indulgent little SWH (White Collar, Neal)

[pastelglaceon]

i recently started rewatching White Collar and just needed to write these two. minimal plot, on some case Neal’s shenanigans get them both in a sticky situation. enjoy!

***

 

Just seconds before their company rounded the corner of the hotel hallway, Neal grabbed Peter by the tie and in a swift motion shut them both in a small, dimly-lit supply closet.

 

Well. Closet was maybe a generous term, Neal thought as he surveyed their surroundings. The available floor space just barely accommodated the two men, the tips of their shoes interlaced and chests nearly touching. Neal had pulled them in face-to-face and there was no room to turn any other way, he turned his head to avoid catching Peter’s gaze.

 

Peering around, he could see the walls were lined on all sides with shelves of ancient-looking cleaning supplies. They all looked like they hadn’t been used or even touched in years, with the exception of a single half-empty bottle of Windex which appeared pristine next to its grimy neighbors. Neal’s nose wrinkled reflexively at the thick layer of dust coating every shelf.

 

 He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. This could have, should have, been so simple. But of coursePeter always had to throw a wrench into Neil’s graceful, albeit criminal, plans. He wondered bitterly if this would be the one that killed them. As if they heard his thought, someone out in the hall cocked a gun before busting a door open a ways away from Neal and Peter’s hideout.

 

He sniffed sharply and detected a strong, artificial lemony scent. Looking down he realized in mild horror that a bottle of something was on its side right beside his left foot. An orangey pool was oozing against and beneath the edge of his leather loafer. He frowned deeply, cussing Peter out in his mind again.

 

Meanwhile, Peter kept his eyes trained on the door, listening intently to the commotion outside. He was trying to separate footsteps, get a count of who they were up against. 

 

“Neal,” Peter spoke under his breath, “I count at least three guys out there, at least one armed. If they find what they’re looking for before they get down here, they might just leave us alone, then-“

 

“They won’t though. Find it that is,” Neal whispered with a grimace, poking Peter lightly at the waist with his right hand, and Peter looked down to see a glittering, purple brooch clutched there. 

 

Peter’s lips tightened as he stared daggers into Neal’s sheepish expression.

 

“Seriously, Neal? This is not how we do things, you know that!” He hissed, and Neal made to respond, but they were both silenced by another door being kicked in, closer still to theirs. Peter stared down the door again, fingers twitching for his gun. 

 

To make matters somehow even worse, the scent of the spilled cleaner was really getting to Neal. His nose began to scrunch and wriggle in irritation. He re-pocketed the brooch and tried to maneuver his hand to his face, in the process knocking over a few bottles with his elbow. They didn’t make much sound, but a plume of dust rose up and around Neal’s head and shoulders. 

 

It was all too much. Neal’s eyes fluttered shut and his breath started to hitch, his chest jumping and bumping against Peter’s, catching the older man’s attention. He fixed him with a confused look that was overcast with realization as he watched Neal’s face contort. 

 

“Neal, don’t.”

 

It was far too late for him to have any say in the matter, Neal would have snapped sardonically if he could have, but all he could do was squeak out a hasty “I’m sorryhH!” before finally getting his hand to his face, squeezing his nose shut against the force of a fit of sneezes. He stifled four back to back silently, which did nothing to satisfy the itch, and gasping roughly his face crumpled again.

 

“H’nt! Hh’mpt! Huh! H’kt! Uhh…” He kept his hand over his nose, cracking open his watery eyes to give Peter a desperate look before they slammed shut again in the wake of a violent gasp.

 

“HhhUH! Heeh’nngkt! H’gkt-shuh! Huh- Hehh-”

 

“Neal, you have to stop,” Peter whispered urgently, now able to hear mens’ voices far too close by for comfort.

 

Neal hoped that even with half his face covered Peter could read his incredulous expression at that command. Try as he might he continued to breathe erratically, irritated tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought back the next wave of sneezes. 

 

He was snatched back from the precipice of another fit by a loud, gruff voice sounding from the other end of the hallway as their pursuers.

 

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

 

There was a pause before an almost comical thundering of footsteps indicated the men they were hiding from had been caught in the act, probably by hotel security, and made a run for it, pursued down the hall and out of hearing range.

 

Peter let out a heavy sigh of relief at the same time that Neal sucked a breath in. He stopped pinching his nose but kept his hand cupped there as he finally let himself really sneeze.

 

“Hiih’ESSCH! Huh-CHSSCHhoo!-issch!-t’ssch!-tchsh! Heh! HhESSCHhoo!”

 

Each one snapped him forward, his raised arm pressed against Peter’s broad chest. The agent sighed again and secured an arm around Neal’s waist, opening the door and pulling the both of them out into the hall.

 

Peter couldn’t say for sure why he did it, but he didn’t let go of Neal right away. He just…held him tight, lightly running his thumb up and down against the center of Neal’s back. The younger man’s chest was still hitching, and with his head now half-nestled into Peter’s shoulder he collapsed into another fit.

 

“Hih’szZZSCHhuh! Hiih’ESSCHooh! Huh’SZZDDSCHUH!” 

 

Neal panted in the aftermath, letting most of his weight hang in Peter’s grip. Only for a moment, though, before he seemed to remember where he was, who he was. His head popped up, staring Peter down with wide, watery eyes. His face was flushed from the ordeal and maybe some embarrassment, and his hand was still loosely cupped over the lower half of his face.

 

“Umb,” Neal murmured congestedly, “Could you maybe let me go?” 

 

“Oh! Uh, sorry.” 

 

Peter let go of his waist, taking a step back to give Neal a little room and, noticing he hadn’t lowered his hand, swiftly pulled a plain cotton kerchief from his back pocket, shook it open and dangled it in front of Neal’s face. 

 

Neal snatched the cloth with his free hand, replacing the other with it. He turned on his heel, trying to maintain some small shred of dignity in this whole… situation.

 

He wiped away the mess that had sprayed down his face and all over his hand, then blew his nose vigorously. It was productive and a huge relief, but it stirred the itching irritation back up. Neal groaned into a hitching breath and pitched forward yet again.

 

“Uhh..! Heeh’dsSCHh! Huh’tszzchh! Hih’zschooh! H’dDsch! -tssch! -issch! Huh’eEETSCHhuh! Fugck.” 

 

He blew his nose again, cringing into the now saturated handkerchief. He felt Peter’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“So.. a world class thief is really this allergic to dust?”

 

Neal whipped back around, his pink nose twitching wildly. 

 

“D-dod’t eved sayhH dust. And ndo, idt’s ndot juh-just the dust, there was sombe scedted cleaner suh- spilt ond the floor, and I had to ho-hold buhh- hHH!”

 

Neal’s face crumpled and he managed to give an exasperated look before yet more sneezes overtook him.

 

“Hiih’eeSSCHH! Hh’ddzzsshuh! Uhh…” 

 

He coughed pathetically into the sodden handkerchief, then stowed it in a pocket. He started to grind his fists against his itching eyes, but Peter pulled them down.

 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Peter scolded gently and reached into his jacket pocket. “Take this.”

 

Neal blinked down at the blister pack of pills Peter had extended. He sniffed and looked at Peter with the ghost of a smirk.

 

“You… carry around antihistamindes? Is that FBI standard gear?”

 

Peter shot back a long-suffering grimace.

 

“No, Neal, and if you must know, I have seasonal allergies. El never lets me leave home without them.”

 

Neal had to smile at that, Elizabeth was such a saint. He accepted the pills, dry-swallowing them as fast he could rip the packet open. It made him cough, which of course made him have to sneeze again. He couldn’t be bothered to get the kerchief out, just dragged his hand up to his face once more. 

 

“Huh’iissch! HihhESCHhoo!”

 

“Bless you, Neal.” Peter gave him a once over, then held a hand out expectantly. 

 

Neal rolled his eyes but nonetheless produced the brooch from his pocket, dropping it into the agent’s calloused hand. 

 

“You wandt your haddkerchief back, too?” Neal sneered, clearly agitated from this whole experience.

 

Now Peter rolled his eyes, turning away and making his way toward the exit.

 

“You can wash it first,” he called back, leaving Neal to grumble and sniffle alone. 

[starpollen]

Oooh this is delightful.  One of my favorite fanfic pairings  and Neal is just delicious! thank you! 

[EveP]

I've never heard of this show, but love the story.

[RiversD]

Agree, I've never watched it, but you gave all the context I needed to enjoy the scenario on its own. I really liked how strong the sense of character was in your writing of both men, it elevated the whole fic.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! I loved this!

[lsbn]

Omg this was so great 😍

[ID2006]

I love these two. So glad to see this.