Royalty, a White Collar fanfiction
Mar. 14th, 2016 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
s2309Title: Royalty
Characters (Pairings): Neal Caffrey (Neal/Sara)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
Spoilers: None
Content Notes: None
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: The essence of Sara cannot be communicated in stillness.
Author's Note: Written a couple nights ago for a![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
gameofcards challenge for the prompt 'Secret'.
She looks beautiful in his shirt.
She wears it like a robe. It rests casually on her shoulders, the buttons all undone but the collar still somehow perfect, and if it weren't for the frequent nip slips and the visible curve of her derrière, she could pass off for royalty just like that.
Honestly, she looks beautiful at any time of any day, no matter what she's wearing, no matter if she isn't wearing a thing.
Her beauty isn't the kind you define in lines on a canvas. It's in her attitude. It's in the way she walks, the way she talks, the way she permits her face to widen into a smile, the way she recedes behind her brick wall without you even noticing she's gone.
Her beauty is in movement. And movement isn't easy to capture on a still canvas.
He tries, of course. Tries to capture the swing of her step with the slide of graphite on paper, the sharp raise of an eyebrow with a brushstroke, but somehow, those stagnant colours never quite capture her aura.
It's sad. And he wanted to share it too, wanted to collect these little moments and pour them onto a canvas and show them this beautiful woman he fell in love with.
But maybe it's for the best. Sara's a very private person.
He doesn't tell her she's beautiful. She doesn't need to be told. (And if he did tell her, he might find himself with a baton-sized bruise on his side, and that, he's not willing to risk.)
But it's not a secret he keeps either. He lets her know with his hands, with his smiles, with his kisses and his helpless groans.
And he thinks she hears him.
Characters (Pairings): Neal Caffrey (Neal/Sara)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 290
Spoilers: None
Content Notes: None
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: The essence of Sara cannot be communicated in stillness.
Author's Note: Written a couple nights ago for a
gameofcards challenge for the prompt 'Secret'.She looks beautiful in his shirt.
She wears it like a robe. It rests casually on her shoulders, the buttons all undone but the collar still somehow perfect, and if it weren't for the frequent nip slips and the visible curve of her derrière, she could pass off for royalty just like that.
Honestly, she looks beautiful at any time of any day, no matter what she's wearing, no matter if she isn't wearing a thing.
Her beauty isn't the kind you define in lines on a canvas. It's in her attitude. It's in the way she walks, the way she talks, the way she permits her face to widen into a smile, the way she recedes behind her brick wall without you even noticing she's gone.
Her beauty is in movement. And movement isn't easy to capture on a still canvas.
He tries, of course. Tries to capture the swing of her step with the slide of graphite on paper, the sharp raise of an eyebrow with a brushstroke, but somehow, those stagnant colours never quite capture her aura.
It's sad. And he wanted to share it too, wanted to collect these little moments and pour them onto a canvas and show them this beautiful woman he fell in love with.
But maybe it's for the best. Sara's a very private person.
He doesn't tell her she's beautiful. She doesn't need to be told. (And if he did tell her, he might find himself with a baton-sized bruise on his side, and that, he's not willing to risk.)
But it's not a secret he keeps either. He lets her know with his hands, with his smiles, with his kisses and his helpless groans.
And he thinks she hears him.
no subject
Date: 2016-03-16 04:15 pm (UTC)I know, right? Even he is fallible and mortal c: