Fic: As You Lie Beside Me
Title: As You Lie Beside Me
Author: cookielaura
Word Count: 627
Pairing: Neal/Peter (in the context of Neal/Peter/El or approving!El)
Rating: PG, no warnings
Disclaimer: White Collar isn't mine, and I'm not making money from this
Author’s Notes: Written for run_the_con, for china_shop’s prompt of “too early”. Big thanks to embroiderama and dreamsofspike for beta-ing and reassuring! All mistakes are mine.
As you lie beside me
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Peter said, reaching out to wind his fingers through Neal’s sleep-mussed hair. He tugged gently.
Neal groaned and burrowed further down under the covers, murmuring something about it being too early, though it was hard to make out the words as he pushed his face into Peter’s bare stomach and snuggled in.
“It’s 9.30,” Peter said, though technically it was a Saturday, they didn’t have to be at work and El was away on business. They could stay in bed all day if they wanted to, but Peter had things he wanted to discuss.
Neal ignored him, not even reacting when Peter pushed the covers back so he could see Neal’s head, which was turned away from him.
“Neal?”
“I’m sleeping,” he grumbled. “It’s not polite to disturb people when they’re sleeping.” His words were still muffled but there was an edge to his voice that Peter was certain was due to more than the desire for a longer lie-in.
He returned his fingers to Neal’s hair, sifting through it. He had his suspicions about why Neal didn’t want to face him, and they made his heart twist with hope and fear. Hope that he hadn’t dreamt it, and fear that Neal had changed his mind - that this was regret he was seeing and not just embarrassment.
“Did you mean what you said last night?”
Peter felt Neal tense for the briefest of moments.
“You heard?” he asked lightly, still looking away. “You didn’t…respond.” The words were carefully neutral, indifferent, an ever-so-polite veneer over the glaring accusation beneath.
“I was half asleep. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard it,” Peter replied gently. The truth was that he’d lain there for a long time, after dragging his mind back from the borders of sleep, trying to work out whether he’d imagined the words in the dark, hazy place between reality and dreams. By the time he’d decided they weren’t just a product of wishful thinking, he’d turned over to find Neal sleeping - or at least pretending to.
“I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear it,” Peter went on, then paused, waiting for Neal to tell him that the words had been intentional. That they were the truth, and that Neal hadn’t just been trying them on for size. That it hadn’t been a meaningless, post-orgasmic slip of the tongue that Neal was wishing away in the cold light of day.
Neal was silent. For a moment, Peter wondered whether he should leave it, whether it was a mistake to push, whether he should simply cling to the memory of that whispered phrase and believe in it while he could.
“Was I supposed to hear it?” he asked at length, tugging on Neal’s hair a little more firmly.
Neal looked up finally, flashing Peter a smile that wasn’t quite genuine. The guarded look in his eyes was unpleasantly familiar. “I haven’t decided,” he said, trying for flippant and failing.
Peter studied him, trying to read whether there was fear or apology in the twist of the smile. When Neal flushed and glanced away again, Peter pushed his own nerves away, pulled Neal into his arms and dragged him further up the bed until their heads were on the same pillow. Neal, trapped and unable to turn aside, took the only escape left to him and closed his eyes.
Peter kissed his eyelids. “Well, whether I was meant to hear or not… I agree with your sentiments.”
Neal’s eyes flicked open. “You do?” he asked, caution and eagerness warring in his voice.
“Of course. I can barely remember a time when I didn’t love you,” Peter said softly.
Neal’s smile was slow, soft, beautiful. “Then you were meant to hear it,” he said.
Author: cookielaura
Word Count: 627
Pairing: Neal/Peter (in the context of Neal/Peter/El or approving!El)
Rating: PG, no warnings
Disclaimer: White Collar isn't mine, and I'm not making money from this
Author’s Notes: Written for run_the_con, for china_shop’s prompt of “too early”. Big thanks to embroiderama and dreamsofspike for beta-ing and reassuring! All mistakes are mine.
As you lie beside me
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Peter said, reaching out to wind his fingers through Neal’s sleep-mussed hair. He tugged gently.
Neal groaned and burrowed further down under the covers, murmuring something about it being too early, though it was hard to make out the words as he pushed his face into Peter’s bare stomach and snuggled in.
“It’s 9.30,” Peter said, though technically it was a Saturday, they didn’t have to be at work and El was away on business. They could stay in bed all day if they wanted to, but Peter had things he wanted to discuss.
Neal ignored him, not even reacting when Peter pushed the covers back so he could see Neal’s head, which was turned away from him.
“Neal?”
“I’m sleeping,” he grumbled. “It’s not polite to disturb people when they’re sleeping.” His words were still muffled but there was an edge to his voice that Peter was certain was due to more than the desire for a longer lie-in.
He returned his fingers to Neal’s hair, sifting through it. He had his suspicions about why Neal didn’t want to face him, and they made his heart twist with hope and fear. Hope that he hadn’t dreamt it, and fear that Neal had changed his mind - that this was regret he was seeing and not just embarrassment.
“Did you mean what you said last night?”
Peter felt Neal tense for the briefest of moments.
“You heard?” he asked lightly, still looking away. “You didn’t…respond.” The words were carefully neutral, indifferent, an ever-so-polite veneer over the glaring accusation beneath.
“I was half asleep. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard it,” Peter replied gently. The truth was that he’d lain there for a long time, after dragging his mind back from the borders of sleep, trying to work out whether he’d imagined the words in the dark, hazy place between reality and dreams. By the time he’d decided they weren’t just a product of wishful thinking, he’d turned over to find Neal sleeping - or at least pretending to.
“I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear it,” Peter went on, then paused, waiting for Neal to tell him that the words had been intentional. That they were the truth, and that Neal hadn’t just been trying them on for size. That it hadn’t been a meaningless, post-orgasmic slip of the tongue that Neal was wishing away in the cold light of day.
Neal was silent. For a moment, Peter wondered whether he should leave it, whether it was a mistake to push, whether he should simply cling to the memory of that whispered phrase and believe in it while he could.
“Was I supposed to hear it?” he asked at length, tugging on Neal’s hair a little more firmly.
Neal looked up finally, flashing Peter a smile that wasn’t quite genuine. The guarded look in his eyes was unpleasantly familiar. “I haven’t decided,” he said, trying for flippant and failing.
Peter studied him, trying to read whether there was fear or apology in the twist of the smile. When Neal flushed and glanced away again, Peter pushed his own nerves away, pulled Neal into his arms and dragged him further up the bed until their heads were on the same pillow. Neal, trapped and unable to turn aside, took the only escape left to him and closed his eyes.
Peter kissed his eyelids. “Well, whether I was meant to hear or not… I agree with your sentiments.”
Neal’s eyes flicked open. “You do?” he asked, caution and eagerness warring in his voice.
“Of course. I can barely remember a time when I didn’t love you,” Peter said softly.
Neal’s smile was slow, soft, beautiful. “Then you were meant to hear it,” he said.