Moments to Build On - Part 2
Title: Moments to Build On
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Elizbeth, Peter/Neal
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Off screen Non canon death of a canon charcter (brief non graphic description), mentions of miscarriage, alcohol usage, mentions of homophobic reactions
Word count: 14,000
Summary: Pete and Elizabeth meet Neal on their first date. AU in which Peter is an accountant, Elizabeth is a girl who likes him back, and Neal's the server turned friend. But when tragedy strikes, Peter realizes what their friendship really means to him.
Notes: This was written for the
whitecollar_bb. This should have been longer. It didn't get anywhere near the amounts of love it deserved. beta credit goes to genrectats and (it's been too long bud, since we've worked together) Sol - thanks to these two incredible girls that kept my head in the game even when I was sure there was no possible way this was getting done.
Thank you so so much to
kaylashay for this artwork, it's beautiful! Her art post is HERE - go check it out and leave love!
Six months passed and then two more. Neal couldn’t say he forgot them; but it wasn’t like he was dwelling on them either. They flitted across his thoughts now and then, leaving him wondering what had happened with them.
Neal was in the kitchen of the restaurant helping clean up. The kitchen was closed and only a few seated tables remained; finishing up the last of their meals. He was just propping the broom back into the closet when a coworker stuck her head through the swinging doors. “Hey, Neal?”
“Hm?” He rolled his shoulders and yawned.
“Your guy is back.” She gave a smirk.
“My guy?” Neal ran a quick inventory of any and all customers that day that could be referred to as ‘his guy’. Nothing.
“Yeah, you know, hotshot accountant or whatever?” She rolled her eyes. “I put him at his table.”
“Peter? Uh, Mr. Burke?” His heart slammed. “They’re back?” He grabbed a couple menus off the rack. Clean kitchen be damned.
“Well, he is. I think he’s alone.” She disappeared back through the doors before he could question her further.
Neal followed after her, still holding two menus. He made it almost halfway before he spotted him. His back was toward him but Neal easily read the weariness in the set of his shoulders. It was painfully different from the usual burdens Neal had seen him with. He stopped and turned back toward the bar. He reached across and snagged a bottle of Peter’s usual beer and tipped it at the bartender. “Mick - This ones on me.” He nodded in acknowledgement.
He set down the spare menu on the bar and made his way back to Peter’s table. He didn’t look up as Neal approached, didn’t move at all until Neal set the bottle down in front of him. “I didn’t order…” He mumbled a little without looking up. “I’m just waiting for…”
“Consider it on the house.” Neal spoke soft but Peter’s eyes jerked up anyway.
“Neal.” His eyes flicked back down to the chair on the other side of the table.
Neal followed his gaze and pointedly did not ask about it’s missing occupant. Keeping his voice low he asked, “We’ve got other available seating, if you’d like to move.” The way the other man was staring blankly at the empty chair was breaking something in Neal’s chest.
Peter looked up again then and Neal noticed the film of tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I didn’t even think. If it’s not too much trouble.” He blinked fast and lifted the corner of his mouth in a mock smile as he stood and grabbed his jacket. “It’s stupid right? It’s just a table, in a place.”
“Not stupid.” Nea picked up the beer and ushered him to a smaller table, tucked away into a corner to afford the man some privacy. “What hurts us isn’t stupid.” He didn’t know, he feared but he didn’t want to know. So he didn’t ask. Instead he set the bottle down and shuffled his feet awkwardly. He didn’t know if he was waiting to be dismissed or waiting for Peter to confide in him. Finally he settled on, “If you need anything else…”
“Thanks, Neal.” Peter finally reached for the beer and plucked at the label. His voice was thick with unshed tears and Neal’s heart squeezed.
He was supposed to go home. He clocked out but lingered, dropping by Peter’s table occasionally, silently switching out one beer for the next. Peter nodded in recognition but didn’t say anything else as he sank further into his sea of memories. As the bar lights flipped on, he paid for two more. He dropped off the first as the dim overhead lights of the restaurant went off and the building fell into darkness. Mick had waved as he left and Neal just jingled his set of keys to acknowledge that he’d lock up on their way out.
Peter looked up, startled, as Neal moved to turn away. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stay so long. I should go.”
He moved to stand and Neal caught him by the shoulder. “I’ve got some closing duties left to do, no rush.” He was lying through his teeth but if ever he’d seen someone in need of somewhere to mourn, it was this man. He should have been home two hours ago. He should be so engrossed in his latest painting that he didn’t notice the growl of his stomach or the passage of time. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need anything.” He squeezed at Peter’s shoulder where his hand lay. “Or if you just…” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Want to talk.” He took his hand away and turned.
“She died.” He nearly choked on the words and took a long pull off the beer in front of him.
“Oh.” Neal was shocked into stillness. “Oh, Mr. Burke. I’m…”
“Don’t, ok? Don’t say you’re sorry.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Everyone says that they are.”
“But…” Neal was still frozen to the spot. “I am.” He was genuinely heartbroken. Something that had been building since he’d first seen Peter sitting alone suddenly weighed a ton and was centered on his chest. His heart beat too loud in his ears and there were tears burning hot in his eyes. “I am.”
Peter looked up and met his eyes. Neal wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was seemed to calm him. “Pancreatic cancer. That’s the news we were waiting on the last time we were here, remember?” He ran a hand over his face. “We found the best doctors and went to the best hospitals and still, she was gone two months after the diagnosis.”
Neal didn’t know what to say so he did the next best thing, he slid into the seat across from the man and listened.
“I haven’t been able to bring myself back here. Everything about this place is us - and I didn’t know how to face those memories without her.” He sucked the last from his bottle. “But she wanted me to give you this. I’m sorry that it took me so long.” His smile was crooked and sad. “I need to go.” He handed Neal an envelope that looked worn and crumpled. “She’s been gone 6 months today. I didn’t expect it to be so easy, or hard, to remember her. I knew this place would be hard, but this…” He stood and stumbled a little.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Neal was on his feet in a moment, hand steadying.
“Home.” This time his laugh was bitter. “If you can call it that after nearly a year of absence.” He fished in his wallet and shoved a $100 bill into Neal’s hand. “I won’t be back. She lingers here.” He aimed for the door and Neal followed, speechless and worried.
Even at this late hour it didn’t take long for a cab to stop for the well dressed man hailing from the street. Neal watched wordlessly from the doorway as he slid into the back of one; everything in him screaming to go after him, to stop him. He felt like he was losing something that he never had. But he just watched as the door slammed shut, the tail lights lit up, it pulled away from the curb silently and disappeared down the street.
Neal watched until it merged with other traffic and he couldn’t distinguish it from the other cars around it. Then he headed back inside.
He wiped down the table and disposed of the bottles before he left and locked the door behind him. He started the trek home - all the while tracing the edges of the envelope in his pocket. The urge to pull it out and read it during his walk was strong. But Elizabeth Burke was a woman worthy of patience and his full attention. And if she had one final thing to say to him, he was going to take the time to listen right.
He locked the door to his apartment behind him and kicked off his shoes. He changed into a tshirt and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator before settling onto his couch. He tore into the envelope carefully and unfolded the letter with shaking hands. The letter was handwritten in a shaky penmanship that was both familiar and painfully foreign.
Neal,
They told me I’m sick. They told me I’m dying and that I need to prepare and say goodbye. I can’t travel anymore, even the four hours into New York is too much for me - I miss the city. I miss our table and I miss the server with the kind blue eyes that became a friend. I’m laying here with Peter beside me, he’s sound asleep in the chair and I’m so grateful for him, Neal. I’m so thankful for everyday we had. I’m thankful I’m not alone.
I have you to thank for him. You probably don’t know this but our first date was a blind date. One of my best friends was dating Clinton Jones, you might remember him from the engagement party. They decided that Peter and I should meet. All I knew going in was that he was an accountant, a big one, a powerful man and the head of his company. And I went in weary.
And well, I wasn’t impressed. That hurts to say now, he’s my other half, my best friend. He is who I searched for. I always thought I’d know, right away, when I found him. But I didn’t. I didn’t. For the first half of the night all he talked about numbers and baseball. Secret? Until Peter I had never even watched a baseball game. Ridiculous, right?
Anyway, by the time we got to the restaurant, I was about ready to call it a night. He was a lovely man - there was just something… missing. And then there was you and your terrible night. When that manager started yelling at you, you should have seen Peter’s face change. He came to full attention and concern and anger flitted across his face. The way he stood up for you, Neal, I fell a little in love with him right then. I saw some sort of genuineness that I hadn’t had to opportunity to see before.
Neal, if you hadn’t been having such a bad night I may have walked away from something that is now more important to me that anything. I never told you that, we never told you. But I think it’s important, that you know your part in our story. That you understand. That you know how grateful I am, that we are, for your pain that day. And we thank you, for your years of smiles and humoring us - listening to our stories like they were the most important thing you had going on. We are aware of how valuable your time is and it meant a lot that we were worth the expense. What I have to give in return isn’t much. It isn’t enough.
Take care of yourself, Neal. Please don’t forget how important you are. And loved.
Elizabeth Burke
He brushed the back of his hand across his cheeks and swiped at the tears that wet them. He refolded the letter but when he moved to put it back into the envelope something else inside caught his eye. It was a check, written on Burke Premiere Events account. Dated just over 6 months ago. Neal sucked in a breath, it was written out to him in the same shaky hand as the letter and was for over three times his monthly income. He dropped it and it fluttered to his lap. He gave in and his body shook with the force of his sobs.
--
It didn’t take much to find him. A quick google search and he had the address and phone number of Peter’s offices on a scrap paper. He caught a cab the next morning and found himself in directed to the 21st floor by a bored looking woman at the main desk.
He took the elevator up and stepped out into the offices, surprised by the comfortable ambience. Carpeting and plush furniture, all fitting a blue/beige theme that was comforting to the eyes. Something smooth and calming was playing over the speaker above his head. He approached the desk. “Excuse me?”
The man looked up and gave him a once over, frowning. “Yes?”
“I need to speak with Peter Burke.” He frowned back.
“He’s in a very important meeting with a client this morning. Did you have an appointment?” He sounded condescending and Neal’s hackles raised.
“No, of course I don’t. I just need to speak with him for a moment.” He felt like growling but somehow managed to keep his voice even. Maybe that’s what the music was for; they used to it keep people calm when this little jerk opened his mouth. “My name is Neal Caffrey. Could you just tell him that I’m here?”
“You can have a seat over there.” He pointed with his pen. “Mr. Burke will be with you when he can.”
Neal didn’t miss the eyeroll.
He sat. And waited. And paced. And waited. Finally after almost two full hours, Peter walked out of the double doors behind the desk. “Neal?” He stopped dead in his tracks and opened his mouth only to close it again with a click.
“Mr. Burke.” Neal stood and rushed to him. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. I won’t take much time.” He started digging around in his pocket for the envelope.
“No! Nonsense, I was just on my way to lunch. You surprised me is all, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Oh?” Neal shot a glare at the receptionist. “I suppose I didn’t have an appointment.”
Peter followed his eyeline and glared at the young man. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was waiting for me?”
“Mr. Burke, sir, I am sorry. I know your schedule is tight today and he didn’t look important.” He had stood and look slightly terrified.
Peter sighed. “Thank you for looking out for me, Brian. But from now on - you don’t get to decide who’s important. I do. Got it?” He didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. “Everyone gets announced, appointment or not; my availability for them is based on my discretion.” He made to turn away but changed his mind. “Unless I explicitly tell you not to interrupt a meeting.”
This time he did get turned all the back to Neal with a smile. “Sorry. He’s new. So, you’re here.” He frowned. “Why?”
Neal thrust the envelope at him. “To return this.”
Peter’s gaze lingered on the envelope for a long moment before he tore his eyes back to Neal’s face. “There’s no one to return it to.” His voice was soft. “Come on, let me buy you lunch.”
“I can’t. I mean..” He pressed the envelope against Peter’s chest. “Here.”
Peter took a step back and he shoulders drooped. “Please, let’s not do this right here. Lunch?”
Neal met his gaze and held it, aware of the eyes on them. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok, lunch.”
--
Peter led the way to a corner diner with an outdoor patio. The hostess greeted him by name and dropped them off at their table with a smile. Their order was placed and Neal fiddled with the silverware as they waited. When Peter refused to start the conversation, he finally took the abused envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can.” Peter’s voice was gruff and he slid the envelope back. “It’s yours. If you don’t want it, donate it. It’s intended for you.”
He tapped his fingers over the item in question. “I guess I don’t understand why.” He’d read the letter, he’d mourned her but - “I’m just a waiter. Someone you saw now and then. I’m not…” He let his sentence trail off.
“Important?” Peter finished what he was thinking and he nodded. “Do you miss her?” Something twisted in Neal’s belly and he nodded again. “Then you’re not just a waiter. You’re a friend.”
Neal looked up sharply, his eyes intent on their target. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I alway thought the idea of friendship was one sided.” He bit the inside of his lip. “When I, that first time we met,” He tapped the envelope again. ‘I was not in a good place here -” He tapped his head. “Or here.” And his chest. “Sometimes I’m still not. I guess I thought I was making it up to make myself feel better.”
“Oh.” Peter sat back in his chair. “Oh, Neal. Why do you think we kept coming back?” The look on his face was somehow both amused and sad. “It certainly wasn’t the food.”
Neal just blinked at him, at a loss for words.
“Yeah, it held our memories, good memories. But it held them because of you.” Peter shrugged. “We could have fallen in love anywhere. We would have, even. Elizabeth really liked you, Neal.” His eyes dropped. “I like you.” And back up again. “We should have made that clearer.”
Neal couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “It’s clear now.” He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”
Peters grip was tight. “Friends.”
Part 3
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Elizbeth, Peter/Neal
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Off screen Non canon death of a canon charcter (brief non graphic description), mentions of miscarriage, alcohol usage, mentions of homophobic reactions
Word count: 14,000
Summary: Pete and Elizabeth meet Neal on their first date. AU in which Peter is an accountant, Elizabeth is a girl who likes him back, and Neal's the server turned friend. But when tragedy strikes, Peter realizes what their friendship really means to him.
Notes: This was written for the
whitecollar_bb. This should have been longer. It didn't get anywhere near the amounts of love it deserved. beta credit goes to genrectats and (it's been too long bud, since we've worked together) Sol - thanks to these two incredible girls that kept my head in the game even when I was sure there was no possible way this was getting done.
Thank you so so much to
kaylashay for this artwork, it's beautiful! Her art post is HERE - go check it out and leave love!
Six months passed and then two more. Neal couldn’t say he forgot them; but it wasn’t like he was dwelling on them either. They flitted across his thoughts now and then, leaving him wondering what had happened with them.
Neal was in the kitchen of the restaurant helping clean up. The kitchen was closed and only a few seated tables remained; finishing up the last of their meals. He was just propping the broom back into the closet when a coworker stuck her head through the swinging doors. “Hey, Neal?”
“Hm?” He rolled his shoulders and yawned.
“Your guy is back.” She gave a smirk.
“My guy?” Neal ran a quick inventory of any and all customers that day that could be referred to as ‘his guy’. Nothing.
“Yeah, you know, hotshot accountant or whatever?” She rolled her eyes. “I put him at his table.”
“Peter? Uh, Mr. Burke?” His heart slammed. “They’re back?” He grabbed a couple menus off the rack. Clean kitchen be damned.
“Well, he is. I think he’s alone.” She disappeared back through the doors before he could question her further.
Neal followed after her, still holding two menus. He made it almost halfway before he spotted him. His back was toward him but Neal easily read the weariness in the set of his shoulders. It was painfully different from the usual burdens Neal had seen him with. He stopped and turned back toward the bar. He reached across and snagged a bottle of Peter’s usual beer and tipped it at the bartender. “Mick - This ones on me.” He nodded in acknowledgement.
He set down the spare menu on the bar and made his way back to Peter’s table. He didn’t look up as Neal approached, didn’t move at all until Neal set the bottle down in front of him. “I didn’t order…” He mumbled a little without looking up. “I’m just waiting for…”
“Consider it on the house.” Neal spoke soft but Peter’s eyes jerked up anyway.
“Neal.” His eyes flicked back down to the chair on the other side of the table.
Neal followed his gaze and pointedly did not ask about it’s missing occupant. Keeping his voice low he asked, “We’ve got other available seating, if you’d like to move.” The way the other man was staring blankly at the empty chair was breaking something in Neal’s chest.
Peter looked up again then and Neal noticed the film of tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I didn’t even think. If it’s not too much trouble.” He blinked fast and lifted the corner of his mouth in a mock smile as he stood and grabbed his jacket. “It’s stupid right? It’s just a table, in a place.”
“Not stupid.” Nea picked up the beer and ushered him to a smaller table, tucked away into a corner to afford the man some privacy. “What hurts us isn’t stupid.” He didn’t know, he feared but he didn’t want to know. So he didn’t ask. Instead he set the bottle down and shuffled his feet awkwardly. He didn’t know if he was waiting to be dismissed or waiting for Peter to confide in him. Finally he settled on, “If you need anything else…”
“Thanks, Neal.” Peter finally reached for the beer and plucked at the label. His voice was thick with unshed tears and Neal’s heart squeezed.
He was supposed to go home. He clocked out but lingered, dropping by Peter’s table occasionally, silently switching out one beer for the next. Peter nodded in recognition but didn’t say anything else as he sank further into his sea of memories. As the bar lights flipped on, he paid for two more. He dropped off the first as the dim overhead lights of the restaurant went off and the building fell into darkness. Mick had waved as he left and Neal just jingled his set of keys to acknowledge that he’d lock up on their way out.
Peter looked up, startled, as Neal moved to turn away. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stay so long. I should go.”
He moved to stand and Neal caught him by the shoulder. “I’ve got some closing duties left to do, no rush.” He was lying through his teeth but if ever he’d seen someone in need of somewhere to mourn, it was this man. He should have been home two hours ago. He should be so engrossed in his latest painting that he didn’t notice the growl of his stomach or the passage of time. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need anything.” He squeezed at Peter’s shoulder where his hand lay. “Or if you just…” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Want to talk.” He took his hand away and turned.
“She died.” He nearly choked on the words and took a long pull off the beer in front of him.
“Oh.” Neal was shocked into stillness. “Oh, Mr. Burke. I’m…”
“Don’t, ok? Don’t say you’re sorry.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Everyone says that they are.”
“But…” Neal was still frozen to the spot. “I am.” He was genuinely heartbroken. Something that had been building since he’d first seen Peter sitting alone suddenly weighed a ton and was centered on his chest. His heart beat too loud in his ears and there were tears burning hot in his eyes. “I am.”
Peter looked up and met his eyes. Neal wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was seemed to calm him. “Pancreatic cancer. That’s the news we were waiting on the last time we were here, remember?” He ran a hand over his face. “We found the best doctors and went to the best hospitals and still, she was gone two months after the diagnosis.”
Neal didn’t know what to say so he did the next best thing, he slid into the seat across from the man and listened.
“I haven’t been able to bring myself back here. Everything about this place is us - and I didn’t know how to face those memories without her.” He sucked the last from his bottle. “But she wanted me to give you this. I’m sorry that it took me so long.” His smile was crooked and sad. “I need to go.” He handed Neal an envelope that looked worn and crumpled. “She’s been gone 6 months today. I didn’t expect it to be so easy, or hard, to remember her. I knew this place would be hard, but this…” He stood and stumbled a little.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Neal was on his feet in a moment, hand steadying.
“Home.” This time his laugh was bitter. “If you can call it that after nearly a year of absence.” He fished in his wallet and shoved a $100 bill into Neal’s hand. “I won’t be back. She lingers here.” He aimed for the door and Neal followed, speechless and worried.
Even at this late hour it didn’t take long for a cab to stop for the well dressed man hailing from the street. Neal watched wordlessly from the doorway as he slid into the back of one; everything in him screaming to go after him, to stop him. He felt like he was losing something that he never had. But he just watched as the door slammed shut, the tail lights lit up, it pulled away from the curb silently and disappeared down the street.
Neal watched until it merged with other traffic and he couldn’t distinguish it from the other cars around it. Then he headed back inside.
He wiped down the table and disposed of the bottles before he left and locked the door behind him. He started the trek home - all the while tracing the edges of the envelope in his pocket. The urge to pull it out and read it during his walk was strong. But Elizabeth Burke was a woman worthy of patience and his full attention. And if she had one final thing to say to him, he was going to take the time to listen right.
He locked the door to his apartment behind him and kicked off his shoes. He changed into a tshirt and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator before settling onto his couch. He tore into the envelope carefully and unfolded the letter with shaking hands. The letter was handwritten in a shaky penmanship that was both familiar and painfully foreign.
Neal,
They told me I’m sick. They told me I’m dying and that I need to prepare and say goodbye. I can’t travel anymore, even the four hours into New York is too much for me - I miss the city. I miss our table and I miss the server with the kind blue eyes that became a friend. I’m laying here with Peter beside me, he’s sound asleep in the chair and I’m so grateful for him, Neal. I’m so thankful for everyday we had. I’m thankful I’m not alone.
I have you to thank for him. You probably don’t know this but our first date was a blind date. One of my best friends was dating Clinton Jones, you might remember him from the engagement party. They decided that Peter and I should meet. All I knew going in was that he was an accountant, a big one, a powerful man and the head of his company. And I went in weary.
And well, I wasn’t impressed. That hurts to say now, he’s my other half, my best friend. He is who I searched for. I always thought I’d know, right away, when I found him. But I didn’t. I didn’t. For the first half of the night all he talked about numbers and baseball. Secret? Until Peter I had never even watched a baseball game. Ridiculous, right?
Anyway, by the time we got to the restaurant, I was about ready to call it a night. He was a lovely man - there was just something… missing. And then there was you and your terrible night. When that manager started yelling at you, you should have seen Peter’s face change. He came to full attention and concern and anger flitted across his face. The way he stood up for you, Neal, I fell a little in love with him right then. I saw some sort of genuineness that I hadn’t had to opportunity to see before.
Neal, if you hadn’t been having such a bad night I may have walked away from something that is now more important to me that anything. I never told you that, we never told you. But I think it’s important, that you know your part in our story. That you understand. That you know how grateful I am, that we are, for your pain that day. And we thank you, for your years of smiles and humoring us - listening to our stories like they were the most important thing you had going on. We are aware of how valuable your time is and it meant a lot that we were worth the expense. What I have to give in return isn’t much. It isn’t enough.
Take care of yourself, Neal. Please don’t forget how important you are. And loved.
Elizabeth Burke
He brushed the back of his hand across his cheeks and swiped at the tears that wet them. He refolded the letter but when he moved to put it back into the envelope something else inside caught his eye. It was a check, written on Burke Premiere Events account. Dated just over 6 months ago. Neal sucked in a breath, it was written out to him in the same shaky hand as the letter and was for over three times his monthly income. He dropped it and it fluttered to his lap. He gave in and his body shook with the force of his sobs.
--
It didn’t take much to find him. A quick google search and he had the address and phone number of Peter’s offices on a scrap paper. He caught a cab the next morning and found himself in directed to the 21st floor by a bored looking woman at the main desk.
He took the elevator up and stepped out into the offices, surprised by the comfortable ambience. Carpeting and plush furniture, all fitting a blue/beige theme that was comforting to the eyes. Something smooth and calming was playing over the speaker above his head. He approached the desk. “Excuse me?”
The man looked up and gave him a once over, frowning. “Yes?”
“I need to speak with Peter Burke.” He frowned back.
“He’s in a very important meeting with a client this morning. Did you have an appointment?” He sounded condescending and Neal’s hackles raised.
“No, of course I don’t. I just need to speak with him for a moment.” He felt like growling but somehow managed to keep his voice even. Maybe that’s what the music was for; they used to it keep people calm when this little jerk opened his mouth. “My name is Neal Caffrey. Could you just tell him that I’m here?”
“You can have a seat over there.” He pointed with his pen. “Mr. Burke will be with you when he can.”
Neal didn’t miss the eyeroll.
He sat. And waited. And paced. And waited. Finally after almost two full hours, Peter walked out of the double doors behind the desk. “Neal?” He stopped dead in his tracks and opened his mouth only to close it again with a click.
“Mr. Burke.” Neal stood and rushed to him. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. I won’t take much time.” He started digging around in his pocket for the envelope.
“No! Nonsense, I was just on my way to lunch. You surprised me is all, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Oh?” Neal shot a glare at the receptionist. “I suppose I didn’t have an appointment.”
Peter followed his eyeline and glared at the young man. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was waiting for me?”
“Mr. Burke, sir, I am sorry. I know your schedule is tight today and he didn’t look important.” He had stood and look slightly terrified.
Peter sighed. “Thank you for looking out for me, Brian. But from now on - you don’t get to decide who’s important. I do. Got it?” He didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. “Everyone gets announced, appointment or not; my availability for them is based on my discretion.” He made to turn away but changed his mind. “Unless I explicitly tell you not to interrupt a meeting.”
This time he did get turned all the back to Neal with a smile. “Sorry. He’s new. So, you’re here.” He frowned. “Why?”
Neal thrust the envelope at him. “To return this.”
Peter’s gaze lingered on the envelope for a long moment before he tore his eyes back to Neal’s face. “There’s no one to return it to.” His voice was soft. “Come on, let me buy you lunch.”
“I can’t. I mean..” He pressed the envelope against Peter’s chest. “Here.”
Peter took a step back and he shoulders drooped. “Please, let’s not do this right here. Lunch?”
Neal met his gaze and held it, aware of the eyes on them. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok, lunch.”
--
Peter led the way to a corner diner with an outdoor patio. The hostess greeted him by name and dropped them off at their table with a smile. Their order was placed and Neal fiddled with the silverware as they waited. When Peter refused to start the conversation, he finally took the abused envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can.” Peter’s voice was gruff and he slid the envelope back. “It’s yours. If you don’t want it, donate it. It’s intended for you.”
He tapped his fingers over the item in question. “I guess I don’t understand why.” He’d read the letter, he’d mourned her but - “I’m just a waiter. Someone you saw now and then. I’m not…” He let his sentence trail off.
“Important?” Peter finished what he was thinking and he nodded. “Do you miss her?” Something twisted in Neal’s belly and he nodded again. “Then you’re not just a waiter. You’re a friend.”
Neal looked up sharply, his eyes intent on their target. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I alway thought the idea of friendship was one sided.” He bit the inside of his lip. “When I, that first time we met,” He tapped the envelope again. ‘I was not in a good place here -” He tapped his head. “Or here.” And his chest. “Sometimes I’m still not. I guess I thought I was making it up to make myself feel better.”
“Oh.” Peter sat back in his chair. “Oh, Neal. Why do you think we kept coming back?” The look on his face was somehow both amused and sad. “It certainly wasn’t the food.”
Neal just blinked at him, at a loss for words.
“Yeah, it held our memories, good memories. But it held them because of you.” Peter shrugged. “We could have fallen in love anywhere. We would have, even. Elizabeth really liked you, Neal.” His eyes dropped. “I like you.” And back up again. “We should have made that clearer.”
Neal couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “It’s clear now.” He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”
Peters grip was tight. “Friends.”
Part 3