distracted, not forgetful
And after this, one to go....
Title: catch you if you fall
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/El
Notes: For
china_shop who asked for a Mozzie fic. Despite the POV, I'm not sure this is that. \o? Set vaguely season 2ish, general audiences, no warnings.
Neal stepped into the main room, jacket slung over one shoulder, and asked, "Well?"
"Nice. Very suave."
Neal made a disgruntled face and stalked back into his loft-apartment-sized 'closet' to change. Again. Mozzie shook his head. If he knew what adjective Neal was hoping for, he'd have said it already. But no, Neal was being close-mouthed about whatever it was that had him changing clothes as often as a teenager on date night.
Mozzie speculatively eyed the corridor Neal had vanished down. Sara was out of the country and, last he'd heard, pretty unhappy with Neal anyway. The very nature of the on-again, off-again friendly thing he'd had going with Alex didn't inspire close attention to dress in either of them. Plus, the fact that Neal hadn't come out and said he was going on a date indicated it was someone he didn't think Mozzie would approve of, which brought him back to Sara, but...
He sat bolt upright on his chair, eyes going wide. No. Oh, no. Not a fed. Neal wouldn't...
Neal would. Neal completely and totally would date a fed and tell himself that he was just flirting or keeping his hand in or whatever until he fell for real. Neal was still shockingly young when it came to matters of the heart. He had already set a making-bad-choices precedent with Kate -- admittedly it had gone better than anyone had any right to expect, but look where it had ended.
After briefly considering asking Neal what the hell he was thinking, Mozzie acknowledged that it was probably too late to head the infatuation off at the pass. The best he could hope for was to be in position to pick up the pieces afterward. Which meant helping Neal now, so he wouldn't be too prickly about the whole thing later. This was exactly why Mozzie didn't have children -- it was bad enough letting people make their own mistakes; he shouldn't be expected to help them along.
Neal entered again. This time he tucked his hands into trouser pockets, pushing the sides of his jacket out of the way to reveal a vest buttoned over his shirt and tie. He gave Mozzie an expectant look from under the brim of his hat.
"Rakish." He'd thrown the adjective out off-hand, still working through the Neal plus Fed equals Trouble equation. Neal frowned and dropped the photo-ready pose. He glanced at the clock, started to turn back to the closet. Mozzie stopped him. "If it's not smooth, suave, or rakish, then what are you going for, Don Juan?"
He watched Neal consider then dismiss denying the charge. "Unstudied."
Mozzie doubted anyone who knew Neal in his current incarnation would buy 'unstudied' for a hot second but swallowed his amusement. "So wear a t-shirt. Or a polo."
Neal pulled a face. "I don't want to look like I'm not making an effort."
That made his eyebrows rise -- little wonder Neal was finding himself frustrated by his expansive wardrobe. "Are you just being contrary?"
Neal spread his hands and widened his eyes, and even knowing the helpless look was a put-on, Mozzie caved. Honestly, he'd have been happy to keep Neal company and soothe his nerves; Neal didn't have to make up an excuse for him to be there. The only time Neal needed assistance dressing any more was when he needed Mozzie to acquire the right uniform pieces. But if Neal wanted the pretense, he could provide.
"Fine, fine. We'll make this suit work. Roll up your sleeves." Mozzie hopped to his feet and relieved Neal of his jacket. Neal frowned as Mozzie draped the jacket over a chair back instead of hanging it -- Mozzie briefly longed for the days when Neal didn't want to wear a suit at all -- but obeyed, unbuttoning his cuffs and folding the sleeves back. "Loosen the tie and unbutton the collar. Voila, casual Neal Caffery."
Well, mostly casual. The hat still presented a bit of a psychological barrier, but if Neal didn't realize that on his own, then maybe he needed it. Mozzie certainly wasn't going to rush him.
A far too familiar knock sounded on the door. Mozzie scowled. He might not approve of Neal's romantic choices, but Neal should get the chance to make them without getting called into work on a night off. Surprisingly, Neal answered the door with evident good cheer. "Peter."
Agent Burke's eyes swept over Neal, gaze just catching at Neal's open collar. "You look --"
Mozzie was entirely grateful that Agent Burke failed to finish the sentence, because the suit would probably prefer not to have a witness to whatever he was going to say. And Mozzie himself preferred having plausible deniability when it came to knowing blackmailable things about governmental agents.
He was going to throttle Neal.
"Ready?" asked another voice. Mozzie blinked, as though it would somehow clear his ears. El reached past her husband to swipe Neal's hat off his head, the motion bringing her briefly into view in the doorway. Neal ducked his head and smiled up at her and just seriously?
"Absolutely," Neal said, ushering them back to the stairs. He tossed Mozzie a look as he pulled the door closed behind them. Mozzie fought a sudden (perhaps slightly hysterical) urge to call a demand that Neal be home by curfew.
Mozzie waited until he was completely sure they were gone, then wandered downstairs. June was in the parlor, reading one of Kitty Kelley's biographies. He sat heavily on the divan opposite. June offered a small smile in greeting and turned back to the book. Hopefully, Neal wasn't doing anything so stupid that he'd land himself back in jail. Maybe that was why he'd wanted Mozzie there -- a witness against Mr. and Mrs. Suit's good behavior. He sighed. No, this was Neal, and he remembered that parting look from when Neal had brought Kate to meet him: now that Mozzie knew, Neal wanted him to be happy for him. Romantically, Neal had the self-preservation instincts of a lovesick teenager.
Mozzie rubbed at his forehead where the headache would soon be starting and glanced over at Neal's other volunteer keeper, serenely reading despite no doubt knowing at least as much as he did about the current Neal Situation. “Neal makes me feel old. Doesn't he make you feel old?”
June closed the book, finger serving as temporary bookmark, but didn't answer immediately. He liked that about her, the way she considered before responding. "No, dear. Neal reminds me what it's like to feel young."
After a moment, he let a wry smile escape. "That, too." His eyes dropped to the book. "So, is she any good?"
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Title: catch you if you fall
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/El
Notes: For
china_shop who asked for a Mozzie fic. Despite the POV, I'm not sure this is that. \o? Set vaguely season 2ish, general audiences, no warnings.
Neal stepped into the main room, jacket slung over one shoulder, and asked, "Well?"
"Nice. Very suave."
Neal made a disgruntled face and stalked back into his loft-apartment-sized 'closet' to change. Again. Mozzie shook his head. If he knew what adjective Neal was hoping for, he'd have said it already. But no, Neal was being close-mouthed about whatever it was that had him changing clothes as often as a teenager on date night.
Mozzie speculatively eyed the corridor Neal had vanished down. Sara was out of the country and, last he'd heard, pretty unhappy with Neal anyway. The very nature of the on-again, off-again friendly thing he'd had going with Alex didn't inspire close attention to dress in either of them. Plus, the fact that Neal hadn't come out and said he was going on a date indicated it was someone he didn't think Mozzie would approve of, which brought him back to Sara, but...
He sat bolt upright on his chair, eyes going wide. No. Oh, no. Not a fed. Neal wouldn't...
Neal would. Neal completely and totally would date a fed and tell himself that he was just flirting or keeping his hand in or whatever until he fell for real. Neal was still shockingly young when it came to matters of the heart. He had already set a making-bad-choices precedent with Kate -- admittedly it had gone better than anyone had any right to expect, but look where it had ended.
After briefly considering asking Neal what the hell he was thinking, Mozzie acknowledged that it was probably too late to head the infatuation off at the pass. The best he could hope for was to be in position to pick up the pieces afterward. Which meant helping Neal now, so he wouldn't be too prickly about the whole thing later. This was exactly why Mozzie didn't have children -- it was bad enough letting people make their own mistakes; he shouldn't be expected to help them along.
Neal entered again. This time he tucked his hands into trouser pockets, pushing the sides of his jacket out of the way to reveal a vest buttoned over his shirt and tie. He gave Mozzie an expectant look from under the brim of his hat.
"Rakish." He'd thrown the adjective out off-hand, still working through the Neal plus Fed equals Trouble equation. Neal frowned and dropped the photo-ready pose. He glanced at the clock, started to turn back to the closet. Mozzie stopped him. "If it's not smooth, suave, or rakish, then what are you going for, Don Juan?"
He watched Neal consider then dismiss denying the charge. "Unstudied."
Mozzie doubted anyone who knew Neal in his current incarnation would buy 'unstudied' for a hot second but swallowed his amusement. "So wear a t-shirt. Or a polo."
Neal pulled a face. "I don't want to look like I'm not making an effort."
That made his eyebrows rise -- little wonder Neal was finding himself frustrated by his expansive wardrobe. "Are you just being contrary?"
Neal spread his hands and widened his eyes, and even knowing the helpless look was a put-on, Mozzie caved. Honestly, he'd have been happy to keep Neal company and soothe his nerves; Neal didn't have to make up an excuse for him to be there. The only time Neal needed assistance dressing any more was when he needed Mozzie to acquire the right uniform pieces. But if Neal wanted the pretense, he could provide.
"Fine, fine. We'll make this suit work. Roll up your sleeves." Mozzie hopped to his feet and relieved Neal of his jacket. Neal frowned as Mozzie draped the jacket over a chair back instead of hanging it -- Mozzie briefly longed for the days when Neal didn't want to wear a suit at all -- but obeyed, unbuttoning his cuffs and folding the sleeves back. "Loosen the tie and unbutton the collar. Voila, casual Neal Caffery."
Well, mostly casual. The hat still presented a bit of a psychological barrier, but if Neal didn't realize that on his own, then maybe he needed it. Mozzie certainly wasn't going to rush him.
A far too familiar knock sounded on the door. Mozzie scowled. He might not approve of Neal's romantic choices, but Neal should get the chance to make them without getting called into work on a night off. Surprisingly, Neal answered the door with evident good cheer. "Peter."
Agent Burke's eyes swept over Neal, gaze just catching at Neal's open collar. "You look --"
Mozzie was entirely grateful that Agent Burke failed to finish the sentence, because the suit would probably prefer not to have a witness to whatever he was going to say. And Mozzie himself preferred having plausible deniability when it came to knowing blackmailable things about governmental agents.
He was going to throttle Neal.
"Ready?" asked another voice. Mozzie blinked, as though it would somehow clear his ears. El reached past her husband to swipe Neal's hat off his head, the motion bringing her briefly into view in the doorway. Neal ducked his head and smiled up at her and just seriously?
"Absolutely," Neal said, ushering them back to the stairs. He tossed Mozzie a look as he pulled the door closed behind them. Mozzie fought a sudden (perhaps slightly hysterical) urge to call a demand that Neal be home by curfew.
Mozzie waited until he was completely sure they were gone, then wandered downstairs. June was in the parlor, reading one of Kitty Kelley's biographies. He sat heavily on the divan opposite. June offered a small smile in greeting and turned back to the book. Hopefully, Neal wasn't doing anything so stupid that he'd land himself back in jail. Maybe that was why he'd wanted Mozzie there -- a witness against Mr. and Mrs. Suit's good behavior. He sighed. No, this was Neal, and he remembered that parting look from when Neal had brought Kate to meet him: now that Mozzie knew, Neal wanted him to be happy for him. Romantically, Neal had the self-preservation instincts of a lovesick teenager.
Mozzie rubbed at his forehead where the headache would soon be starting and glanced over at Neal's other volunteer keeper, serenely reading despite no doubt knowing at least as much as he did about the current Neal Situation. “Neal makes me feel old. Doesn't he make you feel old?”
June closed the book, finger serving as temporary bookmark, but didn't answer immediately. He liked that about her, the way she considered before responding. "No, dear. Neal reminds me what it's like to feel young."
After a moment, he let a wry smile escape. "That, too." His eyes dropped to the book. "So, is she any good?"
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