Title: Weakness for Tequila
Title: Weakness for Tequila
Author: Midknight2501
Email: Midknight2501@yahoo.com
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
Notes: Now who's the devious one?
Rating: PG-ish
Dedication: Happy six months, Randy and Sarah. >:3
He wakes up with one of the worst hangovers he's ever had in his entire life. This is no red wine hangover. Neal tries to bury his face in the pillows and hide from the hangover, but even the pillows don't smell like themselves and the bed is too warm and-
This is worse than a hangover. He doesn't even know who he went home with.
He fervently hopes that he's not outside his two mile boundary, then tries to remember something about last night to explain his headache and where he is.
They'd closed a case. Caught some... Etching forger Cassiel, Cassiline, something like that. Peter had been so ecstatic, and even Elizabeth had been happy for them- they'd met her on the way back from an event she'd been hosting and Peter had given into both of their pleading to go out for a little fun. They had drinks after closing cases- why not a little music and dancing, too?
He tries to think what else, but it's all lost in music and... Tequila shots? Oh god, what did he do? Kate never let him have tequila and for good reason.
Neal started to roll over, determined to see how bad this situation was and froze when a hand clapped over his mouth. He blinked, confused, and realized Elizabeth was peering down at him, her hair a raked through mess. God, he must have passed out on their couch after.
"Quiet, you don't want to wake him." She said, and Neal blinked, innocently confused. Someone made a half snore noise and Neal slowly, slowly looked to the side seeing an expanse of bare shoulder and ruffled brown hair.
Really, really bare shoulder, and he looked back to Elizabeth seeing she was wearing a bathrobe and presumably nothing else.
Oh god. He was going back to jail. He'd be back in by lunch time and he was never, ever going to get out, and he couldn't even really remember anything about last night other than it had been really good.
Neal slithered out of bed, realizing all he was wearing was a lot of skin, and froze again when Peter made a sort of curious noise and shifted around in the bed. Elizabeth handed him his clothes and he got dressed as quietly and quickly as possible, wishing he had coffee and orange juice and a croissant and an explanation for last night. Elizabeth gestured for him to follow, tiptoeing obviously and Neal followed, half afraid he was going to set off an alarm, all the way down the stairs.
He hoped he didn't look as panic stricken as he felt, and turned to Elizabeth, hoping for some help.
She just shook her head and started turning the locks for the front door.
"What-"
She shushed him, looking up the stairs like Peter might launch himself down them.
"I'm sorry." Neal whispered, terrified and ducked out the door, vowing to never touch tequila again.
Elizabeth snuck back up the stairs, giggling quietly to herself, threw off the robe and climbed in the bed.
"You didn't have to show him out." Peter said, sleepily.
"I know."
"He's going to think he did something wrong." Peter pointed out, holding an arm up for her to snuggle under.
"Just imagine all the confused and hopeful looks you'll be getting all week." Elizabeth explained, patting the blankets. "All the innuendo you can innocently use."
Peter chuckled, pulling her close. "You're evil."
"I'm your evil." She pointed out. "And you're the one that told me he's got a weakness for tequila."