The Stone of Freyja - Part 4
Title: The Stone of Freyja, Part 4
Author: Serena-chan (hourglass244 )
Fandom: White Collar
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG (rating will go up as story progresses)
Spoilers: None - Takes place sometime during season 2.
Summary: An ancient relic turns our favorite con artist into a cat.
A/N: I realize it's been awhile, just as I realize how short this part is. My beloved cat, Jamal, passed away very suddenly toward the end of last month, and I just haven't had it in me to write anything to do with cats. I'm trying to ease back into it, but it's difficult to say the least. Apologies for the lateness and the length.
Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3
Mozzie entered the small shop, wrinkling his nose as the strong scent of herbs hit his nose. Apothecaries like these had all died out in America, replaced by doctors with their hospitals and the occasional herbalist. The fact that this place even still existed in this day and age made him remember exactly why he loved Europe so much. Ignoring the woman behind the counter, he entered the room at the back of the shop where an acquaintance was waiting for him.
The man was old and frail in appearance. His white hair hung down past his shoulders, and the one eye that was still functional was blue and sharp.
"There you are," the man said, not one to bother with idle pleasantries. "Did you bring it?"
"Indeed I did." Reaching inside one of his jacket's many hidden pockets, he pulled out the pendant and handed it to the man. "Can you tell me what it is?"
"Patience," the old man chastised. "All good things come to those who wait."
****
Peter entered Neal's apartment, arms laden with shopping bags, and leaned heavily against the door. The day wasn't even half over, and he was already exhausted. After breakfast, Elizabeth had insisted on taking the morning off to do some shopping for Neal - at an art supply store no less!
"Neal? I'm back," Peter called. "I dropped El off at work, but she picked up some presents for you. If you like, you can have them after you eat lunch."
Neal trotted over to him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. Peter only just managed to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread across his face at Neal's expression. Even as a cat, the agent found that he could usually tell what his partner was thinking.
While Neal ate lunch, Peter went about setting up the things that El had bought. Personally, he wasn't so sure about this, but he trusted his wife. If she said it was necessary then it must be something that Neal needed, even if it didn't seem that way to Peter.
Looking around the area where Neal kept his painting supplies, he found an old, paint-splattered sheet which he spread out on the floor and some rags that he placed nearby. Reaching for the shopping bags, he then proceeded to pull out the purchases and arrange them just as his wife had instructed him to. He laid a few of the canvas boards out on the sheet, and began squeezing paint out of the tubes and onto some paper plates. Then, he filled an old cup with water and looked around for his partner.
Neal had finished eating and was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Peter looked at him uneasily, wondering if this was one of those rare moments when his wife got it wrong.
"It's only kids' paint," Peter hurriedly explained. "So it'll wash out of your fur. El thought that maybe you could use your - er, paws, I guess to do an abstract or something. You can wipe them off on the rags every time you want to get a new color. When you're done, I'll give you a proper bath in the tub to get it all off."
He watched Neal's face closely, trying to find some clue as to what he was thinking. At last, he looked up from the paints, and Peter saw that not only was Elizabeth right, she was a genius. The younger man's eyes shone in the way they only did when he was genuinely touched by something.
"Right, well, I'll just leave you to it then," the agent said, forcing himself to turn away and go watch some sports on the television. He knew that if he stayed nearby he wouldn't be able to stop himself from watching, and even though Neal usually liked to show off, experience had taught Peter that he liked his privacy while he was painting.
The agent had made it almost all the way through a rerun of last weekend's baseball game when he finally heard Neal meowing at him. He made his way back over to the now paint-covered kitten sitting beside two completed canvases.
The first looked like Neal had been simply testing out what he could do. The background was filled with bright splotches and smears of paint in various colors. The foreground was filled with paw prints, and it looked like Neal had dipped each individual paw in a different color and run across the page several times. There were also a few random scratches in the colors where the white of the canvas showed through and it looked like tiny claws had been at work there.
The other painting was completely different. While the first had been bright and colorful, perhaps Neal expressing his happiness at being able to paint, the second was more dark and brooding. Dark shades of color were smoothed over it and covered with a few swipes of bright red. In the center was a single black paw print.
"These are great, Neal," Peter said with feeling. "I mean, they're really good!"
His partner merely looked at him with a slightly smug expression that clearly said, 'Yes, I know.'
Peter allowed himself a few more moments to examine the paintings before he scooped the fluffy con artist up in his arms. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
He ran a small amount of warm water in the bathtub and used soap to carefully work the paint out of Neal's fur. Afterward, he rubbed him dry with a towel and combed out his fur with the pet comb that Elizabeth had bought. Neal seemed to thoroughly enjoy the whole process, and Peter chalked it up to all the attention he was receiving.
He was just settling his tired partner down for a nap when his cellphone rang. He answered it, and El's excited voice rang out in his ear.
"Mozzie just called, and he wants us all to meet at Neal's place tomorrow evening. Peter, I think he's found us some answers!"
Author: Serena-chan (hourglass244 )
Fandom: White Collar
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG (rating will go up as story progresses)
Spoilers: None - Takes place sometime during season 2.
Summary: An ancient relic turns our favorite con artist into a cat.
A/N: I realize it's been awhile, just as I realize how short this part is. My beloved cat, Jamal, passed away very suddenly toward the end of last month, and I just haven't had it in me to write anything to do with cats. I'm trying to ease back into it, but it's difficult to say the least. Apologies for the lateness and the length.
Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3
Mozzie entered the small shop, wrinkling his nose as the strong scent of herbs hit his nose. Apothecaries like these had all died out in America, replaced by doctors with their hospitals and the occasional herbalist. The fact that this place even still existed in this day and age made him remember exactly why he loved Europe so much. Ignoring the woman behind the counter, he entered the room at the back of the shop where an acquaintance was waiting for him.
The man was old and frail in appearance. His white hair hung down past his shoulders, and the one eye that was still functional was blue and sharp.
"There you are," the man said, not one to bother with idle pleasantries. "Did you bring it?"
"Indeed I did." Reaching inside one of his jacket's many hidden pockets, he pulled out the pendant and handed it to the man. "Can you tell me what it is?"
"Patience," the old man chastised. "All good things come to those who wait."
****
Peter entered Neal's apartment, arms laden with shopping bags, and leaned heavily against the door. The day wasn't even half over, and he was already exhausted. After breakfast, Elizabeth had insisted on taking the morning off to do some shopping for Neal - at an art supply store no less!
"Neal? I'm back," Peter called. "I dropped El off at work, but she picked up some presents for you. If you like, you can have them after you eat lunch."
Neal trotted over to him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. Peter only just managed to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread across his face at Neal's expression. Even as a cat, the agent found that he could usually tell what his partner was thinking.
While Neal ate lunch, Peter went about setting up the things that El had bought. Personally, he wasn't so sure about this, but he trusted his wife. If she said it was necessary then it must be something that Neal needed, even if it didn't seem that way to Peter.
Looking around the area where Neal kept his painting supplies, he found an old, paint-splattered sheet which he spread out on the floor and some rags that he placed nearby. Reaching for the shopping bags, he then proceeded to pull out the purchases and arrange them just as his wife had instructed him to. He laid a few of the canvas boards out on the sheet, and began squeezing paint out of the tubes and onto some paper plates. Then, he filled an old cup with water and looked around for his partner.
Neal had finished eating and was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Peter looked at him uneasily, wondering if this was one of those rare moments when his wife got it wrong.
"It's only kids' paint," Peter hurriedly explained. "So it'll wash out of your fur. El thought that maybe you could use your - er, paws, I guess to do an abstract or something. You can wipe them off on the rags every time you want to get a new color. When you're done, I'll give you a proper bath in the tub to get it all off."
He watched Neal's face closely, trying to find some clue as to what he was thinking. At last, he looked up from the paints, and Peter saw that not only was Elizabeth right, she was a genius. The younger man's eyes shone in the way they only did when he was genuinely touched by something.
"Right, well, I'll just leave you to it then," the agent said, forcing himself to turn away and go watch some sports on the television. He knew that if he stayed nearby he wouldn't be able to stop himself from watching, and even though Neal usually liked to show off, experience had taught Peter that he liked his privacy while he was painting.
The agent had made it almost all the way through a rerun of last weekend's baseball game when he finally heard Neal meowing at him. He made his way back over to the now paint-covered kitten sitting beside two completed canvases.
The first looked like Neal had been simply testing out what he could do. The background was filled with bright splotches and smears of paint in various colors. The foreground was filled with paw prints, and it looked like Neal had dipped each individual paw in a different color and run across the page several times. There were also a few random scratches in the colors where the white of the canvas showed through and it looked like tiny claws had been at work there.
The other painting was completely different. While the first had been bright and colorful, perhaps Neal expressing his happiness at being able to paint, the second was more dark and brooding. Dark shades of color were smoothed over it and covered with a few swipes of bright red. In the center was a single black paw print.
"These are great, Neal," Peter said with feeling. "I mean, they're really good!"
His partner merely looked at him with a slightly smug expression that clearly said, 'Yes, I know.'
Peter allowed himself a few more moments to examine the paintings before he scooped the fluffy con artist up in his arms. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
He ran a small amount of warm water in the bathtub and used soap to carefully work the paint out of Neal's fur. Afterward, he rubbed him dry with a towel and combed out his fur with the pet comb that Elizabeth had bought. Neal seemed to thoroughly enjoy the whole process, and Peter chalked it up to all the attention he was receiving.
He was just settling his tired partner down for a nap when his cellphone rang. He answered it, and El's excited voice rang out in his ear.
"Mozzie just called, and he wants us all to meet at Neal's place tomorrow evening. Peter, I think he's found us some answers!"