Changing Teams, Part Three
Title: Changing Teams
Author: J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: White Collar; Friendship, pre-slash, and slash (Peter-Neal, Elizabeth approves)
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own White Collar or the characters.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mozzie's perceptive observations cause Neal to rethink the nature of his partnership with Peter. Peter/Neal friendship, pre-slash and a bit of slash. Mild, consensual corporal discipline of an adult.
Link to Part One
~oOo~
Neal woke up to a dog’s tongue licking his face. “I’m awake, Satch,” he said, pushing the dog away. “I’ll feed you in a few minutes, ok boy?”
Satchmo whined, but settled back down on the bed. Neal sat up, scratching behind the dog’s ears as he did so.
He loved waking in up Peter’s house--nothing could be further from the prison he’d woken up in for four years. In fact, he loved waking up here even more than waking up at June’s. For some reason he couldn’t quite articulate, Peter’s house felt more like home.
He glanced at the clock. It was early yet--he had about an hour and a half before he’d have to leave with Peter for the job. Unless . . . unless he could convince a certain overworked FBI agent that both of them deserved a day off. Today was Friday; if no emergency called them in, they could have a three day weekend. A three-day weekend Neal intended to spend at chez Burke.
Neal yawned and stretched, wondering how to coax Peter out of bed and out of his room without waking up Elizabeth. Peter solved that for him, however. Neal heard his tread in the hall.
Neal grinned. The guy must be coming to wake him up--as if Neal couldn’t be trusted to set an alarm clock. Not that he had set an alarm clock, but still . . .
“Morning, Peter,” he called out as the agent came closer. “Come on in.”
“Hey,” Peter said, standing in the doorway. “You ok with cereal for breakfast?”
“I’ll make us a real breakfast--on one condition.”
Peter cocked his head.
“Let’s take today off. It’s been quiet and I know you have lots of personal time.”
“No, Neal. We have plenty of work to do--”
“We’ve been pouring over old files. That can wait till Monday. Please, Peter?”
The agent rolled his eyes. “Don’t flash those baby-blues at me. I’m not the one with a crush.”
Neal pretended to be devastated as he pushed himself to his feet and took a step toward his captor. “I confess my feelings to you--and you turn them against me?”
Satchmo whined again, presumably from the sudden lack of attention.
“Neal,” Peter said, his eyes holding a warning, “stop giving me that wounded puppy-dog look. I know you’re faking it. And I’m immune to it anyway.”
“One day, Peter,” Neal pleaded. “One day off--we’ve earned it. If you’ll just give us today, I’ll even forgive you for throwing my crush back in my face.”
“Neal--”
“Please . . .”
Peter rolled his eyes again. “Ok, I’ll call Hughes. But you better make a damn good breakfast.”
“I will,” Neal promised as he drew Peter into a bear hug and started planting kisses on the agent’s cheek.
“Stop that! I thought this was only a mild crush,” Peter complained, half-heartedly pushing him away.
“More than mild, but less than serious,” Neal reminded him, kissing his cheek yet again.
Satchmo didn’t help matters. Suddenly he was off the bed and jumping at Peter, trying to get his own share of kisses. Neal laughed, but Peter glared at both of them.
“Sit, Satch!” Peter ordered. Then he turned back to Neal. “And you--”
“I’ll get downstairs to the kitchen,” Neal promised, still laughing as he released the agent.
Peter moved out of his way and even gave him a smack on the ass to help him out the door. Neal almost stopped in his tracks, astonished, but he forced himself to keep moving. He knew Peter too well. The guy would try to pass that smack off as either fatherly or as some kind of hetero-football-buddy-thing.
Still, Neal was smiling when he reached the kitchen. Seems like he wasn’t the only one with a crush.
But what would Elizabeth think? Neal was pretty sure she’d allow some serious flirting between himself and her husband--but he wouldn’t blame her for drawing the line there. He paused as he reached the kitchen counter, frowning. However eager he was to test his boundaries with Peter, he would never do so at Elizabeth’s expense.
He bit his lip, realizing he’d have to acknowledge Elizabeth’s right to set some boundaries of her own. Still, what kind of conman was he if he couldn’t sweet-talk her into stretching them?
He held onto that thought as he got to work on omelets for three. It was a long while before he realized that Kate hadn’t crossed his mind as part of the equation.
~oOo~
Elizabeth didn’t grudge Peter and Neal their day off. On the contrary, she was thrilled that Peter was taking the time--and she was damned impressed that Neal had talked him into it. She smiled to herself as she worked, knowing her husband wasn’t as impervious to Neal’s baby blues as he pretended to be.
She had a good idea of what the guys were up to, especially considering the drizzling rain that lent a grey cast to the day, nixing most outdoor activities. When she finally arrived home, she proved to be right on the money. The Xbox, PlayStation and Wii were all out. Elizabeth bit back a smile as she hung up her coat: no matter how old they got, they were still just a couple of boys.
Peter was sitting on the couch with the controller to the Xbox. Neal was sitting on the floor, with one arm resting on Peter’s lap, leaning up against him. Both men had their eyes trained on the flat-screen as they argued about what to do next. They paused in their bickering to call out greetings to her, but went straight back to it.
Elizabeth peered at the screen. They were playing Dragon Age: a single player, role-playing type game with lots of storyline choices. That explained the argument. She shook her head, embarrassed to know so much. Maybe she was just as much a kid at heart--and just as much a geek--as her two boys.
She strolled behind the couch and kissed Peter on top of the head. Then she reached over to tousle Neal’s hair.
Neal turned and grinned up at her. “We held up dinner for you. It’s cooking now. I’ll get--”
Elizabeth laughed. “Keep playing; I’ll take care of it.”
She strolled into the kitchen and checked on the food. It was some kind of chicken casserole, and it smelled delicious. Satisfied, she closed the oven and collected the plates necessary to set the table.
The argument was still going on when she walked into the dining room. Peter had his right arm raised now, controller in hand to keep it out of Neal’s reach. Neal, meanwhile, was trying to grab hold of it, leaning over Peter’s lap in the process.
“It’s my turn, Peter! Give it to me--ow!”
The ‘ow’ was in deference to the solid smack Peter had just delivered to the boy’s backside. Undeterred, Neal kept reaching for the controller.
“What, you’re spanking me now?” he asked, laughing as he made another grab for the device.
“Why not?” Peter retorted, using his free hand to smack him again. “I own your ass, remember?”
“Yeah, ” Neal said as he finally managed to pull Peter’s right arm down. “And I think I was crazy enough to admit that I like it that way.”
Peter grinned as he released the controller into Neal’s custody. Neal sank back onto the floor, one arm resting on Peter’s lap again as he took over the game. “Ok, enough of this,” he said, his attention back on the flat screen. “I’m bringing us to the Circle Tower to deal with the demons.”
Elizabeth kept watching, mesmerized, as Peter refocused on the game, absently ruffling Neal’s hair as he did so. She ought to be jealous, she told herself. These two were as comfortable with each other as long-time lovers. And they were treating each other as long-time lovers.
But she wasn’t jealous. She had to be honest enough to admit that to herself. Somehow there was a rightness about having Neal here, about seeing him so casually intimate with her husband. And somehow she didn't feel threatened by that intimacy. Neal just seemed to fit here.
Maybe she’d just grown used to having Caffrey for 'competition.' Or maybe she’d watched too much Big Love. Either way, she didn’t mind the idea of sharing her husband with the ex-con.
Nonetheless, she had a few conditions to place on that sharing. Neal was going to balk at them, but he'd have to--well, he'd have to cowboy up. And she might as well set him straight now, while her husband was still deluding himself that he had a platonic relationship with the kid.
“Neal,” she called out sweetly, “would you help me in the kitchen for a moment?”
Link to Part Four