Day 20 - Domesticity - [Peter/Neal/El] R
Title: Domesticity
Author:
turtlebaby_02
Fandom: White Collar
Written For:
mmom 2014
Characters (Pairings): Peter/Neal
Rating: R (because sometimes I throw the F bomb down)
Word Count: 780
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I'm just playing.
Summary: Neal doesn't realize he's really home, but somehow with the mundane; Peter shows him.Author's Notes: This almost didn't make the cut. And then, it did. I mostly blame my sister and our scene in our teeny little 'two people can't breath in here' kitchen while she was slicing peppers. ... Yes, I know that's weird.
"Neal? What are you doing?" Peter paused in the doorway to his kitchen.
"Cooking?" Neal glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
"You cook?" Peter raised his eyebrows and took a few steps closer. He chuckled a bit at the mess all over the counter - it looked like a vegetable massacre.
"I..." Neal turned and Peter was delighted with the pink of his cheeks. "I indiscriminately chop vegetables. You have pot roast. I have stir fry. It's not as good -"
"It's colorful." Peter sidled up behind him and stole a slice of pepper. "You don't have to cook, you know."
Neal turned back to his masterful mess. "I know. I wanted to." He dipped his pinky in a bowl of sauce and licked it clean. "I want to be more than just your guest." He mumbled.
"Oh." Peter turned him around with a hand to his shoulder. "Is that... you're not..." He frowned and sighed.
"You take out the trash, El cleans the bathroom. And both of you ask me if I want more wine." Neal shrugged.
"You want us to give you chores?" Peter was having a hard time containing his smirk.
"No. Yes? I don't know. I want to know my place. I constantly feel like I'm on a vacation from my life." He shrugged again. "This is something I can do."
"Well thank you." Peter was still wearing a frown.
"Peter, that's just it. You shouldn't feel obligated to thank me." Neal rolled his eyes.
"Why not? I thank my wife when she picks up the dry cleaning. I thank her when she folds my socks. And I thank her when she makes me dinner. Why shouldn't I thank my... my -"
Neal raised his eyebrows.
"My mine." Peter smiled and leaned in, kissing the almost frown off Neal's lips. "El won't be home for an hour."
"Stir fry doesn't keep." Neal gasped a little as Peter's mouth slid down his jaw and back up again. "Gets all soggy and..." He was promptly shut up by Peter's tongue in his mouth.
Peter stepped back and grinned. "El's gonna be mad if we have sex in the kitchen."
"She'll only be mad because we had sex in the kitchen without her." Neal shook his head.
"We could make it up to her." He was working the buttons of Neal's shirt. "You wear too many clothes to cook."
"How do you propose we'd do that?" He swatted Peter's hands away and made quick work, tossing the shirt over a chair.
"Oh, you know." Peter's hands were sliding under his undershirt, palms warm and sure. "You could vacuum. Sweep. Dust." Peter ticked off chores. "This is your home, Neal."
Neal answered by pulling Peter's shirt over his head and pressing his mouth to the junction of his shoulder, sucking that spot that made Peter a little weak in the knees. "I know."
"Do you?" Peter pulled back, suddenly serious despite his lust lidded eyes. "Neal?"
"I do. I just realized- it's not just your socks she's folding, it's mine too. She leaves my suits in our closet. And she hasn't made meatloaf since I moved in. I was too aware of what I wasn't doing to see what she, what you both, were doing." He grabbed at Peter again, sliding his hands around his waist. "And seeing as how this is my home too, I say we save the kitchen sex for Sunday morning brunch - we can involve strawberries and Elizabeth." He ducked past Peter and headed for the stairs. "Now are you going to come fuck me? Or am I going to have to do it myself?"
He laughed outright at Peter's possessive growl and barely beat him upstairs.
Later, Elizabeth would come home to a counter full of half cut vegetables and a bowl of something going dry around the edges. "Boys?"
She heard a thunk above her and started for the stairs. Her worry ceased at the sound of her husbands laughter and she followed it to the bedroom. "Guys?"
"In here!" Neal called back.
She pushed open the door and smiled. "Whatcha doin'"?
"Oh," Peter's eyes were bright with humor. "Rotating the mattress. Changing the sheets."
She didn't understand why Neal nearly collapsed under a peal of giggles but she couldn't help but laugh along. "This is a story for later, right? As well as the half finished meal on the counter?"
Neal snorted. "A real tale of domesticity, Elizabeth. Sorry about the mess."
She waved a hand. "You can clean it up later."
It wasn't until the story was told that she fully understood the softness of love on Neal's face when he spoke. "Yeah, I can."