Drabble: Friendly Advice (ADAD #14)
Title: Friendly Advice
Author: QWERTYfaced
Fandom: White Collar
Wordcount: 100
Rating: G
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke
Genre: Drabble, gen, humor
Notes: For my A Drabble A Day personal challenge, and whitecollar100's Challenge 73 - Ice. Thanks, reve_silencieux! This is the best I could do today; it's too hot. Brain not working.
Summary: Peter buys Neal a drink after their skating adventure, and Neal gives him some advice. (Sequel to The Escapades.)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All characters and settings belong to their respective copyright holders, not me. Which is why I STILL don't have a walk-in freezer yet.
Peter coughed to hide a laugh as Neal eased his way carefully onto the barstool. The relief on his CI's face was so fervent when they got off the ice that Peter felt he deserved a drink.
"Scotch. A double." Neal shifted gingerly on his seat, wincing. "Actually, bring the bottle."
"Rocks?" the bartender asked. She looked taken aback when Neal recoiled in distaste.
"Neat!" Then, in case he hadn't been clear: "Absolutely no rocks."
He swiveled accusingly. "That's a nasty cough you've got, Peter."
"Allergies." Peter grinned.
Neal's eyes narrowed. "Try putting your head in a bucket of ice."
Author: QWERTYfaced
Fandom: White Collar
Wordcount: 100
Rating: G
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke
Genre: Drabble, gen, humor
Notes: For my A Drabble A Day personal challenge, and whitecollar100's Challenge 73 - Ice. Thanks, reve_silencieux! This is the best I could do today; it's too hot. Brain not working.
Summary: Peter buys Neal a drink after their skating adventure, and Neal gives him some advice. (Sequel to The Escapades.)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All characters and settings belong to their respective copyright holders, not me. Which is why I STILL don't have a walk-in freezer yet.
Peter coughed to hide a laugh as Neal eased his way carefully onto the barstool. The relief on his CI's face was so fervent when they got off the ice that Peter felt he deserved a drink.
"Scotch. A double." Neal shifted gingerly on his seat, wincing. "Actually, bring the bottle."
"Rocks?" the bartender asked. She looked taken aback when Neal recoiled in distaste.
"Neat!" Then, in case he hadn't been clear: "Absolutely no rocks."
He swiveled accusingly. "That's a nasty cough you've got, Peter."
"Allergies." Peter grinned.
Neal's eyes narrowed. "Try putting your head in a bucket of ice."