Little White Lies: (1/?)
Title: Little White Lies
Chapter Title: Start of Something Good
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal, Peter & Elizabeth
Wordcount: ~900
Rating: T
Fic Summary: Canon AU: Peter Burke is a secretly gay FBI agent, Elizabeth is his best friend whom he married to avoid the prejudice in the Bureau, and Neal Caffrey is the con man he just can't get out of his head. Follows the basic plots laid out by the series.
May 27, 2003
“El?” Peter called out, shutting the oak-paneled front door behind him.
“Hey, sweetie,” El said with a smile, cheerily coming to greet him with a quick kiss, “How was work?”
“You’re very domestic today,” Peter said with a laugh, then morphed his expression to one of mock terror as he added, “Oh God, your mother isn’t here, is she?”
Elizabeth gave him a playful smack on the arm and replied, “Nothing like that. I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”
“Wait, let me guess,” Peter said, drumming his fingers together as if concentrating intently, “Long lunch with the stockbroker went well. Judging by that lavish bouquet I see behind you, very well. You know, I really should give that boy a stern talking to about dating my wife.”
“Stop it,” Elizabeth scolded lightly, rolling her eyes and strolling into the living room, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to have to explain about our...unorthodox family situation after a couple of dinners.”
“But darling,” Peter said in an artificially deep voice as he placed his hands on Elizabeth’s waist and lowered her into a dramatic dip, “If you’re out with him, how will you be back in time to have my dinner on the table at five o’clock sharp and tuck little Johnny and Susie into bed?”
“I’m sorry, dear, you’re right,” Elizabeth said with a flutter of her eyelashes, “I have been neglecting my womanly duties. Shall I slip on a negligee and make you an apple pie?”
“I’d settle for you grabbing me a beer in the perfectly adorable outfit you’re wearing now,” Peter said, returning her to an upright position and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
“I think I can manage that,” El replied, going to find them each one. “You look beat; something going on at work?”
Peter plopped down tiredly on the couch and said with a sigh, “It’s this forger. You know the one I’ve been chasing?”
“Let me see, suspect known as "James Bonds", late twenties, master forger, art theft, and confidence man, suspected active for at least five years but never formally identified or apprehended. Would that be the one?” Elizabeth asked with an innocent smile, plopping down next to Peter and handing him the wine.
Peter looked at her in surprise, but soon a tired smile of realization appeared on his face, and he said sheepishly, “I’ve been talking about him a lot, haven’t I?”
“Oh, only once or twice a day for the past four months,” Elizabeth teased him good-naturedly.
“Sorry, hon,” Peter said, “We can talk about something else.”
“No, I’m just teasing you,” El said, scooting to lean comfortably against Peter, “What’s going on with Double-O Seven these days?”
“Oh, the usual - manufacturing Caravaggios, replicating currency, pretending to be a government official,” Peter replied with a little sigh of desperation. “No matter what I do, he always seems to be one step ahead of me. It’s infuriating.”
“You’ll get him,” Elizabeth said soothingly, “He may be good, but you’re the best.”
“Thanks, hon,” Peter said, kissing her lightly on the forehead, “I appreciate that. It’s just that his work is so brilliant, El! I’ve never seen art forgeries like these; not a single person I’ve interviewed has been able to tell the difference between one of his paintings and the real thing. The kid can do Renoir better than Renoir himself! He’s got an amazing gift, like no one I’ve ever chased before.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone had a little crush,” El said mischievously, giving Peter a teasing smile.
“Oh, El, that’s ridiculous,” Peter said, “He’s not my type.”
“Really?” El asked skeptically, eyebrows arched, “Gorgeous and talented isn’t your type?”
“How can you possibly know that he’s gorgeous?” Peter asked defensively, realizing too late that this was perhaps not the best way to phrase the question.
“Well, how could he convince all those people to do what he wanted if he wasn’t?” El reasoned, adding a little guiltily, “Not to mention I may have peeked at the sketch in his file when you left it open on the dining room table the other day.”
“El!” Peter exclaimed, “A civilian looking at confidential FBI case material is illegal!...probably.”
“We are married!” El defended, “So by that logic, your case files are my case files. Besides, I wanted a look at the man who has my husband so completely transfixed.”
“Oh come on, El, I could never seriously consider becoming romantically involved with a criminal, least of all one I’m investigating,” Peter scoffed, trying not to think too hard about El’s use of the word “transfixed.”
“I don’t know, he doesn't seem like your run-of-the-mill criminal,” El observed, only a little surprised that what had begun as customary teasing had turned into an actual discussion of the possibilities. “From what you’ve told me, he sounds like more of an artist than a thug. He’s never stolen from anyone who couldn’t more than afford the loss.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Peter insisted, “No one gets to pick and choose which laws he follows, not even "James Bonds" himself. And besides, I’ll have him in jail by the end of the month, and that will be the end of that.”
“Even you don’t believe that, Peter,” El said doubtfully. “Something tells me this one might be in for the long haul.”
Chapter Title: Start of Something Good
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal, Peter & Elizabeth
Wordcount: ~900
Rating: T
Fic Summary: Canon AU: Peter Burke is a secretly gay FBI agent, Elizabeth is his best friend whom he married to avoid the prejudice in the Bureau, and Neal Caffrey is the con man he just can't get out of his head. Follows the basic plots laid out by the series.
May 27, 2003
“El?” Peter called out, shutting the oak-paneled front door behind him.
“Hey, sweetie,” El said with a smile, cheerily coming to greet him with a quick kiss, “How was work?”
“You’re very domestic today,” Peter said with a laugh, then morphed his expression to one of mock terror as he added, “Oh God, your mother isn’t here, is she?”
Elizabeth gave him a playful smack on the arm and replied, “Nothing like that. I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”
“Wait, let me guess,” Peter said, drumming his fingers together as if concentrating intently, “Long lunch with the stockbroker went well. Judging by that lavish bouquet I see behind you, very well. You know, I really should give that boy a stern talking to about dating my wife.”
“Stop it,” Elizabeth scolded lightly, rolling her eyes and strolling into the living room, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to have to explain about our...unorthodox family situation after a couple of dinners.”
“But darling,” Peter said in an artificially deep voice as he placed his hands on Elizabeth’s waist and lowered her into a dramatic dip, “If you’re out with him, how will you be back in time to have my dinner on the table at five o’clock sharp and tuck little Johnny and Susie into bed?”
“I’m sorry, dear, you’re right,” Elizabeth said with a flutter of her eyelashes, “I have been neglecting my womanly duties. Shall I slip on a negligee and make you an apple pie?”
“I’d settle for you grabbing me a beer in the perfectly adorable outfit you’re wearing now,” Peter said, returning her to an upright position and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
“I think I can manage that,” El replied, going to find them each one. “You look beat; something going on at work?”
Peter plopped down tiredly on the couch and said with a sigh, “It’s this forger. You know the one I’ve been chasing?”
“Let me see, suspect known as "James Bonds", late twenties, master forger, art theft, and confidence man, suspected active for at least five years but never formally identified or apprehended. Would that be the one?” Elizabeth asked with an innocent smile, plopping down next to Peter and handing him the wine.
Peter looked at her in surprise, but soon a tired smile of realization appeared on his face, and he said sheepishly, “I’ve been talking about him a lot, haven’t I?”
“Oh, only once or twice a day for the past four months,” Elizabeth teased him good-naturedly.
“Sorry, hon,” Peter said, “We can talk about something else.”
“No, I’m just teasing you,” El said, scooting to lean comfortably against Peter, “What’s going on with Double-O Seven these days?”
“Oh, the usual - manufacturing Caravaggios, replicating currency, pretending to be a government official,” Peter replied with a little sigh of desperation. “No matter what I do, he always seems to be one step ahead of me. It’s infuriating.”
“You’ll get him,” Elizabeth said soothingly, “He may be good, but you’re the best.”
“Thanks, hon,” Peter said, kissing her lightly on the forehead, “I appreciate that. It’s just that his work is so brilliant, El! I’ve never seen art forgeries like these; not a single person I’ve interviewed has been able to tell the difference between one of his paintings and the real thing. The kid can do Renoir better than Renoir himself! He’s got an amazing gift, like no one I’ve ever chased before.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone had a little crush,” El said mischievously, giving Peter a teasing smile.
“Oh, El, that’s ridiculous,” Peter said, “He’s not my type.”
“Really?” El asked skeptically, eyebrows arched, “Gorgeous and talented isn’t your type?”
“How can you possibly know that he’s gorgeous?” Peter asked defensively, realizing too late that this was perhaps not the best way to phrase the question.
“Well, how could he convince all those people to do what he wanted if he wasn’t?” El reasoned, adding a little guiltily, “Not to mention I may have peeked at the sketch in his file when you left it open on the dining room table the other day.”
“El!” Peter exclaimed, “A civilian looking at confidential FBI case material is illegal!...probably.”
“We are married!” El defended, “So by that logic, your case files are my case files. Besides, I wanted a look at the man who has my husband so completely transfixed.”
“Oh come on, El, I could never seriously consider becoming romantically involved with a criminal, least of all one I’m investigating,” Peter scoffed, trying not to think too hard about El’s use of the word “transfixed.”
“I don’t know, he doesn't seem like your run-of-the-mill criminal,” El observed, only a little surprised that what had begun as customary teasing had turned into an actual discussion of the possibilities. “From what you’ve told me, he sounds like more of an artist than a thug. He’s never stolen from anyone who couldn’t more than afford the loss.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Peter insisted, “No one gets to pick and choose which laws he follows, not even "James Bonds" himself. And besides, I’ll have him in jail by the end of the month, and that will be the end of that.”
“Even you don’t believe that, Peter,” El said doubtfully. “Something tells me this one might be in for the long haul.”