Don't Pick This (Handcuffs Series)
Author: Jet44
Genres: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humor, Friendship, Gen
Relationships: Peter and Neal bromance, canon pairings
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Collection of one-shots, each based on a time Neal has been handcuffed (usually by Peter). Less kinky than it sounds, these aren't slash - although if you ship the two I'm sure you'll enjoy them ;). Lots of hurt/comfort/angst/adorableness.
# Clickable Series Index with Summaries #
It'd hurt in that doctor's office. Drugged out of his mind, he could accept that what he'd just done was going to land him back in prison. Oh well. It'd been a fun vacation, but he'd always known it was temporary.
He wondered if he'd get his old cell back. Call him crazy, but he'd never minded the cell. It was kind of cozy after a little fixing up, and it was his. After tense days in the machine shop with friends who were only friends until a more beneficial partnership came along, dodging leers and advances from guys who noticed he was on the prettier side of manly, it was an okay feeling to be locked in for the night.
So why was his heart breaking? He looked into the FBI agent's frustrated, hurt brown eyes and knew instantly. The only true friend he'd ever known, the one person he felt utterly safe with. And he had to say goodbye.
"You're the one person in my life that I trust."
Thank you, Peter Burke.
The hand that patted him on the head and came to rest on his shoulder, affectionate and comforting, was all the reply he ever could have wished for.
And when Peter cuffed him to the chair, it hurt like hell.
"Don't. Pick. This." The order was sharp, stern, a message. We said goodbye. Back to business. Back to prison.
He was too dizzy, too weak, the world too blurred and his mind too slow to understand why Peter left him there. He tugged lightly at the metal shackles. Forget picking, this pathetic attempt at restraint could be slipped off in seconds. Peter knew that.
Peter was kind. Peter might not have wanted to cuff his hands up tightly behind his back in the only position that would make them hard to pick, while Neal was drugged and vulnerable. But he was a realistic enough agent to do it without hesitation. Friend or not.
So this had to be an offered escape opportunity. Neal Caffrey is left alone for a few seconds and does what he does best. Not Peter's fault if a heavily drugged and restrained guy wearing a tracking anklet somehow got away while his back was turned.
He tugged again, wondering if he should slip it off his wrist or the chair leg. Wondering how he was supposed to escape when he couldn't stand.
Don't. Pick. This.
That hadn't been a wink and a nudge. That had been an order.
Obeying orders had never been his strong suit, a flaw that led to an insanely boring amount of time in handcuffs and ankle chains and solitary confinement cells in prison. But an order given by someone who cared about him was a different matter.
He went to sleep.
Peter's pleasant voice woke him up again. God, I'm going to miss this guy. Maybe he could work with the FBI again, with Peter again, when he got out.
Peter said things that only sunk into Neal's brain on a time delay, while taking off the handcuffs. Wait. Had he heard that right?
"You stole that tape for me?"
"It's a regular Kodak moment." A grin, and Peter dragged Neal to his feet.
It'd been a test. Put yourself in my hands, trust me, obey me, and I'll save your life and your soul.
Okay. I'm along for the ride.