elrhiarhodan: (S3 Promo - Peter Neal)
[personal profile] elrhiarhodan
Title: Before the Guests Arrive
Author: [livejournal.com profile] elrhiarhodan, [livejournal.com profile] rabidchild67, [livejournal.com profile] jrosemary, [livejournal.com profile] hoosierbitch
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 600
Summary: This story was written as a Round Robin Sentence Fic, each of the ladies here contributed a single sentence in order, starting with the prompt that is the title of this fic. We went around three times.




Peter sighed and looked out the window, this was not a holiday season he was looking forward to at all, not without his best friend, his partner, someone he had thought he was ready to share a part of his life with; the loss was like a missing limb and he knew the phantom pain was going to linger until he died. He could hear the guests begin to arrive downstairs, could discern each of them in their turn as they arrived - Diana's husky tones undercut by the babbles of her and Christy's new daughter, El's sister and husband and the clomp-clomp-clomp of their three boys as they headed off to raise holy Hell with poor Satchmo, Mozzie's nasal twang - but even as welcome as they all were, there was one that was missing from the festivities, that was all the more distinct for its absence.

Peter clenched his eyes shut--damn it, Neal.

He'd helped make the turkey and he'd put the casserole together on his own and he'd bought the wine and brought out the nice dishes and the whole time he'd been thinking he'll show up; he has to.

It had only been six weeks since he'd removed the tracker for the last time, since he set Neal free - and he had thought - hoped - desired - that freedom would only take flight as far as DeKalb Avenue; but it seemed that freedom needed the greater distance that oceans and other continents brought. He turned wearily and headed for the bedroom door - El would need his help now that there was a house full of people, and he'd have to smile and laugh and fill drinks if he was to keep up the pretense that he was all right with all of this; as he pulled the door shut, he saw a shadow moving up the stairs.

He stood stock still as the figure approached, not even daring to breathe. It couldn't be, it had to be, was it--"Neal?"

He looked - well - good; tanned and healthy, no Rat Pack elegance tonight - but his stance was anything but casual, he looked a little frightened, as if he were uncertain of his welcome. He raised a hand in greeting, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his greeting of "Hey," barely past his lips before Peter crossed the distance between them, took his face in his hands and kissed him breathless.

For a long moment Neal didn't respond to the kiss--he stood there in shock, and Peter felt his stomach twist as he wondered just how badly he had fucked this up. "Please," he whispered into the familiar warmth of Neal's still lips, and he didn't know what he could ask for or what he deserved to get, he just knew that when the rest of his plea was cut short under the onslaught of Neal's lips he was so, so grateful. 

FIN
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