withimpunity | Fic: White Collar

Peter doesn't see it at first. The sun's setting behind them and the light reflects off the barrel into his eyes. Then he hears it, the sound exploding all around him, too familiar. He takes off his sunglasses -- blinks.

Neal is down.

&.

"Hun, would you mind buttering the bread and sticking it in the oven for me?"

Peter does it without a word. Elizabeth watches him, shoulders hunched, face pinched the way it gets when he's thinking too hard or worrying too much. She can clearly remember the last time he acted this way, all surly and stoic; he hasn't said a word in three hours. It was three years ago. When he was still chasing Neal.

"You wanna talk about it, babe?" She asks casually. She knows all of Peter's quirks, all of his buttons, and its better this way. Its better not to push. Peter always figures it out in the end. He found Neal once, twice actually. Elizabeth is sure he'll find what he's looking for this time too.

&.

"Oh, hello Peter."

June sees more than people think she sees. She likes it that way. People are more relaxed around her if they think she's only this innocent old woman. They let things slip that they wouldn't normally let anyone see. June notices the bags under Peter's eyes, the way he keeps fidgeting, fingers itching for the gun on the holster that isn't there. He's nervous, shaken up about something.

"Cup of tea, dear? I'm afraid Neal went out. He'll be back shortly though."

June watches Peter's shoulders tighten up into knots, watches him inhale and hold the breath in. His bottom lip is chapped and cracked where he's been worrying at it with his teeth. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, then removes them. Then puts them back.

"Sure, I'd like that." He smiles at her tiredly. June reaches for the kettle.

&.

"Something wrong?" Neal asks as he walks through the kitchen, setting the sacks of groceries down on the counter. Peter looks like hell. His nails are chewed off down to the quick, his tie is a mess, and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week. Which is odd since he looked fine yesterday. "You know, I have a cell phone. You gave it to me. See this cheap thing?" He waves the prepaid Motorola in Peter's face. "I can't buy cool ringtones or listen to my Itunes library on it, but you can call me on it."

"No, that's not - it's not an emergency. I --"

"Oh, I just remembered I'm taking Cindy out shopping for her birthday. You two put the dishes away when you're done, all right?" She winks at Neal and he nods. The woman certainly knows how to make an exit.

Neal shuffles around the kitchen, putting the sugar in its right spot, wiping up a bit of tea that splashed out of his cup, making comments about the disarray of Peter's tie until he hears the door shut behind June. Then he takes Peter's cup from him, sets it in the sink, and leans against the bar, arms crossed over his chest.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Peter cuts him off.

"Where were you?" Neal's not sure he likes his tone.

"Grocery shopping? Obviously?" Neal motions to the sacs he brought in that are still sitting on the counter behind him. "I know my bracelet didn't go off, I made sure the shop was in range. If it went off, then your pretty little gadget is malfunctioning or something, but its not my fault. You didn't seriously come all the way over here because you thought I'd run, did you? Again? I thought we were past this."

"No. No," Peter says emphatically, shaking his head. "Not it. Dammit, Neal. You could've..." Peter sighs, buries his face in his hands and exhales. Neal's never seen him this worked up before. He wonders if he and Elizabeth had a bad fight or something.

"Peter, what is it? You can talk to me, man. You know that."

Peter looks up at him and his eyes are red, bloodshot. His voice is raw and scratchy when he speaks. "I just don't think you should do this anymore."

"Do what? Live with June? I thought that was okay. We talked about it!"

"Goddammit!" Peter yells, the word cracking near the end, and stands up out of his chair. He's just a bit taller than Neal, not enough to notice usually, but Neal always feels like he's in Peter's shadow. He's never felt that way, inferior, around anyone else. "This!" Peter motions back and forth between them. "I don't think you should work with me anymore."

Wow, that feels like a punch to the gut. Neal thought...he thought Peter trusted him. He thought they were partners. Maybe those douchebags at work got to him. "Wow, that's...nice. That's superb. Okay, what happens to me, then? Are you just going to throw me back in a cell? Thanks for the man hours, but we have to let you go? Is THAT how its going to be?"

Now, Neal's never really gotten in a fight with Peter before. Sure, he made Peter chase his ass all over the world for about ten years, but that was good old, cops and robbers type fun. This is raising voices, pointing fingers, fighting. Only, Neal doesn't remember kissing being part of fighting.

Peter's got him pinned to the counter, his long, calloused fingers wrapped around Neal's neck, assaulting him with angry, open mouthed kisses, pressing their bodies together firmly. Neal wraps his hands around Peter's face, stops him for a second.

"Peter," he tries to breathe. "Hey. What's going on? Is it you and Elizabeth?"

"No," Peter says, shaking his head. "We're fine. She made me come over here." There's a little pink tinting the tips of Peter's ears and Neal can't stop thinking about how cute that is.

"Then what is it? What's this about?" He's still holding Peter's face between his hands, stroking Peter's jawline with his thumb.

"You," Peter says in this rough, whispery voice that makes Neal shiver all over. "I thought - yesterday. I saw the gun, I saw you go down. I thought-"

"You thought I'd been shot."

Peter nods. This time its Neal who kisses him, showing Peter with wet, hungry kisses that he's there, he's okay. Peter doesn't have to worry because he's right here, he's not going anywhere. No bullet's going to take him away. He feels Peter's body pressed against his, his skin warm through his shirt, cock hard and digging against Neal's thigh.

"Hey, I'm right here." Neal whispers into his ear. "Next four years, remember?"

"Yeah," Peter grins, pushing his fingers into Neal's hair, tugging him back, licking into Neal's mouth like he wants to memorize the taste of it. "I don't think I can forget."

"Good, that's good." Neal murmurs. He feels lightheaded and he wants...so much. "Because its true." He curls Peter's tie around his fingers and tugs, nipping at Peter's bottom lip, then slips his arm around Peter's waist and flips them around so that Neal's the one pressing him into the counter now, grinding against him with his tongue deep in Peter's mouth. He hasn't been this close to anyone since Kate - well, there was Cindy, but that was just fun. That was a reminder that everything still worked. This is...this is Peter. In a weird, fucked up way, Neal and Peter have been together longer than he and Kate were. This is full on desire, this is need. He needs to feel Peter, to touch him, to put his mouth on him and taste every inch of his skin. He needs Peter to put his hands on him, needs to feel those long fingers digging into his hips, needs it all.

"Fuck," Peter gasps out as Neal unzips his pants, gets his hands inside...and feels something vibrate. "Shit."

"Elizabeth." Neal says. "Your wife." And slowly backs off.

"Hey hun," Peter holds the phone to his ear and gives Neal a pleading look.

Neal's a lot of things, but he's not sure he wants to be that guy.

"Uh huh. Yep. Yeah, pretty much. Yeah, he is. You wanna talk to him?"

Neal's forehead wrinkles. "No!" He mouths. What the hell is Peter playing at? He can't talk to his wife when he just had his hands down his pants ten seconds ago. That's just not right. And if Neal doesn't think its right, then Peter must have some really fucked up morals.

"You don't have to say anything," Peter says, holding the phone up to his ear. "Just listen, Neal."

He is going to kill Peter after this. A lot.

"Neal?" He hears Elizabeth's voice on the other side of the phone. She's so sweet. He's like her ever since he met her. Plus, they kind of hit it off. Its going to suck if she hates him now. Neal makes an exasperated face and takes the phone out of Peter's hand, turns his back to him.

"Hey, Elizabeth," he smiles. Neal wonders how to make yourself sound like you weren't just violating someone's husband. He'd probably fail at it anyway. "How's it going?"

"Peter's a good man, Neal." Oh Christ. "You don't really think he'd cheat on me, do you?" Neal spins around and glares at Peter like he's the devil. In fact, that theory has yet to be disproved. so he's holding on to it.

"Of course not." He replies. What the hell else is he supposed to say?

"Good. Then you've probably figured out already that I told him whatever happened at your house today was okay."

Neal swallows. His throat feels dry, like swallowing sandpaper, but his pulse is racing so fast he barely notices the discomfort. "You, um, did?"

"Peter really cares about you, Neal. So do I. He tried to deny it for so long and it just made him crazy. Then you nearly got shot and it kind of sent him over the deep end. He was going to pull his hair out - and I'm fond of his hair, thank you. So I sent him to you. Be good to him, Neal. I know people."

Neal sets Peter phone down on the table after Elizabeth hangs up and turns around. Peter's just standing there looking smug. Neal could punch him, if he was the violent sort. He's not even sure he knows the correct way to punch someone. He'd probably break his knuckles.

"So." Peter grins. "What'd she say?"

Neal closes the distance between them and shoves his hand back down Peter's pants, eliciting a surprised grunt out of him. Neal smiles and sucks on Peter's bottom lip. "She said I should treat you right or she'll have someone break my kneecaps or something." Neal twists his hand and swallows Peter's moan. "You have an amazing wife. You do know that, right?"

"She just wants me to be happy," Peter struggles to get out as Neal's hand jacks him through his underwear.

"Is this making you happy, Peter?" Neal whispers, dragging Peter's earlobe between his teeth.

"Nngh, Neal."

"What else?" Neal asks, sliding his hands up Peter's shirt, sucking tiny bruises on Peter's neck. "What if I got on my knees and blew you? Would that make you happy too?"

"Oh hell." Peter groans and shoves him down on the tile.

&.

Four years, Peter thinks when he comes, watching Neal wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at him like he could do it all over again. Four fucking years.

"What are you smiling about?" Neal asks as he stands back up. His hair is all over the place and his mouth is all red, swollen, and used. Peter can't look at it without thinking dirty, dirty things.

"Get your damn hat," He grins, swatting Neal on his ass. God bless June for giving him those pants. "I'm taking you home."

Fic: White Collar - Neal/Peter

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