White Collar Ficlet - From the Skin Out
Oct. 26th, 2011 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: From The Skin Out
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke (implied Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Clothes Porn
Word Count: ~500
Summary: There is nothing like having a hand tailored suit.
A/N: No beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Originally written for the ladies of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashchat, for the prompt “Neal Dresses Peter From the Skin Out.”
__________________
“I can dress myself, you know.”
“Yeah, if you want to look like an accountant or a middle manager. Besides, it’s so much more fun when I dress you.”
“If you wanted a Ken doll, you should have said something. Christmas is coming.”
Neal sighed in exasperation as he flicked through the clothes in Peter’s closet. There were a few of the shirts he’d worn as “Peter Lassen, CPA” and the loud ties that when with them, but none of that would do. “You need to look like a power hungry hedge fund manager, one who will do anything for the score. Not someone who spends his time looking over expense reports.”
“Fine, fine. What do you suggest?”
“I have just the place, come on.”
Peter shook his head, “Why do I let you drag me into these things?”
Contrary to his expectations, they did not end up at Barney’s or Thomas Pink or some other high end men’s store. Neal took him to a third floor in an ancient building on Canal Street, in the heart of Chinatown. An old man - maybe as old as the building, told him in heavily accented English, to strip down to his shorts.
Peter did so with great reluctance and submitted to the measurements, as Neal watched. The old man said something in Chinese, and Neal laughed and replied in the same language. Of course Neal would be fluent. The chatted and it seemed like Neal was describing something. They both had another laugh when the tailor took his measurements for the inseam, but at least the old man seemed impressed. Neal just winked at him.
The old man called out to someone, and an equally old woman brought out a black suit. She held it out to him and Peter ran an admiring hand down the jacket sleeve. From the feel of it, a wool-silk blend. The texture of the fabric reminded him of Neal’s clothes, and it seemed almost too fine for him. He put on the rather tight fitting pants and listened as Neal gave instructions to the tailor. The man knelt at his feet and marked the cuffs. So far, so good. Then came the jacket and it was nothing like he’d ever worn before. It had no collar, just long fluid lines from a strong shoulder. It felt vaguely futuristic, but not at all costume-like.
Peter turned and looked at himself in the mirror - it wasn’t anything he’d ever pick for himself, but he had to admit that he looked good. Powerful. Hungry.
The shirt was a minor argument - Peter wanted black, Neal said it would make him look like a mobster, and said he thought white would be better, but the tailor (whose name Peter would never learn), brought out something in gray silk. It was gorgeous. And so was the deep aubergine tie that Neal selected. Not too skinny, not too wide. It was perfect.
All in all, the trip was not that much of an ordeal.
Then they went shoe shopping.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke (implied Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Clothes Porn
Word Count: ~500
Summary: There is nothing like having a hand tailored suit.
A/N: No beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Originally written for the ladies of
slashchat, for the prompt “Neal Dresses Peter From the Skin Out.”“I can dress myself, you know.”
“Yeah, if you want to look like an accountant or a middle manager. Besides, it’s so much more fun when I dress you.”
“If you wanted a Ken doll, you should have said something. Christmas is coming.”
Neal sighed in exasperation as he flicked through the clothes in Peter’s closet. There were a few of the shirts he’d worn as “Peter Lassen, CPA” and the loud ties that when with them, but none of that would do. “You need to look like a power hungry hedge fund manager, one who will do anything for the score. Not someone who spends his time looking over expense reports.”
“Fine, fine. What do you suggest?”
“I have just the place, come on.”
Peter shook his head, “Why do I let you drag me into these things?”
Contrary to his expectations, they did not end up at Barney’s or Thomas Pink or some other high end men’s store. Neal took him to a third floor in an ancient building on Canal Street, in the heart of Chinatown. An old man - maybe as old as the building, told him in heavily accented English, to strip down to his shorts.
Peter did so with great reluctance and submitted to the measurements, as Neal watched. The old man said something in Chinese, and Neal laughed and replied in the same language. Of course Neal would be fluent. The chatted and it seemed like Neal was describing something. They both had another laugh when the tailor took his measurements for the inseam, but at least the old man seemed impressed. Neal just winked at him.
The old man called out to someone, and an equally old woman brought out a black suit. She held it out to him and Peter ran an admiring hand down the jacket sleeve. From the feel of it, a wool-silk blend. The texture of the fabric reminded him of Neal’s clothes, and it seemed almost too fine for him. He put on the rather tight fitting pants and listened as Neal gave instructions to the tailor. The man knelt at his feet and marked the cuffs. So far, so good. Then came the jacket and it was nothing like he’d ever worn before. It had no collar, just long fluid lines from a strong shoulder. It felt vaguely futuristic, but not at all costume-like.
Peter turned and looked at himself in the mirror - it wasn’t anything he’d ever pick for himself, but he had to admit that he looked good. Powerful. Hungry.
The shirt was a minor argument - Peter wanted black, Neal said it would make him look like a mobster, and said he thought white would be better, but the tailor (whose name Peter would never learn), brought out something in gray silk. It was gorgeous. And so was the deep aubergine tie that Neal selected. Not too skinny, not too wide. It was perfect.
All in all, the trip was not that much of an ordeal.
Then they went shoe shopping.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-27 05:44 pm (UTC)THIS:
"Peter did so with great reluctance and submitted to the measurements, as Neal watched. The old man said something in Chinese, and Neal laughed and replied in the same language. Of course Neal would be fluent. The chatted and it seemed like Neal was describing something. They both had another laugh when the tailor took his measurements for the inseam, but at least the old man seemed impressed. Neal just winked at him."
= SO MUCH AWESOME.
Thank you!!
no subject
Date: 2011-10-27 05:48 pm (UTC)And thank you so much!