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elrhiarhodanTitle: Love Will Not Break Your Heart (but dismiss your fears) - A Wedding Story in Five Acts
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: R
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke/Neal Caffrey (established OT3)
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None.
Word Count: ~6500
Summary: Elizabeth and Peter seek to bind Neal to them permanently, Neal misreads their intentions. But all ends well.
This is the prequel to Taking Half a Sick Day (Is Better Than Needing a Whole One) (aka Sick!Neal fic). Part of the Paladin 'verse. For Kiss Bingo - Body: Fingers.
Many thanks to my lovely betas,jrosemary and rabidchild67. All mistakes are (as always) mine and mine alone. Feedback is naturally appreciated.
Extensive Author’s Notes can be found in the first comment.
_______________
Act I: The Idea
It’s an early Sunday morning in April. The light peeking in from the bedroom window is a pale, almost pearly pink. Peter always likes dawn, the way he likes sunset too. There is such imminence in the light, in the interstitial moment between the brightness of the day and the darkness of the night.
He shakes his head and looks down at the warm, sleeping bundle of feminine beauty on his left side, curled away and clutching a pillow. Elizabeth, his wife. He enjoys those two words: wife – yes – the validation of the married state. However, it is the possessive his that sometimes brings him greater joy.
He knows he doesn’t “own” El. Not even in the old fashioned, chauvinistic way a husband used to own his wife (and she’d probably turn his own gun on him if he ever expressed that thought). It’s just that he thrills to the idea that Elizabeth is his. She chose him, she made herself part of his life.
The thrill is comfortable now, mellowed out by thirteen anniversaries. He has to laugh at the memory of their early years, when he was a too-eager bridegroom, anxious to please, uncertain of his rights and permissions. When he wanted to revel in his possession, and she let him. Although she is a decade younger, Elizabeth has always known what she wants and has never been afraid to take as much as she’s given and then ask for more. And she's his, all his. That's made him fearless in love.
Peter then looks to his right, to Neal. The man is draped across his chest, lips buried in his neck, hands seeking the warmth of skin-to-skin contact. His lover. His dark and secret delight. Like El, Neal is his. But unlike Elizabeth, Peter often finds himself driven to stamp his ownership on the other man.
At first, this need to possess disturbs him. He initially rejects Neal’s jailhouse offer more out of fear for his sanity than the belief that his clever felon was running some perverse con game. It takes a terrible tragedy for him to realize just how much he needs Neal, how much he loves him, and then to realize how much Neal loves him in return.
That hot spring day two years ago, with the three of them on the couch, the first time Neal fucks Elizabeth as he fucks Neal, is burned in his memory. Just like their first kiss, which was a coming together that really had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with love and desire and a need to heal. Then, the sweetness shocked Peter. Now, it gives him a warm, steady burn. He wants to wake Neal, to see those eyes open, always a little confused at first, then fill steadily with desire. Instead, he lets Neal sleep.
As dawn brightens into day, Peter takes the time to think. He finds himself worrying; Neal’s tracker comes off in a few short months. He’s confident of Neal’s love for him, and for Elizabeth, but he still worries that Neal will leave because he may feel he has nothing to hold him here. It won’t be running, not like before – but when his parole ends, without out any concrete ties, he may just pick up and go.
Peter thinks he could just about bear to not have him by his side in the office everyday, but the thought of Neal leaving him, leaving them for parts unknown is too much to bear. Peter wants to tie Neal down, to bind Neal to him, to keep him safe and secure, by his side, in their bed. He laughs at that thought, but simultaneously wishes he could lock Neal away, or at find a way to permanently chain him to them.
The sun breaks past the horizon and a hot stream of white light streams unfiltered through the space between the bottom of the shade and the windowsill. It reflects on the perfume bottles on El’s dressing table, the glass front of his cell phone and as he holds up one hand to keep the light from waking Neal (El’s head is pressed deep into her pillow away from the light), the white gold of his wedding band catches fire.
And so does his mind.
He and El once discussed a variation on this idea. Long ago, when they were still trying to figure out how their relationship with Neal was going to work, El asked him if he’d marry Neal if he weren’t already married to her. He didn’t even pause to think about the answer (although he supposed that the swiftness of his response may have been a little unflattering, except that El had followed up her question with her own statement of intent). Now, he thinks about that conversation – he thinks he know to keep Neal with them forever.
Neal is more than just a romantic soul, simply in love with the idea of love. Neal is, despite his contrary and unpredictable nature, a man of infinitely deep loyalties. Peter knows that once he makes a vow, he’ll never break it. So maybe that is what he needs to do, this is what will bind Neal to them forever. Peter finds the idea ironic – there’ll be nothing legally binding about this, but to Neal, the promises behind them will be far more powerful than any law could ever be.
Act II: The Discussion
Peter asks Elizabeth about it that afternoon, after Neal leaves to go back to June’s. He is still tethered to the system that reports his whereabouts 24/7, and too much time at the Burkes’ house on the weekends is bound to cause problems (or at least, raise a few eyebrows), even at this late date. Hughes may know what’s going on between them, he’s run interference for them with the Marshal’s office, but they still need to be careful and at least one Sunday a month they spend apart.
He tosses the idea out casually, as if he were asking his wife what she’d like for lunch.
“What do you think about getting married?”
El doesn’t look up from the Sunday newspaper. “Hmmm, we are married. Aren’t we?” Her clever little tongue peeps out from her lips.
“I mean, marrying Neal.”
She drops the NYT magazine section and stares at Peter.
He stares right back, his face serious and still. “We have discussed this before.”
“Not really – we’ve discussed the whole ‘what if the two of us weren’t married.’ We really never talked about the three of us exchanging vows.”
“So, you don’t like the idea?” Peter felt a little hurt.
“I didn’t say that. I’m just wondering why now? We’ve been together for two years, and Neal’s happy, I’m happy, and I think you’re happy.”
“I’m happy, but I’m worried.”
El looks at Peter, really looks at him. “You’re worried that he’ll leave when his parole is up in October?”
Peter scrubs at his face. “Yeah. I am. He’s so hard to read sometimes. He says he loves us, but he doesn’t always seem to believe we love him. It’s nothing overt, but...”
She gets up and snuggles next to Peter. “I know. He’s afraid – after all this time, he’s still afraid. It’s not obvious, like it was at the beginning, but he still gives himself away sometimes. He doesn’t want to need us, I think. But he does and that frightens him.”
Peter holds El tight. “I wish he knew how much we need him. Maybe that will settle him down.”
She strokes his hair. “I can’t seem to remember a time without Neal in our lives. He’s been part of us for so long, my heart would break if he left us.”
“So would mine.” Peter sighs.
“Then let’s get married.”
Peter looks at his wife and reveled in the certainty of her love. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“What would I do without you?”
She smiled ruefully at him. “Survive.”
“Just barely.”
Act III: The Misunderstanding
Neal doesn’t understand why Peter’s been acting so odd, like he is nervous, and it’s really freaking him out. He’s been squirrelly, increasingly so, for quite a few days now – since Monday; taking private calls, shutting him out of his office when Elizabeth rings. He looks at him strangely, too. There’s a question in Peter’s eyes, one that he clearly doesn’t want to ask.
Neal noses around a bit, and tries to find out what’s going on. He wonders if Peter’s starting to count down the days until the end of his parole – maybe he can’t wait for it to be over, and to get rid of him. Neal talks with Jones, with Diana, with some of the other members of Peter’s team. He’s subtle, of course – the social engineer at work. He even manages to get a little face time with Hughes, albeit in a stalled elevator. But he learns nothing of any use, no one seems to think that Peter’s anything less than satisfied with his job performance.
Neal finally concludes that Peter’s odd behavior isn’t office-related. But just to be certain, he ratchets up his workload, staying late without being asked to, clearing out a dozen old cases, getting all his paperwork in, even volunteering to take on a bunch of dreaded mortgage fraud claims.
This extra work cuts into his time with Peter and Elizabeth, but they don’t seem to mind. In fact, they both seem a little relieved that Neal’s not on their doorstep, at their dinner table or in the bedroom. His calls and texts to Elizabeth go unreturned for almost a week, and when he does hear from her, the conversation is abrupt and devoid of any positive connection between them. In one of the rare moments that Neal is alone with Peter, he asks him if everything is all right between him and Elizabeth. Peter looks at him sharply and quickly denies it. Neal gently presses (again, the social engineer at work), but gets no other answer. Peter’s either too wise to his talents, or there’s truly nothing wrong between husband and wife.
Then it occurs to Neal that Peter and Elizabeth are probably getting tired of him, and want to break it off. He tries to tell himself that that’s okay. It’s been two years of sneaking around, and who really wants a third wheel on such a perfect relationship anyway? He can be cool with it…and it’s not like this is going to go anywhere anyway. He knows all about love – it’s an easy word for most people to say. While he doesn’t doubt that when Peter and Elizabeth told him they loved him, they meant it at the time, it was unrealistic to expect them to stay in love with him forever.
He doesn’t think less of them, either. They are good people, so much better than he is, than he ever will be. He knows they aren’t perfect; Peter’s domineering and El has a tendency to mother, but they’ve made him so happy. He’s just grateful that his parole is up in six months. Even though he doesn’t want to go, he will – if just to take himself out of Peter’s orbit.
The sad thing is, he can’t think of anyplace he’d rather be.
The situation continues like this for another two weeks, Peter dodges him at the office and Elizabeth’s ducks out on him at home. To compensate for the emptiness, Neal works even longer hours and almost completely clears the pile of cold cases that Peter has left for him. At least Peter acknowledges his efforts during a staff meeting and it takes all of his willpower to keep down a flush of pure pleasure at the praise. He helps out anyone who needs it, offering himself up for assignments that he’d otherwise try to dodge. He keeps busy, keeps himself out of Peter’s way and goes back to his apartment alone every night, where he broods and tries to understand where things went wrong, what he did and if he could make it right again.
Neal retraces all his steps over the last few weeks. He’s been a model citizen at the office, and hopefully not too needy when he’s with Peter and Elizabeth. The more he thinks about it, the more obvious it that they are simply tired of him, and they want their settled, happy, normal life back. He wants to talk it over with Mozzie, but he can’t. His friend never really approved of the relationship. He was envious yes, but he can never quite bring himself to give Neal his full approval. In the beginning, Moz frequently lectures him about the dangers of setting up housekeeping with the Suit and his lady. Of late, those lectures have tapered off, and Mozzie seems to accept that Neal is happy, safe and content with Peter and Elizabeth. To tell him now that they are ending it, well that would be a big mistake.
The weekends are rougher than he ever imagined they’d be. He’s been spending Friday and Saturday with Peter for years, those are Elizabeth’s busy nights. They go to the movies, art exhibits, ball games, or they spend the time in the apartment. Talking, having sex, just being together (and those are the nights that Neal loves the best). The loneliness is just about impossible to bear.
The first weekend that Peter gives it a pass, Neal tries not to read too much into it. El doesn’t have an event and Peter is entitled to a date night with his wife. The second weekend, Peter tells him that Elizabeth’s folks are in town. Neal knows from past experience that her parents aren’t the type to warm up to a charming former con man, even if they don’t have to know that he’s sharing their daughter’s bed. Particularly since they don’t even approve of Peter, who still apparently isn’t good enough for their precious daughter. Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t realize that Neal is in hearing range when he tells Diana that he is looking forward to a quiet and relaxing weekend. Neal says nothing, but he’s hurt to the bone.
The third Friday night, when he knows that Elizabeth is in Boston, Neal plans to works late, or at least as late as Peter is working and just go home with him. But when he comes back from the men’s room to find that Peter’s left early, without even a “good night, see you on Monday, Neal,” he is devastated. He remembers neither the subway ride back uptown, nor the walk back to June’s. But sometime after eleven, he realizes he is cold and wet and his clothes are ruined. He has been sitting on the terrace for hours and it has started to rain. He had once thought that nothing could hurt worse than when Kate left him. This is the third time he’s been proven wrong.
He is no wilting flower; however, and he won’t be left to die on the vine. He showers and calls for a cab. If the Burkes want to end this, not only is he not going to be difficult about it, he’s going to be the one making the break.
Act IV: The Proposal
Peter knows his behavior is a little out of the ordinary. He hasn’t been avoiding Neal for the last three weeks, well not precisely. It’s just that if he spends any significant time alone with him, he’s going to pop the question prematurely.
Last weekend, he went ring shopping with Elizabeth. There is no reason why Neal shouldn’t have a ring to reflect their commitment. Neither of them thinks that a traditional Tiffany engagement setting is the appropriate choice. Peter says that Neal deserves a classic diamond (he is, after all, a man who appreciates the classics), while El is convinced that sapphires will be better. In the end, they find what they hope is the perfect piece, an art deco platinum setting, elegant for a man without being flashy. The ring is an antique, with a nicely sized white diamond center stone. However, several of the side stones are missing, so they take it to a jeweler in the Diamond District and have them all replaced with natural blue diamonds.
The ring is finally ready and Peter leaves the office early to get to 47th Street before the jeweler closes for Sabbath. When he gets home, he kicks himself. It is Friday night and there is no reason why he couldn’t have headed up to Neal’s with some steaks and a bottle of wine. Except that he’s likely to get down on one knee, and he’s promised El he’ll wait until she’s home so they both can pop the question at the perfect moment. Besides, he’s not really very good at this sort of thing – he’s more likely to send Neal screaming for the hills than to get him to agree to marry them.
Peter sits in the dark living room, annoyed and lonely. He can’t remember the last time he had spent a Friday night without Neal when El is busy. It’s after midnight and he should get up to bed, but the thought of that cold and empty mattress is so unappealing. Then he thinks, it’s really not that late, there’s no reason why he can’t head over to Neal’s. Mind made up, he gently nudges Satchmo awake. It’s drizzling and the early May evening seems more like late October, so he lets dog into the backyard to do his business.
He comes back inside to find Neal sitting in his easy chair, the reading lamp illuminating a deadly serious expression.
“Damn it, Neal…you scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Sorry, Peter.” Neal’s voice is quiet, almost without affect. He’s wearing a black jacket and turtleneck, and his face, practically disembodied, is glowing marble white under the lamp.
Peter knows instantly that something is wrong. “What’s going on? What are you doing here now? It’s almost 1 am.” Which is a stupid thing to say, since he was about to get in his car and go to see him.
“It’s closer to 12:30, actually.”
Peter shakes his head. Typical Neal, always deflecting. He sits on the couch and Satchmo lays down at his feet. “Neal, what’s the matter.”
The silence is deafening. Neal licks his lips, an oddly nervous gesture for him, and he won’t meet his eyes.
“Neal, what’s wrong?”
Neal blinks, once, twice. He pinches his nose. “If you want to break this off, all you have to do is say so. I won’t be difficult about it.” The words come out in such a rush, Peter isn’t sure at first that he heard them right.
“What?”
“Peter – I’m a grown man. You and Elizabeth don’t have to treat me like an unwanted high school boyfriend, avoiding me until I get the message.”
“We haven’t been avoiding you.”
“A lie, Peter. The two of you’ve having been dodging me for weeks. Elizabeth won’t talk to me, you barely look at me in the office, we haven’t seen each other outside of work and tonight, you left without saying goodbye. You’ve never done that, ever. I get the message, loud and clear. I won’t be awkward, and I won’t even say ‘let’s remain friends’ because that never works.” His voice is breaking from the emotion. When Peter doesn’t answer, Neal gets up and brushes himself down as if he were trying to erase himself.
Peter just sits there, stunned. How in the world could Neal draw this conclusion?
He’s out the door and halfway down the steps to the cab that’s still waiting for him before Peter can react. He chases after Neal, pulling him back inside.
“You stay here – don’t move.” He runs down to the street and throws a couple of twenties at the cabbie, who takes off like a bat out hell without even offering Peter any change.
He comes back and finds that Neal obeyed him – he was still standing in the foyer. The expression on his face is enough to break his heart.
“Neal, oh god. I am so sorry.” He reaches out, but Neal deftly dodges the embrace.
“Don’t be, Peter. You’ve…you and Elizabeth … you’ve been so good to me. So good for me. I’ll cherish that forever. But you don’t have to pretend. Like I said, I won’t make things difficult. My parole’s up in a few months – maybe you can have me transferred for the rest of it so we don’t have to keep crossing paths.” Neal blinks again, and Peter can see that his eyes are swimming with tears.
This time, when he reaches out, he doesn’t let Neal evade him. He hauls him close and holds on tightly. “You, you…you are so wrong. The last that we want, I want, is to break up.” He cups Neal’s face in his hands, capturing his chin between thumb and palm and kisses him, as gently and as sweetly as he did that first time, when a spring rainstorm drenched them.
Neal pulls back, and Peter can’t tell if his pupils are dilated from desire or the semi-darkness of the room.
“Neal, I love you. I will love you forever. Don’t you know that?”
Neal’s eyelashes drop, disguising his expression.
Peter kisses him again. “Look at me, Neal. I love you. You have to believe me.”
Neal finally nods, “Yes.” He sighs and relaxes into Peter’s arms. “Then what’s been going on? Why have you been shutting me out?”
Peter maneuvers them over to the couch and mutters “El’s going to kill me.”
“What?” Neal gives him a confused sort of laugh.
Now it’s Peter’s turn to be nervous.
“Neal, you mean so much to me. It’s a funny thing, but you’ve done as much to make me the man that I am as Elizabeth has, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. I love you, I need you and I never want to be without you.” It comes out in a rush – difficult emotions that Peter should have found nearly impossible to say.
Neal looks at him, his blue eyes glowing in the half-lit room. A small smile creeps across his lips. “You really weren’t going to break it off?”
“No, of course not.” He pulls Neal into his arms. “We’ve been through so much together, how could you think that?”
Neal breaks from Peter’s embrace and moves to the other side of the couch. Neal can’t look at Peter and Peter aches at the hurt in every line of Neal’s posture. “When you shut me out – the both of you shut me out, what am I supposed to think?”
Peter doesn’t have a comeback to that. He knows they’ve not been handling this right. In his need to bind Neal to them permanently – he’s almost destroyed them.
He picks up one of Neal’s hands, caressing the back of it, enjoying the play of bone and muscle as Neal clasps his fingers around his own hand. He rubs his thumb across the back of the ring finger on Neal's right hand and thinks about the ring he and Elizabeth will put on that finger. He raises it to his lips, the kiss more than a salute of affection. It is the promise of a vow yet unspoken, the question that Peter can no longer delay asking.
He sighs. “El’s really going to kill me.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Neal leans back into Peter’s body, convinced at last that Peter and Elizabeth weren’t breaking off with him.
“And I really mean it.”
The silence is comfortable, but after a few minutes, Neal breaks it. “I give up … why will Elizabeth kill you?”
Peter sighs, a combination of exasperation and self-disgust. He pulls Neal around and looks him square in the eyes.
“Neal Caffrey, will you marry me?”
There’s no response from Neal and the puzzled expression on his face troubles Peter. He quickly realizes that he has to clarify his proposal. “By me, I mean us. Will you marry us? I am supposed to wait for the perfect moment – a romantic dinner that El is going to arrange for the three of us. She is supposed to be here, on your other side, making the same proposal. But of course I messed this up.” The words ran into each other as Peter stumbled through the explanation.
“Peter…” Neal sighs his name in that completely irresistible way.
“I’ve been dodging you because I’ve been two words from popping the question for weeks now, and nothing is ready yet.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah…ready. Trust me. I’ve been trying to do this right, but have gotten just about everything wrong.”
Neither man says anything. Peter finally has to break the silence. “Neal, please.” He wants an answer, hoping it will be yes and utterly terrified it will be no.
“Yes, Peter. I’ll marry you, I’ll marry Elizabeth.” His smile is now brilliant, blinding.
Peter wraps his arms around Neal and holds him tight. “You won’t ever leave us, will you? Promise?”
Neal straddles Peter’s lap and buries his face in the crook of his neck.
Peter feels the words vibrate into his skin, as if they were forming a tattoo. “No, I’ll never leave you. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
Act V: The Vows
Before they go to bed, Peter advises the EMU that Neal will be at his house and has to be placed on monitoring status for the weekend.
Early the next morning, Peter calls Elizabeth to tell her what happened. She does want to kill Peter, until Peter explains what was going through Neal’s head. Then she wants to abandon her client and fly home immediately.
Sunday morning, They meet El at LaGuardia Airport at 8 am, the earliest arriving flight from Boston. She runs to them, first punching Peter in the shoulder, then wrapping her arms around Neal. She kisses him as hard as she hit Peter, and then bursts into tears, apologizing for the screw up. She didn’t mean to seem like she was ducking or dodging him. It was just that she wanted everything to be perfect.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth – it doesn’t matter.” He takes her by the arm and leaves Peter to carry her garment bag.
“Yes it does…we were going to do this right. A candlelit dinner, a bottle of your favorite wine, the ring...”
“The ring?”
She stops and looks back at Peter. “You didn’t give him the ring, after all that?”
Peter shrugs. “I thought I’d leave something for the two of us – the three of us.” He hefts the garment bag over his shoulder and walks out of the terminal, leaving the two of them standing there. He’s hurt. It isn’t totally his fault that Neal felt so abandoned.
The catch up with him in the parking lot, he’s stowed the bag and is sitting in the driver’s seat. His face is like a block of stone.
Neal taps on the window and he rolls it down. “Peter, I’m sorry.” Neal stands by the driver’s side door. “I didn’t know I was going to mess this all up.”
Peter turns and looks at Neal, his white shirt a beacon in the too-bright morning. The lock of hair falls across his forehead, and at first he seems no older than the 20-something kid he chased and arrested over a dozen years ago. When high clouds briefly cover the sun and his eyes adjust, Peter notices for the first time that there are a few silver threads in those dark locks and the start of some crows-feet around Neal’s eyes. He’s not a man-child any longer, but he still has such capacity to be hurt.
El walks around and joins Neal at the window.
“Peter, I’m sorry too. I got so caught up in the planning – the surprise, I should have realized…” Her voice trails off, and Peter can hear the incipient tears.
He shakes his head. “This is too damn stupid for words. We’re supposed to be getting married and here we are, getting upset over nothing in the damn parking lot. I’m sulking and you’re both apologizing for something completely unnecessary.” He gets out of the car and reaches for his wife, his lover. “The road to hell…” He holds both of them close. They are his, after all.
El gives a watery laugh “Is paved with good intentions.” He kisses the top of her head, then her lips. He kisses Neal too, for good measure, for his own pleasure.
“Let’s go home.” Neal pushes him into the backseat and he enjoys the reunion with Elizabeth on the way back to Brooklyn.
Back at the house, Neal prepares a simple breakfast for the three of them, just eggs, toast, and some strawberries. Peter and Elizabeth come down, and El sets the dining room table. Peter stands over Neal and he filches a berry as he watching him cook. The food is plated, and Peter reached into the back of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Prosecco and a container of orange juice.
“If ever there is a morning that calls for mimosas, this is it.”
Neal smiles in agreement.
The conversation is lively, as sparkling as their drinks. El talks a little about last night’s event, a society wedding between two Boston Brahmins. The only reason why she got the job was because the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom were such bitter rivals that no local planner (wedding or otherwise) was willing to work with the couple. Neal toasts El’s success and Peter sits back, relaxed and happy, thinking that this is the way every morning should be. And then it dawns on him, this is the perfect moment.
He reaches out for his wife’s hand, and she understands perfectly. They both reach for Neal’s, across the table filled with the remnants of their breakfast. They speak with one voice.
“Neal Caffrey, will you marry us?”
Neal’s answer is simple, perfect and unequivocal. “Yes, I will.”
Elizabeth momentarily lets go of Neal’s hand to reach into her pocket and pull out a small black velvet box. She hands it to Peter, who opens it. El takes Neal’s left hand, and Peter slips on the ring. Through luck or perfect observation, the ring fits, and is perfect for Neal.
Neal closes his hand, rubs a thumb across it, then holds it to his lips.
Peter is infinitely amused – his con man, his jewel thief – is so overcome that he can’t even examine the ring. Peter wisely doesn’t comment, nor does Elizabeth.
“You - you didn’t have to…” Neal can’t complete the sentence.
“Yes we did. We wanted you to have a ring.” Peter runs his fingers over the back of Neal’s hand. “Do you like it?”
Neal finally looks at it. “It’s incredible.” The he looks at it again, reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a jeweler’s loupe.
Of all the things he expected, this was the last. “Caffrey, you carry one of those, just because?”
Neal smiles at him angelically, which is perhaps the least trustworthy of all his smiles. “You never know when you need to really look at something.” He takes off the ring and bends his head down. Finding the light insufficient, he goes to the window and pulls aside the curtains to get the brightest light and examines it again.
“Peter, do you know what this is?” Neal’s voice is a little awed.
“A rose cut white diamond, approximately 2.5 carats.”
“It’s an exceptionally fine stone, Peter. It may even be a Golconda.”
“Huh?” Peter knows a lot about a lot of things, but esoteric gem lore is not one of them.
Elizabeth snickers. “An exceptional stone for an exceptional man.”
Neal gives them a rueful grin, puts the ring back on and pockets the loupe. “Sorry...can’t help myself sometimes.”
He sits back down. “So, how do we do this.”
Peter’s a little bemused. “Do what?”
“Get married.”
Peter looks at Elizabeth and then back at Neal, suddenly a little panicked. “You know...I really don’t know. I didn’t think much beyond getting you to say ‘yes’ to us.”
“The ceremony won’t be legal.” Neal couldn’t seem to resist stating the obvious.
“Honey, we just want it to be binding on us.” El reaches out for Neal’s hand. “We don’t want you to leave us, ever.”
He gives them a smile of such surpassing sweetness that Peter isn’t sure if the ache was from the sudden sugar rush or his own emotions.
“You know, Mozzie could officiate. He’s is an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church. He can marry us.”
Peter’s not sure he’s thrilled with the idea, but Neal seems taken with it. He looks to El, and she smiles and shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”
Neal looks at him, all serious now. “No, if you’re not comfortable with the idea, then we don’t ask Mozzie.”
El takes a sip of her mimosa. “Why do we need anyone to officiate?”
Peter looks at her and then back to Neal. “She has a point. This is between us. To bind us together.”
Neal nods, looks down at the ring and smiles ruefully. “You’re right.”
Peter grins. “I usually am.”
Neal pushes back from the table and stand up. He holds out his right hand out to Elizabeth and his left to Peter. “Then let’s do this.”
“Now?” Peter is uncertain, things seem to be moving too quickly. And then the uncertainty falls away. “Yes. Now.”
“Now.” Elizabeth agreed.
They go into the living room and Neal can’t help but grin.
“What’s so funny, Caffrey?”
“That couch - that’s where it all began.”
El snickers again. “Yes, it did. I was on the couch, you were on the floor, and Peter was right behind you.”
Neal gives her a quick, sharp kiss. “Well, there’s that. But I was thinking of the morning I showed up here to tell you I knew who the Dutchman was. You were so irritated, Peter.”
Peter doesn’t bother to restrain a sharp bark of laughter. “Irritated...that’s a word for it.” He remembers every moment of that morning, from looking at El’s laptop for an idea about an anniversary present, to getting the call from Jones that Neal had left his radius, to running downstairs to find that Neal was in the living room, on the couch having coffee with his wife and petting his dog. He wishes he could tell his younger self, “Don’t fight it. It’s all worth it in the end.”
“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” As happy as Neal is, Peter can still sense an undercurrent of worry.
“We certainly have.” Peter takes Neal’s left hand and rubs his thumb against the ring. Elizabeth’s smaller hand joins his.
From somewhere deep inside him, Peter remembers the words of his own wedding service. He speaks with bone deep certainty and with perfect clarity of purpose.
“I, Peter Burke, take you, Neal Caffrey, to be my spouse. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take you, Neal Caffrey, for my spouse, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
Elizabeth repeats the vows and lifts his left hand, brushing her lips against the ring. She then takes it off and moves it to his right hand.
“With this ring, you are made holy to me.” Peter’s voice joins in and they speak in unison. “For I love you as my soul. You are now ours as we are yours, and you will be forever.”
Peter looks down at their hands joined in the curtain-filtered light, in this prosaic room filled with memories, good and bad. In the merest instant, he recalls the wonder and the pain of their first time. Not just the sex, but love. He thinks about the hurt and anger that drove Neal here last night, and he hopes that Neal will always remember that he is loved and wanted and needed - not for what he can do, but simply for who he is.
Neal recites the same vows that Peter and Elizabeth just spoke, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
“I, Neal Caffrey, take the two of you, Peter and Elizabeth Burke, to be my spouses. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take the both of you, Peter and Elizabeth Burke, as my husband and as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
He has no rings to give them and instead he kisses them first Elizabeth, then Peter. Peter holds him close and feels a light tremble run through Neal. His own body echoes that tremor when Neal whispers his vows to them. “Forever, I am yours. I am my beloveds’ and my beloveds are mine.”
Neal pauses and Peter holds his breath, waiting. “You’re stuck with me now. Both of you.”
Elizabeth reaches up and cups his cheek. “That’s the whole point of this. We don’t want you to leave, ever.”
Peter can’t help himself. “And when the tracker comes off, I’m never going to have to wonder where you are.”
Neal’s eyes sparkle and Peter wonders if he’s accidentally issued a challenge to a man who still has some serious impulse control problems. Then he decides, he really doesn’t care.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: R
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke/Neal Caffrey (established OT3)
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None.
Word Count: ~6500
Summary: Elizabeth and Peter seek to bind Neal to them permanently, Neal misreads their intentions. But all ends well.
This is the prequel to Taking Half a Sick Day (Is Better Than Needing a Whole One) (aka Sick!Neal fic). Part of the Paladin 'verse. For Kiss Bingo - Body: Fingers.
Many thanks to my lovely betas,
jrosemary and rabidchild67. All mistakes are (as always) mine and mine alone. Feedback is naturally appreciated.Extensive Author’s Notes can be found in the first comment.
Act I: The Idea
It’s an early Sunday morning in April. The light peeking in from the bedroom window is a pale, almost pearly pink. Peter always likes dawn, the way he likes sunset too. There is such imminence in the light, in the interstitial moment between the brightness of the day and the darkness of the night.
He shakes his head and looks down at the warm, sleeping bundle of feminine beauty on his left side, curled away and clutching a pillow. Elizabeth, his wife. He enjoys those two words: wife – yes – the validation of the married state. However, it is the possessive his that sometimes brings him greater joy.
He knows he doesn’t “own” El. Not even in the old fashioned, chauvinistic way a husband used to own his wife (and she’d probably turn his own gun on him if he ever expressed that thought). It’s just that he thrills to the idea that Elizabeth is his. She chose him, she made herself part of his life.
The thrill is comfortable now, mellowed out by thirteen anniversaries. He has to laugh at the memory of their early years, when he was a too-eager bridegroom, anxious to please, uncertain of his rights and permissions. When he wanted to revel in his possession, and she let him. Although she is a decade younger, Elizabeth has always known what she wants and has never been afraid to take as much as she’s given and then ask for more. And she's his, all his. That's made him fearless in love.
Peter then looks to his right, to Neal. The man is draped across his chest, lips buried in his neck, hands seeking the warmth of skin-to-skin contact. His lover. His dark and secret delight. Like El, Neal is his. But unlike Elizabeth, Peter often finds himself driven to stamp his ownership on the other man.
At first, this need to possess disturbs him. He initially rejects Neal’s jailhouse offer more out of fear for his sanity than the belief that his clever felon was running some perverse con game. It takes a terrible tragedy for him to realize just how much he needs Neal, how much he loves him, and then to realize how much Neal loves him in return.
That hot spring day two years ago, with the three of them on the couch, the first time Neal fucks Elizabeth as he fucks Neal, is burned in his memory. Just like their first kiss, which was a coming together that really had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with love and desire and a need to heal. Then, the sweetness shocked Peter. Now, it gives him a warm, steady burn. He wants to wake Neal, to see those eyes open, always a little confused at first, then fill steadily with desire. Instead, he lets Neal sleep.
As dawn brightens into day, Peter takes the time to think. He finds himself worrying; Neal’s tracker comes off in a few short months. He’s confident of Neal’s love for him, and for Elizabeth, but he still worries that Neal will leave because he may feel he has nothing to hold him here. It won’t be running, not like before – but when his parole ends, without out any concrete ties, he may just pick up and go.
Peter thinks he could just about bear to not have him by his side in the office everyday, but the thought of Neal leaving him, leaving them for parts unknown is too much to bear. Peter wants to tie Neal down, to bind Neal to him, to keep him safe and secure, by his side, in their bed. He laughs at that thought, but simultaneously wishes he could lock Neal away, or at find a way to permanently chain him to them.
The sun breaks past the horizon and a hot stream of white light streams unfiltered through the space between the bottom of the shade and the windowsill. It reflects on the perfume bottles on El’s dressing table, the glass front of his cell phone and as he holds up one hand to keep the light from waking Neal (El’s head is pressed deep into her pillow away from the light), the white gold of his wedding band catches fire.
And so does his mind.
He and El once discussed a variation on this idea. Long ago, when they were still trying to figure out how their relationship with Neal was going to work, El asked him if he’d marry Neal if he weren’t already married to her. He didn’t even pause to think about the answer (although he supposed that the swiftness of his response may have been a little unflattering, except that El had followed up her question with her own statement of intent). Now, he thinks about that conversation – he thinks he know to keep Neal with them forever.
Neal is more than just a romantic soul, simply in love with the idea of love. Neal is, despite his contrary and unpredictable nature, a man of infinitely deep loyalties. Peter knows that once he makes a vow, he’ll never break it. So maybe that is what he needs to do, this is what will bind Neal to them forever. Peter finds the idea ironic – there’ll be nothing legally binding about this, but to Neal, the promises behind them will be far more powerful than any law could ever be.
Act II: The Discussion
Peter asks Elizabeth about it that afternoon, after Neal leaves to go back to June’s. He is still tethered to the system that reports his whereabouts 24/7, and too much time at the Burkes’ house on the weekends is bound to cause problems (or at least, raise a few eyebrows), even at this late date. Hughes may know what’s going on between them, he’s run interference for them with the Marshal’s office, but they still need to be careful and at least one Sunday a month they spend apart.
He tosses the idea out casually, as if he were asking his wife what she’d like for lunch.
“What do you think about getting married?”
El doesn’t look up from the Sunday newspaper. “Hmmm, we are married. Aren’t we?” Her clever little tongue peeps out from her lips.
“I mean, marrying Neal.”
She drops the NYT magazine section and stares at Peter.
He stares right back, his face serious and still. “We have discussed this before.”
“Not really – we’ve discussed the whole ‘what if the two of us weren’t married.’ We really never talked about the three of us exchanging vows.”
“So, you don’t like the idea?” Peter felt a little hurt.
“I didn’t say that. I’m just wondering why now? We’ve been together for two years, and Neal’s happy, I’m happy, and I think you’re happy.”
“I’m happy, but I’m worried.”
El looks at Peter, really looks at him. “You’re worried that he’ll leave when his parole is up in October?”
Peter scrubs at his face. “Yeah. I am. He’s so hard to read sometimes. He says he loves us, but he doesn’t always seem to believe we love him. It’s nothing overt, but...”
She gets up and snuggles next to Peter. “I know. He’s afraid – after all this time, he’s still afraid. It’s not obvious, like it was at the beginning, but he still gives himself away sometimes. He doesn’t want to need us, I think. But he does and that frightens him.”
Peter holds El tight. “I wish he knew how much we need him. Maybe that will settle him down.”
She strokes his hair. “I can’t seem to remember a time without Neal in our lives. He’s been part of us for so long, my heart would break if he left us.”
“So would mine.” Peter sighs.
“Then let’s get married.”
Peter looks at his wife and reveled in the certainty of her love. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“What would I do without you?”
She smiled ruefully at him. “Survive.”
“Just barely.”
Act III: The Misunderstanding
Neal doesn’t understand why Peter’s been acting so odd, like he is nervous, and it’s really freaking him out. He’s been squirrelly, increasingly so, for quite a few days now – since Monday; taking private calls, shutting him out of his office when Elizabeth rings. He looks at him strangely, too. There’s a question in Peter’s eyes, one that he clearly doesn’t want to ask.
Neal noses around a bit, and tries to find out what’s going on. He wonders if Peter’s starting to count down the days until the end of his parole – maybe he can’t wait for it to be over, and to get rid of him. Neal talks with Jones, with Diana, with some of the other members of Peter’s team. He’s subtle, of course – the social engineer at work. He even manages to get a little face time with Hughes, albeit in a stalled elevator. But he learns nothing of any use, no one seems to think that Peter’s anything less than satisfied with his job performance.
Neal finally concludes that Peter’s odd behavior isn’t office-related. But just to be certain, he ratchets up his workload, staying late without being asked to, clearing out a dozen old cases, getting all his paperwork in, even volunteering to take on a bunch of dreaded mortgage fraud claims.
This extra work cuts into his time with Peter and Elizabeth, but they don’t seem to mind. In fact, they both seem a little relieved that Neal’s not on their doorstep, at their dinner table or in the bedroom. His calls and texts to Elizabeth go unreturned for almost a week, and when he does hear from her, the conversation is abrupt and devoid of any positive connection between them. In one of the rare moments that Neal is alone with Peter, he asks him if everything is all right between him and Elizabeth. Peter looks at him sharply and quickly denies it. Neal gently presses (again, the social engineer at work), but gets no other answer. Peter’s either too wise to his talents, or there’s truly nothing wrong between husband and wife.
Then it occurs to Neal that Peter and Elizabeth are probably getting tired of him, and want to break it off. He tries to tell himself that that’s okay. It’s been two years of sneaking around, and who really wants a third wheel on such a perfect relationship anyway? He can be cool with it…and it’s not like this is going to go anywhere anyway. He knows all about love – it’s an easy word for most people to say. While he doesn’t doubt that when Peter and Elizabeth told him they loved him, they meant it at the time, it was unrealistic to expect them to stay in love with him forever.
He doesn’t think less of them, either. They are good people, so much better than he is, than he ever will be. He knows they aren’t perfect; Peter’s domineering and El has a tendency to mother, but they’ve made him so happy. He’s just grateful that his parole is up in six months. Even though he doesn’t want to go, he will – if just to take himself out of Peter’s orbit.
The sad thing is, he can’t think of anyplace he’d rather be.
The situation continues like this for another two weeks, Peter dodges him at the office and Elizabeth’s ducks out on him at home. To compensate for the emptiness, Neal works even longer hours and almost completely clears the pile of cold cases that Peter has left for him. At least Peter acknowledges his efforts during a staff meeting and it takes all of his willpower to keep down a flush of pure pleasure at the praise. He helps out anyone who needs it, offering himself up for assignments that he’d otherwise try to dodge. He keeps busy, keeps himself out of Peter’s way and goes back to his apartment alone every night, where he broods and tries to understand where things went wrong, what he did and if he could make it right again.
Neal retraces all his steps over the last few weeks. He’s been a model citizen at the office, and hopefully not too needy when he’s with Peter and Elizabeth. The more he thinks about it, the more obvious it that they are simply tired of him, and they want their settled, happy, normal life back. He wants to talk it over with Mozzie, but he can’t. His friend never really approved of the relationship. He was envious yes, but he can never quite bring himself to give Neal his full approval. In the beginning, Moz frequently lectures him about the dangers of setting up housekeeping with the Suit and his lady. Of late, those lectures have tapered off, and Mozzie seems to accept that Neal is happy, safe and content with Peter and Elizabeth. To tell him now that they are ending it, well that would be a big mistake.
The weekends are rougher than he ever imagined they’d be. He’s been spending Friday and Saturday with Peter for years, those are Elizabeth’s busy nights. They go to the movies, art exhibits, ball games, or they spend the time in the apartment. Talking, having sex, just being together (and those are the nights that Neal loves the best). The loneliness is just about impossible to bear.
The first weekend that Peter gives it a pass, Neal tries not to read too much into it. El doesn’t have an event and Peter is entitled to a date night with his wife. The second weekend, Peter tells him that Elizabeth’s folks are in town. Neal knows from past experience that her parents aren’t the type to warm up to a charming former con man, even if they don’t have to know that he’s sharing their daughter’s bed. Particularly since they don’t even approve of Peter, who still apparently isn’t good enough for their precious daughter. Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t realize that Neal is in hearing range when he tells Diana that he is looking forward to a quiet and relaxing weekend. Neal says nothing, but he’s hurt to the bone.
The third Friday night, when he knows that Elizabeth is in Boston, Neal plans to works late, or at least as late as Peter is working and just go home with him. But when he comes back from the men’s room to find that Peter’s left early, without even a “good night, see you on Monday, Neal,” he is devastated. He remembers neither the subway ride back uptown, nor the walk back to June’s. But sometime after eleven, he realizes he is cold and wet and his clothes are ruined. He has been sitting on the terrace for hours and it has started to rain. He had once thought that nothing could hurt worse than when Kate left him. This is the third time he’s been proven wrong.
He is no wilting flower; however, and he won’t be left to die on the vine. He showers and calls for a cab. If the Burkes want to end this, not only is he not going to be difficult about it, he’s going to be the one making the break.
Act IV: The Proposal
Peter knows his behavior is a little out of the ordinary. He hasn’t been avoiding Neal for the last three weeks, well not precisely. It’s just that if he spends any significant time alone with him, he’s going to pop the question prematurely.
Last weekend, he went ring shopping with Elizabeth. There is no reason why Neal shouldn’t have a ring to reflect their commitment. Neither of them thinks that a traditional Tiffany engagement setting is the appropriate choice. Peter says that Neal deserves a classic diamond (he is, after all, a man who appreciates the classics), while El is convinced that sapphires will be better. In the end, they find what they hope is the perfect piece, an art deco platinum setting, elegant for a man without being flashy. The ring is an antique, with a nicely sized white diamond center stone. However, several of the side stones are missing, so they take it to a jeweler in the Diamond District and have them all replaced with natural blue diamonds.
The ring is finally ready and Peter leaves the office early to get to 47th Street before the jeweler closes for Sabbath. When he gets home, he kicks himself. It is Friday night and there is no reason why he couldn’t have headed up to Neal’s with some steaks and a bottle of wine. Except that he’s likely to get down on one knee, and he’s promised El he’ll wait until she’s home so they both can pop the question at the perfect moment. Besides, he’s not really very good at this sort of thing – he’s more likely to send Neal screaming for the hills than to get him to agree to marry them.
Peter sits in the dark living room, annoyed and lonely. He can’t remember the last time he had spent a Friday night without Neal when El is busy. It’s after midnight and he should get up to bed, but the thought of that cold and empty mattress is so unappealing. Then he thinks, it’s really not that late, there’s no reason why he can’t head over to Neal’s. Mind made up, he gently nudges Satchmo awake. It’s drizzling and the early May evening seems more like late October, so he lets dog into the backyard to do his business.
He comes back inside to find Neal sitting in his easy chair, the reading lamp illuminating a deadly serious expression.
“Damn it, Neal…you scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Sorry, Peter.” Neal’s voice is quiet, almost without affect. He’s wearing a black jacket and turtleneck, and his face, practically disembodied, is glowing marble white under the lamp.
Peter knows instantly that something is wrong. “What’s going on? What are you doing here now? It’s almost 1 am.” Which is a stupid thing to say, since he was about to get in his car and go to see him.
“It’s closer to 12:30, actually.”
Peter shakes his head. Typical Neal, always deflecting. He sits on the couch and Satchmo lays down at his feet. “Neal, what’s the matter.”
The silence is deafening. Neal licks his lips, an oddly nervous gesture for him, and he won’t meet his eyes.
“Neal, what’s wrong?”
Neal blinks, once, twice. He pinches his nose. “If you want to break this off, all you have to do is say so. I won’t be difficult about it.” The words come out in such a rush, Peter isn’t sure at first that he heard them right.
“What?”
“Peter – I’m a grown man. You and Elizabeth don’t have to treat me like an unwanted high school boyfriend, avoiding me until I get the message.”
“We haven’t been avoiding you.”
“A lie, Peter. The two of you’ve having been dodging me for weeks. Elizabeth won’t talk to me, you barely look at me in the office, we haven’t seen each other outside of work and tonight, you left without saying goodbye. You’ve never done that, ever. I get the message, loud and clear. I won’t be awkward, and I won’t even say ‘let’s remain friends’ because that never works.” His voice is breaking from the emotion. When Peter doesn’t answer, Neal gets up and brushes himself down as if he were trying to erase himself.
Peter just sits there, stunned. How in the world could Neal draw this conclusion?
He’s out the door and halfway down the steps to the cab that’s still waiting for him before Peter can react. He chases after Neal, pulling him back inside.
“You stay here – don’t move.” He runs down to the street and throws a couple of twenties at the cabbie, who takes off like a bat out hell without even offering Peter any change.
He comes back and finds that Neal obeyed him – he was still standing in the foyer. The expression on his face is enough to break his heart.
“Neal, oh god. I am so sorry.” He reaches out, but Neal deftly dodges the embrace.
“Don’t be, Peter. You’ve…you and Elizabeth … you’ve been so good to me. So good for me. I’ll cherish that forever. But you don’t have to pretend. Like I said, I won’t make things difficult. My parole’s up in a few months – maybe you can have me transferred for the rest of it so we don’t have to keep crossing paths.” Neal blinks again, and Peter can see that his eyes are swimming with tears.
This time, when he reaches out, he doesn’t let Neal evade him. He hauls him close and holds on tightly. “You, you…you are so wrong. The last that we want, I want, is to break up.” He cups Neal’s face in his hands, capturing his chin between thumb and palm and kisses him, as gently and as sweetly as he did that first time, when a spring rainstorm drenched them.
Neal pulls back, and Peter can’t tell if his pupils are dilated from desire or the semi-darkness of the room.
“Neal, I love you. I will love you forever. Don’t you know that?”
Neal’s eyelashes drop, disguising his expression.
Peter kisses him again. “Look at me, Neal. I love you. You have to believe me.”
Neal finally nods, “Yes.” He sighs and relaxes into Peter’s arms. “Then what’s been going on? Why have you been shutting me out?”
Peter maneuvers them over to the couch and mutters “El’s going to kill me.”
“What?” Neal gives him a confused sort of laugh.
Now it’s Peter’s turn to be nervous.
“Neal, you mean so much to me. It’s a funny thing, but you’ve done as much to make me the man that I am as Elizabeth has, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. I love you, I need you and I never want to be without you.” It comes out in a rush – difficult emotions that Peter should have found nearly impossible to say.
Neal looks at him, his blue eyes glowing in the half-lit room. A small smile creeps across his lips. “You really weren’t going to break it off?”
“No, of course not.” He pulls Neal into his arms. “We’ve been through so much together, how could you think that?”
Neal breaks from Peter’s embrace and moves to the other side of the couch. Neal can’t look at Peter and Peter aches at the hurt in every line of Neal’s posture. “When you shut me out – the both of you shut me out, what am I supposed to think?”
Peter doesn’t have a comeback to that. He knows they’ve not been handling this right. In his need to bind Neal to them permanently – he’s almost destroyed them.
He picks up one of Neal’s hands, caressing the back of it, enjoying the play of bone and muscle as Neal clasps his fingers around his own hand. He rubs his thumb across the back of the ring finger on Neal's right hand and thinks about the ring he and Elizabeth will put on that finger. He raises it to his lips, the kiss more than a salute of affection. It is the promise of a vow yet unspoken, the question that Peter can no longer delay asking.
He sighs. “El’s really going to kill me.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Neal leans back into Peter’s body, convinced at last that Peter and Elizabeth weren’t breaking off with him.
“And I really mean it.”
The silence is comfortable, but after a few minutes, Neal breaks it. “I give up … why will Elizabeth kill you?”
Peter sighs, a combination of exasperation and self-disgust. He pulls Neal around and looks him square in the eyes.
“Neal Caffrey, will you marry me?”
There’s no response from Neal and the puzzled expression on his face troubles Peter. He quickly realizes that he has to clarify his proposal. “By me, I mean us. Will you marry us? I am supposed to wait for the perfect moment – a romantic dinner that El is going to arrange for the three of us. She is supposed to be here, on your other side, making the same proposal. But of course I messed this up.” The words ran into each other as Peter stumbled through the explanation.
“Peter…” Neal sighs his name in that completely irresistible way.
“I’ve been dodging you because I’ve been two words from popping the question for weeks now, and nothing is ready yet.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah…ready. Trust me. I’ve been trying to do this right, but have gotten just about everything wrong.”
Neither man says anything. Peter finally has to break the silence. “Neal, please.” He wants an answer, hoping it will be yes and utterly terrified it will be no.
“Yes, Peter. I’ll marry you, I’ll marry Elizabeth.” His smile is now brilliant, blinding.
Peter wraps his arms around Neal and holds him tight. “You won’t ever leave us, will you? Promise?”
Neal straddles Peter’s lap and buries his face in the crook of his neck.
Peter feels the words vibrate into his skin, as if they were forming a tattoo. “No, I’ll never leave you. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
Act V: The Vows
Before they go to bed, Peter advises the EMU that Neal will be at his house and has to be placed on monitoring status for the weekend.
Early the next morning, Peter calls Elizabeth to tell her what happened. She does want to kill Peter, until Peter explains what was going through Neal’s head. Then she wants to abandon her client and fly home immediately.
Sunday morning, They meet El at LaGuardia Airport at 8 am, the earliest arriving flight from Boston. She runs to them, first punching Peter in the shoulder, then wrapping her arms around Neal. She kisses him as hard as she hit Peter, and then bursts into tears, apologizing for the screw up. She didn’t mean to seem like she was ducking or dodging him. It was just that she wanted everything to be perfect.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth – it doesn’t matter.” He takes her by the arm and leaves Peter to carry her garment bag.
“Yes it does…we were going to do this right. A candlelit dinner, a bottle of your favorite wine, the ring...”
“The ring?”
She stops and looks back at Peter. “You didn’t give him the ring, after all that?”
Peter shrugs. “I thought I’d leave something for the two of us – the three of us.” He hefts the garment bag over his shoulder and walks out of the terminal, leaving the two of them standing there. He’s hurt. It isn’t totally his fault that Neal felt so abandoned.
The catch up with him in the parking lot, he’s stowed the bag and is sitting in the driver’s seat. His face is like a block of stone.
Neal taps on the window and he rolls it down. “Peter, I’m sorry.” Neal stands by the driver’s side door. “I didn’t know I was going to mess this all up.”
Peter turns and looks at Neal, his white shirt a beacon in the too-bright morning. The lock of hair falls across his forehead, and at first he seems no older than the 20-something kid he chased and arrested over a dozen years ago. When high clouds briefly cover the sun and his eyes adjust, Peter notices for the first time that there are a few silver threads in those dark locks and the start of some crows-feet around Neal’s eyes. He’s not a man-child any longer, but he still has such capacity to be hurt.
El walks around and joins Neal at the window.
“Peter, I’m sorry too. I got so caught up in the planning – the surprise, I should have realized…” Her voice trails off, and Peter can hear the incipient tears.
He shakes his head. “This is too damn stupid for words. We’re supposed to be getting married and here we are, getting upset over nothing in the damn parking lot. I’m sulking and you’re both apologizing for something completely unnecessary.” He gets out of the car and reaches for his wife, his lover. “The road to hell…” He holds both of them close. They are his, after all.
El gives a watery laugh “Is paved with good intentions.” He kisses the top of her head, then her lips. He kisses Neal too, for good measure, for his own pleasure.
“Let’s go home.” Neal pushes him into the backseat and he enjoys the reunion with Elizabeth on the way back to Brooklyn.
Back at the house, Neal prepares a simple breakfast for the three of them, just eggs, toast, and some strawberries. Peter and Elizabeth come down, and El sets the dining room table. Peter stands over Neal and he filches a berry as he watching him cook. The food is plated, and Peter reached into the back of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Prosecco and a container of orange juice.
“If ever there is a morning that calls for mimosas, this is it.”
Neal smiles in agreement.
The conversation is lively, as sparkling as their drinks. El talks a little about last night’s event, a society wedding between two Boston Brahmins. The only reason why she got the job was because the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom were such bitter rivals that no local planner (wedding or otherwise) was willing to work with the couple. Neal toasts El’s success and Peter sits back, relaxed and happy, thinking that this is the way every morning should be. And then it dawns on him, this is the perfect moment.
He reaches out for his wife’s hand, and she understands perfectly. They both reach for Neal’s, across the table filled with the remnants of their breakfast. They speak with one voice.
“Neal Caffrey, will you marry us?”
Neal’s answer is simple, perfect and unequivocal. “Yes, I will.”
Elizabeth momentarily lets go of Neal’s hand to reach into her pocket and pull out a small black velvet box. She hands it to Peter, who opens it. El takes Neal’s left hand, and Peter slips on the ring. Through luck or perfect observation, the ring fits, and is perfect for Neal.
Neal closes his hand, rubs a thumb across it, then holds it to his lips.
Peter is infinitely amused – his con man, his jewel thief – is so overcome that he can’t even examine the ring. Peter wisely doesn’t comment, nor does Elizabeth.
“You - you didn’t have to…” Neal can’t complete the sentence.
“Yes we did. We wanted you to have a ring.” Peter runs his fingers over the back of Neal’s hand. “Do you like it?”
Neal finally looks at it. “It’s incredible.” The he looks at it again, reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a jeweler’s loupe.
Of all the things he expected, this was the last. “Caffrey, you carry one of those, just because?”
Neal smiles at him angelically, which is perhaps the least trustworthy of all his smiles. “You never know when you need to really look at something.” He takes off the ring and bends his head down. Finding the light insufficient, he goes to the window and pulls aside the curtains to get the brightest light and examines it again.
“Peter, do you know what this is?” Neal’s voice is a little awed.
“A rose cut white diamond, approximately 2.5 carats.”
“It’s an exceptionally fine stone, Peter. It may even be a Golconda.”
“Huh?” Peter knows a lot about a lot of things, but esoteric gem lore is not one of them.
Elizabeth snickers. “An exceptional stone for an exceptional man.”
Neal gives them a rueful grin, puts the ring back on and pockets the loupe. “Sorry...can’t help myself sometimes.”
He sits back down. “So, how do we do this.”
Peter’s a little bemused. “Do what?”
“Get married.”
Peter looks at Elizabeth and then back at Neal, suddenly a little panicked. “You know...I really don’t know. I didn’t think much beyond getting you to say ‘yes’ to us.”
“The ceremony won’t be legal.” Neal couldn’t seem to resist stating the obvious.
“Honey, we just want it to be binding on us.” El reaches out for Neal’s hand. “We don’t want you to leave us, ever.”
He gives them a smile of such surpassing sweetness that Peter isn’t sure if the ache was from the sudden sugar rush or his own emotions.
“You know, Mozzie could officiate. He’s is an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church. He can marry us.”
Peter’s not sure he’s thrilled with the idea, but Neal seems taken with it. He looks to El, and she smiles and shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”
Neal looks at him, all serious now. “No, if you’re not comfortable with the idea, then we don’t ask Mozzie.”
El takes a sip of her mimosa. “Why do we need anyone to officiate?”
Peter looks at her and then back to Neal. “She has a point. This is between us. To bind us together.”
Neal nods, looks down at the ring and smiles ruefully. “You’re right.”
Peter grins. “I usually am.”
Neal pushes back from the table and stand up. He holds out his right hand out to Elizabeth and his left to Peter. “Then let’s do this.”
“Now?” Peter is uncertain, things seem to be moving too quickly. And then the uncertainty falls away. “Yes. Now.”
“Now.” Elizabeth agreed.
They go into the living room and Neal can’t help but grin.
“What’s so funny, Caffrey?”
“That couch - that’s where it all began.”
El snickers again. “Yes, it did. I was on the couch, you were on the floor, and Peter was right behind you.”
Neal gives her a quick, sharp kiss. “Well, there’s that. But I was thinking of the morning I showed up here to tell you I knew who the Dutchman was. You were so irritated, Peter.”
Peter doesn’t bother to restrain a sharp bark of laughter. “Irritated...that’s a word for it.” He remembers every moment of that morning, from looking at El’s laptop for an idea about an anniversary present, to getting the call from Jones that Neal had left his radius, to running downstairs to find that Neal was in the living room, on the couch having coffee with his wife and petting his dog. He wishes he could tell his younger self, “Don’t fight it. It’s all worth it in the end.”
“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” As happy as Neal is, Peter can still sense an undercurrent of worry.
“We certainly have.” Peter takes Neal’s left hand and rubs his thumb against the ring. Elizabeth’s smaller hand joins his.
From somewhere deep inside him, Peter remembers the words of his own wedding service. He speaks with bone deep certainty and with perfect clarity of purpose.
“I, Peter Burke, take you, Neal Caffrey, to be my spouse. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take you, Neal Caffrey, for my spouse, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
Elizabeth repeats the vows and lifts his left hand, brushing her lips against the ring. She then takes it off and moves it to his right hand.
“With this ring, you are made holy to me.” Peter’s voice joins in and they speak in unison. “For I love you as my soul. You are now ours as we are yours, and you will be forever.”
Peter looks down at their hands joined in the curtain-filtered light, in this prosaic room filled with memories, good and bad. In the merest instant, he recalls the wonder and the pain of their first time. Not just the sex, but love. He thinks about the hurt and anger that drove Neal here last night, and he hopes that Neal will always remember that he is loved and wanted and needed - not for what he can do, but simply for who he is.
Neal recites the same vows that Peter and Elizabeth just spoke, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
“I, Neal Caffrey, take the two of you, Peter and Elizabeth Burke, to be my spouses. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take the both of you, Peter and Elizabeth Burke, as my husband and as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
He has no rings to give them and instead he kisses them first Elizabeth, then Peter. Peter holds him close and feels a light tremble run through Neal. His own body echoes that tremor when Neal whispers his vows to them. “Forever, I am yours. I am my beloveds’ and my beloveds are mine.”
Neal pauses and Peter holds his breath, waiting. “You’re stuck with me now. Both of you.”
Elizabeth reaches up and cups his cheek. “That’s the whole point of this. We don’t want you to leave, ever.”
Peter can’t help himself. “And when the tracker comes off, I’m never going to have to wonder where you are.”
Neal’s eyes sparkle and Peter wonders if he’s accidentally issued a challenge to a man who still has some serious impulse control problems. Then he decides, he really doesn’t care.
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Date: 2010-12-13 02:51 pm (UTC)Thank you for feedback.
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Date: 2010-12-13 03:38 pm (UTC)