White Collar/X-Men Fic: Melting Pot Polyglot
Posted to whitecollarfic
Crossposted to crossoverfic
Title: Melting Pot Polyglot
Pairing/Characters: Erik/Neal
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot (White Collar), XMFC
Summary: Neal meets a multilingual man in Geneva who needs no words with him
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Switzerland wasn't exactly a melting pot, but one did hear a slew of voices chiming into the mix with a myriad of languages. So while Neal wasn't surprised to overhear the man at the next table making phone calls on his mobile cycle through French, German and Spanish, he was impressed with his fluency and perfect accents.
Not wanting to be outdone, Neal pulled out his own cell to leave some voicemail messages. Italian to start, some Portuguese - even though he didn't know much in it - and rounded it off with a few words in Gaelic.
The waiter bringing him a fresh coffee gave him the opportunity to shift his chair slightly and get a better view of the man he'd been eavesdropping on. Tall, dark and handsome was not unexpected. The primal energy the man exuded though, the sense of power, danger and almost lethal ability in that muscular frame... Neal shifted in his seat, unprepared for the level of attraction that surged through him.
The man caught his eye for a brief second and Neal thought he looked almost amused. Then he brought out his phone for more calls. Russian, or more likely some dialect of it - Neal wasn't completely sure. The next sounded kind of Slavic, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps Polish? Finally Neal recognized a few scant words in Swahili and threw up his hands in defeat. He couldn't beat this polyglot.
Neal finished off his coffee and rose only to find the man beckoning to him. Neal walked over to find the man sitting back in his chair, looking smug. "They say if you can't beat him, join him, don't they?" He gestured graciously to the empty chair across from him. Neal cocked his head at him a few seconds before sitting down, accepting the man's hand to shake. "Erik."
"Neal"
Erik studied him from across the table a moment, looking every bit the hungry lion ready for a meal, not making any effort to hide his interest or intent. "So, Neal... What language shall we use to converse?"
Neal let his gaze rake Erik's long lean frame, letting him know they were on the same page. "Well, you may be a master of words, Erik, but I get the feeling you don't really need them, do you?"
Erik beckoned to the waiter and handed him a wad of bills, gesturing to both their tables to let him know he was paying both their tabs. His eyes flashed dark with want. "No, I really don't."
The walk to the hotel was silent, but the hotel room walls absorbed a lot of sound beyond the lock clicking in place. Erik had Neal stripped and all but begging in a matter of minutes, crazy with the feel of those strong hands on his flesh, that taut body rubbing against his, that talented mouth driving all thought from his mind... There were words in every language for bliss, pleasure, ecstasy, but Neal forgot them all when Erik drove into him, unerringly hitting that spot within him that emptied his mind and made him cry out helplessly with the sheer electric jolt that sent his body humming.
Neal woke the next morning in a room that was empty but paid for, a breakfast that had been ordered by one to be eaten by another and a cell phone number in lieu of a note. When he tried dialing it the message just said that mobile was out of the service area. Neal put it into his phone under 'Erik - Geneva' and hoped he'd get a chance to use it again someday.
o--c
Crossposted to crossoverfic
Title: Melting Pot Polyglot
Pairing/Characters: Erik/Neal
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot (White Collar), XMFC
Summary: Neal meets a multilingual man in Geneva who needs no words with him
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Switzerland wasn't exactly a melting pot, but one did hear a slew of voices chiming into the mix with a myriad of languages. So while Neal wasn't surprised to overhear the man at the next table making phone calls on his mobile cycle through French, German and Spanish, he was impressed with his fluency and perfect accents.
Not wanting to be outdone, Neal pulled out his own cell to leave some voicemail messages. Italian to start, some Portuguese - even though he didn't know much in it - and rounded it off with a few words in Gaelic.
The waiter bringing him a fresh coffee gave him the opportunity to shift his chair slightly and get a better view of the man he'd been eavesdropping on. Tall, dark and handsome was not unexpected. The primal energy the man exuded though, the sense of power, danger and almost lethal ability in that muscular frame... Neal shifted in his seat, unprepared for the level of attraction that surged through him.
The man caught his eye for a brief second and Neal thought he looked almost amused. Then he brought out his phone for more calls. Russian, or more likely some dialect of it - Neal wasn't completely sure. The next sounded kind of Slavic, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps Polish? Finally Neal recognized a few scant words in Swahili and threw up his hands in defeat. He couldn't beat this polyglot.
Neal finished off his coffee and rose only to find the man beckoning to him. Neal walked over to find the man sitting back in his chair, looking smug. "They say if you can't beat him, join him, don't they?" He gestured graciously to the empty chair across from him. Neal cocked his head at him a few seconds before sitting down, accepting the man's hand to shake. "Erik."
"Neal"
Erik studied him from across the table a moment, looking every bit the hungry lion ready for a meal, not making any effort to hide his interest or intent. "So, Neal... What language shall we use to converse?"
Neal let his gaze rake Erik's long lean frame, letting him know they were on the same page. "Well, you may be a master of words, Erik, but I get the feeling you don't really need them, do you?"
Erik beckoned to the waiter and handed him a wad of bills, gesturing to both their tables to let him know he was paying both their tabs. His eyes flashed dark with want. "No, I really don't."
The walk to the hotel was silent, but the hotel room walls absorbed a lot of sound beyond the lock clicking in place. Erik had Neal stripped and all but begging in a matter of minutes, crazy with the feel of those strong hands on his flesh, that taut body rubbing against his, that talented mouth driving all thought from his mind... There were words in every language for bliss, pleasure, ecstasy, but Neal forgot them all when Erik drove into him, unerringly hitting that spot within him that emptied his mind and made him cry out helplessly with the sheer electric jolt that sent his body humming.
Neal woke the next morning in a room that was empty but paid for, a breakfast that had been ordered by one to be eaten by another and a cell phone number in lieu of a note. When he tried dialing it the message just said that mobile was out of the service area. Neal put it into his phone under 'Erik - Geneva' and hoped he'd get a chance to use it again someday.
o--c