Day 29 - Of Peaches and Things - pre-Peter/Neal - R
Title: Of Peaches and Things
Author:
turtlebaby_02
Fandom: White Collar
Written For:
mmom 2014
Characters (Pairings): Peter/Neal
Rating: R
Word Count: 950
Warnings: None
Summary: A Continuation of Day 27. He doesn't really smell like peaches, does he?
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I'm just playing.Author's Notes: Playing catch-up at the end again.
By the time he remembered that he wanted to ask, Peter had left. He showered and shaved and dressed - and sniffed at himself a little self consciously every step of the way.
Not once did he smell peaches. He smelled like a man, dammit.
--
Diana finally asked him if he was afraid he'd forgotten his deodorant around lunch. He'd laughed and then looked at her seriously. "Do you smell fruit?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I supposed to?"
He waved a hand. "So that's a no?" He leaned in closer. "I'm serious. Sniff me."
She rolled her eyes and sniffed. "No Caffrey. I don't smell fruit. And don't ever ask me to do that again. It weird." She shot a glance over her shoulder as she walked away.
--
Jones leaned right in, when asked, and took a healthy sniff. "No man, but that cologne is a good smell on you."
This time it was Neal who walked away with an eyeroll.
--
By the time he finally got Peter he was almost going crazy with wonder. But also enough apprehension that he actually avoided it. What was he supposed to say?
Hey, remember last night when I crawled into bed with you and you told me I smelled like peaches?
Because that felt like a whole level of awkward he didn't feel like delving into. There was something going on that had made the whole situation feel incredibly intimate. Like that crush thing that left him lying awake listening to Peter's sleepy grunts and sighs; and to mention it here, any part of it, would be like admitting he couldn't get it out of his head.
Like somehow Peter would know he'd come so hard in the shower that morning with "peaches and you." vibrating around in his head.
So instead of asking, he stayed hot around the edges and blushed every time Peter caught him with his mind wandering.
--
"El's making... something complicated sounding for dinner - she wants me to bring you." Peter stopped at Neal's desk with a grin. "I think it's a thank you for not letting me drive home yesterday."
Neal flushed again as he remembered Peter flush against him in the bed. Like it wasn't plenty big for the two of them to not touch all night - but apparently Peter gravitated toward a warm body.
He shook his head and smiled back. "She's probably afraid you won't be able to appreciate the work she put in." He stood and grabbed his hat.
"Hey." Peter bumped against him as he came passed. "I may not know what's in it but I always appreciate the effort."
--
Peter had a beer and a ball game in the living room and Neal was in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up and a knife in hand; the carrot he as chopping didn't stand a chance.
Elizabeth was at his elbow with vegetable of her own. Their conversation has given away to a companionable silence that was filled with the sound of knives against the cutting board.
His mind was wandering again and he spoke almost without thinking. "Elizabeth? Do I smell like peaches?"
She looked over at him with wide eyes and set her knife down. "You slept with my husband."
"What? No!" He almost sliced his finger and dropped the knife.
She was entirely too calm. "You did. You must have." She covered his hands and pulled them away from the counter he was clutching. "Because you don't smell like peaches. And neither do I."
"But I didn't, we didn't. What?" His voice hit a high note that he wasn't familiar with and he swallowed hard. "We slept. That's all. He slept. I thought about peaches."
She laughed, low and light. "He used to tell me that I smelled like peaches." Her hand skirted up his arm. "Before he knew how to tell me he loved me."
"He was asleep, Elizabeth. He - god, he probably thought it was you!"
"He hasn't told that in 10 years, Neal. And I bet, without a doubt that he knew exactly what he was saying and who he was saying it to." There was a light playing in her eyes and a smile on her lips. "My husband is not a complicated man."
"Really? Because this feels complicated."
"He feels something that he's not sure you do. That he's not sure he's allowed to. That's not complicated, that's nature." She turned back to the unchopped veggies. "Why don't you go talk to Peter."
"Elizabeth. Are you saying -"
"I am. There's room in his heart for two. The proof is in the peaches." She flashed another grin.
--
He dropped to the couch and Peter shot him a look of surprise. "Finally get in her way?"
"No." He studied Peter's face hard, searching for any trace of his own feelings echoed back. The man was like a vault. "It's been brought to my attention that I, in fact, do not smell like peaches." There.
Peter's mouth dropped and then snapped closed again. He cheeks pinked and there it was, words he couldn't say, written across his face.
"But you do." He wiggled his fingers under Peter's where they were grasping at his leg, and laced them together.
Peter froze. “I do?”
“You do.”
He exhaled hard. “Okay.”
Neal slid sideways until his head came in contact with Peter’s shoulder. He smiled and looked up at Peter shivered just a little.
Peter glanced down at him and blinked, clearly still a little outside his comfort zone. “Just to be clear…” He squeezed his fingers against Neal’s. “I don’t actually smell like fruit, right?”
Elizabeth snorted from the kitchen doorway.
~