I Always Will, a White Collar fanfiction

[s2309]

Title: I Always Will
Characters (Pairings): Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones (Neal&Peter)
Rating: PG, just to be safe
Word Count: ~1200 words
Spoilers: Vague/minor till S4E16
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin’s brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: Neal's last day on the anklet is ordinary (for Neal, not Peter). Elizabeth is to blame.
Author's Notes: Title and major inspiration from the Civil Wars' song Poison And Wine. Seriously, every line of that song is a White Collar prompt.
Written for the wcpairings fic exchange for turtlebaby_02. Hope you like it!

If it was anybody else, the last day on a government issue GPS tracking anklet would have been perfectly ordinary. Sure, there would've been booze, celebration and a sense of freedom, but that's ordinary. Everyone does that.

Factor in Neal Caffrey's charm and an extremely awkward conversation between his handler and his wife (not Neal's) and this ordinary day...stays ordinary. For the most part.

-:-

He does not just love you, Peter. He is in love with you.

Peter glared at Neal's empty table, turning the slim silver key over and over in his fingers.

At 7 p.m. today, Peter would unlock Neal's anklet and finally ask the question his wife had oh-so-unsubtly planted in his mind.

The door opened behind him, on the dot of nine. Of course, Neal.

He took one look at his desk and said, "Please tell me there is something less brain numbing than mortgage fraud this morning."

"Good morning, Neal. It's nice to see you too." Do you love me?

"Seriously, though. Whatever happened to breakfast like a king?"

"What happened to save the best for last?"

"So there is a good case." Neal grinned like a cat with cream.

"Patience, grasshopper," Peter said to both Neal and himself.

"I've been here for four years, Peter. I'm hardly a grasshopper."

"Three years, eight and a half months. Approximately."

"Details." Neal handwaved them away and lifted his left trouser leg. "When exactly does this thing stop chafing my leg, like, forever-"

"Unless you return to your dark and sordid past as a professional liar."

"Have a little faith, Peter. So, when?"

"Seven o'clock."

"Then seven is my new lucky number."

"Today's lucky number for Aries is 9."

Neal stopped in front of the door to Peter's office. "You checked my horoscope again."

Peter shrugged. "There was a bottleneck. I had time to kill." And I had to be sure there was no fault in our stars today.

Neal shook his head, held the door for Peter and closed his share of the mortgage fraud cases before lunch.

-:-

"Oyster bar? Peter, I'm touched."

"Elizabeth organised it. I did nothing."

They pulled up at Grand Central Station and parked in a spot that freed up seconds before they got there.

"So you don't tell Elizabeth everything," Neal said, while getting out of the car.

"Not every single detail, but she gets the general picture."

"And, in your many conversations about me-"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"-Grand Central Station never came up?"

"Nope."

"Impressive." Thank you.

They walked into the oyster bar just in time to hear Elizabeth ending a statement with aphrodisiac.

"I don't even want to know," Neal said. Peter just blushed.

"Neal, honey, it's so good to see you!" She hugged Neal, completely unabashed.

Lunch was filled with subtle innuendo that had Peter shifting in his seat and Neal smiling slightly.

-:-

"This is lunch?" Neal dropped the file Peter just gave him. "Work at home fraud?"

"It's better than mortgage fraud."

"By a fraction of a millimeter."

"But it's better."

"Peter. This is like having mushy leftovers for breakfast and cold pizza for lunch."

"You're proving my point here, Neal."

"I'm almost afraid to see what dinner is." Neal got to work on the fraud with not much enthusiasm.

"Dinner's good, don't worry."

"Sure, sure."

Do you love me?

"Peter, are you sure you have the key to my anklet?"

"Yeah, it's right..."

"Here." Neal held the key in between thumb and forefinger, body blocking it from the rest of the office.

"I could put you back in prison for this."

"But you won't, because you're making my last day as a ward of the state absolutely dull and worthless."

Peter snatched back the key. "Because you're gaining valuable experience in good, hard work, and not making too big a deal about it."

-:-

"How far have you gotten on the fraud?" Peter asked, taking a detour on his way back from the coffee machine.

"It's going to take the rest of the day. No dinner for me."

"Don't be so sure. Diana brought wine."

"I'm glad. She's about the only person here who knows her wines."

"Jones is bringing paper cups." And I'm asking you a very important question.

"There had to be a catch."

"At least you get a king's dinner."

"I was hoping for a forgery case, but good wine will do."

"Counterfeit wine. Good counterfeit wine. Diana said you'd like it."

"I'm intrigued." Neal smiled. "I guess I'll have a good meal after all."

-:-

It wasn't very party-like. It might just have been a celebration after a particularly difficult case.

Diana had been watching them for most of the day. Peter had been just a little tense all day. Neal seemed oblivious, but Diana thought he knew more than he was letting on.

"Paper cups, Jones?" Neal complained. "I know art goes over your head, but I thought you appreciated good whiskey."

"Whiskey. Not wine. I don't get wine."

"Well, you could appreciate a fellow connoisseur's dilemma."

"I could. Which is why I also have two wine glasses."

"Two?"

"Do you really think I want Diana asking me why I brought you a wine glass and not her?"

"You most definitely don't."

Diana poured the wine into two paper cups and two wine glasses., inches from Neal's jauntily propped up feet.

"I'd tell you to take your feet down, but we're celebrating them today." Diana recorked the bottle.

"Not my feet, my left ankle, by which logic you could actually ask...tell me to take my right foot down, but what's the fun in breaking the rules if you're only going to go halfway?"

"Says the man who forged and stole but never condoned gun violence," Peter interrupted.

"I wouldn't be welcome in your office or your home if I'd condoned gun violence."

Peter nodded. "Elizabeth would kick your ass."

"Definitely." Neal raised his glass. "To forging bonds."

All three FBI agents raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of double entendres?"

They clinked/bumped glasses and drank.

-:-

Before Neal left, Peter gave him the double finger point.

"Whatever I did, the anklet you took off mere minutes ago has proof I didn't do it."

"You didn't do anything. I, uh, had a question."

"If your question combines the words Neal and run, you don't need to worry. I'll be here on Monday, right on time."

"Do you love me?"

Peter didn't know he'd said that out loud until Neal asked, "Elizabeth?"

Peter nodded dumbly.

Neal answered with a small, honest smile.

"I don't love you, Peter. But I always will."

What did that even mean? Peter resisted dropping his head onto his desk. How had he ever expected anything but a non-answer?

Neal headed for the elevator, picking up his hat on the way. For a split second, Peter thought he was going to leave without turning back.

Neal did, though, turn back, passing his eyes over the entire office as though it was never going to look this way again, stopping at Peter's office. He gave one last classic Caffrey smile to Peter, then turned around and left.

It felt like an ending of a sort.

But it also felt like a beginning.

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[sapphire2309]

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