fic: Whom the Suit Fits (PG-13, pre-series gen-ish, 1/1)
Title: Whom the Suit Fits
Author: misura
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: pre-series, contains what might be considered to be overtones of Neal/Peter but who am I to judge?
Spoilers: none
Warnings: pre-series and entirely without any mention of Elizabeth
Summary: "Handcuffing people to beds is your idea of 'fun'?"
Notes: written for mishagirl who kindly prompted me here with: Peter wakes up captured and wearing Neal's too tight clothing. Considerable liberties were taken with her prompt, but if you don't mind that sort of thing, feel free to try your luck as well.
Peter's first thought when he regained consciousness (he'd have liked to call it 'waking up' but that seemed a little too optimistic) was that although his clothes felt very uncomfortable, at least he was still dressed. It seemed safe to assume he'd spent a considerable time (a night?) lying in them, so some discomfort was only to be expected, he supposed.
His second thought (which was more of a discovery, really) was that his wrists seemed to be cuffed to the headboard of the bed, that the bed was standing in a room that looked quite unlike the room he'd checked into on the evening before and that he couldn't remember owning a shirt of the particular shade he was wearing, let alone putting it on.
It seemed reasonable to assume he was in trouble. The best thing to do, Peter thought, would probably be to try and get out of the handcuffs before whomever had put him in them returned - which was when he heard someone at the door.
Plan B seemed obvious, if a little more passive than he'd like: pretend to still be unconscious (or asleep) and hope whomever was coming in would soon be leaving again. Alternately, if they uncuffed him, plan C might be an option - start a fight. Both his gun and his holster had been taken, but anyone who thought that made him harmless was making the kind of mistake that landed people in jail.
"I know you're awake, Peter."
The surprise of hearing that particular voice in this particular situation alone might have caused Peter to open his eyes (although he liked to think it wouldn't have, that he had better control of himself than that). "One, we're not on a first-name basis. Two, is that my suit you're wearing?"
Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised; Neal had been there the evening before, too, after all - he'd used a different name, of course, but then, so had Peter. The only difference had been that Peter had been there as an undercover representative of the law, while Neal's motives were likely a lot less innocent.
Neal - call him 'Caffrey', Peter told himself - Caffrey made some minuscule adjustment to his cuffs (which were actually Peter's, strictly speaking, although why Neal would be wearing his suit was beyond Peter. It wasn't as if anyone would ever mistake Neal for him; Peter's team might have been unable to catch Neal, but they weren't blind any more than Peter was.
"Yes, actually. How does it look?" Neal struck a casual pose and smiled.
What did he expect Peter to say? "It looks like you're wearing my suit." Not that, apparently, to judge by the way Neal's smile faded slightly. "Are you going to tell me why that is?"
"I always wondered if your suits were as uncomfortable as they looked." Neal drew up a chair and sat down, as if he was conducting conversations with people handcuffed to beds all the time. (Which might be the case, as far as Peter knew.) "Of course, I could simply have picked one up at your dry-cleaner, or at the airport, but, well, where's the fun in that?"
"Handcuffing people to beds is your idea of 'fun'?" With anyone but Neal, Peter would never have used those words, or that tone.
"Sometimes." Neal smirked. "Don't tell me you've never even considered the possibility."
Peter hadn't, actually. Not for fun, at least; he knew some people enjoyed those sorts of things, and in theory, he supposed he could see why giving up control or having someone else give up control to you might be a turn-on, but when he cuffed a suspect, he did not want to think about sex.
"Not really." Neal shouldn't be able to wear one of Peter's suits and have it look like it fitted. Ergo: "You sew?" Something for the file, at least, although how this particular ability would aid Neal to commit crimes was anyone's guess.
"I don't like to brag, but I am a man of many skills."
Peter snorted. "You love to brag." Or show off, at least.
"Well, I didn't have time to change my suit so that it would fit you. And I considered getting your luggage out of that place some people dare call a 'hotel'," Neal went on, pretending he hadn't heard, "but it's rather out of the way and I wanted to get some sleep."
"You put me into your suit?"
Neal spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "What was I supposed to do: leave you naked?"
"No!" Peter agreed that would have been worse. "You were supposed to stick to doing whatever it was you came here to do." Peter had several ideas, but nothing definite.
"The Matisse sketch." Which was already in Neal's possession, apparently, given how easily he'd given that one to Peter. "Also, incidentally, keeping you out of trouble."
"I knew Dujardin'd slipped something in my drink." He'd suspected it, at least. "That's why I spilled most of it."
"When we've got more time, remind me to tell you ten ways you could have gotten rid of that drink without being so terribly obvious about it."
Peter did not need lessons from Neal on how to do his job. "It worked, didn't it?" Dujardin had known, of course, but if Peter had read the man right, that didn't mean his cover had been blown. It had merely established 'Mr Smith' as cautious and a little paranoid, neither of which made him any less appealing as a prospective businesspartner.
"It worked." Neal checked his watch.
"Got a plane to catch?" It would take Neal time to get to the airport - more time than it would have taken Peter from his hotel, but not much more time than it would take Peter to get out of the handcuffs, get to a phone and have some people sent to stop him.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" Peter repeated, slightly puzzled. If Neal was planning to catch a plane, he could have simply lied and say 'no'. Or he could have assumed Peter would assume he'd lie and said 'yes'.
"I think someone might be a little annoyed with me at the moment." Neal sighed. "Some people are just far too easily offended."
"You wouldn't be annoyed if you were in my position?"
Neal blinked. "You? I'm not talking about you, Peter. You're not annoyed with me, are you?"
"A little." On bad days, Peter felt like Neal would be the case that would make him resign, admit he simply wasn't good enough. "You're wearing my suit." On good days, Peter felt like he almost got Neal - how his mind worked, why he did what he did. Thus far, it had never quite been good enough, though.
"I could take it off if you wanted me to."
"And let's not forget the part where you handcuffed me to your bed," Peter added, ignoring that offer for what it was. "After slipping something into my coffee." It was the only thing he'd drunk after the meeting with Dujardin.
"I'm sorry about that."
"All just to satisfy your curiosity," Peter finished, certain that he was missing something, that there was something Neal was careful not to tell him.
"What can I say: I'm a curious person."
"If only you could limit yourself to simply looking, instead of also wanting to touch." Most of the time, Peter had concluded, it wasn't even about owning. Neal didn't insist on owning the pieces of art he'd stolen. He simply wanted to steal them, to prove that he could. To show the people who had previously owned them were unable to properly protect it.
"Oh, I do that. Sometimes." Neal checked his watch again.
"Name one example." Peter wondered if he ought to be trying to keep Neal here and talking to him; a missed flight would likely make it a little harder for Neal to pull his vanishing act.
Only a little harder, of course. "How would you feel about a trade?"
"A trade?" Peter's first instinct was to refuse immediately. Neal possessed nothing Peter was interested in - at least, nothing Neal might be willing to give up so easily. "What kind of trade?"
"I give you one example of something I wanted and didn't touch, and you do me a small favor." Peter said nothing, but his expression clearly conveyed what he thought of that proposal. "A small, tiny favor, Peter. Nothing illegal."
"You might do a better job of convincing me if you actually told me what you wanted."
"I want you to wear my hat when you leave the hotel." Neal held up the hat in question. Peter had seen him wear it last night. If Dujardin was looking for Neal and had people watching the hotel, they might mistake Peter for Neal.
"No." Peter shook his head. "I'm not going to be your decoy, Caffrey."
"You're already wearing the suit."
"No." Dujardin wasn't going to be in any position to be a threat to Neal soon enough - and it was hardly as if it was Peter's problem when Neal had gotten himself into a bit of trouble by stealing something from the wrong person.
"The hat goes with the suit, Peter."
"The suit doesn't even fit me." Not exactly the most convincing argument from Peter's point of view, but he thought it might count for something with Neal.
"I could send you one that fit." Neal's eyes lit up. "I didn't, before, because I didn't think you'd wear it, but if you - " Peter started shaking his head again. "I wouldn't steal it." Neal sounded reproachful, as if he was disappointed and a little hurt Peter could even think Neal would steal a suit for him.
"You were right: I wouldn't wear it." Peter meant to sound firm, stern even. He didn't think he'd quite succeeded. "You'd still have bought it with money that wasn't rightfully yours."
"So you'd wear it if I could prove I got the money for it legally?" Neal asked quickly.
Peter was surprised to find himself actually considering saying 'yes'. "No." It would be easy enough for Neal to forge some papers - paychecks were hardly 18th century art, after all.
Neal sighed. "Peter, I really need you to wear the hat. Please."
"You know my answer." At least Neal seemed to have accepted Peter's stance about the suit.
"Do you want me to beg? I can do that." The expression on Neal's face was entirely too serious. It annoyed Peter for some reason, that Neal simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
"If you're that scared of Dujardin, you could - " Peter halted, considering. If Neal wanted to, he could probably provide Peter with all the evidence he needed, without any need for Peter to do any more undercover work, or digging through miles and miles of paper. "You could just trust me. We're onto him; we'll get him. Sooner or later."
"Sooner or later," Neal echoed. Even assuming that he'd be willing to help Peter, it still wouldn't be right. It would put Peter in Neal's debt, too. "Sorry, Peter, that's just not good enough for me." He put the hat on Peter's head, stepped back, then leaned in again to adjust the angle. "There. Perfect."
"As soon as I get my hands free, I'm going to take it off." A good shake of his head would probably be enough, but with Neal still in the room, he'd likely simply dust it off and put it back on.
"I'm afraid I'm just going to have to take that chance." Neal picked up a small briefcase. "Goodbye, Peter. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."
"You will, if I have anything to say about it."
Neal flashed him a grin and left the room.
The local police arrived only a good five minutes after.
*
"So in the end, you did leave the hotel wearing Caffrey's hat." Jones picked up the object in question and chuckled. "He sure cut it close though."
Peter snorted and started on his fourth cup of coffee that morning. "I'm sure he had everything planned right down to the last second." It seemed an anonymous caller had tipped off the police that a notorious art-thief - one Neal Caffrey - was staying at a certain hotel. "Right down to the part where I got arrested in his place." He wasn't sure how Neal had explained the fact that the 'notorious art-thief' had been wearing handcuffs already. The agents involved had been almost more eager than Peter to forget about the whole thing, once the misunderstanding had been cleared up.
"At least we got Dujardin." Small comfort, even if it was true. Peter had called Jones from the police-station and things had proceeded quickly from there, if not wholly satisfactory.
They hadn't caught Neal. In fact, Peter didn't have even the first clue where Neal had gone after he'd left the hotel. He'd had Jones head for the airport, since it seemed the most likely option.
"There's that." Peter reached for the hat and Jones handed it over wordlessly. "I bet that was part of the plan, too." They'd regained other pieces of art - Dujardin had been something of a collector - but even so the knowledge that one object was missing stung. "Isn't that right, Caffrey?"
Jones stared at the small object between Peter's fingers. "He bugged it?"
Peter just scowled.
Author: misura
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: pre-series, contains what might be considered to be overtones of Neal/Peter but who am I to judge?
Spoilers: none
Warnings: pre-series and entirely without any mention of Elizabeth
Summary: "Handcuffing people to beds is your idea of 'fun'?"
Notes: written for mishagirl who kindly prompted me here with: Peter wakes up captured and wearing Neal's too tight clothing. Considerable liberties were taken with her prompt, but if you don't mind that sort of thing, feel free to try your luck as well.
Peter's first thought when he regained consciousness (he'd have liked to call it 'waking up' but that seemed a little too optimistic) was that although his clothes felt very uncomfortable, at least he was still dressed. It seemed safe to assume he'd spent a considerable time (a night?) lying in them, so some discomfort was only to be expected, he supposed.
His second thought (which was more of a discovery, really) was that his wrists seemed to be cuffed to the headboard of the bed, that the bed was standing in a room that looked quite unlike the room he'd checked into on the evening before and that he couldn't remember owning a shirt of the particular shade he was wearing, let alone putting it on.
It seemed reasonable to assume he was in trouble. The best thing to do, Peter thought, would probably be to try and get out of the handcuffs before whomever had put him in them returned - which was when he heard someone at the door.
Plan B seemed obvious, if a little more passive than he'd like: pretend to still be unconscious (or asleep) and hope whomever was coming in would soon be leaving again. Alternately, if they uncuffed him, plan C might be an option - start a fight. Both his gun and his holster had been taken, but anyone who thought that made him harmless was making the kind of mistake that landed people in jail.
"I know you're awake, Peter."
The surprise of hearing that particular voice in this particular situation alone might have caused Peter to open his eyes (although he liked to think it wouldn't have, that he had better control of himself than that). "One, we're not on a first-name basis. Two, is that my suit you're wearing?"
Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised; Neal had been there the evening before, too, after all - he'd used a different name, of course, but then, so had Peter. The only difference had been that Peter had been there as an undercover representative of the law, while Neal's motives were likely a lot less innocent.
Neal - call him 'Caffrey', Peter told himself - Caffrey made some minuscule adjustment to his cuffs (which were actually Peter's, strictly speaking, although why Neal would be wearing his suit was beyond Peter. It wasn't as if anyone would ever mistake Neal for him; Peter's team might have been unable to catch Neal, but they weren't blind any more than Peter was.
"Yes, actually. How does it look?" Neal struck a casual pose and smiled.
What did he expect Peter to say? "It looks like you're wearing my suit." Not that, apparently, to judge by the way Neal's smile faded slightly. "Are you going to tell me why that is?"
"I always wondered if your suits were as uncomfortable as they looked." Neal drew up a chair and sat down, as if he was conducting conversations with people handcuffed to beds all the time. (Which might be the case, as far as Peter knew.) "Of course, I could simply have picked one up at your dry-cleaner, or at the airport, but, well, where's the fun in that?"
"Handcuffing people to beds is your idea of 'fun'?" With anyone but Neal, Peter would never have used those words, or that tone.
"Sometimes." Neal smirked. "Don't tell me you've never even considered the possibility."
Peter hadn't, actually. Not for fun, at least; he knew some people enjoyed those sorts of things, and in theory, he supposed he could see why giving up control or having someone else give up control to you might be a turn-on, but when he cuffed a suspect, he did not want to think about sex.
"Not really." Neal shouldn't be able to wear one of Peter's suits and have it look like it fitted. Ergo: "You sew?" Something for the file, at least, although how this particular ability would aid Neal to commit crimes was anyone's guess.
"I don't like to brag, but I am a man of many skills."
Peter snorted. "You love to brag." Or show off, at least.
"Well, I didn't have time to change my suit so that it would fit you. And I considered getting your luggage out of that place some people dare call a 'hotel'," Neal went on, pretending he hadn't heard, "but it's rather out of the way and I wanted to get some sleep."
"You put me into your suit?"
Neal spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "What was I supposed to do: leave you naked?"
"No!" Peter agreed that would have been worse. "You were supposed to stick to doing whatever it was you came here to do." Peter had several ideas, but nothing definite.
"The Matisse sketch." Which was already in Neal's possession, apparently, given how easily he'd given that one to Peter. "Also, incidentally, keeping you out of trouble."
"I knew Dujardin'd slipped something in my drink." He'd suspected it, at least. "That's why I spilled most of it."
"When we've got more time, remind me to tell you ten ways you could have gotten rid of that drink without being so terribly obvious about it."
Peter did not need lessons from Neal on how to do his job. "It worked, didn't it?" Dujardin had known, of course, but if Peter had read the man right, that didn't mean his cover had been blown. It had merely established 'Mr Smith' as cautious and a little paranoid, neither of which made him any less appealing as a prospective businesspartner.
"It worked." Neal checked his watch.
"Got a plane to catch?" It would take Neal time to get to the airport - more time than it would have taken Peter from his hotel, but not much more time than it would take Peter to get out of the handcuffs, get to a phone and have some people sent to stop him.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" Peter repeated, slightly puzzled. If Neal was planning to catch a plane, he could have simply lied and say 'no'. Or he could have assumed Peter would assume he'd lie and said 'yes'.
"I think someone might be a little annoyed with me at the moment." Neal sighed. "Some people are just far too easily offended."
"You wouldn't be annoyed if you were in my position?"
Neal blinked. "You? I'm not talking about you, Peter. You're not annoyed with me, are you?"
"A little." On bad days, Peter felt like Neal would be the case that would make him resign, admit he simply wasn't good enough. "You're wearing my suit." On good days, Peter felt like he almost got Neal - how his mind worked, why he did what he did. Thus far, it had never quite been good enough, though.
"I could take it off if you wanted me to."
"And let's not forget the part where you handcuffed me to your bed," Peter added, ignoring that offer for what it was. "After slipping something into my coffee." It was the only thing he'd drunk after the meeting with Dujardin.
"I'm sorry about that."
"All just to satisfy your curiosity," Peter finished, certain that he was missing something, that there was something Neal was careful not to tell him.
"What can I say: I'm a curious person."
"If only you could limit yourself to simply looking, instead of also wanting to touch." Most of the time, Peter had concluded, it wasn't even about owning. Neal didn't insist on owning the pieces of art he'd stolen. He simply wanted to steal them, to prove that he could. To show the people who had previously owned them were unable to properly protect it.
"Oh, I do that. Sometimes." Neal checked his watch again.
"Name one example." Peter wondered if he ought to be trying to keep Neal here and talking to him; a missed flight would likely make it a little harder for Neal to pull his vanishing act.
Only a little harder, of course. "How would you feel about a trade?"
"A trade?" Peter's first instinct was to refuse immediately. Neal possessed nothing Peter was interested in - at least, nothing Neal might be willing to give up so easily. "What kind of trade?"
"I give you one example of something I wanted and didn't touch, and you do me a small favor." Peter said nothing, but his expression clearly conveyed what he thought of that proposal. "A small, tiny favor, Peter. Nothing illegal."
"You might do a better job of convincing me if you actually told me what you wanted."
"I want you to wear my hat when you leave the hotel." Neal held up the hat in question. Peter had seen him wear it last night. If Dujardin was looking for Neal and had people watching the hotel, they might mistake Peter for Neal.
"No." Peter shook his head. "I'm not going to be your decoy, Caffrey."
"You're already wearing the suit."
"No." Dujardin wasn't going to be in any position to be a threat to Neal soon enough - and it was hardly as if it was Peter's problem when Neal had gotten himself into a bit of trouble by stealing something from the wrong person.
"The hat goes with the suit, Peter."
"The suit doesn't even fit me." Not exactly the most convincing argument from Peter's point of view, but he thought it might count for something with Neal.
"I could send you one that fit." Neal's eyes lit up. "I didn't, before, because I didn't think you'd wear it, but if you - " Peter started shaking his head again. "I wouldn't steal it." Neal sounded reproachful, as if he was disappointed and a little hurt Peter could even think Neal would steal a suit for him.
"You were right: I wouldn't wear it." Peter meant to sound firm, stern even. He didn't think he'd quite succeeded. "You'd still have bought it with money that wasn't rightfully yours."
"So you'd wear it if I could prove I got the money for it legally?" Neal asked quickly.
Peter was surprised to find himself actually considering saying 'yes'. "No." It would be easy enough for Neal to forge some papers - paychecks were hardly 18th century art, after all.
Neal sighed. "Peter, I really need you to wear the hat. Please."
"You know my answer." At least Neal seemed to have accepted Peter's stance about the suit.
"Do you want me to beg? I can do that." The expression on Neal's face was entirely too serious. It annoyed Peter for some reason, that Neal simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
"If you're that scared of Dujardin, you could - " Peter halted, considering. If Neal wanted to, he could probably provide Peter with all the evidence he needed, without any need for Peter to do any more undercover work, or digging through miles and miles of paper. "You could just trust me. We're onto him; we'll get him. Sooner or later."
"Sooner or later," Neal echoed. Even assuming that he'd be willing to help Peter, it still wouldn't be right. It would put Peter in Neal's debt, too. "Sorry, Peter, that's just not good enough for me." He put the hat on Peter's head, stepped back, then leaned in again to adjust the angle. "There. Perfect."
"As soon as I get my hands free, I'm going to take it off." A good shake of his head would probably be enough, but with Neal still in the room, he'd likely simply dust it off and put it back on.
"I'm afraid I'm just going to have to take that chance." Neal picked up a small briefcase. "Goodbye, Peter. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."
"You will, if I have anything to say about it."
Neal flashed him a grin and left the room.
The local police arrived only a good five minutes after.
*
"So in the end, you did leave the hotel wearing Caffrey's hat." Jones picked up the object in question and chuckled. "He sure cut it close though."
Peter snorted and started on his fourth cup of coffee that morning. "I'm sure he had everything planned right down to the last second." It seemed an anonymous caller had tipped off the police that a notorious art-thief - one Neal Caffrey - was staying at a certain hotel. "Right down to the part where I got arrested in his place." He wasn't sure how Neal had explained the fact that the 'notorious art-thief' had been wearing handcuffs already. The agents involved had been almost more eager than Peter to forget about the whole thing, once the misunderstanding had been cleared up.
"At least we got Dujardin." Small comfort, even if it was true. Peter had called Jones from the police-station and things had proceeded quickly from there, if not wholly satisfactory.
They hadn't caught Neal. In fact, Peter didn't have even the first clue where Neal had gone after he'd left the hotel. He'd had Jones head for the airport, since it seemed the most likely option.
"There's that." Peter reached for the hat and Jones handed it over wordlessly. "I bet that was part of the plan, too." They'd regained other pieces of art - Dujardin had been something of a collector - but even so the knowledge that one object was missing stung. "Isn't that right, Caffrey?"
Jones stared at the small object between Peter's fingers. "He bugged it?"
Peter just scowled.