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tigriswolfTitle: family don't end with blood, boy
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: aftermath of getting shot
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Neal, Peter; Neal doesn't know why he takes the bullet Peter, or why Peter's so upset he did.
He doesn't even think about it. Peter's back is to the third, previously unseen, gunman, and Neal is in the perfect place to jump between them.
So, without even thinking about it, he does.
And, no, Peter, he really doesn't know why. He would've done it for Kate, and he'd do it for Mozzie, and more than likely, El and June, too. Maybe even Jones and Diana.
And Peter. He's never thought about it, didn't think about it, but he'd clearly take a bullet for Peter.
Fuck, it hurts.
Peter whirls around, gun in hand, and the shooter falls and Peter's yelling and Diana has her hands on Neal's stomach and it hurts so much.
He really hates gun. He'd forgotten how much this hurts, a bullet against flesh. Bullets always win.
He thinks Peter is still yelling. All the way until he thankfully blacks out, Peter shouts something about stupid kids and goddamned guns and kicking Neal's ass.
When he wakes up in the hospital, Peter is there, and El and Mozzie and June.
"Thank you, Neal," Peter says solemnly.
Then he starts shouting some more.
And no, Neal still isn't sure why he took that bullet for Peter.
But he does know he'd do it again.
Title: his kind
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: Eliot/Hardison/Parker
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 165
Point of view: third
Prompt: Eliot/any, sometimes old warriors do get to retire
His kind don't get happily ever after or peace or somewhere safe to call home.
And yet.
His kind always have to fight and bleed and bruise and break, themselves or someone else, and he knew that, going in. He knew, eyes wide open, and walked into Hell.
And yet.
His kind are dangerous and deadly, and should be put down the moment they step out of line.
And yet.
"C'mon, man, Parker's gettin' antsy!" Alec calls from the den, where he and Parker are cuddled on the couch. "We will leave without you, if you ain't ready in two minutes!"
Eliot glances in the mirror as he passes it. He's gotten old. They all have. Parker hardly ever jumps off buildings anymore, Alec keeps muttering about the young kids and their newfangled tricks, and Eliot...
He's retired. He has a restaurant now, and no one's tried to kill him in almost three years.
His kind don't get to be happy, and yet...
He is.
Title: might have been and should be
Fandom: NCIS/White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: implied child abuse
Pairings: Tony/Neal with shades of Peter/Neal and Gibbs/Tony
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 605
Point of view: third
Prompt: NCIS/White Collar, Tony &or/ Neal, old black and white movies
They met back at the start of Neal's career, when Tony was still at the police academy. Neal was passing through on his way to bigger and better things, and Tony was dreaming of saving the world.
Neal didn't call himself Neal then, but that's not important. They bumped into each other at the concessions stand (or, rather, Neal bumped into Tony, snagging his wallet, and then Tony bumped into Neal, taking it back) and shared smiles, chattering about the history of film and favorite actors. They walked into the theater together, sat next to each other, and proceeded to forget the world—no one was disowned here, no one was running or hiding. No one was barely eighteen, still bruised, and no one was trying to forget his father's name.
Once the movie finished, they went out for dinner. Neal used Tony's wallet to pay and Tony put down one of Neal's fives for the tip. They didn't go home together that night, or the next, and they didn't involve the real world—Neal wasn't a petty thief looking to make it big and Tony wasn't training to become a cop. They were just Neal and Tony, two guys who liked movies. They tried to out-flirt each other, to get as many numbers as possible, to tell the most believable outrageous lies.
Neal was still small then, with a slight frame and large blue eyes. A few times, he got in over his head with the drunken boyfriend of his target, and Tony would step in to deal with the situation. Neal repeatedly told him he didn't have to, but Tony had seen the fading bruises and the careful way Neal moved.
Tony himself hadn't been bruised like that in ten years, but it's not something that can ever be forgotten.
After a week, Neal said goodbye. He stood in front of Tony for a few moments, shifting nervously, before pulling Tony's head down for a shy kiss.
Over the years, they'd meet up again and go to the movies. Tony kept track of Neal's crimes and Neal followed Tony's career. Tony sent Neal care-packages in prison and Neal mailed Tony some letters. The real world never intruded as Neal spun stories of the things he wished he'd done and the places he hadn't yet been to see.
After Neal joined the FBI, leashed to New York, Tony took some time off and went to see him. They finally spoke about important things, about dreams and failures and regrets. They tried to outflirt each other, talked about big busts and hypothetical crimes. They shared history, the moments that shaped them, hurt them, angered them.
And finally, over a piece of chocolate cake, they mentioned the men who had saved them, the suit who scooped up a criminal and the self-proclaimed bastard who ordered a detective to join his agency.
Neal and Tony went home together that night, and the next, and the next, until Tony returned to Washington.
We'll always have the movies, Tony whispered into Neal's skin.
I'll slip the leash and come see you, Neal promised, lips nibbling Tony's ear. Peter'll follow.
Tony laughed and replied, Still trying to get his attention?
And you aren't? Neal asked, smirking as he pushed Tony down onto the bed.
Neal would call sometimes, with a question or observation, and Tony texted Neal all the little quips that popped into his head.
Neal told Tony once that they could have been great together, could've been unbeatable and uncatchable, the best criminals in the world.
Tony agreed, but told Neal that they should be good guys instead.
Title: saunter vaguely downwards
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish
Pairings: implied Peter/Neal
Rating: PG
Wordcount:390
Point of view: third
Prompt: Peter/Neal, 7 Sins
Notes: the seven sins in italics are "six things the Lord hateth, and the seventh His soul detesteth."
More notes: same 'verse as this ficlet
Still more notes: written before the summer finale of season 2
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A proud look
Neal always dresses like he's going to a high-society party, and he always acts like someone is watching and judging, and Peter wants to look away, but never quite manages it.
A lying tongue
Almost every word out of Neal's mouth is a lie, or a half-truth, or the truth nestled in a lie. Peter knows that. He tries to forget that he's already started twisting the truth to keep Neal safe and out of prison.
Hands that shed innocent blood
Neal doesn't talk about his life before he named himself Neal Caffrey. Neal Caffrey has records dating back to his birth, but Peter knows those are fabricated. He's managed to trace Neal back to his high-school, but there's only vague rumors before that. (His name was Jacob Connors back then, but Peter has never let Neal know he figured it out. And he never mentions the grave he's visited or the police report about the guy who'd skipped his parole and wound up dead far from any town.)
A heart that devises wicked plots
Neal only ever targeted people who deserved it, but he broke the law. That makes him a criminal. And Peter catches criminals. He can't just let them go because he might sometimes agree with them.
Feet that are swift to run into mischief
Neal really should mind his own business, but he keeps butting in where he's neither needed nor wanted. And then he ends up in trouble or danger and needs Peter to save him. Peter's shot at more people in the months since Neal joined than he had in all the years before Neal.
A deceitful witness that uttereth lies
Neal's a liar. Case closed. He fabricates things and he twists things and even when Peter knows something's a lie, he still wants to believe because Neal is just that goddamned good.
Him that soweth discord among brethren
The office is divided over Neal, and then there's the Fowler thing and Hughes questioning every decision since Peter walked out of that prison and called him to request Caffrey's release. And Peter knows that the day they send Neal back, he'll leave, too. Neal's already proven how easy it is for him to escape, and Peter (and Elizabeth) will help him, if they think it's the right thing.
And it probably will be.
Title: first breath
Fandom: none, as it is an original drabble
Wordcount: drabble
Rating: PG
Pairings: gen
Prompt: any, any, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." ~Anonymous
She's thirty now, three decades old, and yesterday was her first day of kindergarten and tomorrow she'll be on her deathbed, and how the time has flown.
She hasn't seen Dad in six years or spoken to Mom in three, Robbie moved to Europe and who knows what he's doing now, and Monica told her to get out and stay gone because Dave hit on her and lied about it--and she's thirty now, three decades old.
She stares down at the baby, still nameless. She found him four hours ago, abandoned in the park. She scooped him up as the first snowflakes fell. He cried a little, waving tiny fists.
He’s beautiful. She’s waiting for the doctors to take a look, and she called the cops, and he seems healthy, to her. He’s so small.
It’s still snowing, and she turned thirty seven minutes ago.
“I’ll call you Alec,” she says, pressing a kiss to his temple.
Maybe tomorrow will be his first day of kindergarten.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-05 02:04 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading!