Fic: Something Important for wcpairings round 3
Title: Something Important
Author: Turtlebaby_02
For: Sapphire2309 in the wcpairings fic exchange
Rating: Teen
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/El
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Somethings bothering Neal. And Peter's not as confused as he thinks he is.
AN: The outline to this had it so much fleshier. :( But RL got in the way. I hope you enjoy this anyway, friend! Thanks to K for the super quick beta read when I didn't have this finished until the last minute.
Peter pushed the door open, bags of takeout in his hands. The apartment was dark and he frowned.”Neal?”
“Go home, Peter.”
He followed the sound of Neal’s voice and found him in a huddle in the middle of his bed. “Hey. What’s going on? Are you sick?”
A sad chuckle as Neal muttered something Peter couldn’t hear. And then louder. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“I brought dinner.”
“Take it home to your wife.”
Peter’s step faltered as he approached the bed. “It’s Tuesday.” Like that was a reasonable answer.
“I’m not a side project, Peter. I can handle Tuesdays alone.”
“Oh.” He backtracked and set the bags on the table. “Did I do something?”
“Go home.”
“Ok. Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.” He walked to the door and opened it. “I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.” Silence. “Thai, from that place, you know.” That place Neal loved, just outside his radius and he just out of their delivery area. He closed the door behind him and left.
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“It was weird, El. He was fine today at work. We arrested Bingham and... he was fine.” Peter frowned at his wife. “And you know, it’s Tuesday and you work late on Tuesdays. And...”
El put a hand on his arm. “And Tuesday’s are Neal’s. I know, hon.”
“And we were talking to some of the guys, celebrating the win, you know? And he was there and someone suggested going out for a drink, I accepted. And Neal was gone.”
“Oh honey. Tell me you at least called him?”
Peter frowned. “He’s a grown man, El. And it’s Tuesday! He knew I’d be there.”
El sighed. “Sometimes you’re adorably oblivious. Today is not one of those days. Today you’re just a big fool.” She patted his arm. “He’s a grown man who is awfully in love with you. And you ditched him, on his night, for beer with buddies.”
“I didn’t. He was invited! I just.. he... I did, didn’t I?”
“What if it had been me?”
Peter ran a hand down his face. “I am an idiot.”
“Yes. Yes, you are. It’s why we love you.” She stood and pressed a kiss to his head. “Go, call your boy.” She cast a glance at the clock. “It’s still Tuesday. For a little longer anyway.”
El disappeared upstairs and Peter took out his cell. Hitting speed dial he listened for five rings and then voicemail. “Neal, look, I’m sorry. I screwed up. Will you... will you call me?”
He hung up and made his way to the couch. He flipped on the TV and found sportscenter, his phone clutched silently in his hand. When it still hadn’t rang 15 minutes later he made up his mind and slipped his shoes on and grabbed his keys.
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The door to the apartment was locked. Peter knocked softly and shuffled his feet. “Neal, I know you’re in there. Please open the door.”
He heard the sound of footsteps. “Go away, Peter.”
Peter leaned his head against the frame. “I didn’t mean to... abandon you today.”
The door swung open and a very angry looking Caffrey appeared, making Peter flinch and take a step back. “Neal, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Peter?” His voice was slurred just enough to let Peter know that somewhere on the other side of the door there was a half empty wine bottle.
“Can I come in?”
“No.” Neal held his ground, his gaze hard.
But Peter was bigger, stronger, and just as determined. He took a step forward and Neal instinctively backed up just enough to give him room to shoulder his way through the door.
Once he was inside, the fight went out of Neal and he sat down hard at the table and picked up his glass. Peter snatched it away and strode to the sink, dumping it out. He fetched a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to Neal.
He sat down beside him and sighed heavily. “Can we talk now?”
Neal shrugged, peeling at the label of the water bottle. “I don’t know what there is to say.”
“How about you start with why you left the office so suddenly today?”
Another shrug. “I just get tired of it, sometimes.”
Peter stifled a groan. “Of what, Neal? I’m not a mind reader. I’m trying but...”
“Do you realize that since we started... this,” He waved a hand between them. “That you’ve stopped touching me in public? You know, the atta boy claps on the shoulder, and the pats on the knee, and that thing you do when you touch my arm when I’m not listening? And when you put your hand on my back to lead me through doorways like I’m too fragile to figure out how to not ram into the frame on my own? And I notice that they’re missing. Like you’re ashamed of what we have. Like it was ok before and now you’re afraid someone will read too much into it.” He took a deep breath. “And today, you were going to flake on our plans to go have beer with the guys and it’s not like you can just say ‘Oh hey, no, rain check, I have a standing date with my boyfriend.. have you met Neal?’ I get that. But it just, I don’t know, it just gets to me.” his words came out in a rush before he clamped his lips shut. “I shouldn’t let it. It’s not important.”
Peter moved so their knees were touching. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. It’s hard for me too, Neal. It is.” He stopped to gather his thoughts and Neal looked up and met his eyes briefly before his gaze flickered away. “Do you know why I stopped touching you?”
“No.” his voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“Because, before, I couldn’t really touch you. I couldn’t...” he stuttered. “But now, when I touch you here,” He set his hand on Neal’s knee. “I want to touch you here.” His hand slid up his thigh. “And when I touch you here, “ He brought his hand up to rest on Neal’s shoulder. “I want to touch you here.” His hand moved to Neal’s face, his thumb passing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw. “And when I touch you here,” He brought his hand to rest on Neal’s arm. “I want to touch you here.” His hand slid down and their fingers interlaced.
Neal looked up at him then, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “I only get one day a week, Peter. And I miss those touches. I don’t know if I can have just Tuesdays. It’s selfish. But I miss... you.”
“Oh baby. I’m sorry.” Peter slid forward on his chair and Neal allowed himself to be guided forward, Peter’s arms pulling him in. “I love you, you know? We’ll figure something out.”
A sigh as Neal pressed his head into Peter’s shoulder. “I love you too.”
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Two more weeks, two Tuesdays with Neal. And a Friday. And a Saturday night sleep over at the Burkes while El was gone. Peter started arriving earlier than necessary in the mornings for coffee, kisses, and cuddles. And Neal was content.
Another case came in, another win for the White Collar division.
“Hey Peter! Nice catch! What’s your secret?” Jacobson stopped Peter with a pat on the back as he passed a group of younger agents in the bullpen.
“Guys, you know my secret.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder at Neal who was leaning against his desk. “C’mere buddy, take your credit.”
Neal smiled and walked over, shaking hands with the man. “Teamwork. That’s really his secret. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
The group laughed before Jacobson spoke again. “You guys want to go grab a beer? Catch the game? First rounds on me.”
Peter slid a glance at Neal, who had stiffened his posture slightly. “Nah, It’s Thursday. I’ve got a date. Have one for me.” He turned his back to the group with his hand on Neal’s arm. “C’mon. Chinese or Thai?” He smiled at the blush that grew up Neal’s cheeks.
As they approached the elevator he fell half a step behind and Neal felt his hand firm and warm press into the small of his back, guiding him between the open doors. They stepped inside and Peter’s hand slid down his back, stopping a fraction too long at the curve of his ass. “I wondered.” Neal smirked and caught Peter’s smile out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to face him as the doors slid shut. “That was awfully dangerous, Agent Burke.”
Peter slid his hand into Neal’s and squeezed. “Let em’ talk.”