NOT WORTH IT
RATING: R, for language, spanking,
and stupid KateSUMMARY: Neal didn’t take the news about Kate as well as he wanted Peter to think.
PROMPT: Post “Hard Sell”, like right after
WARNING: Here there be discipline of an adult of the non-sexual variety, and naughty words
CHARACTERS: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, mentions of the infamous Kate – if that’s her real name.
DISCLAIMER: I wish I was smart enough to come up with something this awesome to own.
NOTES: This is actually my first White Collar fic. It’s nerve wracking. I love it! Came from a fever induced dream, so who knows really how this is going to sound. The fever is only half gone. Yah!
Mozzie left a few moments later. Just enough time to enjoy a few of the appetizers that June’s chef had sent up for him, and a pretty decent glass of red wine.
After all, Mozzie on a mission was a focused Mozzie. Well, a pretty determined Mozzie, focus was a little hard for his old friend.
Once he did leave however, Neal dropped the façade and sighed.
He replayed the conversation that he had last had with Peter and he wasn’t happy. Certainly, Peter hadn’t heard her correctly. Not his Kate. She wouldn’t say something like that. Or rather not say. Surely she loved him. How could she not, when she was the one. The One.
She had to be.
To say that he hadn’t suspected that something like this would happen would be the understatement of the year.
Peter Burke glanced at the car’s clock once more. Neal had recently been waiting for him out front of June’s when Peter came by to pick him up in the mornings. Today, he was nowhere in sight.
Peter sighed and placed the car in park. He would have to go and find Neal himself.
Neal didn’t remember getting drunk.
Well, he sort of remembered.
He remembered going down to the wine cellar, and man did June have a lot of wine. A lot.
And had them all. One after another after another.
And maybe followed by a side of scotch and bourbon. And a few more gulps of the red stuff.
Neal Caffrey was not a good drunk.
He is, of course, regretting it all now. His mouth is all dry and his head is, somewhere else entirely for all the commotion that it’s causing.
Getting drunk sucked.
Usually, Neal would greet Peter at the door or was waiting with breakfast. Today, Neal wasn’t on the roof or in the living room, in on the dining room.
Peter asked the few morning staff at June’s if they had seen Neal, and none of them had.
Finally, Peter headed upstairs, towards the rooms that Neal was renting. He came up to the door and knocked. No response.
He sighed, knocking against the wood a little harder.
“Neal! Come on, let’s go!” When no response came, he knocked again. “Neal! Open up, let’s go!”
Peter still got no response. He knocked again and tried the door handle. He was surprised to find it unlatched.
Frowning, Peter opened the door slowly. He glanced inside, wondering if he should pull out his gun. He didn’t want to startle Neal with a weapon, not when the younger man was so against them. But it wasn’t like Neal to leave the door unlocked either.
“Neal!?” Peter called out, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. “Neal, are you here?”
He didn't know why he asked that, when he knew that the conman was in fact there. Peter had already checked the tracker location that morning, feeling especially concerned after the Kate-talk. Peter started to move, glancing quickly at his surroundings.
Peter stopped. He thought he heard something. A groan, maybe.
“Neal?” he asked again, straining to hear this time.
He definitely heard that. Peter walked further into the room, and around the couch. There, in all his wonder and glory was a very plastered Neal Caffrey.
The former criminal turned consultant was surrounded by bottles, empty bottles, of wine, scotch, tequila, and beer. Said consultant is currently passed out and laying, face down, just a foot from the couch. He might have rolled off the couch, or simply never made it there.
Peter, half angered, half concerned, pulls out his cell phone as he listens to Neal’s soft, alcohol induced snores.
“Yeah, it’s Burke. We’re going to be a little late…Meeting at ten, got it.”
Tugging off his coat and, as a second thought, his holster and weapon, Peter placed the items on the abandoned couch.
“Great, kid.” He began to mumble, crouching down until he was besides the drunk man. “ Just great, Neal. You just had to go and do something stupid like this, didn’t you?”
Pulling Neal into an upright position proved to be quite a task. First, Neal kept turning away from him, and then he started pushing away Peter’s hands. Then the name calling started.
“Noooo, you damn brute. ‘eave me ‘lone.”