Ficlet: Belief
Title: Belief
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Peter/El
Summary: Everyone needs something (or someone) to believe in.
(Set after 1x03, "Book of Hours".)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Jeff Eastin and the USA Network legally own White Collar.
Word Count: Approx. 720 words.
A/N: This was written for the
kink_bingo prompt: "Worship".
Cross-posted to AO3
Belief
"The strange thing is," Peter said, cutting into his steak, "I think Neal really believed in it. The healing powers."
"Why is that so strange?" El cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, in the way she always did when she knew the answer to her question, but wanted him to say it anyway.
"It's just--" Peter frowned, "--con man, career criminal... he's not exactly the sort of person you'd expect to believe in magic books."
"Neal's a romantic." El reached across the table and squeezed Peter's hand. "Of course he believes in it. It's more fun that way."
Peter felt his lips turn upwards into a smile. "Are you saying I'm not romantic?"
"Of course not, honey," said El, her eyes growing mischievously large. "You can be romantic. Sometimes."
Peter laughed. "Clearly, I need to do better."
El patted his hand. "You do okay," she said. "Just remember, honey, with Neal--" She broke off, her brow furrowing in thought.
"What about Neal?"
"Well, we all need something to believe in, right?"
"I suppose we do."
El smiled at him, and Peter lifted a piece of medium rare rib-eye to his mouth.
***
***
The rest of their meal passed without further discussion of philosophy or romance. El told him about a difficult client at work, and her eyes shone as she did so; Peter knew that, for all that this demanding client frustrated her, she enjoyed the challenge. They discussed the game they'd watched together a few nights ago, and Peter admired the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she assessed the team's tactics.
As they did the washing up, El's face took on an intense focused expression, and Peter knew that she was thinking of her problem client, so he allowed his mind to drift back to their earlier conversation. Belief, romance... all Peter knew was that he hadn't found much of either in the rituals of the Catholic Church. If there was a Heaven, then it was right here, with El beside him, and he didn't need any miracles for that. Not that it wasn't amazing, of course, that he got to wake up beside her every morning, that he got to feel her arms around him, feel her legs around him, and--
"Peter, honey?"
Peter blinked, realizing that he'd zoned out.
"You okay?" El looked up at him, concerned.
"I'm fine," he said, managing what he thought was a reassuring smile.
"You just looked a little funny there for--"
Peter felt his mouth crash against Elizabeth's before he was even fully aware of what he was doing. He kissed her hard at first, and then slowly and sweetly, so that her body relaxed against his.
When he finally pulled away from her, he was pleased to see that she was a little bit breathless.
"I believe in you," Peter said.
"What?"
"You said we all needed something to believe in." Peter ran his hand through her hair. "I believe in you."
El smiled. "Neal's romantic side is rubbing off on you."
"Come upstairs with me?" Peter asked, pulling her close.
"Okay."
***
***
Peter realized, as he slowly and carefully stripped the clothes from El's body, that he should have done a bit more planning. Oils, he thought, he should have oils to anoint her body. Neal would have thought of oils, in that oleander scent she liked for her candles. Neal would have--
Peter shook himself. This wasn't about Neal, or what he would have done. He'd work with what he had here now.
"Honey?" El asked. "Is everything alright?"
Peter smiled. "Everything's perfect."
He dropped to his knees, and brought his hands to the waistband of her pantyhose, pulling them down so that he could press his lips to her stomach. He pulled them lower, past her hips, over her legs. She raised each leg in turn so that he could remove them completely, and then, on impulse, Peter lowered his head and planted a kiss on each of her feet.
El hummed softly above him, and Peter sat back onto his ankles to look up at her. Her skin seemed to glow as it reflected the light from their bedside lamp, and she was glorious.
"I believe in you," Peter said again.
"I know you do." El smiled, beautiful and beneficent.
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Peter/El
Summary: Everyone needs something (or someone) to believe in.
(Set after 1x03, "Book of Hours".)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Jeff Eastin and the USA Network legally own White Collar.
Word Count: Approx. 720 words.
A/N: This was written for the
kink_bingo prompt: "Worship".
Cross-posted to AO3
Belief
"The strange thing is," Peter said, cutting into his steak, "I think Neal really believed in it. The healing powers."
"Why is that so strange?" El cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, in the way she always did when she knew the answer to her question, but wanted him to say it anyway.
"It's just--" Peter frowned, "--con man, career criminal... he's not exactly the sort of person you'd expect to believe in magic books."
"Neal's a romantic." El reached across the table and squeezed Peter's hand. "Of course he believes in it. It's more fun that way."
Peter felt his lips turn upwards into a smile. "Are you saying I'm not romantic?"
"Of course not, honey," said El, her eyes growing mischievously large. "You can be romantic. Sometimes."
Peter laughed. "Clearly, I need to do better."
El patted his hand. "You do okay," she said. "Just remember, honey, with Neal--" She broke off, her brow furrowing in thought.
"What about Neal?"
"Well, we all need something to believe in, right?"
"I suppose we do."
El smiled at him, and Peter lifted a piece of medium rare rib-eye to his mouth.
***
***
The rest of their meal passed without further discussion of philosophy or romance. El told him about a difficult client at work, and her eyes shone as she did so; Peter knew that, for all that this demanding client frustrated her, she enjoyed the challenge. They discussed the game they'd watched together a few nights ago, and Peter admired the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she assessed the team's tactics.
As they did the washing up, El's face took on an intense focused expression, and Peter knew that she was thinking of her problem client, so he allowed his mind to drift back to their earlier conversation. Belief, romance... all Peter knew was that he hadn't found much of either in the rituals of the Catholic Church. If there was a Heaven, then it was right here, with El beside him, and he didn't need any miracles for that. Not that it wasn't amazing, of course, that he got to wake up beside her every morning, that he got to feel her arms around him, feel her legs around him, and--
"Peter, honey?"
Peter blinked, realizing that he'd zoned out.
"You okay?" El looked up at him, concerned.
"I'm fine," he said, managing what he thought was a reassuring smile.
"You just looked a little funny there for--"
Peter felt his mouth crash against Elizabeth's before he was even fully aware of what he was doing. He kissed her hard at first, and then slowly and sweetly, so that her body relaxed against his.
When he finally pulled away from her, he was pleased to see that she was a little bit breathless.
"I believe in you," Peter said.
"What?"
"You said we all needed something to believe in." Peter ran his hand through her hair. "I believe in you."
El smiled. "Neal's romantic side is rubbing off on you."
"Come upstairs with me?" Peter asked, pulling her close.
"Okay."
***
***
Peter realized, as he slowly and carefully stripped the clothes from El's body, that he should have done a bit more planning. Oils, he thought, he should have oils to anoint her body. Neal would have thought of oils, in that oleander scent she liked for her candles. Neal would have--
Peter shook himself. This wasn't about Neal, or what he would have done. He'd work with what he had here now.
"Honey?" El asked. "Is everything alright?"
Peter smiled. "Everything's perfect."
He dropped to his knees, and brought his hands to the waistband of her pantyhose, pulling them down so that he could press his lips to her stomach. He pulled them lower, past her hips, over her legs. She raised each leg in turn so that he could remove them completely, and then, on impulse, Peter lowered his head and planted a kiss on each of her feet.
El hummed softly above him, and Peter sat back onto his ankles to look up at her. Her skin seemed to glow as it reflected the light from their bedside lamp, and she was glorious.
"I believe in you," Peter said again.
"I know you do." El smiled, beautiful and beneficent.