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elrhiarhodanTitle: Cast Your Fate to the Wind
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Peter/Neal
Word Count: ~1700
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Beta Credit:sinfulslasher
Summary: Part of the Dragon'verse, and picks up the story after the events referenced in Beneath the Words. The Council meeting is over and despite four days of often difficult questioning, Peter's mate-bond with Neal has been ratified. The two Dracons are tired and while Peter's clan chief, Elizabeth, has offered them another night's hospitality, they both want to go home - wherever that might be.
Author’s Note: Written for Day 4 of Fic-Can-Ukah, for the prompt selected by my very dear friend,theatregirl7299. She asked for "Blues in the Night" and Peter/Neal in my Dragon'verse. See end notes for a bit more about the actual music.
__________________
They are on a stretch of highway that has no lights and the only illumination is from the passing cars. But at this hour, cars are few and far between and Peter feels like he's traveling into oblivion.
It's been a long few days - almost a week, actually - and right now, all he wants is the comforting privacy of his own bed. And Neal. In his bed, next to him. Sleeping and safe and his.
But there are too many hours left on this trip before he can achieve that goal.
"Are you all right?" Neal's voice is quiet; there are no subvocalizations to set the car shivering.
"Just tired." Peter doesn't bother lying. It is after two AM and neither Dracon has slept.
"I can drive. If you pull over, we can change places."
The offer is tempting, but Peter declines. If he's tired, Neal has to be exhausted, suffering through endless days of near-constant interrogation by the Council - the collected leadership of the Kin.
"Perhaps we should have accepted Elizabeth's offer of hospitality," Neal says.
"No, we need to be home." Peter knows that is a core truth. It's not good for Kin to be separated from their hoard for too long.
"I understand."
"It's just a few more hours. We'll be home well before dawn."
"Good."
Peter wonders if Neal feels the same driving sense of urgency, and then realizes that of course he does. They are k'charirhim, bonded for life, which is, for Kin, an eternity. What Peter is feeling is compounded by Neal's own emotions. They are both too tired to maintain any walls.
"Put on some music. Please."
Neal laughs. "Now you're letting me play with your precious sound system?" It's a running joke between them. Neal is forbidden from fiddling with the dials and buttons, but he does anyway and Peter always slaps his hand, especially when they are in Peter's personal vehicle. It's draconic instinct on both ends - Neal's attraction to the bright and shiny, Peter's need to protect his property.
Neal doesn't bother with the radio, and goes to the iPod incorporated into the sound system. Although the satellite system had made the dead zones in the mountains a thing of the past, neither man is particularly interested in hearing the soft-skins talk nonsense. Neal scrolls through the list. It's extensive and eclectic, as befitting a Dracon more than two centuries old.
He settles on something bluesy, solo piano in a lazy but upbeat tempo, and is rewarded with Peter's rich chuckle.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing except your choice in music."
Peter can feel Neal's smile in the darkness as he comments, "Unlike you, I grew up with this. Although not quite so artfully rendered."
Peter laughs again. "It is one of my favorites, and it's perfect, k'charic." The Drathic word for mate falls easily from his tongue.
Neal reaches over the console and rests a hand on Peter's thigh. There's nothing salacious about the gesture, it's just part of the primal need of the mate-bond.
"Where is home, Peter?"
That is a reasonable question, but Peter gives into an unfamiliar need for romance. "For me, home is wherever you are, Neal."
Neal, oddly enough, is not quite so romantic. "And I would say the same, but practically speaking. Do I live with you or do you live with me?"
"Which would you prefer?"
Over the past few months, as part of their professional relationship, Neal's spent quite a bit of time at Peter's house in Brooklyn. It was nice, but not really the kind of place where Neal had expected a Dracon to live, especially one who was so well situated in his clan's ranks. "Your closets are very small."
"Well, maybe if you didn't have such a vast wardrobe."
"It's my hoard, Peter."
"Well, no, it isn't. Technically it's June's hoard, and she's graciously let you partake of it, but it's not your hoard."
"Which means that she'd be a little irritated if I moved the clothes from her home to yours."
Peter has to admit to that. "Perhaps I'll need to find something to give her in exchange."
"So, you want me to live with you in Brooklyn?"
Peter considers the question. "I guess that's what I was thinking. You are my mate, you belong with me."
"And I can say the same, k'charic."
Peter's blood sings at that. But he's still the ranking kin in this relationship. "I can't live in the house of a subordinate, Neal. And although June's house is technically part of my hoard, it is still her home and I would not dispossess her of it."
"I understand." Neal lets out a tiny sigh.
"But you like living there." Peter knows how perfect the suite on the fourth floor of June's home is for Neal. He's known that for long before Neal had attempted to break out of prison, before he'd revealed himself as Kin. He'd planned on placing Neal there when he'd been released from prison.
"I want you to be happy, Neal. We'll figure something out."
Neal squeezes Peter's thigh in gentle agreement. "I know. We always do."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Peter's big BMW eats up the miles, the ride smooth and effortless. Neal can almost imagine that he's flying through the night, riding thermals. That was something he'd actually done with Peter a few weeks ago, before all hell broke loose.
The afternoon had been hot, the first hot day since Peter took him out of prison. The winter had been too long, but interesting in its own right; learning how to work within the confines of the law, learning what it meant to be Dracon, figuring out who's Kin, who's soft-skin, and what all of that meant. And, of course, learning how to change from his soft-skin form into a Dracon.
But it's summer and it's hot and it's the weekend, and Peter shows up at his apartment in a shirt designed to make Neal's mouth water. It's tight across Peter's chest and around Peter's arms, and open at the throat. And then Neal notices Peter's wearing shorts and sandals and something in Neal's brain short-circuits and he's not able to form a coherent thought for far too many minutes.
"We're going flying. Get into something comfortable." That's all Peter says and Neal is barely able to follow those instructions. He manages to follow Peter down to the street and into the car, barely. They are across the river before all of Neal's higher mental function returns.
"What are we doing today?"
The car hums from the emotions that flow off of Peter. "I'm teaching you how to fly."
That had been the most terrifying and exhilarating day of his life, better than any con or heist he'd ever pulled off, and when the day had ended, he couldn't wait to do it again.
Neal might even have had the chance, except that he couldn't put his past behind him and had persuaded Peter to engineer a meeting between him and Kate. And than his life had changed forever. Kate had proved to be a terrifying enigma, not the sweet and smart girl who'd visited him every week of his prison stay, but part of the anti-Dracon movement. She'd pulled a gun on Peter, she'd told Neal he was filth, and that she'd regretted ever allowing him to touch her.
Neal still can't wrap his head around that, but he supposes it doesn't matter anymore. In his grief over Kate's betrayal, he'd turned to Peter. Not for sex, but for comfort, for understanding. Except that something happened, and Neal still isn't sure if the storm had precipitated their mating or if the power of the mate-bond had created the storm.
"Stop thinking so hard, you'll blow out the tires." Peter's tone is laconic, but there's a strong element of truth there.
"Sorry." Neal knows that Dracon emotions can break the world if they are not contained. "I should have better control."
"It's still early days, and you've been through a lot." This time it's Peter who reaches out to him. "And getting cross-examined by the Council doesn't help. You did well. Everyone was impressed."
"Everyone?" Neal isn't so sure about that. Kramer, one of the clan chiefs that Peter had liked, had been downright hostile to him, even after the convocation had formally ended and their mate-bond recognized and ratified.
"Don't worry about Philip, he's one Dracon, coming to the end of his tenure. Someone younger will challenge him soon and he'll either step aside or …"
"Be eaten?" Neal is still fascinated by the idea of Draconic cannibalism. Peter had threatened him with it when he first got out of prison and it had seemed like a joke. And perhaps it had been - at least for him - but Neal's learned that clan matters, and succession in particular, are often settled when one Dracon consumes another.
"Exactly." The endless darkness of the road is abruptly broken by the lights of a toll plaza in the near distance. "We're almost home."
Feeling braver than he probably should, Neal asks, "Stay with me for what's left of the night? It's close to dawn and the drive back to Brooklyn will take another hour, maybe more."
"Of course."
Neal can feel a universe of satisfaction in the subvocalizations. Peter's tired and he wants nothing more than to fall into bed with Neal. But more than that, Peter is pleased with Neal's request, that he has the strength of will to ask for something.
Neal doesn't say the words, knowing that they have terrible and wonderful power, but he wraps his control tight and thinks with deep satisfaction, 'Ter k'charih'lir ihm Ne'
Peter is the soul-mate of Neal. Until the ending of the world.
FIN
Notes: The music - the "blues in the night" that Neal selects is George Winston's album, Linus and Lucy: The Music of Vince Guaraldi. Guaraldi was a jazz pianist and wrote and played much of the music written for the 1960s and 1970s Peanuts animated television specials. The title of this story is from the first track of the album.
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Peter/Neal
Word Count: ~1700
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Beta Credit:
sinfulslasher Summary: Part of the Dragon'verse, and picks up the story after the events referenced in Beneath the Words. The Council meeting is over and despite four days of often difficult questioning, Peter's mate-bond with Neal has been ratified. The two Dracons are tired and while Peter's clan chief, Elizabeth, has offered them another night's hospitality, they both want to go home - wherever that might be.
Author’s Note: Written for Day 4 of Fic-Can-Ukah, for the prompt selected by my very dear friend,
theatregirl7299. She asked for "Blues in the Night" and Peter/Neal in my Dragon'verse. See end notes for a bit more about the actual music.They are on a stretch of highway that has no lights and the only illumination is from the passing cars. But at this hour, cars are few and far between and Peter feels like he's traveling into oblivion.
It's been a long few days - almost a week, actually - and right now, all he wants is the comforting privacy of his own bed. And Neal. In his bed, next to him. Sleeping and safe and his.
But there are too many hours left on this trip before he can achieve that goal.
"Are you all right?" Neal's voice is quiet; there are no subvocalizations to set the car shivering.
"Just tired." Peter doesn't bother lying. It is after two AM and neither Dracon has slept.
"I can drive. If you pull over, we can change places."
The offer is tempting, but Peter declines. If he's tired, Neal has to be exhausted, suffering through endless days of near-constant interrogation by the Council - the collected leadership of the Kin.
"Perhaps we should have accepted Elizabeth's offer of hospitality," Neal says.
"No, we need to be home." Peter knows that is a core truth. It's not good for Kin to be separated from their hoard for too long.
"I understand."
"It's just a few more hours. We'll be home well before dawn."
"Good."
Peter wonders if Neal feels the same driving sense of urgency, and then realizes that of course he does. They are k'charirhim, bonded for life, which is, for Kin, an eternity. What Peter is feeling is compounded by Neal's own emotions. They are both too tired to maintain any walls.
"Put on some music. Please."
Neal laughs. "Now you're letting me play with your precious sound system?" It's a running joke between them. Neal is forbidden from fiddling with the dials and buttons, but he does anyway and Peter always slaps his hand, especially when they are in Peter's personal vehicle. It's draconic instinct on both ends - Neal's attraction to the bright and shiny, Peter's need to protect his property.
Neal doesn't bother with the radio, and goes to the iPod incorporated into the sound system. Although the satellite system had made the dead zones in the mountains a thing of the past, neither man is particularly interested in hearing the soft-skins talk nonsense. Neal scrolls through the list. It's extensive and eclectic, as befitting a Dracon more than two centuries old.
He settles on something bluesy, solo piano in a lazy but upbeat tempo, and is rewarded with Peter's rich chuckle.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing except your choice in music."
Peter can feel Neal's smile in the darkness as he comments, "Unlike you, I grew up with this. Although not quite so artfully rendered."
Peter laughs again. "It is one of my favorites, and it's perfect, k'charic." The Drathic word for mate falls easily from his tongue.
Neal reaches over the console and rests a hand on Peter's thigh. There's nothing salacious about the gesture, it's just part of the primal need of the mate-bond.
"Where is home, Peter?"
That is a reasonable question, but Peter gives into an unfamiliar need for romance. "For me, home is wherever you are, Neal."
Neal, oddly enough, is not quite so romantic. "And I would say the same, but practically speaking. Do I live with you or do you live with me?"
"Which would you prefer?"
Over the past few months, as part of their professional relationship, Neal's spent quite a bit of time at Peter's house in Brooklyn. It was nice, but not really the kind of place where Neal had expected a Dracon to live, especially one who was so well situated in his clan's ranks. "Your closets are very small."
"Well, maybe if you didn't have such a vast wardrobe."
"It's my hoard, Peter."
"Well, no, it isn't. Technically it's June's hoard, and she's graciously let you partake of it, but it's not your hoard."
"Which means that she'd be a little irritated if I moved the clothes from her home to yours."
Peter has to admit to that. "Perhaps I'll need to find something to give her in exchange."
"So, you want me to live with you in Brooklyn?"
Peter considers the question. "I guess that's what I was thinking. You are my mate, you belong with me."
"And I can say the same, k'charic."
Peter's blood sings at that. But he's still the ranking kin in this relationship. "I can't live in the house of a subordinate, Neal. And although June's house is technically part of my hoard, it is still her home and I would not dispossess her of it."
"I understand." Neal lets out a tiny sigh.
"But you like living there." Peter knows how perfect the suite on the fourth floor of June's home is for Neal. He's known that for long before Neal had attempted to break out of prison, before he'd revealed himself as Kin. He'd planned on placing Neal there when he'd been released from prison.
"I want you to be happy, Neal. We'll figure something out."
Neal squeezes Peter's thigh in gentle agreement. "I know. We always do."
Peter's big BMW eats up the miles, the ride smooth and effortless. Neal can almost imagine that he's flying through the night, riding thermals. That was something he'd actually done with Peter a few weeks ago, before all hell broke loose.
The afternoon had been hot, the first hot day since Peter took him out of prison. The winter had been too long, but interesting in its own right; learning how to work within the confines of the law, learning what it meant to be Dracon, figuring out who's Kin, who's soft-skin, and what all of that meant. And, of course, learning how to change from his soft-skin form into a Dracon.
But it's summer and it's hot and it's the weekend, and Peter shows up at his apartment in a shirt designed to make Neal's mouth water. It's tight across Peter's chest and around Peter's arms, and open at the throat. And then Neal notices Peter's wearing shorts and sandals and something in Neal's brain short-circuits and he's not able to form a coherent thought for far too many minutes.
"We're going flying. Get into something comfortable." That's all Peter says and Neal is barely able to follow those instructions. He manages to follow Peter down to the street and into the car, barely. They are across the river before all of Neal's higher mental function returns.
"What are we doing today?"
The car hums from the emotions that flow off of Peter. "I'm teaching you how to fly."
That had been the most terrifying and exhilarating day of his life, better than any con or heist he'd ever pulled off, and when the day had ended, he couldn't wait to do it again.
Neal might even have had the chance, except that he couldn't put his past behind him and had persuaded Peter to engineer a meeting between him and Kate. And than his life had changed forever. Kate had proved to be a terrifying enigma, not the sweet and smart girl who'd visited him every week of his prison stay, but part of the anti-Dracon movement. She'd pulled a gun on Peter, she'd told Neal he was filth, and that she'd regretted ever allowing him to touch her.
Neal still can't wrap his head around that, but he supposes it doesn't matter anymore. In his grief over Kate's betrayal, he'd turned to Peter. Not for sex, but for comfort, for understanding. Except that something happened, and Neal still isn't sure if the storm had precipitated their mating or if the power of the mate-bond had created the storm.
"Stop thinking so hard, you'll blow out the tires." Peter's tone is laconic, but there's a strong element of truth there.
"Sorry." Neal knows that Dracon emotions can break the world if they are not contained. "I should have better control."
"It's still early days, and you've been through a lot." This time it's Peter who reaches out to him. "And getting cross-examined by the Council doesn't help. You did well. Everyone was impressed."
"Everyone?" Neal isn't so sure about that. Kramer, one of the clan chiefs that Peter had liked, had been downright hostile to him, even after the convocation had formally ended and their mate-bond recognized and ratified.
"Don't worry about Philip, he's one Dracon, coming to the end of his tenure. Someone younger will challenge him soon and he'll either step aside or …"
"Be eaten?" Neal is still fascinated by the idea of Draconic cannibalism. Peter had threatened him with it when he first got out of prison and it had seemed like a joke. And perhaps it had been - at least for him - but Neal's learned that clan matters, and succession in particular, are often settled when one Dracon consumes another.
"Exactly." The endless darkness of the road is abruptly broken by the lights of a toll plaza in the near distance. "We're almost home."
Feeling braver than he probably should, Neal asks, "Stay with me for what's left of the night? It's close to dawn and the drive back to Brooklyn will take another hour, maybe more."
"Of course."
Neal can feel a universe of satisfaction in the subvocalizations. Peter's tired and he wants nothing more than to fall into bed with Neal. But more than that, Peter is pleased with Neal's request, that he has the strength of will to ask for something.
Neal doesn't say the words, knowing that they have terrible and wonderful power, but he wraps his control tight and thinks with deep satisfaction, 'Ter k'charih'lir ihm Ne'
Peter is the soul-mate of Neal. Until the ending of the world.
Notes: The music - the "blues in the night" that Neal selects is George Winston's album, Linus and Lucy: The Music of Vince Guaraldi. Guaraldi was a jazz pianist and wrote and played much of the music written for the 1960s and 1970s Peanuts animated television specials. The title of this story is from the first track of the album.
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no subject
Date: 2016-12-27 11:49 pm (UTC)My favorite line "Your closets are very small."
Thank you so much for this - it's exactly what I needed and wanted. You are so good to me!
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 01:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 08:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 10:20 am (UTC)a lovely addition to the verse
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 10:24 pm (UTC)This verse is dark and pensive and rich and musical. Could not describe it better. And this little fic, where absolutely nothing happens, is ALL of those things, along with wrought and emotional and heady.
Just delicious!
no subject
Date: 2017-02-06 12:36 am (UTC)