmas tree shape Neal had crafted from a cloth napkin. It looked elaborate but had been surprisingly simple to construct. “These will be perfect.”
“How many do you need?” Neal asked, stifling a yawn as he shifted on the sofa.
“Thirty-five for the event, I think,” Elizabeth said. “And I think I’m gonna need three for our Christmas dinner too, I like them so much.”
“Three?” Neal said. “You’re not having a big Christmas?”
“No, just a quiet one this year,” El said, examining the napkin from the side. “Just the three of us. If you’re free, of course?”
She looked up to find Neal’s jaw had dropped very slightly. “Me? As in, for the third place?”
“Sure. If you’d like to join us? I told Peter to ask you a couple weeks ago, but I’m guessing he forgot.”
Neal raised an eyebrow. “He probably forgot on purpose,” he joked, though Elizabeth could tell he believed that was true. She knew it wasn’t.
“No,” she said, firmly. “It was his suggestion to invite you.”
Neal stared at her for a moment. “It was?”
“Absolutely. Though I would have thought of it if he hadn’t. And before you ask, you don’t need to bring anything. So, will you come?”
“Yes,” Neal said, a genuine smile spreading slowly across his face. “I will.”
----
“You guys come up with something?” Peter asked as he wandered in from the kitchen, having finished the dishes.
“Shhh,” Elizabeth said, indicating the couch. Neal was lying down, surrounded by different folded napkin designs, one on his chest and the others scattered by his side. He was fast asleep. He’d dozed off almost mid-sentence, presumably thanks to the meds.
Peter spent a moment looking as though he was trying very hard not to smile, then gave up. She couldn’t blame him; it was an adorable image.
“Let him rest a couple hours on there,” El whispered to him.
Peter nodded, and then to Elizabeth’s surprise, he picked a blanket up off the top of one of the chairs, shook it out lightly and draped it over Neal’s sleeping form.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him, and Peter shrugged.
“Don’t want him waking up and trying to help again,” he whispered, sitting down next to her.
“Sure,” she said, leaning her head against him and hiding her smile in his shoulder. She watched Neal as he slept, looking relaxed at last.
-end-
This entry was originally posted at https://cookiegirl.dreamwidth.org/78128.html.
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Peter, El, gen
Wordcount: 1,580
Rating: G
Summary: Neal is recuperating from an injury at the Burkes, and really wants to earn his keep
Notes: Written for
whitecollarhc advent calendar - happy holidays everyone! Inspired by a prompt from
kanarek13 (I'm sorry I couldn't fit more cuddles into this one for you!). This was written pretty late in the day and is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes :) This is set around season 1 when Peter was still pretending he didn't adore Neal :D
Elizabeth was already unwinding her scarf as she stepped through the front door. Her Saturday afternoon event had dragged on and on, and she was happy to finally be home, ready to spend the evening with her husband - and, of course, their current visitor. She could hear them now, talking in the living room as she slipped out of her shoes and started to brush the snow from her coat.
“I could do the laundry,” Neal was saying.
“No,” came Peter’s voice, with a weariness that implied it was the hundredth time he’d said the word that day.
“I could decorate the tree,” Neal offered.
“No.”
“Why not? It’s not exactly a strenuous task, Peter.”
“Because you’ve got an injured ankle and a head wound, and the doctor said you’re to rest, that’s why not,” Peter said firmly. “If you don’t follow his advice, you’ll delay your recovery and you’ll still be darkening my couch well into the new year.”
Elizabeth entered the living room just in time to see the smile on Neal’s face falter a little at Peter’s words, but when he saw her his grin returned full force.
“Elizabeth!” he said happily, and she couldn’t help but smile at the image of him lying on her couch, wearing sweats, his hair un-gelled and falling over his bandaged forehead. It wasn’t often she got to see Neal when he wasn’t projecting a carefully crafted image.
“Hi sweetie,” she said, patting him on his uninjured foot and then crossing the room to kiss Peter.
“Hey hon,” he said, putting down his newspaper. “How did it go?”
“Exhausting,” El replied. “The toasts lasted forever, and everything ran behind schedule. I thought I was never going to get home.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” Peter said with a grin. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of wine?”
Elizabeth gladly accepted, curling her feet up on the chair. “How are you feeling, Neal?” she asked as she got comfortable.
“Better, thanks,” Neal said. “My head barely even hurts. In fact, I was just suggesting to Peter that I decorate the tree, save you a job?”
Elizabeth repressed a smile. “I’m pretty sure I heard him give you an answer to that, too,” she said.
Neal rolled his eyes. “I’ve been resting all day. I can manage to hang some ornaments. Or whatever else you need.”
“We don’t need anything,” El replied. “Besides, you wouldn’t even be injured if Peter hadn’t asked you to help him put the lights up on the roof. You’ve done enough.”
Neal shrugged. “I was happy to help. I’m just sorry you ended up with an unexpected house guest. I know the run-up to Christmas is busy enough without that.”
“You’re no trouble,” Elizabeth said. “Just relax.” And then, when it looked as though Neal was going to argue, she followed it up with: “Maybe you can help me when I decorate the tree tomorrow. You can supervise from the couch and tell me whether the ornaments are evenly placed. I could use your artistic eye. Peter always just tells me they look fine.”
Neal smiled, and as always it was dazzling. “Deal,” he said.
----
“Do you think Neal’s okay?” Elizabeth asked Peter a half hour later, in their bedroom. Peter was rooting around under the bed for a box of Christmas decorations El was sure she had stored there.
“Uhuh,” Peter said distractedly. He pulled out a shoebox. “This one?”
“No, I think it’s a red box,” El said. “Hon, do you think he’s all right?”
“He’ll be fine,” Peter said, sitting back on his heels. “He’ll be able to put weight on his ankle in a couple days. And the meds seem to be helping with the pain.”
“No, I mean…” Elizabeth hesitated, unsure how to explain. “He just seems a little over-eager to help. Like he’s worried. About being useful enough.”
Peter frowned, his face clouding over, and then he shook his head. “No, I’m sure… he wouldn’t have taken it to heart.”
“Taken what to heart?” El asked, her voice sharper than intended.
“When I asked him to help me put the lights on the roof,” Peter said, slowly, “he joked that he thought an evening up a ladder in the cold didn’t sound much fun. And I might have told him to…make himself useful for once.”
“Peter!”
“What? It’s just an expression. And he knows exactly how useful and talented he is.”
El sighed. She knew Peter cared about Neal far more than he let on, but he had a habit of making offhand remarks that needled their way under Neal’s skin.
“Why don’t -” she started, but was interrupted by a crash from downstairs. She exchanged a worried look with Peter, and they both started for the stairs.
By the time they made it to the kitchen, Neal was on his hands and knees, clearing up pieces of broken china from the floor.
“Neal! What are you doing?” Peter asked, stepping carefully over to him. He pulled him gently away from the mess by his arm.
“I broke a bowl. I’m sorry - I just thought I’d make dinner, but I guess I’m still a bit wobbly on these meds, and…” Neal shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Elizabeth’s heart went out to him.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll clear it up. And there’s stew in the fridge that I was going to reheat for tonight, so you don’t need to worry about dinner. Peter will help you back to the couch.”
“I don’t need -” Neal started, but Peter was already guiding him out of the kitchen.
Elizabeth swept up the china remnants, tipped them into the garbage and then poked her head back into the living room to check on Neal. She swallowed a laugh when she saw Peter standing guard, arms folded, at the end of the couch, to make sure Neal didn’t move again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to keep that up all evening.
----
“I do love your beef stew,” Peter declared, putting his knife and fork down at the end of his second helping.
Elizabeth smiled. “I can see that,” she teased.
Peter stood to start clearing the plates, and Neal automatically followed suit, reaching for the pot in the center of the table. Elizabeth put her hand out and gently stopped him.
“Probably not a good idea,” she said lightly. “Besides, it’s definitely Peter’s turn to do the dishes tonight. I don’t want him slacking off.”
Neal stood, his weight on his good ankle, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to insist he could help or not.
“You know what you could do, though?” El said, before Neal made up his mind. She cast around for a job that would make Neal feel useful, but that could be done sitting down and didn’t require much energy. “You could help me figure out a napkin design for my next event.”
Neal grinned. “I can definitely do that.”
----
“That is stunning,” Elizabeth said, running a finger over the Christmas tree shape Neal had crafted from a cloth napkin. It looked elaborate but had been surprisingly simple to construct. “These will be perfect.”
“How many do you need?” Neal asked, stifling a yawn as he shifted on the sofa.
“Thirty-five for the event, I think,” Elizabeth said. “And I think I’m gonna need three for our Christmas dinner too, I like them so much.”
“Three?” Neal said. “You’re not having a big Christmas?”
“No, just a quiet one this year,” El said, examining the napkin from the side. “Just the three of us. If you’re free, of course?”
She looked up to find Neal’s jaw had dropped very slightly. “Me? As in, for the third place?”
“Sure. If you’d like to join us? I told Peter to ask you a couple weeks ago, but I’m guessing he forgot.”
Neal raised an eyebrow. “He probably forgot on purpose,” he joked, though Elizabeth could tell he believed that was true. She knew it wasn’t.
“No,” she said, firmly. “It was his suggestion to invite you.”
Neal stared at her for a moment. “It was?”
“Absolutely. Though I would have thought of it if he hadn’t. And before you ask, you don’t need to bring anything. So, will you come?”
“Yes,” Neal said, a genuine smile spreading slowly across his face. “I will.”
----
“You guys come up with something?” Peter asked as he wandered in from the kitchen, having finished the dishes.
“Shhh,” Elizabeth said, indicating the couch. Neal was lying down, surrounded by different folded napkin designs, one on his chest and the others scattered by his side. He was fast asleep. He’d dozed off almost mid-sentence, presumably thanks to the meds.
Peter spent a moment looking as though he was trying very hard not to smile, then gave up. She couldn’t blame him; it was an adorable image.
“Let him rest a couple hours on there,” El whispered to him.
Peter nodded, and then to Elizabeth’s surprise, he picked a blanket up off the top of one of the chairs, shook it out lightly and draped it over Neal’s sleeping form.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him, and Peter shrugged.
“Don’t want him waking up and trying to help again,” he whispered, sitting down next to her.
“Sure,” she said, leaning her head against him and hiding her smile in his shoulder. She watched Neal as he slept, looking relaxed at last.
-end-
This entry was originally posted at https://cookiegirl.dreamwidth.org/78128.html.