FIC : Maintenance (White Collar, rated PG)
oh man, it is so good to have my netbook back in action, and to have the time to use the internet again. *mopeyface* i owe people stuff for help_haiti and i owe money for my own donations, and i will be getting to all of that because I HAVE THE ENTIRE FUCKING WEEKEND OFF. without even asking for it!!! :O i'm going to get a haircut in an hour, and when i come back, Things will Get Done. i missed you guys; i haven't even looked at my flist in nearly two weeks, so if i missed anything, let me know! :333333
and here, have some fic. it's always hilarious to me how much easier it is for me when i handwrite the rough drafts of my fic. later today there might even be some trek fic, if y'all are lucky. :D
Title : Maintenance ('Driven' part 4)
Fandom : White Collar
Characters/Pairing : Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke; pre Neal/Peter
Rating : PG
Warnings : none
Word Count : 1250
Summary : After Neal finds out about Kate, things start to go downhill. Lucky for him there's someone willing to step in and help him out.
A/Ns : this is fourth in the 'driven' verse (read the first three parts here) and as such, AUs from the end of 1x07. written for the prompt "neal/peter, i think i'm going crazy" at smallfandomfest. i sat down to write and elle popped up and said "girl, i got this," so i let her have it. i firmly maintain it is possible for this to be a shippy story without one half of the ship ever appearing in the fic! i hope you guys like. XD x-posted to whitecollarfic which you should all be reading (and writing for!).
---
In the week following his late night at the Burkes' house, Neal hadn't done much besides work. Actually, scratch that, he hadn't done anything besides work. He'd worked on two cases, actually solved a third, and caught the department up on six months' worth of backlogged paperwork in his spare time. It was nearly enough to keep him occupied; unfortunately for Neal, he'd long ago trained his brain to work steadily and swiftly under the surface of whatever else he was doing with his time. There was almost nothing that could keep him from thinking about Kate.
He knew it wasn't a secret from anyone. In a team as close-knit as this one, he never expected it to be. It didn't make the sidelong sympathetic glances he got from Cruz and Jones any easier to deal with; it didn't make him hate any less the way Peter was treating him like he was about to snap at any second.
The only person who still treated him normally was Elle. She called him once or twice, even met him for lunch at that deli he likes so much, and never once did she avoid the subject, or bring it up unnecessarily.
He wanted to ask if she'd known. At first he was afraid of the answer; halfway through their turkey clubs he realized he didn't need to be, because the answer was clear. He didn't know what he'd done to win the friendship and respect of Peter's wife, but somehow he felt certain that if Elle had known what was going on with Kate, he'd have found out a lot sooner than he had.
"I think I'm going crazy," he announced the following Thursday as Elle slid into the booth across from him. It was a bistro this time, her choice-- and if he'd made sure to leave the office while Peter was occupied with Hughes, well, he didn't think he could be blamed for a little misdirection.
"How so?" she asked, unwrapping her scarf and shaking back her hair.
"I'm having that paranoid I-live-in-a-fishbowl feeling," said Neal with a shrug. "I might be imagining it, but if one more person in that office gives me a sidelong pitying look I think I might actually start throwing things." He tried on a smile, knowing it fell flat, while his hand strayed to fiddle with the salad fork.
Elle's mouth twisted, soft and wry, and with no hesitation she reached for his hand on the table and squeezed. "They're cops, Neal. Sometimes they forget how to act like normal people. My husband included," she added, her mouth doing something more like a smirk.
The joke was at Peter's expense, but Neal didn't laugh. Instead he looked up as the waiter arrived, and ordered a beer for each of them. Elle's smile as the waiter left was bemused. "And you know what kind of beer I like-- how, exactly?"
He shrugged, flirting with a little smile of his own now that they were back on safer ground. "I just know things, Elle."
"Right," she said. "I think you're forgetting the whole 'Peter stalked me before he asked me out' thing, Neal-- I know when I've been researched."
"It wasn't research," he protested, laughing, "it was observation."
"You expect me to believe that?" Her mouth still quirked, but her eyes were piercing; she already knew the answer.
Neal took a sip of his water. He knew there was more to her question than idle banter; he knew he had to answer with less dissembling than usual. "I expect you to believe I've managed to do my homework without poking my nose too far into your privacy."
She waved her hand dismissively, perusing her menu. When the waiter returned she ordered-- steak strip salad for her, salmon and wild rice for Neal-- and Neal found himself laughing in spite of himself. "I'm not the only one who did my homework, huh," he said appreciatively.
"Nah," Elle replied with a smug little smile. "I was late for class, so I cheated off the boy next to me."
"Did you get a good grade?" he parried back, grinning.
She shrugged, nearly nonchalant, but her eyes were clear and didn't leave much room for pretending they were kidding around. "If you're going to copy, you might as well do it from the guy with all the right answers."
Something lodged in his throat then, hot and too big to swallow, and he took a breath, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them. "It's going to get better, right?" he asked quietly. He hated that he couldn't look at her, that he couldn't look at anything besides his plate if he wanted not to fall apart.
Elizabeth's hand moved into his field of vision, like she'd thought about taking his hand again and stopped herself. "Look at me," she said, soft and gentle, and he dragged his eyes up to hers; she was making a point. It wasn't lost on him that she wanted his attention when she said, "It's going to get a lot better. I promise."
The breath Neal drew was shaky, and he found to his surprise he wanted to be totally honest with her. That was unusual and unnerving enough, but he forced himself to do it because he also knew it was important. "I feel like I'm losing not just Kate, but it's like-- everything I worked for-- not that I don't still have something to work toward-- but it's all different now, and I just--" with a rueful shake of his head he gave up, not even sure how to phrase what he meant, worried if he tried he'd end up floundering more than he was already.
"You've got Peter," she said, and now she did put her warm hand on his wrist. "That's not nothing. I know you haven't always trusted him, but he's got your back, Neal. He wants to see you through this-- he does," she insisted as he flashed her a skeptical look. "He wouldn't have bothered explaining himself that night if he didn't."
"You sure about that?" he asked, feeling dwarfed by the sudden realization of how much the answer to that question meant to him.
"Without a doubt," she said, and he didn't hear any uncertainty in her voice. "I'm always sure of Peter-- and you should be too."
"I just don't understand why he's doing this," he muttered. It wasn't entirely true, but it was what he was telling himself; and anyway, deflecting the conversation gave him time to get over the ultimatum she'd just delivered with a skillful backhand stroke.
"He cares about you," said Elle with a strange, soft finality in her voice. "You should know that by now."
"I don't get why he's doing that either," Neal admitted, and there was no question of how true that was. He knew Elle was right, of course. He just didn't think he'd worked hard enough to deserve it yet, and couldn't understand how he could have won Peter's respect and affection without it being very clear that he'd earned it.
"You'll figure it out," was her only response, and Neal knew her well enough to know when she knew things she wasn't saying, and when she was completely confident that what she was saying would end up being true.
"I don't deserve you either, Elle," Neal said honestly, finally reaching for his beer.
"It's okay. You'll make it up to me somehow, I'm sure," she said with a wink, squeezing the orange slice into her hefewiezsen and taking a sip.
"Like paying for lunch?" he teased.
Elle's smile flashed again. "That'd be an excellent start."
. on to part 5.
and here, have some fic. it's always hilarious to me how much easier it is for me when i handwrite the rough drafts of my fic. later today there might even be some trek fic, if y'all are lucky. :D
Title : Maintenance ('Driven' part 4)
Fandom : White Collar
Characters/Pairing : Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke; pre Neal/Peter
Rating : PG
Warnings : none
Word Count : 1250
Summary : After Neal finds out about Kate, things start to go downhill. Lucky for him there's someone willing to step in and help him out.
A/Ns : this is fourth in the 'driven' verse (read the first three parts here) and as such, AUs from the end of 1x07. written for the prompt "neal/peter, i think i'm going crazy" at smallfandomfest. i sat down to write and elle popped up and said "girl, i got this," so i let her have it. i firmly maintain it is possible for this to be a shippy story without one half of the ship ever appearing in the fic! i hope you guys like. XD x-posted to whitecollarfic which you should all be reading (and writing for!).
---
In the week following his late night at the Burkes' house, Neal hadn't done much besides work. Actually, scratch that, he hadn't done anything besides work. He'd worked on two cases, actually solved a third, and caught the department up on six months' worth of backlogged paperwork in his spare time. It was nearly enough to keep him occupied; unfortunately for Neal, he'd long ago trained his brain to work steadily and swiftly under the surface of whatever else he was doing with his time. There was almost nothing that could keep him from thinking about Kate.
He knew it wasn't a secret from anyone. In a team as close-knit as this one, he never expected it to be. It didn't make the sidelong sympathetic glances he got from Cruz and Jones any easier to deal with; it didn't make him hate any less the way Peter was treating him like he was about to snap at any second.
The only person who still treated him normally was Elle. She called him once or twice, even met him for lunch at that deli he likes so much, and never once did she avoid the subject, or bring it up unnecessarily.
He wanted to ask if she'd known. At first he was afraid of the answer; halfway through their turkey clubs he realized he didn't need to be, because the answer was clear. He didn't know what he'd done to win the friendship and respect of Peter's wife, but somehow he felt certain that if Elle had known what was going on with Kate, he'd have found out a lot sooner than he had.
"I think I'm going crazy," he announced the following Thursday as Elle slid into the booth across from him. It was a bistro this time, her choice-- and if he'd made sure to leave the office while Peter was occupied with Hughes, well, he didn't think he could be blamed for a little misdirection.
"How so?" she asked, unwrapping her scarf and shaking back her hair.
"I'm having that paranoid I-live-in-a-fishbowl feeling," said Neal with a shrug. "I might be imagining it, but if one more person in that office gives me a sidelong pitying look I think I might actually start throwing things." He tried on a smile, knowing it fell flat, while his hand strayed to fiddle with the salad fork.
Elle's mouth twisted, soft and wry, and with no hesitation she reached for his hand on the table and squeezed. "They're cops, Neal. Sometimes they forget how to act like normal people. My husband included," she added, her mouth doing something more like a smirk.
The joke was at Peter's expense, but Neal didn't laugh. Instead he looked up as the waiter arrived, and ordered a beer for each of them. Elle's smile as the waiter left was bemused. "And you know what kind of beer I like-- how, exactly?"
He shrugged, flirting with a little smile of his own now that they were back on safer ground. "I just know things, Elle."
"Right," she said. "I think you're forgetting the whole 'Peter stalked me before he asked me out' thing, Neal-- I know when I've been researched."
"It wasn't research," he protested, laughing, "it was observation."
"You expect me to believe that?" Her mouth still quirked, but her eyes were piercing; she already knew the answer.
Neal took a sip of his water. He knew there was more to her question than idle banter; he knew he had to answer with less dissembling than usual. "I expect you to believe I've managed to do my homework without poking my nose too far into your privacy."
She waved her hand dismissively, perusing her menu. When the waiter returned she ordered-- steak strip salad for her, salmon and wild rice for Neal-- and Neal found himself laughing in spite of himself. "I'm not the only one who did my homework, huh," he said appreciatively.
"Nah," Elle replied with a smug little smile. "I was late for class, so I cheated off the boy next to me."
"Did you get a good grade?" he parried back, grinning.
She shrugged, nearly nonchalant, but her eyes were clear and didn't leave much room for pretending they were kidding around. "If you're going to copy, you might as well do it from the guy with all the right answers."
Something lodged in his throat then, hot and too big to swallow, and he took a breath, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them. "It's going to get better, right?" he asked quietly. He hated that he couldn't look at her, that he couldn't look at anything besides his plate if he wanted not to fall apart.
Elizabeth's hand moved into his field of vision, like she'd thought about taking his hand again and stopped herself. "Look at me," she said, soft and gentle, and he dragged his eyes up to hers; she was making a point. It wasn't lost on him that she wanted his attention when she said, "It's going to get a lot better. I promise."
The breath Neal drew was shaky, and he found to his surprise he wanted to be totally honest with her. That was unusual and unnerving enough, but he forced himself to do it because he also knew it was important. "I feel like I'm losing not just Kate, but it's like-- everything I worked for-- not that I don't still have something to work toward-- but it's all different now, and I just--" with a rueful shake of his head he gave up, not even sure how to phrase what he meant, worried if he tried he'd end up floundering more than he was already.
"You've got Peter," she said, and now she did put her warm hand on his wrist. "That's not nothing. I know you haven't always trusted him, but he's got your back, Neal. He wants to see you through this-- he does," she insisted as he flashed her a skeptical look. "He wouldn't have bothered explaining himself that night if he didn't."
"You sure about that?" he asked, feeling dwarfed by the sudden realization of how much the answer to that question meant to him.
"Without a doubt," she said, and he didn't hear any uncertainty in her voice. "I'm always sure of Peter-- and you should be too."
"I just don't understand why he's doing this," he muttered. It wasn't entirely true, but it was what he was telling himself; and anyway, deflecting the conversation gave him time to get over the ultimatum she'd just delivered with a skillful backhand stroke.
"He cares about you," said Elle with a strange, soft finality in her voice. "You should know that by now."
"I don't get why he's doing that either," Neal admitted, and there was no question of how true that was. He knew Elle was right, of course. He just didn't think he'd worked hard enough to deserve it yet, and couldn't understand how he could have won Peter's respect and affection without it being very clear that he'd earned it.
"You'll figure it out," was her only response, and Neal knew her well enough to know when she knew things she wasn't saying, and when she was completely confident that what she was saying would end up being true.
"I don't deserve you either, Elle," Neal said honestly, finally reaching for his beer.
"It's okay. You'll make it up to me somehow, I'm sure," she said with a wink, squeezing the orange slice into her hefewiezsen and taking a sip.
"Like paying for lunch?" he teased.
Elle's smile flashed again. "That'd be an excellent start."
. on to part 5.