A Closer Eye, Part Three
Author: J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: White Collar
Rating: PG-13 (T)
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own White Collar or the characters.
Summary: Peter finds a way to keep Neal under a closer eye . . . at least for a week. Friendship or pre-slash, depending on your glasses. Ok, leans toward pre-slash, but still open to interpretation. Spoilers for The Portrait.
Link to Part One
“He grounded you?”
Neal narrowed his eyes. Instead of outraged, Mozzie sounded surprised--and a little impressed.
“Yeah. Except for work, I’m unofficially confined to his house for a week.”
There was a long pause. “A week’s not bad,” Mozzie said at last. “And I can see Agent Burke’s point. He’s just worried about you.”
“Moz, I can’t stay here for a week!” Neal didn’t spell the problem out; Peter was right upstairs, and he might be coming down any minute.
“Look, a week off will be good for you. Don’t worry. If anyone needs you, they’ll find a way to get in touch.”
Neal knew how to translate: ‘Kate will figure out how to contact you if she so desires. Forget about her until she does.’ Moz was all for figuring out what the mystery man wanted--but he wasn’t convinced Kate was in danger. Neal, however, knew she wasn’t playing him. Or if she was, it was for a good reason.
Neal sighed. Moz had no intention of helping him at present.
“Does June know where you are?” Mozzie asked.
“Yeah,” Neal said. “But I told her I was crashing here because Peter and I would be working late each night.”
“Do you mind if I . . .”
Neal sighed. “No, I don’t mind. You can still crash at my place. Night, Moz.”
Neal clicked off the phone, pocketed it and stared straight ahead without really seeing anything.
“What’s wrong, Neal? Did Haversham side with me?”
Neal glanced up at Peter, who was just coming down the stairs. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice expressionless.
Peter took a seat beside him on the couch. “Was tonight so awful?”
Neal shook his head and even managed a small smile. “No. Tonight was great. It’s just . . .” He shrugged as he let his voice trail off.
“It’s just what? No, never mind,” Peter said, his voice suddenly sour. “You’ve never been good at taking your punishment, have you? You don’t think the rules apply to you.”
Neal felt himself go cold as he remembered the hellish years in prison. He shifted so that he could face the agent. “I served almost my
entire sentence. I only left to find Kate.”
Peter stared at him for a long moment, as if debating whether he should say something about foolish romantic gestures. But then his eyes softened.
“You won’t do Kate any good, Neal, by going back to prison,” he said. “Don’t break your probation trying to do her a favor.”
Neal said nothing to that--there was nothing to say. He just shrugged.
Peter watched him for another long moment. “You going up to bed?” he asked at last, his voice casual.
Neal shook his head. “No. I want to stay up for a while.” He paused to give Peter a defiant look. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving. Not tonight.”
He expected a snarky comment from Burke about how he didn’t trust Neal not to do something stupid. Peter hated not having the last word.
Peter probably didn’t trust him, but he made no snarky comment. “Would you like some company?” he asked instead.
Neal hesitated--but only for a few seconds. “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.”
Peter nodded and reached for the remote. “Let’s see what’s on.”
~oOo~
Neal woke up with a warm body next to him . . .and the distinct smell of dog breath in his face. He wrinkled his nose and then groaned. “Satch, get off my bed.”
The dog ignored him, so Neal repeated the order in his best ‘Peter’ voice. That didn’t work either, so he finally shoved the dog to the side and sat up.
He furrowed his brow, remembering last night. He and Peter had watched some old episodes of M*A*S*H and Family Guy. They even
caught a showing of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but Neal drifted off in the middle. He vaguely remembered Peter shaking him awake at the end, in time for the warehouse scene. He must have still been groggy though, because Peter had pulled him to his feet and walked him to his room.
Neal scratched behind Satchmo’s ears as he thought out his situation. He was in a sharp, bright guest room--obviously decorated by Elizabeth, since Peter’s taste was deplorable--in a house he really liked. (Not that it had the brilliant view of Manhattan that his rooms at June’s could boast, but still.) More importantly, he was with two people he really liked.
Satchmo let out a contented sigh. Oh yeah--there was a dog here Neal liked too.
He grinned. So this was domestic bliss: Popcorn, wine and foreign films. Flirting with Elizabeth under Peter’s tolerant gaze. Teasing Peter by flirting with him too. Watching old shows on TV. Waking up with dog breath in his face.
He could get used to this. Apart from Mozzie, there weren’t many people he felt this comfortable with. There was Kate, of course, but--well, it was different with Kate.
Neal shook himself. What was he thinking? Peter didn’t really want him here--he just wanted to keep a closer eye on him this week, so he was going through his stalker routine. And Neal didn’t want to be here. Or not grounded here, at any event. Besides, he had a better view at June’s.
Still, a week here might not be as bad as he thought. It might give him time to clear his head and figure out why the guy with the ring would be holding Kate--and what the hell this guy wanted from Neal’s stash. And maybe he could figure out if Kate was really in danger, or if she was playing her captor somehow.
Neal stood up and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was a little mussy, perhaps, and he hadn't shaved yet, but the look suited him. And his t-shirt and sweats were presentable enough--at least for a Saturday morning breakfast table.
He smiled and trotted downstairs, but stopped short when he caught sight of Peter. The agent was sitting at his dining room table with a bunch of papers in his hand and a murderous expression on his face.
Neal approached him with all the caution he could muster. “Ah, am I in trouble?” he asked.
Peter glanced up at him and then shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, Neal, it’s not always about you.”
Neal slid into the chair opposite him, dismissing the comebacks flitting through his brain. “What is it about?”
Peter held up a hand to stop any further questions. Neal ignored the hand and asked again.
Peter gave in. “It’s just a--it’s just a hassle with an insurance company, that’s all. I shouldn’t get so annoyed about it.”
Neal frowned. “Why do I think that’s not the whole story?”
“Why do you need to know more?”
He gave Peter a reproving look. “Because whatever it is, you’re really upset. Come on, you’re supposed to share what’s bothering you with your office spouse. That’s what I’m here for.”
That brought a reluctant smile to Peter’s face.
“Don’t worry,” Neal persisted, giving Peter a melting look that had never failed him. “You still don’t have to have an affair with me. Exchanging confidences is just a standard office-spouse duty.”
Peter smiled again--a genuine smile this time. “Ok,” he said. “You win. Just keep this to yourself, Neal. It’s not a secret--not exactly--but all the same . . .”
“I will,” Neal promised. “Now tell me what’s going on."
Link to Part Four
Genre: White Collar
Rating: PG-13 (T)
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own White Collar or the characters.
Summary: Peter finds a way to keep Neal under a closer eye . . . at least for a week. Friendship or pre-slash, depending on your glasses. Ok, leans toward pre-slash, but still open to interpretation. Spoilers for The Portrait.
Link to Part One
“He grounded you?”
Neal narrowed his eyes. Instead of outraged, Mozzie sounded surprised--and a little impressed.
“Yeah. Except for work, I’m unofficially confined to his house for a week.”
There was a long pause. “A week’s not bad,” Mozzie said at last. “And I can see Agent Burke’s point. He’s just worried about you.”
“Moz, I can’t stay here for a week!” Neal didn’t spell the problem out; Peter was right upstairs, and he might be coming down any minute.
“Look, a week off will be good for you. Don’t worry. If anyone needs you, they’ll find a way to get in touch.”
Neal knew how to translate: ‘Kate will figure out how to contact you if she so desires. Forget about her until she does.’ Moz was all for figuring out what the mystery man wanted--but he wasn’t convinced Kate was in danger. Neal, however, knew she wasn’t playing him. Or if she was, it was for a good reason.
Neal sighed. Moz had no intention of helping him at present.
“Does June know where you are?” Mozzie asked.
“Yeah,” Neal said. “But I told her I was crashing here because Peter and I would be working late each night.”
“Do you mind if I . . .”
Neal sighed. “No, I don’t mind. You can still crash at my place. Night, Moz.”
Neal clicked off the phone, pocketed it and stared straight ahead without really seeing anything.
“What’s wrong, Neal? Did Haversham side with me?”
Neal glanced up at Peter, who was just coming down the stairs. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice expressionless.
Peter took a seat beside him on the couch. “Was tonight so awful?”
Neal shook his head and even managed a small smile. “No. Tonight was great. It’s just . . .” He shrugged as he let his voice trail off.
“It’s just what? No, never mind,” Peter said, his voice suddenly sour. “You’ve never been good at taking your punishment, have you? You don’t think the rules apply to you.”
Neal felt himself go cold as he remembered the hellish years in prison. He shifted so that he could face the agent. “I served almost my
entire sentence. I only left to find Kate.”
Peter stared at him for a long moment, as if debating whether he should say something about foolish romantic gestures. But then his eyes softened.
“You won’t do Kate any good, Neal, by going back to prison,” he said. “Don’t break your probation trying to do her a favor.”
Neal said nothing to that--there was nothing to say. He just shrugged.
Peter watched him for another long moment. “You going up to bed?” he asked at last, his voice casual.
Neal shook his head. “No. I want to stay up for a while.” He paused to give Peter a defiant look. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving. Not tonight.”
He expected a snarky comment from Burke about how he didn’t trust Neal not to do something stupid. Peter hated not having the last word.
Peter probably didn’t trust him, but he made no snarky comment. “Would you like some company?” he asked instead.
Neal hesitated--but only for a few seconds. “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.”
Peter nodded and reached for the remote. “Let’s see what’s on.”
~oOo~
Neal woke up with a warm body next to him . . .and the distinct smell of dog breath in his face. He wrinkled his nose and then groaned. “Satch, get off my bed.”
The dog ignored him, so Neal repeated the order in his best ‘Peter’ voice. That didn’t work either, so he finally shoved the dog to the side and sat up.
He furrowed his brow, remembering last night. He and Peter had watched some old episodes of M*A*S*H and Family Guy. They even
caught a showing of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but Neal drifted off in the middle. He vaguely remembered Peter shaking him awake at the end, in time for the warehouse scene. He must have still been groggy though, because Peter had pulled him to his feet and walked him to his room.
Neal scratched behind Satchmo’s ears as he thought out his situation. He was in a sharp, bright guest room--obviously decorated by Elizabeth, since Peter’s taste was deplorable--in a house he really liked. (Not that it had the brilliant view of Manhattan that his rooms at June’s could boast, but still.) More importantly, he was with two people he really liked.
Satchmo let out a contented sigh. Oh yeah--there was a dog here Neal liked too.
He grinned. So this was domestic bliss: Popcorn, wine and foreign films. Flirting with Elizabeth under Peter’s tolerant gaze. Teasing Peter by flirting with him too. Watching old shows on TV. Waking up with dog breath in his face.
He could get used to this. Apart from Mozzie, there weren’t many people he felt this comfortable with. There was Kate, of course, but--well, it was different with Kate.
Neal shook himself. What was he thinking? Peter didn’t really want him here--he just wanted to keep a closer eye on him this week, so he was going through his stalker routine. And Neal didn’t want to be here. Or not grounded here, at any event. Besides, he had a better view at June’s.
Still, a week here might not be as bad as he thought. It might give him time to clear his head and figure out why the guy with the ring would be holding Kate--and what the hell this guy wanted from Neal’s stash. And maybe he could figure out if Kate was really in danger, or if she was playing her captor somehow.
Neal stood up and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was a little mussy, perhaps, and he hadn't shaved yet, but the look suited him. And his t-shirt and sweats were presentable enough--at least for a Saturday morning breakfast table.
He smiled and trotted downstairs, but stopped short when he caught sight of Peter. The agent was sitting at his dining room table with a bunch of papers in his hand and a murderous expression on his face.
Neal approached him with all the caution he could muster. “Ah, am I in trouble?” he asked.
Peter glanced up at him and then shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, Neal, it’s not always about you.”
Neal slid into the chair opposite him, dismissing the comebacks flitting through his brain. “What is it about?”
Peter held up a hand to stop any further questions. Neal ignored the hand and asked again.
Peter gave in. “It’s just a--it’s just a hassle with an insurance company, that’s all. I shouldn’t get so annoyed about it.”
Neal frowned. “Why do I think that’s not the whole story?”
“Why do you need to know more?”
He gave Peter a reproving look. “Because whatever it is, you’re really upset. Come on, you’re supposed to share what’s bothering you with your office spouse. That’s what I’m here for.”
That brought a reluctant smile to Peter’s face.
“Don’t worry,” Neal persisted, giving Peter a melting look that had never failed him. “You still don’t have to have an affair with me. Exchanging confidences is just a standard office-spouse duty.”
Peter smiled again--a genuine smile this time. “Ok,” he said. “You win. Just keep this to yourself, Neal. It’s not a secret--not exactly--but all the same . . .”
“I will,” Neal promised. “Now tell me what’s going on."
Link to Part Four