Turned
Author: NYWCgirl
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: none
Characters: Neal, Peter,
Warning/genre: AU, strangers, intrigue, vampires, (emotional) hurt/comfort, angst, blood drinking, grief, death of a major character
Spoilers: none
Rating: Gen
Author's Notes: This fic fills the ‘Mercy killing’ square on my H/C Bingo card.
Word Count: ~ 1340
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Summary: Peter is a high ranking vampire in New York City. Neal Caffrey a gifted artist who just lost his girlfriend.
This fic can also be found on AO3.
Peter watches Neal, who is once again sloshed. He steps outside in the chilling air, stumbles and needs a moment to steady himself. Peter watches him from the shadows, like he has been doing the last couple of days. He doesn´t know why he keeps track of Neal. Hell, he doesn´t even know when this warm bodied blood supply changed into Neal. He never looked up the name of any of his feedings.
Peter feels… What exactly? He can see the misery on Neal´s face. It has been there ever since his girlfriend has died in a tragic accident.
It was at the funeral that peter´s attention was drawn to the man. He is just gorgeous despite the overwhelming grief he projects.
Peter is pulled from his thoughts when Neal staggers away, presumably going home, like he does every morning. Peter follows him.
* * *
A couple of weeks later Peter can´t take it any longer. Neal is really drinking himself into an early grave. Peter follows him to his house, but about a block away, a man steps into Neal´s path. He is holding a gun. Neal doesn´t seem to comprehend the seriousness of the situation when he tries to step away from the man.
Peter can´t just watch Neal getting hurt, so he steps out of the shadows between the two men and with a swift movement, the man goes limp. Peter discards of the body and slowly walks up to Neal who is still wavering in place, his eyes wide in shock.
‘Are you alright?’
Peter knows it is a lame excuse to try if nothing happened and pretend that he is just a concerned bystander, but it is all he can come up with.
Neal is still staring at the spot where the man just stood.
‘What did you do to him?’
There is no reason to lie, so… ‘you were in danger. I took care of it.’
Neal blinks a bit in confusion, clearly trying to get more sober.
‘Did you just kill him?’
‘There is no need to worry about him.’
‘But you killed him.’
Peter sighs.
‘OK, technically, yes I did, because he was about to kill you.’
‘You don´t know that.’
‘Yes I do, trust me, you wouldn´t have stood a chance. You are just too drunk, why do you think he stalked you.’
Neal seems to accept that as a fact because he nods slowly.
‘What do we do now? You made me an accessory to murder, I…’
‘Like I said, you don´t need to worry.’
Peter shows him his credentials.
‘You are a cop?’
‘Well, not exactly, I am an FBI agent. Why don´t I walk you home?’
And even though Neal knows this is a bad idea and he should say no, something in Peter’s eyes makes him say yes. They walk in silence to Neal´s apartment. When they arrive at the front door, Neal opens the door but Peter doesn´t move.
‘Well, are you going to stand there or what?’
‘Are you inviting me in?’
Neal looks back in confusion.
‘What are you? A vampire or something. Of course I am inviting you in.’
Peter smiles and follows Neal in. He looks around, studying the space. It is sparsely decorated, but what is in there is tasteful. He likes the place, it has a comfy feeling.
‘You want a night cap?’
‘I would prefer coffee if you have some.’
‘Sure.’
Neal makes some coffee in the small kitchenette and brings it to the couch where Peter sat down. He seems more sober and they talk. It doesn´t take long for Neal to fall asleep on the couch. Peter gets up, takes one of the plaids that are next to the couch and covers Neal, who doesn´t stir. He makes sure to lock up the door before he leaves.
* * *
Peter is waiting for Neal once again, but tonight Neal is also looking for Peter. When their eyes meet, Peter is surprised to see that Neal is not drunk.
‘Hi g-man. I hoped I would find you here. You never gave me your name. You just left.’
‘I guess I haven´t. My name is Peter Burke.’
‘Nice to meet you Peter Burke, my name is Neal Caffrey.’
‘Likewise.’
‘So, are you on duty?’
‘Yeah, I work mostly at night.’
‘I didn´t know FBI-agents work night shifts.’
‘Well, crime doesn´t sleep, does it?’
‘Makes sense.’
‘So, you want to go for a drink?’
‘Sorry, on duty, remember? I can´t.’
‘Of course, do you want to come to my place for a cup of coffee instead?’
‘OK, that could work. I will tell the bureau I was following a lead.’
Neal smiles.
‘Let´s go.’
They walk to Neal´s place and this time they chat a bit more. Peter asks about the painting that is on an easel in the corner of the room, and Neal explains it is his. Peter expresses his admiration, but Neal says it is just him doodling. Peter doesn´t miss the sad look that fills Neal´s eyes. He decides not to comment on it, but it is Neal himself who brings it up, telling Peter that he lost his girlfriend and with it his purpose in life. They keep silent after that confession until Peter looks Neal in the eyes.
‘You are deeply hurt.’
Neal nods sadly, ‘is it that obvious?’
‘It is.’
Neal looks at his feet when he makes his next confession.
‘I just don´t know how to continue. I…’
‘Shh… you don´t need to explain.’
Neal looks up at Peter.
‘What would you say if I tell you I can take all your pain away?’
Neal looks so lost in this moment. Peter´s heart if it were possible aches for him. He steps closer to Neal and is surprised to see that Neal doesn´t step away.
If the situation wasn´t so tragic, it would have amused Peter and he would gladly have accepted the challenge, but now it looks more like defeat that Neal doesn´t seem to have any self-preservation left.
Peter advances some more until he stands in front of Neal. Now that he is up and close he breaths in Neal´s scent. It is intoxicating. Neal overwhelms his senses, all he can see is the jugular in Neal´s neck. Neal´s eyes are closed.
He shouldn´t be doing this, but he wants to and he decides not to overthink this. He just sinks his incisors in Neal´s neck. A keening sound escapes Neal right before going limp when Peter sucks the life out of him. Peter can feel Neal´s heart rate slowing until almost non-existent. He quickly slits his own wrist and feeds his blood to Neal by dripping it in his slack mouth until Neal slowly starts to move and suck for himself.
Peter studies concerned, because turning someone doesn´t always work. When Neal once again goes limp; Peter picks him up , bridal style and makes his way to the bed and lays Neal down, watching anxiously. Neal shifts in the bed, pain evident on his face, but he doesn´t wake up.
When he does after several hours, it is almost morning, it is clear he is turned. His skin has an alabaster quality, it is almost translucent and his eyes are as blue as the sky and stand out against his pale skin.
With his humanity, he lost his grief and anguish and his features are relaxed and collected.
‘How do you feel?’
Peter can see Neal is taking stock of himself.
‘Good. I have never felt like this.’
Neal gives Peter a smile and Peter can see Neal´s small incisors. They are pointy but not long enough to feed with. They will grow,, but for now Peter will let Neal feed of him. It will nurture their bond.
Neal is his. Forever.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: none
Characters: Neal, Peter,
Warning/genre: AU, strangers, intrigue, vampires, (emotional) hurt/comfort, angst, blood drinking, grief, death of a major character
Spoilers: none
Rating: Gen
Author's Notes: This fic fills the ‘Mercy killing’ square on my H/C Bingo card.
Word Count: ~ 1340
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Summary: Peter is a high ranking vampire in New York City. Neal Caffrey a gifted artist who just lost his girlfriend.
This fic can also be found on AO3.
Peter watches Neal, who is once again sloshed. He steps outside in the chilling air, stumbles and needs a moment to steady himself. Peter watches him from the shadows, like he has been doing the last couple of days. He doesn´t know why he keeps track of Neal. Hell, he doesn´t even know when this warm bodied blood supply changed into Neal. He never looked up the name of any of his feedings.
Peter feels… What exactly? He can see the misery on Neal´s face. It has been there ever since his girlfriend has died in a tragic accident.
It was at the funeral that peter´s attention was drawn to the man. He is just gorgeous despite the overwhelming grief he projects.
Peter is pulled from his thoughts when Neal staggers away, presumably going home, like he does every morning. Peter follows him.
* * *
A couple of weeks later Peter can´t take it any longer. Neal is really drinking himself into an early grave. Peter follows him to his house, but about a block away, a man steps into Neal´s path. He is holding a gun. Neal doesn´t seem to comprehend the seriousness of the situation when he tries to step away from the man.
Peter can´t just watch Neal getting hurt, so he steps out of the shadows between the two men and with a swift movement, the man goes limp. Peter discards of the body and slowly walks up to Neal who is still wavering in place, his eyes wide in shock.
‘Are you alright?’
Peter knows it is a lame excuse to try if nothing happened and pretend that he is just a concerned bystander, but it is all he can come up with.
Neal is still staring at the spot where the man just stood.
‘What did you do to him?’
There is no reason to lie, so… ‘you were in danger. I took care of it.’
Neal blinks a bit in confusion, clearly trying to get more sober.
‘Did you just kill him?’
‘There is no need to worry about him.’
‘But you killed him.’
Peter sighs.
‘OK, technically, yes I did, because he was about to kill you.’
‘You don´t know that.’
‘Yes I do, trust me, you wouldn´t have stood a chance. You are just too drunk, why do you think he stalked you.’
Neal seems to accept that as a fact because he nods slowly.
‘What do we do now? You made me an accessory to murder, I…’
‘Like I said, you don´t need to worry.’
Peter shows him his credentials.
‘You are a cop?’
‘Well, not exactly, I am an FBI agent. Why don´t I walk you home?’
And even though Neal knows this is a bad idea and he should say no, something in Peter’s eyes makes him say yes. They walk in silence to Neal´s apartment. When they arrive at the front door, Neal opens the door but Peter doesn´t move.
‘Well, are you going to stand there or what?’
‘Are you inviting me in?’
Neal looks back in confusion.
‘What are you? A vampire or something. Of course I am inviting you in.’
Peter smiles and follows Neal in. He looks around, studying the space. It is sparsely decorated, but what is in there is tasteful. He likes the place, it has a comfy feeling.
‘You want a night cap?’
‘I would prefer coffee if you have some.’
‘Sure.’
Neal makes some coffee in the small kitchenette and brings it to the couch where Peter sat down. He seems more sober and they talk. It doesn´t take long for Neal to fall asleep on the couch. Peter gets up, takes one of the plaids that are next to the couch and covers Neal, who doesn´t stir. He makes sure to lock up the door before he leaves.
* * *
Peter is waiting for Neal once again, but tonight Neal is also looking for Peter. When their eyes meet, Peter is surprised to see that Neal is not drunk.
‘Hi g-man. I hoped I would find you here. You never gave me your name. You just left.’
‘I guess I haven´t. My name is Peter Burke.’
‘Nice to meet you Peter Burke, my name is Neal Caffrey.’
‘Likewise.’
‘So, are you on duty?’
‘Yeah, I work mostly at night.’
‘I didn´t know FBI-agents work night shifts.’
‘Well, crime doesn´t sleep, does it?’
‘Makes sense.’
‘So, you want to go for a drink?’
‘Sorry, on duty, remember? I can´t.’
‘Of course, do you want to come to my place for a cup of coffee instead?’
‘OK, that could work. I will tell the bureau I was following a lead.’
Neal smiles.
‘Let´s go.’
They walk to Neal´s place and this time they chat a bit more. Peter asks about the painting that is on an easel in the corner of the room, and Neal explains it is his. Peter expresses his admiration, but Neal says it is just him doodling. Peter doesn´t miss the sad look that fills Neal´s eyes. He decides not to comment on it, but it is Neal himself who brings it up, telling Peter that he lost his girlfriend and with it his purpose in life. They keep silent after that confession until Peter looks Neal in the eyes.
‘You are deeply hurt.’
Neal nods sadly, ‘is it that obvious?’
‘It is.’
Neal looks at his feet when he makes his next confession.
‘I just don´t know how to continue. I…’
‘Shh… you don´t need to explain.’
Neal looks up at Peter.
‘What would you say if I tell you I can take all your pain away?’
Neal looks so lost in this moment. Peter´s heart if it were possible aches for him. He steps closer to Neal and is surprised to see that Neal doesn´t step away.
If the situation wasn´t so tragic, it would have amused Peter and he would gladly have accepted the challenge, but now it looks more like defeat that Neal doesn´t seem to have any self-preservation left.
Peter advances some more until he stands in front of Neal. Now that he is up and close he breaths in Neal´s scent. It is intoxicating. Neal overwhelms his senses, all he can see is the jugular in Neal´s neck. Neal´s eyes are closed.
He shouldn´t be doing this, but he wants to and he decides not to overthink this. He just sinks his incisors in Neal´s neck. A keening sound escapes Neal right before going limp when Peter sucks the life out of him. Peter can feel Neal´s heart rate slowing until almost non-existent. He quickly slits his own wrist and feeds his blood to Neal by dripping it in his slack mouth until Neal slowly starts to move and suck for himself.
Peter studies concerned, because turning someone doesn´t always work. When Neal once again goes limp; Peter picks him up , bridal style and makes his way to the bed and lays Neal down, watching anxiously. Neal shifts in the bed, pain evident on his face, but he doesn´t wake up.
When he does after several hours, it is almost morning, it is clear he is turned. His skin has an alabaster quality, it is almost translucent and his eyes are as blue as the sky and stand out against his pale skin.
With his humanity, he lost his grief and anguish and his features are relaxed and collected.
‘How do you feel?’
Peter can see Neal is taking stock of himself.
‘Good. I have never felt like this.’
Neal gives Peter a smile and Peter can see Neal´s small incisors. They are pointy but not long enough to feed with. They will grow,, but for now Peter will let Neal feed of him. It will nurture their bond.
Neal is his. Forever.