Fic: Noodles
Title: Noodles
Author: Turtlebaby_02
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairings: P/E/N
Spoilers: None
Genre: h/c (Squint, damn it.), Crack
Word Count: 1500ish
Warnings: None (unless your squeamish about Top Ramen)
Summary: Due to sapphire2309's prompt of "Substance addiction - Neal is addicted to instant noodles (inspired by yours truly ;) )" on my hurt/comfort bingo card - this came about. So, yeah. There's little hurt and little comfort - but I'm claiming that spot anyway! Mostly due to the fact that I dreamt of Neal. Eating noodles. And Peter frowning. It was an odd nights sleep.
"I'm getting a little concerned about your sodium intake." Peter's shadow crossed over his lunch and Neal looked up, sucking in a noodle through pursed lips. "How can you even eat those things, Mr. refined taste?"
Neal used a napkin to wipe around his mouth. "They're good, Peter. Like..." He picked up the cup and took a long swallow. "Amazing, actually. Want to try?" He lifted the cup in offering.
"Uh, no." Peter's stomach rolled a little at the obscene yellow staining on the inside. "At least eat something with it." With that he wrinkled his nose in disgust and dropped half of his own lunch unceremoniously on the desk; turkey on rye.
Neal eyed it suspiciously. "Did that come off the sandwich cart?"
Peter threw his hands up and turned away. "Complains the guy eating styrofoam noodles!" The only response was the sucking slurp of more of soup.
--
"You smell like broth, Caffrey." Diana scootched further away. "This van is too small for you to be sweating..." She stuck her face closer and took a whiff. "Cup O'Soup. Really Neal?"
He pulled the lapel of his jacket up over his nose and smelled. "Hmm."
Her forehead crinkled and she shuddered a little. "Please tell me that was more confused than appreciative?"
Peter pinched at the skin between his eyes. "Ok, she's right, Neal. You smell. Why don't you go air out and get some coffee for us all?" He fished in his pocket and handed over cash. "On me."
"Yes sir." Neal had the dignity to look a little affronted. "Usual?" He looked to Diana and Peter and at their nods left the van with a mumble. "Neal Caffrey, world class coffee boy."
It wasn't too long before the door opened again and he entered, drink tray in hand. Diana, being closer was hit with the smell first. "God Neal. I think that made it worse." She took her cup and sat back as he passed her and handed off Peter's drink.
At Peter's grumbled "Neal..." She turned back to face them.
"Oh, Neal. You did not!" Her eyes widened when she noticed that his cup wasn't coffee at all. "Are you kidding?"
Neal looked up, innocence bright on his face. "I was hungry."
"Where... where did you even - ?" Peter let his question trail off. "Do you have dealers on the corner?"
"Bodega?" He pointed to the almost invisible store on the other side of the coffee house. "And the coffee place was more than happy to provide hot water." He bent back the corner of the lid and fished a noodle out with one finger, testing it between his teeth before peeling the paper completely off.
Diana had the will power not to gag out loud as the smell permeated the small space stronger than ever.
"Buddy, I think you have a problem." Peter looked somber.
--
A knock interrupted Neal's dinner and he pulled open the door expectantly. Peter was relieved to see the table set with a plate and a decent bottle of wine. "Sorry if I'm interrupting."
"No, not at all." Neal took a step back and ushered him inside.
"I just wanted to talk to..." He got a little closer to the table and groaned. "What are you eating?"
Neal pointed to the counter where the evidence still lay, seasoning packet and all. "Stovetop variety." He took his seat and scooped up a bite.
"Is that egg?" Peter couldn't decide if he should be concerned or impressed.
"Yep. Whatcha do is, break up the noodles in the bag and cook it like usual. Then dump the water, add the seasoning and a little butter. Transfer the whole thing to a skillet and add an egg or two." He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "It's borderline orgasmic."
"It's frightening." Peter brushed a hand over his face. "I'd ask if we were paying you enough, but the $100 bottle of wine you're drinking with your 40 cent noodles speaks for itself." He sat down and watched him eat for a few minutes. "I actually came to talk to you. About something. Related." He waved his hands at the plate.
"You came all this way to talk to me about instant noodles?" Neal raised an eyebrow. "The recipe is on the bag."
"El thinks you need to detox." He felt his ears burn red as Neal stopped chewing and set down his fork. "She says - she says you don't taste like yourself." The words rushed out and the burn wasn't limited to his ears anymore; his face was feeling the effects.
Neal glanced down at his plate and back at Peter, who was now studiously staring at the grain of the table. He sat back in his chair. "Oh."
"She's got a very refined palate." Peter rushed out. "She wasn't complaining! Just. Just concerned. And when she asked I couldn't not tell her what you've been eating." He risked a glance up and found Neal staring back, amusement flicking across his features. "Go ahead and laugh, Caffrey. I did. But now she wants to detox you with, I don't know, meatloaf and carrots."
"Meatloaf and carrots?" Neal bit back a laugh. "Peter, I'm not addicted or anything. She doesn't have to detain me and force feed me comfort foods."
"You chose this trash over coffee, Neal. Good, expensive coffee! That you weren't paying for!" Peter's tone was incredulous. "I really think you might need to be detained."
Neal shook his head and laughed. "A weekend tucked between the Burkes, being fed Elizabeth's best?" He pushed his plate away and stood. "Who am I to say no?"
--
"Neal!" Elizabeth pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you came." She pulled back and ran a hand down his jaw before leaning in for a kiss. "You've already eaten."
"Noodles." Peter pushed his way past the two of them. He set Neal's bag down with a thunk and leaned in to steal his own kiss from his wife.
"And eggs!" Neal leaned into Peter, more effectively putting himself between the two of them. "But Peter interrupted my dinner."
"Good." El patted his cheek and stepped away. "I've got meatloaf in the oven."
"You weren't kidding." Neal grinned up at Peter.
"Why would I lie about meatloaf?" Neal didn't miss the smirk on his lips and stretched up to wipe it away with his own.
--
Three hours later and completely stuffed full of Elizabeth's meatloaf, Neal found himself in one of his favorite positions; his back to Peter's chest with his belly pressed against Elizabeth's. He sighed as Peter's fingers skimmed over his side before skipping over and coming to a rest on El's hip. "Goodnight."
"Night, Neal." Peter's words rumbled.
Neal settled in for the night, his eyes fluttering closed and his breath evening out. El followed him over the brink of sleep with the faintest of snores and Peter, satisfied that everyone was safe and content, gave in and drifted off.
Only to be awoken a few hours later with the sense something was off. He couldn't pinpoint what it was until he forced his eyes open and shifted up onto his elbow. "Neal?" The younger man wasn't in the bed. He might have believed he was just using the bathroom or getting a drink - but the almost inaudible beeps of the microwave caught his attention.
With a sigh he extracted himself from the warmth of his bed and went in search of his lover. Of course he found him standing in the kitchen, barefoot and boxers, picking at the plastic wrap of a cup of soup. "Are you fucking with me?"
"Peter!" Neal almost jumped out of his skin. He'd been so caught up in the stubborn wrapper that he hadn't heard him come in. "I, um..." He looked guiltily down at his hands and set the container aside.
"It's the middle of the night, Neal." Peter couldn't help the weariness in his voice. "Come back to bed."
Neal licked at his lips and shot a glance toward the cup. "But I..."
"Don't even tell me that you're choosing that garbage over El and me." He sat, heavily, defeated, at the kitchen table.
With one last glance at the cup on the counter Neal gave in and moved to the table, taking his place beside Peter. "Maybe I do have a problem." He swallowed, the words harder than he cared to admit. "Who gets addicted to instant noodles?" He hung his head, his hands shamefully lax in his hands.
"Comfort food?" Peter reached over and tilted his head up with his fingertips.
Neal smiled stupidly. “You really take my sodium intake seriously, don’t you?” Always deflecting.
“Neal.” Peter offered the same stupid smile. “I take you seriously.” With that, the microwave beeped it’s final warning and Neal glanced over his shoulder. “Go ahead, eat it, if it makes you happy.”
Neal shrugged. “It doesn’t. This does. You do. Elizabeth does.” He stood and pulled Peter to his feet, leading him out of the kitchen. “Fake food, fake happiness. I’d like to try it your way.”
“Meatloaf and carrots?” Peter bumped his shoulder against him.
“Something like that.” He bumped back. “As long as it’s with you.”
“So I’m better than instant noodles?”
They headed up the stairs and Neal stopped and turned back to him, one step ahead, putting him at eye level. “Peter Burke, you will always be my favorite comfort food.” He leaned forward and smiled into the kiss.
~
Author: Turtlebaby_02
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairings: P/E/N
Spoilers: None
Genre: h/c (Squint, damn it.), Crack
Word Count: 1500ish
Warnings: None (unless your squeamish about Top Ramen)
Summary: Due to sapphire2309's prompt of "Substance addiction - Neal is addicted to instant noodles (inspired by yours truly ;) )" on my hurt/comfort bingo card - this came about. So, yeah. There's little hurt and little comfort - but I'm claiming that spot anyway! Mostly due to the fact that I dreamt of Neal. Eating noodles. And Peter frowning. It was an odd nights sleep.
"I'm getting a little concerned about your sodium intake." Peter's shadow crossed over his lunch and Neal looked up, sucking in a noodle through pursed lips. "How can you even eat those things, Mr. refined taste?"
Neal used a napkin to wipe around his mouth. "They're good, Peter. Like..." He picked up the cup and took a long swallow. "Amazing, actually. Want to try?" He lifted the cup in offering.
"Uh, no." Peter's stomach rolled a little at the obscene yellow staining on the inside. "At least eat something with it." With that he wrinkled his nose in disgust and dropped half of his own lunch unceremoniously on the desk; turkey on rye.
Neal eyed it suspiciously. "Did that come off the sandwich cart?"
Peter threw his hands up and turned away. "Complains the guy eating styrofoam noodles!" The only response was the sucking slurp of more of soup.
--
"You smell like broth, Caffrey." Diana scootched further away. "This van is too small for you to be sweating..." She stuck her face closer and took a whiff. "Cup O'Soup. Really Neal?"
He pulled the lapel of his jacket up over his nose and smelled. "Hmm."
Her forehead crinkled and she shuddered a little. "Please tell me that was more confused than appreciative?"
Peter pinched at the skin between his eyes. "Ok, she's right, Neal. You smell. Why don't you go air out and get some coffee for us all?" He fished in his pocket and handed over cash. "On me."
"Yes sir." Neal had the dignity to look a little affronted. "Usual?" He looked to Diana and Peter and at their nods left the van with a mumble. "Neal Caffrey, world class coffee boy."
It wasn't too long before the door opened again and he entered, drink tray in hand. Diana, being closer was hit with the smell first. "God Neal. I think that made it worse." She took her cup and sat back as he passed her and handed off Peter's drink.
At Peter's grumbled "Neal..." She turned back to face them.
"Oh, Neal. You did not!" Her eyes widened when she noticed that his cup wasn't coffee at all. "Are you kidding?"
Neal looked up, innocence bright on his face. "I was hungry."
"Where... where did you even - ?" Peter let his question trail off. "Do you have dealers on the corner?"
"Bodega?" He pointed to the almost invisible store on the other side of the coffee house. "And the coffee place was more than happy to provide hot water." He bent back the corner of the lid and fished a noodle out with one finger, testing it between his teeth before peeling the paper completely off.
Diana had the will power not to gag out loud as the smell permeated the small space stronger than ever.
"Buddy, I think you have a problem." Peter looked somber.
--
A knock interrupted Neal's dinner and he pulled open the door expectantly. Peter was relieved to see the table set with a plate and a decent bottle of wine. "Sorry if I'm interrupting."
"No, not at all." Neal took a step back and ushered him inside.
"I just wanted to talk to..." He got a little closer to the table and groaned. "What are you eating?"
Neal pointed to the counter where the evidence still lay, seasoning packet and all. "Stovetop variety." He took his seat and scooped up a bite.
"Is that egg?" Peter couldn't decide if he should be concerned or impressed.
"Yep. Whatcha do is, break up the noodles in the bag and cook it like usual. Then dump the water, add the seasoning and a little butter. Transfer the whole thing to a skillet and add an egg or two." He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "It's borderline orgasmic."
"It's frightening." Peter brushed a hand over his face. "I'd ask if we were paying you enough, but the $100 bottle of wine you're drinking with your 40 cent noodles speaks for itself." He sat down and watched him eat for a few minutes. "I actually came to talk to you. About something. Related." He waved his hands at the plate.
"You came all this way to talk to me about instant noodles?" Neal raised an eyebrow. "The recipe is on the bag."
"El thinks you need to detox." He felt his ears burn red as Neal stopped chewing and set down his fork. "She says - she says you don't taste like yourself." The words rushed out and the burn wasn't limited to his ears anymore; his face was feeling the effects.
Neal glanced down at his plate and back at Peter, who was now studiously staring at the grain of the table. He sat back in his chair. "Oh."
"She's got a very refined palate." Peter rushed out. "She wasn't complaining! Just. Just concerned. And when she asked I couldn't not tell her what you've been eating." He risked a glance up and found Neal staring back, amusement flicking across his features. "Go ahead and laugh, Caffrey. I did. But now she wants to detox you with, I don't know, meatloaf and carrots."
"Meatloaf and carrots?" Neal bit back a laugh. "Peter, I'm not addicted or anything. She doesn't have to detain me and force feed me comfort foods."
"You chose this trash over coffee, Neal. Good, expensive coffee! That you weren't paying for!" Peter's tone was incredulous. "I really think you might need to be detained."
Neal shook his head and laughed. "A weekend tucked between the Burkes, being fed Elizabeth's best?" He pushed his plate away and stood. "Who am I to say no?"
--
"Neal!" Elizabeth pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you came." She pulled back and ran a hand down his jaw before leaning in for a kiss. "You've already eaten."
"Noodles." Peter pushed his way past the two of them. He set Neal's bag down with a thunk and leaned in to steal his own kiss from his wife.
"And eggs!" Neal leaned into Peter, more effectively putting himself between the two of them. "But Peter interrupted my dinner."
"Good." El patted his cheek and stepped away. "I've got meatloaf in the oven."
"You weren't kidding." Neal grinned up at Peter.
"Why would I lie about meatloaf?" Neal didn't miss the smirk on his lips and stretched up to wipe it away with his own.
--
Three hours later and completely stuffed full of Elizabeth's meatloaf, Neal found himself in one of his favorite positions; his back to Peter's chest with his belly pressed against Elizabeth's. He sighed as Peter's fingers skimmed over his side before skipping over and coming to a rest on El's hip. "Goodnight."
"Night, Neal." Peter's words rumbled.
Neal settled in for the night, his eyes fluttering closed and his breath evening out. El followed him over the brink of sleep with the faintest of snores and Peter, satisfied that everyone was safe and content, gave in and drifted off.
Only to be awoken a few hours later with the sense something was off. He couldn't pinpoint what it was until he forced his eyes open and shifted up onto his elbow. "Neal?" The younger man wasn't in the bed. He might have believed he was just using the bathroom or getting a drink - but the almost inaudible beeps of the microwave caught his attention.
With a sigh he extracted himself from the warmth of his bed and went in search of his lover. Of course he found him standing in the kitchen, barefoot and boxers, picking at the plastic wrap of a cup of soup. "Are you fucking with me?"
"Peter!" Neal almost jumped out of his skin. He'd been so caught up in the stubborn wrapper that he hadn't heard him come in. "I, um..." He looked guiltily down at his hands and set the container aside.
"It's the middle of the night, Neal." Peter couldn't help the weariness in his voice. "Come back to bed."
Neal licked at his lips and shot a glance toward the cup. "But I..."
"Don't even tell me that you're choosing that garbage over El and me." He sat, heavily, defeated, at the kitchen table.
With one last glance at the cup on the counter Neal gave in and moved to the table, taking his place beside Peter. "Maybe I do have a problem." He swallowed, the words harder than he cared to admit. "Who gets addicted to instant noodles?" He hung his head, his hands shamefully lax in his hands.
"Comfort food?" Peter reached over and tilted his head up with his fingertips.
Neal smiled stupidly. “You really take my sodium intake seriously, don’t you?” Always deflecting.
“Neal.” Peter offered the same stupid smile. “I take you seriously.” With that, the microwave beeped it’s final warning and Neal glanced over his shoulder. “Go ahead, eat it, if it makes you happy.”
Neal shrugged. “It doesn’t. This does. You do. Elizabeth does.” He stood and pulled Peter to his feet, leading him out of the kitchen. “Fake food, fake happiness. I’d like to try it your way.”
“Meatloaf and carrots?” Peter bumped his shoulder against him.
“Something like that.” He bumped back. “As long as it’s with you.”
“So I’m better than instant noodles?”
They headed up the stairs and Neal stopped and turned back to him, one step ahead, putting him at eye level. “Peter Burke, you will always be my favorite comfort food.” He leaned forward and smiled into the kiss.
~