Fic: White Collar, OT3, Fractured Painting

Mar 17, 2010 15:55

Title: Fractured Painting
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2022
Warnings: Angst, threesome
Spoilers: For all of season 1 especially Vital Signs and Out of the Box
Fandom/Pairing: White Collar - Neal/Peter/Elizabeth
A/N: I don't write angst and still my muse would not shut up about this. I break Neal pretty badly but he gets put together again in the end. Lots of love to monica_catch22 and raggedy_edge for helping me so much with this. Any remaining mistakes are mine.


Peter hits the punching bag again and again, sweat trickles down his back and muscles ache. He hits it until he tastes blood in his mouth and his arms shakes with the exertion and still he can't banish the thoughts from his head. He stands still, resting his forehead against the bag for a second, before calling this attempt a loss and heading for the showers.

The cold water is equally unhelpful. He really blames those damn corrupt doctors for this, it was their drugs that had stripped away Neal's walls and shown him so... raw and open and made Peter realize with a horrid sinking feeling exactly how much he cares for Neal Caffrey and it's been eating away at him since then... every smile and casual touch adding to his guilt and he is sure Elizabeth will see right through him any day now.

He shivers under the cold spray and leans against the wall, letting his head fall back. He knows what he has to do, hiding things from El never works anyway, and he just hopes he has the courage to get the words out when he looks her in the eye.

It is the fact that he still loves Elizabeth so very much that makes it difficult. If his affections had simply shifted it would have been easy, or so he imagines, but he really had no desire to leave El or even hurt her but still he can't stop thinking about Neal and his laugh and his brilliant mind and all the things that doom him on a daily basis.

***

He brings her take-out and bears her sharp eyes almost all the way though the Moo Shu Pork before breaking.

"God El, I'm so sorry..." He buries his head in his hands and groans.

"You're an idiot." Her voice sounds exasperated and he has to look up, has to meet her eyes. He expects contempt and finds only soft understanding.

"But... I" She laughs at him then.

"It will be alright... just bring him home." And just like that it is alright, the world stops making sense and he kisses his lovely brilliant wife who tastes of Kung Pao Chicken and a bright future.

***

Of course it's not that easy. Fowler, Mentor and an unknown puppet-master get in the way and their whole plan blow to pierces together with the plane on the runway. Neal screams himself hoarse as he breaks apart and Peter feels his own heart breaking in turn.

***

They don't bring Neal back to June's. Instead he's installed in a room in the Burke residence where he falls into an unrestful sleep that might as well last forever.

Sometimes it's Peter who's there when he wakes up and sometimes it's Elizabeth's face that greets him when the remembered explosion shocks him into consciousness once again. He doesn't know why they stay. Don't they know he's dangerous, don't they know knowing him will destroy their lives?

When he looks in the mirror he sees a shadow of himself. He can't even remember how to summon the smile that once opened so many doors for him. Kate had loved his smile, she'd said it was the key to his success, to her heart. It seems a waste now. What's a key without a lock.

It takes three weeks before they confirm that the remains found in the plane are Kate's. The funeral is the day after that. Neal sits on the bed with his shirt unbuttoned and his shoes untied when Elizabeth come in. She makes a small sound he can't really interpret before she pulls him to his feet and promptly finishes dressing him.

"Oh Neal, she deserves you at your best, one last time." Her lips are dry and soft on his cheek and he can't stop the tears from escaping. She hands him a handkerchief before taking his arm and leading him outside where Peter is waiting by the car. The soft silk smells of her perfume.

He doesn't remember most of the service. Doesn't remember who was there. He knows he let a single red rose fall down on top of the box that's holding the charred remains of what was once a brilliant shining woman and he knows he felt his heart break all over again, like someone stepping on the pieces of an already broken mirror. He doesn't remember how he gets back to the house.

Each of the next few days is the same blank grey as the one before it, like the perfectly symmetrical pearls of a duchess' necklace. They last until one day he wakes up and smells pancakes burning in the kitchen. He gets up, his muscles protesting movement after the long inactivity, and finds his way downstairs. He follows the smell to the kitchen and stops in the doorway, unsure if this is his place. If he should be here at all. Elizabeth is slapping Peter with a towel, her smile like a ray of sunshine, and Peter is laughing and trying to defend himself. They stop when they see him there, smiles settling slightly but not completely disappearing.

"I'm sorry hun, did we wake you? I didn't mean to get so loud..."

"It's ok. I dont' mind." And suddenly Neal realize he is telling the truth. He doesn't mind. In fact he welcomes it. He feels a smile tug at his lips, an alien thing after so long, and it grows as Elizabeth and Peter widen theirs and open their arms, pulling him into their warmth.

***

He thought they would send him back to June's when he got better, when he stopped feeling like he would break from the slightest gust of wind. But they don't and he stays and another piece falls into place.

***

She cries into Peter's shoulder, not for herself but for Neal cause it is all too easy to imagine what it would be like if it had been Peter on that plane or if the two of them had been a little bit closer. He pats her back and holds her tight until she can put herself together again and then they make plans. Plans that will make sure they don't almost lose him again.

***

It's another morning, this one grey and rainy, that Neal mentions to Elisabeth that he wishes he had something to paint with. Her hand is warm on his arm when she half smiles and tells him she'll see what she can do. The next day his old things are delivered, June has kept them safe for him. His own brushes, his own paints. Except now he doesn't copy the work of others but instead abstract reflections of himself pour out on the canvas. The oils paint explosions and mirrors, roses and flowing dark hair all intertwined and for the first time since it happened Neal sleeps though the night without waking up crying.

***

Finally they bring him into their bedroom, gentle as if leading an easily spooked horse and still he can't believe he is welcome there. The scar on his soul stretch and pull until Elizabeth kisses him and whispers promises against his lips. Peter is a warm solid presence at his back and he leans against him while pulling Elizabeth closer surrounding himself with heat. Peter's lips are at his ear, whispering in counter point to Elizabeth, telling him how they've watched him and wanted him and how they will take care of him. The moan torn from his chest can easily be confused with a sob.

Elizabeth trails from his mouth up to the corner of his eye and down again to his neck, peppering little kisses as she goes, her hands working on the buttons of his shirt. Peter is letting his hands roam as he bends and licks a line of fire down his neck to meet Elizabeth in a kiss over his shoulder. Neal can feel the hard pebbles of Elizabeth's nipples against his chest and the solid line of Peter's erection against the curve of his ass. He wonders if they've done this before, brought someone into their bed to share and to worship and he has a sudden flash of Diana in his own place and he shivers before he's brought back to the now by Elizabeth's mouth on this nipple and Peter's hand at the edge of his pants, fingers slipping below it and tickling sensitive skin. He arches with the sensation and let's his hand slip into Elisabet's silky soft hair. Her giggle ripples across his skin and Peter's amused huff tickles his neck.

Another moan escapes him and he ends it with a strangled "please...". Elizabeth pauses in her attention to his chest and something passes between the two Burke's. He soon finds what as they move, sweeping him with them and loosing items of clothing on the way to the bed where they land naked in a tangle of limbs. The move fans the fire within them and soon they have Neal on his back beneath them, covering his skin in kisses and nibbles as they slide against each other with practiced ease. Neal is falling further and further into his own head until Elizabeth whispers closer to his ear.

"Look at us... open your eyes..." And he does and the sight makes him shiver. Peter is holding his wife, thrusting into her as she leans over, her hand is on his cock and a wicked smile on her lips. her hand slips lower and he feels her fingers at his entrance as she shifts closer and meets him in a kiss. Their skin is slick and he urges her higher, wanting to taste her as well as to feel her. As his lips close around a nipple he feels her fingers disappear only to be replaced with others, wider, rougher and he moans against her skin, his hands on her waist as he lets his legs fall to the sides, opening up, giving them access. Peter's fingers are slick and Neal trembles when he realizes he's using Elizabeth's fluids to work him open. He keeps tasting Elisabet's skin and swirls his tongue around her nipples but when Peter hit's that spot he bucks under her and throws his head back.

"Please, please, please... I need... just.." His voice sounds broken and raw and he whines when the fingers disappear only to shift it to a moan when something bigger takes their place. Peter's moan mingles with his own and when Elizabeth shifts and sinks down on him arching like a goddess above him, the sounds of three voices bounce off the walls. They move slowly at first, finding their rhythm with Peter's thrusts travelling through Neal into Elizabeth but soon it get's faster and harder and it's too perfect to last long. Neal tumbles over the edge first, his fingers making indentations on Elizabeth's hips as he spasms and fights to keep his eyes open, he wants to see when they fall after him, Peter's one hand cradling Elizabeth's breast as his hips stutter and snap forward a final time sending an aftershock through Neal that pushes Elizabeth the final inch as well making her head fall back against her husband as her internal muscles clench around Neal's still sensitive cock.

As they lie on the bed, breathing slowing and heartbeats slowing, Neal finds himself in the middle again and this time it feels like he couldn't ever belong anywhere else.

***

He still has bad days, days when the world seems like it has no meaning, when everything is a chore and grey and dull. But they are getting fewer and further between. He keeps a picture of Kate in his room, beside his bed. Peter handed it to him one spring day and Neal knows the effort behind getting it. He touches the image and remembers her now and again but the pain is dulling. The wound in his chest is slowly healing, closing and knitting together with every warm touch and soft kiss from the two people who saw him on the edge and brought him back.

fanfiction, white collar, neal/elizabeth/peter

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