Advent Calendar Day Ten - White Collar ficlet: The Jackpot
Day One | Avalanche, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, R, 400 words | for pjvilar
Day Two | No Fu Manchu, Hawaii Five-0, Danny, Steve, PG, 803 words | for laceymcbain
Day Three | running away from nothing real, Inception, Eames/Ariadne, R, 1,358 words | for vinylroad
Day Four | they said a hundred times I should have died, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, NC-17, 1,192 words | for pau494
Day Five | try again, die again, die better, Torchwood, Jack, wallpaper | for pierhias
Day Six | monsters are always hungry, darling, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, NC-17, 1,001 words | for lunatics_word
Day Seven | The Nine Lives of Bryce Larkin, Chuck/Chrestomanci series (Diana Wynne Jones), Bryce/Chuck, Chrestomanci, PG-13, 1,760 words | for misura
Day Eight | Jump, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, PG-13, 2,045 words | for idrilka
Day Nine | It's a White Oahu Christmas, Eureka/Hawaii Five-0/Leverage/Supernatural/White Collar, G, 1,450 words | for vonilyn
The Jackpot [White Collar, Neal/Peter, PG, 644 words, for lazy-daze, prompt: nightlife. Beta thanks to innie_darling.]
Peter practically has to drag Neal, giggly and rubber-limbed, to the men's room. Neal stumbles along, arm slung over Peter's shoulder, as limp and helpless as that time Dr. Powell doped him.
It's irresponsible, that's what it is. They're undercover, and Neal needs to be alert, dammit, not falling down drunk in a nightclub full of bad guys.
Peter shoves the men's room door open with his free shoulder and pulls Neal in with him, a little rougher than he needs to be. He's going to dump Neal on the floor - too bad if it messes up his three-hundred dollar pants - and call Jones to come get Neal out, because heaven knows Peter is not going to babysit a drunk con artist. He can get this job done with or without Neal.
Except that Neal doesn't slump to the floor when Peter lets go of him. Instead, he straightens up and grins at Peter, all white teeth and careless charm. Sober charm.
"You're not drunk," Peter says, stating the obvious.
"Not even a little bit." Neal looks even more than usually pleased with himself.
Peter isn't sure if he loves or dreads that look. "What have you done?" Peter asks.
Neal fishes inside his jacket and pulls out a collection of wallets, key cards, and cellphones. Nothing they could ever use in court, of course, but something on them might break the case. "I can be something of a handsy drunk," he says unrepentantly. "I could have gotten all of these without playing drunk, but this way was more fun. And quicker, much quicker, which obviously was my motivation," he adds when Peter glares at him.
They don't go back to the surveillance van: Neal's going to need to return all the items he's lifted - Peter isn't going to examine what it means that he thinks lifted, not stolen - and they don't want to be seen by any of the club security entering or exiting an electrician's van. Peter's car is just around the corner. They spread out Neal's pickings on the dash and start sifting through them.
They hit the jackpot with the second cellphone. Text messages giving times and details, all to and from a phone number they recognize very well - the squeaky-clean lawyer Peter's been convinced all along isn't so squeaky-clean.
"I could kiss you right now," Peter says, once he's jotted down all the glorious, juicy, case-breaking details.
Neal doesn't react. At all. Which isn't like Neal - he's always quick with a witty comeback. Unless the situation is too serious for one.
Oh. Oh.
Peter's not particularly good at this. If he says anything, it's sure to be the wrong thing, and he'll dig himself into a hole or he'll upset Neal and Neal will sulk for the rest of the evening. Peter's a man of action, not words. So he acts.
He leans in, slow enough that Neal can move away if he wants, cups Neal's face with one hand, and kisses him. Neal's jawbone is sharp under his thumb, but his lips are softer than Peter expects, soft and yielding. There's a little hitch in Neal's breath, and Peter might make a sound that echoes it.
Neal's the first one to say something afterwards. "I take it you don't kiss each and every member of your team indiscriminately for a job well done," he says, licking his lips.
"Only the ones I find particularly attractive."
"Jones is an attractive man," Neal suggests.
"Yeah, he is," Peter says, nodding slowly and thoughtfully as though he's considering the idea of kissing Jones. Neal's eyes are narrowing. "But he's not my type," Peter says, because fun as it is to mess with Neal sometimes, kissing him is far better.
"Good," Neal says, and leans in. "It was a job really well done," he whispers in Peter's ear.
Peter gets the message.
//
Day Two | No Fu Manchu, Hawaii Five-0, Danny, Steve, PG, 803 words | for laceymcbain
Day Three | running away from nothing real, Inception, Eames/Ariadne, R, 1,358 words | for vinylroad
Day Four | they said a hundred times I should have died, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, NC-17, 1,192 words | for pau494
Day Five | try again, die again, die better, Torchwood, Jack, wallpaper | for pierhias
Day Six | monsters are always hungry, darling, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, NC-17, 1,001 words | for lunatics_word
Day Seven | The Nine Lives of Bryce Larkin, Chuck/Chrestomanci series (Diana Wynne Jones), Bryce/Chuck, Chrestomanci, PG-13, 1,760 words | for misura
Day Eight | Jump, Generation Kill, Brad/Nate, PG-13, 2,045 words | for idrilka
Day Nine | It's a White Oahu Christmas, Eureka/Hawaii Five-0/Leverage/Supernatural/White Collar, G, 1,450 words | for vonilyn
The Jackpot [White Collar, Neal/Peter, PG, 644 words, for lazy-daze, prompt: nightlife. Beta thanks to innie_darling.]
Peter practically has to drag Neal, giggly and rubber-limbed, to the men's room. Neal stumbles along, arm slung over Peter's shoulder, as limp and helpless as that time Dr. Powell doped him.
It's irresponsible, that's what it is. They're undercover, and Neal needs to be alert, dammit, not falling down drunk in a nightclub full of bad guys.
Peter shoves the men's room door open with his free shoulder and pulls Neal in with him, a little rougher than he needs to be. He's going to dump Neal on the floor - too bad if it messes up his three-hundred dollar pants - and call Jones to come get Neal out, because heaven knows Peter is not going to babysit a drunk con artist. He can get this job done with or without Neal.
Except that Neal doesn't slump to the floor when Peter lets go of him. Instead, he straightens up and grins at Peter, all white teeth and careless charm. Sober charm.
"You're not drunk," Peter says, stating the obvious.
"Not even a little bit." Neal looks even more than usually pleased with himself.
Peter isn't sure if he loves or dreads that look. "What have you done?" Peter asks.
Neal fishes inside his jacket and pulls out a collection of wallets, key cards, and cellphones. Nothing they could ever use in court, of course, but something on them might break the case. "I can be something of a handsy drunk," he says unrepentantly. "I could have gotten all of these without playing drunk, but this way was more fun. And quicker, much quicker, which obviously was my motivation," he adds when Peter glares at him.
They don't go back to the surveillance van: Neal's going to need to return all the items he's lifted - Peter isn't going to examine what it means that he thinks lifted, not stolen - and they don't want to be seen by any of the club security entering or exiting an electrician's van. Peter's car is just around the corner. They spread out Neal's pickings on the dash and start sifting through them.
They hit the jackpot with the second cellphone. Text messages giving times and details, all to and from a phone number they recognize very well - the squeaky-clean lawyer Peter's been convinced all along isn't so squeaky-clean.
"I could kiss you right now," Peter says, once he's jotted down all the glorious, juicy, case-breaking details.
Neal doesn't react. At all. Which isn't like Neal - he's always quick with a witty comeback. Unless the situation is too serious for one.
Oh. Oh.
Peter's not particularly good at this. If he says anything, it's sure to be the wrong thing, and he'll dig himself into a hole or he'll upset Neal and Neal will sulk for the rest of the evening. Peter's a man of action, not words. So he acts.
He leans in, slow enough that Neal can move away if he wants, cups Neal's face with one hand, and kisses him. Neal's jawbone is sharp under his thumb, but his lips are softer than Peter expects, soft and yielding. There's a little hitch in Neal's breath, and Peter might make a sound that echoes it.
Neal's the first one to say something afterwards. "I take it you don't kiss each and every member of your team indiscriminately for a job well done," he says, licking his lips.
"Only the ones I find particularly attractive."
"Jones is an attractive man," Neal suggests.
"Yeah, he is," Peter says, nodding slowly and thoughtfully as though he's considering the idea of kissing Jones. Neal's eyes are narrowing. "But he's not my type," Peter says, because fun as it is to mess with Neal sometimes, kissing him is far better.
"Good," Neal says, and leans in. "It was a job really well done," he whispers in Peter's ear.
Peter gets the message.
//