White Collar fic, Peter/Neal
Title: Reply
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Spoilers: Yes, everything to the S2 finale.
Includes: A bit of angst related to canon events. Sex. Mild kink.
Summary: Set a few months after the S2 finale. Peter thinks Neal is still upset, because it shows in their sex life. Naturally, Peter tries to use his problem-solving analytical style to figure it all out.
Notes: This is inspired by, or an expansion of, two of the sentence fics I wrote at Elr's great sentence fic Promptfest. Thanks to Ash for being amazing at cheerleading and general idea-bouncing!
Peter grunted as he came in Neal, who had already spilled on the sheet where he was bent over the bed, but before Peter could collapse, could pull Neal closer, Neal pushed away and headed to the shower, leaving Peter alone on Neal's bed, wondering yet again what he should do next. It was a familiar feeling, even if it shouldn't have been.
It had been like this since they fought. Their apologies had made them civil again, even friendly; Peter had accused Neal wrongly, Neal had wrongly kept the location of the artwork a secret, and all of this led to some very dangerous problems that they had to trust each other again to solve. And when it was over, when they admitted what they had done and forgave each other, things went back to normal. At work, on the ride home, going out for dinner, relaxing with beers at the Burke house, having coffee at Neal's quarters with June and even sometimes Mozzie -- everything was exactly as it had been. They still finished each other's sentences, antagonized each other in small and enjoyable ways, and constantly tried to impress each other with their cleverness. Friendship, trust, affection, cameraderie, all of it. Back to normal.
And yet somehow, there was a piece of their relatinoship - a big one - that hadn't come back. And Peter didn't know exactly why, but he knew that it wasn't over, that he wasn't forgiven, and that Neal was being disturbingly mysterious about what was going on. Because even though in every other sense they were exactly as they had been, the sex had become something different entirely, something bitter and faceless and stark.
It never started that way; it was always Neal, these days, who initiated, since Peter was never quite sure where he stood. And it would be just as always, with flirtation and foreplay and Neal's devious tongue in Peter's mouth, and Neal moaning as Peter's fingers gripped his hips and threw him on the bed, and all their other tried and trues. And Neal wasn't faking it, Peter could tell; Neal wanted to be there. He wanted it, and he enjoyed it, not just the sex but the awkward messy fun of it all. The building up of desire, the improvisation and surprise of creative foreplay. The laughing and the teasing and the falling off the bed.
But somewhere between when Peter entered him and when Peter withdrew, Neal decided he didn't like Peter very much after all. It wasn't that Neal didn't enjoy it physically; Peter could tell he did. It was just that there was no joy in it. When it was done, Neal acted like he had just scratched an itch with some nameless and ultimately boring hookup that he couldn't wait to get rid of.
Which is how Peter has come to the conclusion that while Neal might be trying very hard to forgive, and might really want to make it work with Peter, the most honest part of Neal is the cold bastard who wishes Peter would just finish already. Because in the first moment after orgasm, even the great Neal Caffrey can't hide what he feels.
It isn't hard to figure out what was going on. Neal's not over it. Not even close.
Not that Neal would ever admit that.
In fact, when Peter asks, he always gets Neal's con face. (Peter hates Neal's con face. He would tell Neal that except he knows how great a professional insult it would be to let on that he recognizes it). And then Neal says everything is fine, and he loves sex as much as always - couldn't Peter tell?- and it was perfect, all of it, and of course he doesn't want Peter to go home, and Peter should stop being paranoid and get into bed already.
And Peter, knowing there is something fragile here, tries not to break it, whatever it is.
So Peter doesn't confront it, and he tries to do it Neal's way, with the space and the time and the respect for boundaries and all the other things Peter finds inconvenient at best and terrifying at worst.
But Peter knows for sure it's not something he's imagining. Because it happens every single time they have sex. And Neal doesn't want to try other things, doesn't want to skip that part or replace it with a nice handjob or do anything else. He wants the same sex as they had before. Every time.
But it's not the same.
Peter can't ever pinpoint the moment when Neal goes from savoring the feel of Peter inside him to being annoyed at Peter's intrusion.
He's tried.
Sometimes Neal comes first, sometimes Peter does, but it has no effect on Neal's mood afterward. Sometimes Peter talks, sometimes Peter is silent, but no change.
It would have been easier if Peter could look at Neal's face during, but Neal had refused to fuck face-to-face since it happened. All Peter had to go on, all he could read, was from the ripples of the muscles on Neal's back and the motion of Neal's dick against Peter's palm.
It's not ever enough to figure it out.
And then there's what happens after, when Peter sees Neal's mood and offers to leave, and Neal insists Peter is being ridiculous. They get into Neal's bed from opposite sides and cover themselves with a satin sheet. And then they make smalltalk until they fall asleep without cuddling, as if they were roommates stuck sharing a bed.
It didn't used to be like that. Peter and Neal had been together since that night, nearly a year ago, when they had too much wine and used it as an excuse to tell each other all their secrets. Most of them, anyway. A good number, at least.
That night, Neal had told him about the things he had done and when and how his heart was broken, first by Adler, then by Kate. And in return, Neal had demanded that Peter finally admit that he wanted Neal, and that he had since they met that first time. When they were done telling the truth, when they both believed the other man would work alongside instead of out-of-range, they rewarded each other for their trust with gentle pecks and almost-bites and hands caressing lengths of skin, and every touch was like nothing so much as a question. But in the morning, they had their answer; they would try to make it work, no matter what else was going on.
What happened after Peter shot Adler was the first real fight, the first real test, of the relationship they had built, the one that went beyond flirtation and even friendship. It had been months since then, however, and Peter kept waiting for Neal's slow burn to blow up in their faces.
It didn't. Instead, they kept doing the same thing, again and again.
They would spend all day together, warmth and laughter and sparkling eyes. They would mess around on Neal's couch, in the kitchen, maybe even the restroom at work. And then they would fuck, and it would be just like always: hotter than a New York summer.
And then they would finish. And then Peter would be the dirt off Neal's shoe.
Then Peter would lie on Neal's bed, listening to the sound of the shower that Neal certainly wouldn't want him to join. He would listen to the mosaic-drip of water, it steadiness interrupted by a body in motion, which, separated from Peter by the bathroom door, would sound distant.
He would listen to Neal's shower and wait his turn for his own. Then they would get into bed and he would listen to Neal's even breaths as Neal pretended to fall asleep, and the shorter, louder breaths as Neal actually did.
He would try to figure out why this all felt so familiar, so hard and terrible and familiar.
Finally, one night, he realized that this - sleeping next to Neal and wondering if he were a stranger - felt exactly like when he was chasing Neal in the first place. When he had learned enough about "James Bonds" to feel a twinge of pride at his stunts even as they frustrated him, and to feel real terror when he knew Neal had just barely (if at all) got out of some rock-and-hard-place alive.
Peter knew this feeling. He remembered it. And he remembered the anxiety, the obsessiveness, that came with it.
He remembered that this was just like the last time he thought of Neal Caffrey as someone just out of his reach. This was just like the last time Neal was a problem that Peter wasn't sure he could solve.
----------
When Peter was chasing Neal, he had charts. Lots and lots of charts.
And lists.
And help. But this time, he wasn't about to ask his team to help him. Because there were lines and then there were lines.
And he couldn't ask El for help either. Obviously, she knew they were together, but he and El both thought it best to leave certain knowledge to the abstract when it came to their other partners.
So Peter didn't have help. But he did have lists.
Instead of "What does Caffrey want?" or "What will Caffrey do next?", the brainstorming exercises that got him Neal the first time, Peter made a list of possible answers to a different question.
"Why can't Neal get over what happened?"
1. Neal is not good at getting over things.
Peter frowned at what he had written. It made him feel like kind of a bastard, to put Neal's flaws at the top of the list. This time, for this problem, they didn't belong there.
Peter also felt the nagging suspicion that Reason 1 wasn't exactly true.
Neal wasn't good at getting over Kate's death. Or over his childhood. Not really. But in other ways, Peter knew that Neal was deeply, powerfully resilient.
More than Peter, probably.
Okay, certainly more resilient than Peter. Because if Peter went through with his mentors what Neal did with Adler...
If Peter went through with Elizabeth what Neal went through with Kate.....
Well, resilience wasn't the issue.
And Neal wasn't unforgiving. He never begrudged anyone for working to put him in prison; he made friends with Sara and Hughes and Diana just as soon as they seemed willing. Even when he thought Alex had stolen his only chance to find Kate, he didn't hate her for it. He was upset, but he knew that was who she was.
But this was different somehow. Peter just didn't know why.
He tore up the list and started a new one.
"Why is Neal only mad during sex?"
1. Maybe he's just pretending the rest of the time.
Peter didn't think so. What Neal felt toward him was real trust, real friendship, everywhere except the bedroom. Peter was positive. (Almost positive.)
2. Neal is in denial. He honestly believes he is over it. But then his subconscious reveals he is not, but only during sex.
Peter frowned. That didn't sound likely. That sounded like a bunch of crap.
3. Neal knows it kills Peter to feel like he isn't doing right by Neal in bed. He has told Neal that it practically crushes him when El isn't happy with his performance - it's not enough that she is satisfied, he needs to know that she feels safe and loved and contented and happy, or he feels like a miserable failure. Neal must know that Peter feels the same way about Neal. So Neal is punishing Peter. Tormenting him on purpose.
Peter sighed. Reason 3 was pretty obviously about why Peter was acting the way he was, not about why Neal was.
4. Neal was mad. But he didn't want to be mad. So he kept sleeping with Peter in the hopes that someday soon he would like it and/or him again.
Peter frowned again. Rather circuitous logic, there, but then that did sound like Caffrey.
He tore up his list again.
Apparently, the old methods for catching Caffrey didn't still work.
He would have to pull out the big guns.
------
Later that night, they sat next to each other on Neal's couch, at a distance where it wasn't clear if they were in each other's space or not. Both Mozzie and El had called Neal to tell him that Peter really needed to have an honest conversation. There was a blackmail implicit in this: you're not fine, and I'll tell your friends that you're not fine unless we talk.
"You had something to say?" Neal says curtly, not enjoying that Peter has gone over his head, so to speak. That was Neal's trick, after all.
Peter takes a deep breath. He tells himelf to be straightforward, since that is what he's asking from Neal.
For some reason, he decides to start by talking about El.
"You know, when I met her, it was all so easy. You know what I mean? I was nervous constantly. But you know how El is. She told me she would say yes before I asked her on a date. And she told me early on that she thought this would last for a long time. And when I was thinking about proposing, she figured it out and said that if I ever did, I would be happy with the answer. Before her, it was never anything serious, just short relationships, you know? I mean, we've always just worked, me and El. What she and I have is just really... simple."
"Maybe you should go back to that. 'Simple.' " Neal looked at him, expressionless, and Peter, for the life of him, couldn't tell if Neal was trying to leave or testing to see if Peter would.
"I'm not saying simple is better."
"You always think simple is better."
"It -- I want things to be simple for you, too."
"Well, that's not you, Peter. You're a lot of things. But not simple."
Peter balked at that for a second. But he continued.
"Look, Neal, I'm just trying to explain. Before you, it was always easy. Everything with El was a safe bet."
"And I was never a safe bet."
"You know what I mean, Neal."
"I'm not sure I do."
"Everything with El was -- I mean, you know I was a disaster at dating her. But she made it so I never felt like I was taking a chance. She knew what I wanted and what I felt almost before I did. And she would say it, and she would make it okay for me to say it. Do you see what I mean?"
"I'm not her, Peter," Neal said, jaw starting to clench, and for the first time in their relationship, he saw that maybe Neal was jealous of El after all. And so he tried to make his next point as soft and solid as he could.
"Neal. I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about me. I'm saying.... that night. When I accused you of stealing the stash from the sub-"
"When you accused me of conning you for our entire relationship and whoring myself out to you for a payoff," Neal corrected.
Peter winced but said, "Yes." This part of the argument, they had done already. This, they had covered right away.
"What about it?"
Peter continued, "I know it was wrong to say that without proof."
Neal rolled his eyes and started to get up, but Peter said, quickly, "It was horrible."
Neal paused, then sat back down. "You already apologized. And I apologized for not telling you that I found the artwork later. We both moved past it." He stared at the floor as he spoke.
"I don't think you're past it."
"Well, you always know best," Neal said, soft-toned and light, and the banter would have felt like teasing except that Peter knew Neal meant it otherwise.
"Look, Neal, what I'm trying to say is that... with El, I never had to put myself out there. She saw that I couldn't do it, not on my own, not for my personal life. Professionally, always, but never personally. And then you came along and.... Before you, I never had to put everything on the line because I loved someone. I never had to risk my heart. I never had to risk loving someone without knowing if I would be loved back. And the thing is... I'm just not good at it."
Neal stared at him for a moment. His eyes looked tired but discerning still, and he studied Peter's face. "You were scared.... That's your reason? That you were scared?" He said it with no malice, with only curiosity.
Peter grimaced, "Hey, I know throwing yourself off buildings for love is standard Caffrey wooing procedure, but some of us don't have a lot of practice."
"Not funny, Peter," Neal said, though his smile said otherwise.
"Look, Neal, I'm not making excuses. I was terrified. Of caring. Loving. I shouldn't have been, but I was. But I'm trying to be better at it."
"Are you?" Neal look genuinely interested, as if the thought that Peter Burke knew his own flaws hadn't ever occurred to him.
Peter leaned in, looked Neal right in the eyes, and said, "I give you my word. I am trying to be better."
Neal studied him, then nodded and looked down at his hands. "Me too," he said softly.
"I know," Peter answered.
There was a silence then, and Peter wasn't sure if it was the pause after something or before something. But then Neal spoke up.
"That night. I thought I was going to die. I thought I would be dead and I would lose everything and I would never see you or Moz or El or anyone ever again. And then Adler kept... talking. And he really was a killer, not even any regrets, and I didn't believe that he could do that, to Kate or to Mozzie, at least not without it tormenting him, until I saw him point a gun at me with his own hands and I saw exactly how little my life meant to him. And Adler had been likea father to me, Peter. And it was another father who turned out to be..... "
Peter listened with interest, not wanting to interrupt, but Neal moved to what happened next.
"And then he said that it was my fault Kate died. Because I turned back for you. And I know you don't realize this Peter, but when I turned my back on Kate, I was cheating on her. In every way that counts, when I turned back for you, I was cheating on Kate. And Adler was pointing a gun at me, and I was thinking that Kate would be alive if I had loved her and only her. And it was all at once - my life was over, and Adler was a monster, and Kate was all my fault, and.... And then you.... You were there. And I was safe. And Adler was dead. And Kate was still dead, and Adler's blood was on the sidewalk, spilling everywhere, and you did that, you shot him, and then I was looking at the blood and then I thought of Kate's blood, and then... it was too much. And then you said ... what you said. That I was lying. And you're the only person I have never lied to, Peter. Because I lost Kate because I lied to her, and I knew I would never make that mistake again, and being honest with you has been the hardest thing I have ever done, and I know that sounds silly to someone like you, but I mean it. It is the hardest thing I've ever done."
"I know it is," Peter said. He did.
"And I stopped believing that it's worth it," Neal continued.
"Honesty?"
"Other people."
Peter paused. "I made you scared to risk your heart," he said then.
Neal's silence was his yes.
"I'm sorry," Peter said.
"We've been through this already."
"Sort of," Peter said.
Neal paused. "I can't sleep without you, you know?" he said then, and it almost sounded like an accusation.
"Why not?"
"I dream of Kate. Since Adler died."
"Oh."
"I dream of Kate because Adler died. It's irrational, I know. But when you're there, I dream of you."
"Always?"
"Always. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes not. But it's not Kate. It's not bullets or fire or blood on sidewalks."
"I'm sorry."
Neal said nothing.
Peter struggled for words, "I wish that I could take back--"
"You don't have to," Neal said quickly. "You're trying. I believe you. And I'm trying too. So I think I just need more time. I'm not going anywhere. And I don't just mean geographically. I don't know if or when we'll go back to how we were. I can't make any promises," he added, looking up at Peter to see if Peter would object, would demand.
Peter didn't. He was grateful, deeply grateful, and it was written all over his face. It was the first time in months that Neal had actually admitted that things weren't the same. It was the first time that Neal didn't act like the problem was all in Peter's head.
"We have time, " Peter promised.
Neal nodded, surprised but satisfied. After a moment, he said, "Thanks. For not pushing it."
Peter smiled. "See, I really am trying."
Neal managed a half a smile, too, before leaning toward Peter. He waited for Peter to bridge the rest of the difference, and they kissed, chastely.
"I miss you," Peter said.
"I'm right here," Neal pointed out, which may have been only partially true, but they both knew it wasn't worth arguing the point.
They move to the bedroom, and both of them try to make it slow and sensual, but instead it's awkward. Somehow, it was easier when Neal was pretending everything was fine. But they kiss slowly, and their hands and lips move about each other's bodies, circling like birds. Peter asks to look at Neal's face while they do it, or to go down on Neal and skip the penetration altogether, but Neal asks for what they've always done, and Peter can't refuse. Preparation is slow, Neal is tighter than he usually is, but Peter still knows Neal's body, and soon he has Neal fucking himself on Peter's fingers. Peter puts his hand over Neal's hand, fingers intertwined, so he can feel Neal's fist clench when Peter pushes into him. He leans down to kiss Neal's back, soft kisses up the spine, down the shoulder, and he tries to think of something to say, something profound and sexy and true all at once, but he doesn't have anything, so he moves his left hand to Neal's dick and his right hand to Neal's nipple and jerks his hips, hard and fast, like Neal always asks him to. And Peter tries to read something - anything - into every gesture, every whimper, but it's over soon, Neal first, then Peter, and he still can't figure anything out.
After, Neal stands up and walks to the shower alone. Peter can see that Neal is willing himself to make it look like a lazy amble, to make it look like something other than running. And later still, when they are both clean and tired and ready for bed, it is much the same, with a little bit of chatting until it's easier to just not say anything at all. But at the last possible moment, as Neal drifts into sleep that will be restful because Peter is there, Peter sifts his fingers through the soft dark strands of Neal's hair, and Neal, because he is half dreaming, lets him.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Spoilers: Yes, everything to the S2 finale.
Includes: A bit of angst related to canon events. Sex. Mild kink.
Summary: Set a few months after the S2 finale. Peter thinks Neal is still upset, because it shows in their sex life. Naturally, Peter tries to use his problem-solving analytical style to figure it all out.
Notes: This is inspired by, or an expansion of, two of the sentence fics I wrote at Elr's great sentence fic Promptfest. Thanks to Ash for being amazing at cheerleading and general idea-bouncing!
Peter grunted as he came in Neal, who had already spilled on the sheet where he was bent over the bed, but before Peter could collapse, could pull Neal closer, Neal pushed away and headed to the shower, leaving Peter alone on Neal's bed, wondering yet again what he should do next. It was a familiar feeling, even if it shouldn't have been.
It had been like this since they fought. Their apologies had made them civil again, even friendly; Peter had accused Neal wrongly, Neal had wrongly kept the location of the artwork a secret, and all of this led to some very dangerous problems that they had to trust each other again to solve. And when it was over, when they admitted what they had done and forgave each other, things went back to normal. At work, on the ride home, going out for dinner, relaxing with beers at the Burke house, having coffee at Neal's quarters with June and even sometimes Mozzie -- everything was exactly as it had been. They still finished each other's sentences, antagonized each other in small and enjoyable ways, and constantly tried to impress each other with their cleverness. Friendship, trust, affection, cameraderie, all of it. Back to normal.
And yet somehow, there was a piece of their relatinoship - a big one - that hadn't come back. And Peter didn't know exactly why, but he knew that it wasn't over, that he wasn't forgiven, and that Neal was being disturbingly mysterious about what was going on. Because even though in every other sense they were exactly as they had been, the sex had become something different entirely, something bitter and faceless and stark.
It never started that way; it was always Neal, these days, who initiated, since Peter was never quite sure where he stood. And it would be just as always, with flirtation and foreplay and Neal's devious tongue in Peter's mouth, and Neal moaning as Peter's fingers gripped his hips and threw him on the bed, and all their other tried and trues. And Neal wasn't faking it, Peter could tell; Neal wanted to be there. He wanted it, and he enjoyed it, not just the sex but the awkward messy fun of it all. The building up of desire, the improvisation and surprise of creative foreplay. The laughing and the teasing and the falling off the bed.
But somewhere between when Peter entered him and when Peter withdrew, Neal decided he didn't like Peter very much after all. It wasn't that Neal didn't enjoy it physically; Peter could tell he did. It was just that there was no joy in it. When it was done, Neal acted like he had just scratched an itch with some nameless and ultimately boring hookup that he couldn't wait to get rid of.
Which is how Peter has come to the conclusion that while Neal might be trying very hard to forgive, and might really want to make it work with Peter, the most honest part of Neal is the cold bastard who wishes Peter would just finish already. Because in the first moment after orgasm, even the great Neal Caffrey can't hide what he feels.
It isn't hard to figure out what was going on. Neal's not over it. Not even close.
Not that Neal would ever admit that.
In fact, when Peter asks, he always gets Neal's con face. (Peter hates Neal's con face. He would tell Neal that except he knows how great a professional insult it would be to let on that he recognizes it). And then Neal says everything is fine, and he loves sex as much as always - couldn't Peter tell?- and it was perfect, all of it, and of course he doesn't want Peter to go home, and Peter should stop being paranoid and get into bed already.
And Peter, knowing there is something fragile here, tries not to break it, whatever it is.
So Peter doesn't confront it, and he tries to do it Neal's way, with the space and the time and the respect for boundaries and all the other things Peter finds inconvenient at best and terrifying at worst.
But Peter knows for sure it's not something he's imagining. Because it happens every single time they have sex. And Neal doesn't want to try other things, doesn't want to skip that part or replace it with a nice handjob or do anything else. He wants the same sex as they had before. Every time.
But it's not the same.
Peter can't ever pinpoint the moment when Neal goes from savoring the feel of Peter inside him to being annoyed at Peter's intrusion.
He's tried.
Sometimes Neal comes first, sometimes Peter does, but it has no effect on Neal's mood afterward. Sometimes Peter talks, sometimes Peter is silent, but no change.
It would have been easier if Peter could look at Neal's face during, but Neal had refused to fuck face-to-face since it happened. All Peter had to go on, all he could read, was from the ripples of the muscles on Neal's back and the motion of Neal's dick against Peter's palm.
It's not ever enough to figure it out.
And then there's what happens after, when Peter sees Neal's mood and offers to leave, and Neal insists Peter is being ridiculous. They get into Neal's bed from opposite sides and cover themselves with a satin sheet. And then they make smalltalk until they fall asleep without cuddling, as if they were roommates stuck sharing a bed.
It didn't used to be like that. Peter and Neal had been together since that night, nearly a year ago, when they had too much wine and used it as an excuse to tell each other all their secrets. Most of them, anyway. A good number, at least.
That night, Neal had told him about the things he had done and when and how his heart was broken, first by Adler, then by Kate. And in return, Neal had demanded that Peter finally admit that he wanted Neal, and that he had since they met that first time. When they were done telling the truth, when they both believed the other man would work alongside instead of out-of-range, they rewarded each other for their trust with gentle pecks and almost-bites and hands caressing lengths of skin, and every touch was like nothing so much as a question. But in the morning, they had their answer; they would try to make it work, no matter what else was going on.
What happened after Peter shot Adler was the first real fight, the first real test, of the relationship they had built, the one that went beyond flirtation and even friendship. It had been months since then, however, and Peter kept waiting for Neal's slow burn to blow up in their faces.
It didn't. Instead, they kept doing the same thing, again and again.
They would spend all day together, warmth and laughter and sparkling eyes. They would mess around on Neal's couch, in the kitchen, maybe even the restroom at work. And then they would fuck, and it would be just like always: hotter than a New York summer.
And then they would finish. And then Peter would be the dirt off Neal's shoe.
Then Peter would lie on Neal's bed, listening to the sound of the shower that Neal certainly wouldn't want him to join. He would listen to the mosaic-drip of water, it steadiness interrupted by a body in motion, which, separated from Peter by the bathroom door, would sound distant.
He would listen to Neal's shower and wait his turn for his own. Then they would get into bed and he would listen to Neal's even breaths as Neal pretended to fall asleep, and the shorter, louder breaths as Neal actually did.
He would try to figure out why this all felt so familiar, so hard and terrible and familiar.
Finally, one night, he realized that this - sleeping next to Neal and wondering if he were a stranger - felt exactly like when he was chasing Neal in the first place. When he had learned enough about "James Bonds" to feel a twinge of pride at his stunts even as they frustrated him, and to feel real terror when he knew Neal had just barely (if at all) got out of some rock-and-hard-place alive.
Peter knew this feeling. He remembered it. And he remembered the anxiety, the obsessiveness, that came with it.
He remembered that this was just like the last time he thought of Neal Caffrey as someone just out of his reach. This was just like the last time Neal was a problem that Peter wasn't sure he could solve.
----------
When Peter was chasing Neal, he had charts. Lots and lots of charts.
And lists.
And help. But this time, he wasn't about to ask his team to help him. Because there were lines and then there were lines.
And he couldn't ask El for help either. Obviously, she knew they were together, but he and El both thought it best to leave certain knowledge to the abstract when it came to their other partners.
So Peter didn't have help. But he did have lists.
Instead of "What does Caffrey want?" or "What will Caffrey do next?", the brainstorming exercises that got him Neal the first time, Peter made a list of possible answers to a different question.
"Why can't Neal get over what happened?"
1. Neal is not good at getting over things.
Peter frowned at what he had written. It made him feel like kind of a bastard, to put Neal's flaws at the top of the list. This time, for this problem, they didn't belong there.
Peter also felt the nagging suspicion that Reason 1 wasn't exactly true.
Neal wasn't good at getting over Kate's death. Or over his childhood. Not really. But in other ways, Peter knew that Neal was deeply, powerfully resilient.
More than Peter, probably.
Okay, certainly more resilient than Peter. Because if Peter went through with his mentors what Neal did with Adler...
If Peter went through with Elizabeth what Neal went through with Kate.....
Well, resilience wasn't the issue.
And Neal wasn't unforgiving. He never begrudged anyone for working to put him in prison; he made friends with Sara and Hughes and Diana just as soon as they seemed willing. Even when he thought Alex had stolen his only chance to find Kate, he didn't hate her for it. He was upset, but he knew that was who she was.
But this was different somehow. Peter just didn't know why.
He tore up the list and started a new one.
"Why is Neal only mad during sex?"
1. Maybe he's just pretending the rest of the time.
Peter didn't think so. What Neal felt toward him was real trust, real friendship, everywhere except the bedroom. Peter was positive. (Almost positive.)
2. Neal is in denial. He honestly believes he is over it. But then his subconscious reveals he is not, but only during sex.
Peter frowned. That didn't sound likely. That sounded like a bunch of crap.
3. Neal knows it kills Peter to feel like he isn't doing right by Neal in bed. He has told Neal that it practically crushes him when El isn't happy with his performance - it's not enough that she is satisfied, he needs to know that she feels safe and loved and contented and happy, or he feels like a miserable failure. Neal must know that Peter feels the same way about Neal. So Neal is punishing Peter. Tormenting him on purpose.
Peter sighed. Reason 3 was pretty obviously about why Peter was acting the way he was, not about why Neal was.
4. Neal was mad. But he didn't want to be mad. So he kept sleeping with Peter in the hopes that someday soon he would like it and/or him again.
Peter frowned again. Rather circuitous logic, there, but then that did sound like Caffrey.
He tore up his list again.
Apparently, the old methods for catching Caffrey didn't still work.
He would have to pull out the big guns.
------
Later that night, they sat next to each other on Neal's couch, at a distance where it wasn't clear if they were in each other's space or not. Both Mozzie and El had called Neal to tell him that Peter really needed to have an honest conversation. There was a blackmail implicit in this: you're not fine, and I'll tell your friends that you're not fine unless we talk.
"You had something to say?" Neal says curtly, not enjoying that Peter has gone over his head, so to speak. That was Neal's trick, after all.
Peter takes a deep breath. He tells himelf to be straightforward, since that is what he's asking from Neal.
For some reason, he decides to start by talking about El.
"You know, when I met her, it was all so easy. You know what I mean? I was nervous constantly. But you know how El is. She told me she would say yes before I asked her on a date. And she told me early on that she thought this would last for a long time. And when I was thinking about proposing, she figured it out and said that if I ever did, I would be happy with the answer. Before her, it was never anything serious, just short relationships, you know? I mean, we've always just worked, me and El. What she and I have is just really... simple."
"Maybe you should go back to that. 'Simple.' " Neal looked at him, expressionless, and Peter, for the life of him, couldn't tell if Neal was trying to leave or testing to see if Peter would.
"I'm not saying simple is better."
"You always think simple is better."
"It -- I want things to be simple for you, too."
"Well, that's not you, Peter. You're a lot of things. But not simple."
Peter balked at that for a second. But he continued.
"Look, Neal, I'm just trying to explain. Before you, it was always easy. Everything with El was a safe bet."
"And I was never a safe bet."
"You know what I mean, Neal."
"I'm not sure I do."
"Everything with El was -- I mean, you know I was a disaster at dating her. But she made it so I never felt like I was taking a chance. She knew what I wanted and what I felt almost before I did. And she would say it, and she would make it okay for me to say it. Do you see what I mean?"
"I'm not her, Peter," Neal said, jaw starting to clench, and for the first time in their relationship, he saw that maybe Neal was jealous of El after all. And so he tried to make his next point as soft and solid as he could.
"Neal. I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about me. I'm saying.... that night. When I accused you of stealing the stash from the sub-"
"When you accused me of conning you for our entire relationship and whoring myself out to you for a payoff," Neal corrected.
Peter winced but said, "Yes." This part of the argument, they had done already. This, they had covered right away.
"What about it?"
Peter continued, "I know it was wrong to say that without proof."
Neal rolled his eyes and started to get up, but Peter said, quickly, "It was horrible."
Neal paused, then sat back down. "You already apologized. And I apologized for not telling you that I found the artwork later. We both moved past it." He stared at the floor as he spoke.
"I don't think you're past it."
"Well, you always know best," Neal said, soft-toned and light, and the banter would have felt like teasing except that Peter knew Neal meant it otherwise.
"Look, Neal, what I'm trying to say is that... with El, I never had to put myself out there. She saw that I couldn't do it, not on my own, not for my personal life. Professionally, always, but never personally. And then you came along and.... Before you, I never had to put everything on the line because I loved someone. I never had to risk my heart. I never had to risk loving someone without knowing if I would be loved back. And the thing is... I'm just not good at it."
Neal stared at him for a moment. His eyes looked tired but discerning still, and he studied Peter's face. "You were scared.... That's your reason? That you were scared?" He said it with no malice, with only curiosity.
Peter grimaced, "Hey, I know throwing yourself off buildings for love is standard Caffrey wooing procedure, but some of us don't have a lot of practice."
"Not funny, Peter," Neal said, though his smile said otherwise.
"Look, Neal, I'm not making excuses. I was terrified. Of caring. Loving. I shouldn't have been, but I was. But I'm trying to be better at it."
"Are you?" Neal look genuinely interested, as if the thought that Peter Burke knew his own flaws hadn't ever occurred to him.
Peter leaned in, looked Neal right in the eyes, and said, "I give you my word. I am trying to be better."
Neal studied him, then nodded and looked down at his hands. "Me too," he said softly.
"I know," Peter answered.
There was a silence then, and Peter wasn't sure if it was the pause after something or before something. But then Neal spoke up.
"That night. I thought I was going to die. I thought I would be dead and I would lose everything and I would never see you or Moz or El or anyone ever again. And then Adler kept... talking. And he really was a killer, not even any regrets, and I didn't believe that he could do that, to Kate or to Mozzie, at least not without it tormenting him, until I saw him point a gun at me with his own hands and I saw exactly how little my life meant to him. And Adler had been likea father to me, Peter. And it was another father who turned out to be..... "
Peter listened with interest, not wanting to interrupt, but Neal moved to what happened next.
"And then he said that it was my fault Kate died. Because I turned back for you. And I know you don't realize this Peter, but when I turned my back on Kate, I was cheating on her. In every way that counts, when I turned back for you, I was cheating on Kate. And Adler was pointing a gun at me, and I was thinking that Kate would be alive if I had loved her and only her. And it was all at once - my life was over, and Adler was a monster, and Kate was all my fault, and.... And then you.... You were there. And I was safe. And Adler was dead. And Kate was still dead, and Adler's blood was on the sidewalk, spilling everywhere, and you did that, you shot him, and then I was looking at the blood and then I thought of Kate's blood, and then... it was too much. And then you said ... what you said. That I was lying. And you're the only person I have never lied to, Peter. Because I lost Kate because I lied to her, and I knew I would never make that mistake again, and being honest with you has been the hardest thing I have ever done, and I know that sounds silly to someone like you, but I mean it. It is the hardest thing I've ever done."
"I know it is," Peter said. He did.
"And I stopped believing that it's worth it," Neal continued.
"Honesty?"
"Other people."
Peter paused. "I made you scared to risk your heart," he said then.
Neal's silence was his yes.
"I'm sorry," Peter said.
"We've been through this already."
"Sort of," Peter said.
Neal paused. "I can't sleep without you, you know?" he said then, and it almost sounded like an accusation.
"Why not?"
"I dream of Kate. Since Adler died."
"Oh."
"I dream of Kate because Adler died. It's irrational, I know. But when you're there, I dream of you."
"Always?"
"Always. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes not. But it's not Kate. It's not bullets or fire or blood on sidewalks."
"I'm sorry."
Neal said nothing.
Peter struggled for words, "I wish that I could take back--"
"You don't have to," Neal said quickly. "You're trying. I believe you. And I'm trying too. So I think I just need more time. I'm not going anywhere. And I don't just mean geographically. I don't know if or when we'll go back to how we were. I can't make any promises," he added, looking up at Peter to see if Peter would object, would demand.
Peter didn't. He was grateful, deeply grateful, and it was written all over his face. It was the first time in months that Neal had actually admitted that things weren't the same. It was the first time that Neal didn't act like the problem was all in Peter's head.
"We have time, " Peter promised.
Neal nodded, surprised but satisfied. After a moment, he said, "Thanks. For not pushing it."
Peter smiled. "See, I really am trying."
Neal managed a half a smile, too, before leaning toward Peter. He waited for Peter to bridge the rest of the difference, and they kissed, chastely.
"I miss you," Peter said.
"I'm right here," Neal pointed out, which may have been only partially true, but they both knew it wasn't worth arguing the point.
They move to the bedroom, and both of them try to make it slow and sensual, but instead it's awkward. Somehow, it was easier when Neal was pretending everything was fine. But they kiss slowly, and their hands and lips move about each other's bodies, circling like birds. Peter asks to look at Neal's face while they do it, or to go down on Neal and skip the penetration altogether, but Neal asks for what they've always done, and Peter can't refuse. Preparation is slow, Neal is tighter than he usually is, but Peter still knows Neal's body, and soon he has Neal fucking himself on Peter's fingers. Peter puts his hand over Neal's hand, fingers intertwined, so he can feel Neal's fist clench when Peter pushes into him. He leans down to kiss Neal's back, soft kisses up the spine, down the shoulder, and he tries to think of something to say, something profound and sexy and true all at once, but he doesn't have anything, so he moves his left hand to Neal's dick and his right hand to Neal's nipple and jerks his hips, hard and fast, like Neal always asks him to. And Peter tries to read something - anything - into every gesture, every whimper, but it's over soon, Neal first, then Peter, and he still can't figure anything out.
After, Neal stands up and walks to the shower alone. Peter can see that Neal is willing himself to make it look like a lazy amble, to make it look like something other than running. And later still, when they are both clean and tired and ready for bed, it is much the same, with a little bit of chatting until it's easier to just not say anything at all. But at the last possible moment, as Neal drifts into sleep that will be restful because Peter is there, Peter sifts his fingers through the soft dark strands of Neal's hair, and Neal, because he is half dreaming, lets him.