Entry tags:
White Collar, "Men of our Words," Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, PG, silly ficlet
Title: "Men of Our Words"
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth (also Cruz makes an appearance, because I like her)
Rating: PG
Summary: from![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rubynye's prompt: "Elizabeth steals Neal's hat and offers to trade it for her husband. Neal accepts. Peter pretends grumpiness." More of my National Hat Day silliness.
"And we'll all be men of our words. Except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman." -- Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean
"Morning, Lauren."
Agent Cruz lifted her head from the monitor for the half-second it took to acknowledge Neal, and then did a double-take at what she saw. "Whoa, you okay, Caffrey? No hat, no smile -- don't tell me we've broken your spirit already."
"I lost my hat," said Neal, actually pouting. "I don't know how I'm going to tell June; she'll be so disappointed."
Cruz frowned. "You couldn't have."
"That's what I thought! But I looked everywhere for it, and it's gone! It must have happened last night. I went over to Peter and Elizabeth's for dinner... I must have left it in the cab. Maybe I could call the cab company..."
"No, you couldn't have. You don't lose things. Peter wrote in your file that you make a little map in your head of everywhere you ever go, and never forget a detail." She smirked. "It's why you make such a great secretary."
Neal didn't acknowledge that last part. "You're right, it's weird. I must have been distracted. But what else could have happened?"
Cruz raised her eyebrows in a look that seemed to take in the whole building. "Think about it, consultant."
"No!" Neal's eyes widened. "You think somebody stole my hat? Why would anyone do such a thing?"
"Oh, wow. I'm just going to get back to work before talking to you permanently resets my sense of irony."
Neal grumbled something mostly unintelligible -- Cruz was pretty sure she caught "vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore" in there somewhere -- and dropped into a chair as he picked up the file folder that Peter had left on his desk.
~~~~
At 11:45 am, Neal's phone buzzed with a text message from a number he didn't recognize. Very odd. It read: Neal: I have what you're looking for. Meet me at Sylvia's Cafe at 12:30, alone. You'll recognize me. ;) What in God's name...? Who puts emoticons in a ransom note? He sighed and tried to concentrate on work for the next forty-five minutes, with limited success.
By the time he got to Sylvia's (the hat-napper had done their research; it was less than a mile from the office), he wasn't too surprised to see Elizabeth Burke sitting alone by the window, looking as adorable as ever in a dove-gray blazer that perfectly complimented his hat. After all, she was the only one who had opportunity and... well, he wasn't sure about motive, but it was her or Peter and this wasn't Peter's style. Her eyes twinkled when she saw him, and he made a beeline for the table.
"Hi there, Elizabeth! Nice hat." Just as he reached for it over the table, she pulled back and gripped the brim between her fingers with a teasing little eh eh eh sound.
"Hey, not so fast. After all, possession is nine tenths of the law, right?" She laughed. "Pull up a seat, and we'll talk terms."
Neal's eyes narrowed with playful suspicion."Does your husband know you're doing this?"
"I don't know," she replied, tilting her head. "I haven't told him, but he's a pretty good detective. You might have heard."
"Ha, funny. Come on, Elizabeth, tell me what you want."
"Well, Neal..." The pause went on just a beat too long, like she needed a moment to get up the nerve. "I think I want my husband back."
"You -- wait, what?" Hands in the air, whoa there. "That's out of my control. The man's a workaholic. You can't con an addict out of his addiction."
As the wheels turned at an accelerated rate in Neal's brain, a waitress came by with two mugs of coffee and a big smile for Neal. Elizabeth stirred her coffee thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off of his.
"Oh, sweetie, don't try to tell me it's all about work. Work, I understand, but I shouldn't have to invite you home for dinner just so I know my husband will show up!"
"Why not? I like coming over for dinner. Next time I promise I'll help with the dishes."
"Ooh, bad form, inviting yourself." One side of her mouth quirked up a little. "And, what, we'd share? You get him before dinner, I keep him after? Sounds to me like you're giving yourself the bigger piece of the pie."
"I'm open to re-negotiations, under less hostile terms. How about you return my hat, I cook and do dishes, and we settle this misunderstanding over dinner like reasonable people?" Once again, Neal reached out for his hat, and El pulled back just enough that to close the extra inch would seem somehow like a minor act of violence.
"I don't know, I think it looks cute on me."
"It does, but... June..." He gestured an apology, somewhere around his heart.
"Okay, okay. You're on for tonight, and I'm expecting great things from you in the kitchen, I hope you realize." She stood and pushed her chair in with an air of finality. "I'm keeping this for the afternoon, though. June will understand."
~~~~
The hat sat square in the middle of the kitchen table, apparently forgotten by everyone but Peter, who couldn't resist giving it his best stare-down. You know how this whole thing got started, don't you? Well, you'd better start talking before my life gets more confusing than it already has.
The thought crossed his mind that he'd been just as abandoned, if only for the moment -- when Neal had gotten up to do the dishes after an impressive Italian dinner and a few rounds of Elizabeth's old-school Manhattans, El had taken one look at his manicured hands and followed him into the kitchen to wordlessly hand him a pair of her rubber gloves, which were, somewhat unfortunately, a color that was identified on the package as "peony." Neal gave her that you're the greatest person to ever live smile, and she'd joined him at work assembly-line style, placing plates in the dishwasher as he handed them to her. They were laughing over something El had said quietly -- no doubt some joke about Peter -- and for the moment it was interesting to just watch the two of them, complicated by the knowledge that, according to the two competing stories they'd told him over appetizers, these two apparently civilized, sophisticated individuals had been involved in a battle of wits over the property rights to... what, exactly? His time? His body? It ought to be severely unnerving. El had pointed out a few times that his attraction to clever people was going to be his undoing, and it seemed entirely possible that she had finally been proven right. One of them at a time he could handle, but between the two of them he was pretty sure he was outclassed.
Neal accidentally splashed some water and executed a neat little backwards hop to save his clothes. Elizabeth's laugh was a little bit raucous, the sort of laugh that meant she was getting sleepy and probably just this side of drunk. For a minute there, Peter worried that he was going to have to step in to prevent a full-blown splash fight between two adults. And then of course someone would start taking their damn clothes off, because you can't run around in wet clothes in winter, and -- yep, he was pretty much outsmarted. Oh, yeah, and there went Neal's vest -- Peter could have timed it to the second. Might as well accept my fate with dignity, he thought with a smile as he finished his drink and hauled his tired ass out of his chair to join them.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth (also Cruz makes an appearance, because I like her)
Rating: PG
Summary: from
rubynye's prompt: "Elizabeth steals Neal's hat and offers to trade it for her husband. Neal accepts. Peter pretends grumpiness." More of my National Hat Day silliness."And we'll all be men of our words. Except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman." -- Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean
"Morning, Lauren."
Agent Cruz lifted her head from the monitor for the half-second it took to acknowledge Neal, and then did a double-take at what she saw. "Whoa, you okay, Caffrey? No hat, no smile -- don't tell me we've broken your spirit already."
"I lost my hat," said Neal, actually pouting. "I don't know how I'm going to tell June; she'll be so disappointed."
Cruz frowned. "You couldn't have."
"That's what I thought! But I looked everywhere for it, and it's gone! It must have happened last night. I went over to Peter and Elizabeth's for dinner... I must have left it in the cab. Maybe I could call the cab company..."
"No, you couldn't have. You don't lose things. Peter wrote in your file that you make a little map in your head of everywhere you ever go, and never forget a detail." She smirked. "It's why you make such a great secretary."
Neal didn't acknowledge that last part. "You're right, it's weird. I must have been distracted. But what else could have happened?"
Cruz raised her eyebrows in a look that seemed to take in the whole building. "Think about it, consultant."
"No!" Neal's eyes widened. "You think somebody stole my hat? Why would anyone do such a thing?"
"Oh, wow. I'm just going to get back to work before talking to you permanently resets my sense of irony."
Neal grumbled something mostly unintelligible -- Cruz was pretty sure she caught "vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore" in there somewhere -- and dropped into a chair as he picked up the file folder that Peter had left on his desk.
~~~~
At 11:45 am, Neal's phone buzzed with a text message from a number he didn't recognize. Very odd. It read: Neal: I have what you're looking for. Meet me at Sylvia's Cafe at 12:30, alone. You'll recognize me. ;) What in God's name...? Who puts emoticons in a ransom note? He sighed and tried to concentrate on work for the next forty-five minutes, with limited success.
By the time he got to Sylvia's (the hat-napper had done their research; it was less than a mile from the office), he wasn't too surprised to see Elizabeth Burke sitting alone by the window, looking as adorable as ever in a dove-gray blazer that perfectly complimented his hat. After all, she was the only one who had opportunity and... well, he wasn't sure about motive, but it was her or Peter and this wasn't Peter's style. Her eyes twinkled when she saw him, and he made a beeline for the table.
"Hi there, Elizabeth! Nice hat." Just as he reached for it over the table, she pulled back and gripped the brim between her fingers with a teasing little eh eh eh sound.
"Hey, not so fast. After all, possession is nine tenths of the law, right?" She laughed. "Pull up a seat, and we'll talk terms."
Neal's eyes narrowed with playful suspicion."Does your husband know you're doing this?"
"I don't know," she replied, tilting her head. "I haven't told him, but he's a pretty good detective. You might have heard."
"Ha, funny. Come on, Elizabeth, tell me what you want."
"Well, Neal..." The pause went on just a beat too long, like she needed a moment to get up the nerve. "I think I want my husband back."
"You -- wait, what?" Hands in the air, whoa there. "That's out of my control. The man's a workaholic. You can't con an addict out of his addiction."
As the wheels turned at an accelerated rate in Neal's brain, a waitress came by with two mugs of coffee and a big smile for Neal. Elizabeth stirred her coffee thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off of his.
"Oh, sweetie, don't try to tell me it's all about work. Work, I understand, but I shouldn't have to invite you home for dinner just so I know my husband will show up!"
"Why not? I like coming over for dinner. Next time I promise I'll help with the dishes."
"Ooh, bad form, inviting yourself." One side of her mouth quirked up a little. "And, what, we'd share? You get him before dinner, I keep him after? Sounds to me like you're giving yourself the bigger piece of the pie."
"I'm open to re-negotiations, under less hostile terms. How about you return my hat, I cook and do dishes, and we settle this misunderstanding over dinner like reasonable people?" Once again, Neal reached out for his hat, and El pulled back just enough that to close the extra inch would seem somehow like a minor act of violence.
"I don't know, I think it looks cute on me."
"It does, but... June..." He gestured an apology, somewhere around his heart.
"Okay, okay. You're on for tonight, and I'm expecting great things from you in the kitchen, I hope you realize." She stood and pushed her chair in with an air of finality. "I'm keeping this for the afternoon, though. June will understand."
~~~~
The hat sat square in the middle of the kitchen table, apparently forgotten by everyone but Peter, who couldn't resist giving it his best stare-down. You know how this whole thing got started, don't you? Well, you'd better start talking before my life gets more confusing than it already has.
The thought crossed his mind that he'd been just as abandoned, if only for the moment -- when Neal had gotten up to do the dishes after an impressive Italian dinner and a few rounds of Elizabeth's old-school Manhattans, El had taken one look at his manicured hands and followed him into the kitchen to wordlessly hand him a pair of her rubber gloves, which were, somewhat unfortunately, a color that was identified on the package as "peony." Neal gave her that you're the greatest person to ever live smile, and she'd joined him at work assembly-line style, placing plates in the dishwasher as he handed them to her. They were laughing over something El had said quietly -- no doubt some joke about Peter -- and for the moment it was interesting to just watch the two of them, complicated by the knowledge that, according to the two competing stories they'd told him over appetizers, these two apparently civilized, sophisticated individuals had been involved in a battle of wits over the property rights to... what, exactly? His time? His body? It ought to be severely unnerving. El had pointed out a few times that his attraction to clever people was going to be his undoing, and it seemed entirely possible that she had finally been proven right. One of them at a time he could handle, but between the two of them he was pretty sure he was outclassed.
Neal accidentally splashed some water and executed a neat little backwards hop to save his clothes. Elizabeth's laugh was a little bit raucous, the sort of laugh that meant she was getting sleepy and probably just this side of drunk. For a minute there, Peter worried that he was going to have to step in to prevent a full-blown splash fight between two adults. And then of course someone would start taking their damn clothes off, because you can't run around in wet clothes in winter, and -- yep, he was pretty much outsmarted. Oh, yeah, and there went Neal's vest -- Peter could have timed it to the second. Might as well accept my fate with dignity, he thought with a smile as he finished his drink and hauled his tired ass out of his chair to join them.