Entry tags:
White Collar, "Hotel Song (dear dear friend)," Peter/Neal pre-series ficlet
Title: "Hotel Song (dear dear friend)"
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Rating: R for sexual innuendo
Summmary: "I am not having phone sex with you. I'm hanging up now, to go arrest you." (pre-series Peter/Neal chasing games)
AN: For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gyzym.
Logic said that Caffrey would be long gone by now. He was smart, he wouldn't risk getting caught by returning to the scene of the crime, even if it wasn't totally cliche and therefore not his style.
But still. Something about that hotel room was tugging at him, the clutter on the floor, the one tube of paint that had been left open. It felt unfinished. Obviously whatever Caffrey had been interrupted in was less important than the need to get away from the FBI. But still.
Peter gave up on logic and picked up the motel phone.
Ring, ring, ring. "Hello?" The voice was bright and welcoming, like a highly-paid receptionist.
"That you, Caffrey?"
"Oh, you must be Peter. Hi there!"
"It's Agent Burke. Stay where you are. We've got the building surrounded."
"No, you don't."
"What do you mean, no we don't? Yes, we do. You hear sirens?"
"Peter." Caffrey sighed. "I'm in downtown Miami. Of course I hear sirens. You, on the other hand, are alone in your motel room, and you didn't tell anyone you were going to call here because you thought it was just a stupid hunch."
"No I'm not."
"Yes, you are. I can picture you, sitting there with your shoes up on the bed, which is okay because they've probably got one of those scratchy motel comforters on it. You've been sort of slowly inching towards the phone on the nightstand for the past hour, and you finally just gave in and called." Peter said nothing, so the line was quiet for a moment, until Caffrey resumed.
"Now, of course, you want to grab your cell phone and contact your backup, so you can have me surrounded, but I bet you weren't comfortable on the bed with your cell in your pocket, because you've had one for less than a year and you don't use it when you don't have to, so wherever it is, you can't reach it and keep me on the line at the same time. Decisions, decisions."
"I put the cell on the nightstand. I'm dialing it right now," Peter lied. The damn Nokia thing was in the pocket of the coat that was hanging from the chair on the other side of the room.
"I can picture you so clearly... just one detail missing."
"Oh?"
"What are you wearing?"
"No. No, sorry, not playing."
"Oh, come on, don't be like that. You're going to arrest me in a few minutes anyway, what can it hurt?"
"I am not having phone sex with you. I'm hanging up now, to go arrest you."
"I'm wearing a white v-neck Calvin Klein undershirt, and nothing else."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Of course, I was more presentable when I thought you were actually going to catch me today. Wouldn't want to disappoint."
"Of course... wait, you thought we were going to catch you? Why stick around?"
"I was curious. I hadn't seen you up close before. Today... you were so close. It was a challenge to pull myself away."
"You're not so good at this running thing, are you?"
"Hey, most guys worry about getting caught. What's the harm in fantasizing about it?"
"It's not supposed to be fun."
"You mean, it's not supposed to be fun for me."
"You think this is fun for me?"
"I think you're probably hard as a rock right now, thinking about how close you came to getting your hands on me, just a couple of hours ago. Thinking about me lying here hard and almost naked in the room you just searched."
"I'm hanging up now."
"I guess I'll be seeing more of you, Agent Burke."
"Try a lot more."
"That had better be a promise."
And the bastard hangs up first.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Rating: R for sexual innuendo
Summmary: "I am not having phone sex with you. I'm hanging up now, to go arrest you." (pre-series Peter/Neal chasing games)
AN: For
gyzym.Logic said that Caffrey would be long gone by now. He was smart, he wouldn't risk getting caught by returning to the scene of the crime, even if it wasn't totally cliche and therefore not his style.
But still. Something about that hotel room was tugging at him, the clutter on the floor, the one tube of paint that had been left open. It felt unfinished. Obviously whatever Caffrey had been interrupted in was less important than the need to get away from the FBI. But still.
Peter gave up on logic and picked up the motel phone.
Ring, ring, ring. "Hello?" The voice was bright and welcoming, like a highly-paid receptionist.
"That you, Caffrey?"
"Oh, you must be Peter. Hi there!"
"It's Agent Burke. Stay where you are. We've got the building surrounded."
"No, you don't."
"What do you mean, no we don't? Yes, we do. You hear sirens?"
"Peter." Caffrey sighed. "I'm in downtown Miami. Of course I hear sirens. You, on the other hand, are alone in your motel room, and you didn't tell anyone you were going to call here because you thought it was just a stupid hunch."
"No I'm not."
"Yes, you are. I can picture you, sitting there with your shoes up on the bed, which is okay because they've probably got one of those scratchy motel comforters on it. You've been sort of slowly inching towards the phone on the nightstand for the past hour, and you finally just gave in and called." Peter said nothing, so the line was quiet for a moment, until Caffrey resumed.
"Now, of course, you want to grab your cell phone and contact your backup, so you can have me surrounded, but I bet you weren't comfortable on the bed with your cell in your pocket, because you've had one for less than a year and you don't use it when you don't have to, so wherever it is, you can't reach it and keep me on the line at the same time. Decisions, decisions."
"I put the cell on the nightstand. I'm dialing it right now," Peter lied. The damn Nokia thing was in the pocket of the coat that was hanging from the chair on the other side of the room.
"I can picture you so clearly... just one detail missing."
"Oh?"
"What are you wearing?"
"No. No, sorry, not playing."
"Oh, come on, don't be like that. You're going to arrest me in a few minutes anyway, what can it hurt?"
"I am not having phone sex with you. I'm hanging up now, to go arrest you."
"I'm wearing a white v-neck Calvin Klein undershirt, and nothing else."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Of course, I was more presentable when I thought you were actually going to catch me today. Wouldn't want to disappoint."
"Of course... wait, you thought we were going to catch you? Why stick around?"
"I was curious. I hadn't seen you up close before. Today... you were so close. It was a challenge to pull myself away."
"You're not so good at this running thing, are you?"
"Hey, most guys worry about getting caught. What's the harm in fantasizing about it?"
"It's not supposed to be fun."
"You mean, it's not supposed to be fun for me."
"You think this is fun for me?"
"I think you're probably hard as a rock right now, thinking about how close you came to getting your hands on me, just a couple of hours ago. Thinking about me lying here hard and almost naked in the room you just searched."
"I'm hanging up now."
"I guess I'll be seeing more of you, Agent Burke."
"Try a lot more."
"That had better be a promise."
And the bastard hangs up first.
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"Hey, most guys worry about getting caught. What's the harm in fantasizing about it?"
Good point!
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