Exquisite, Chs. 1 and 2

Title: Exquisite
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R for language, sexual content.
Warnings: Brief mentions of child abuse.
Summary: There's a place in Neal Caffrey's head where he doesn't have to lie to himself or be three steps ahead of the other guy, but so far only Peter has found it -- and Peter won't give him what he really wants. Elizabeth, meanwhile, is slowly adjusting to the idea of abetting felons...

Chapter One - Chapter Two

(no subject)

I have cleaned my desk! And my credenza. Oh yes I have a credenza.

It's very satisfying. Every time I clean my desk I get to throw out things that people thought I would need that I don't need, or that people don't need and left at my desk for me to dispose of, or even just stuff that has outlived its usefulness. And then I feel less like I'm working in a snowdrift of office supplies.

In other news, this is why I don't eat peas. Well, that and they taste like little green balls of awful. Fried cheese grilled cheese sandwiches, on the other hand...

OH ALSO I DID A FANFIC. It's seven chapters, so I'm posting parts one and two together and then one a day for the rest of the week, ending just in time for White Collar next Tuesday. :) Enjoy.

Title: Exquisite
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R for language, sexual content. (Peter/Neal/El)
Warnings: Brief mentions of child abuse.
Summary: There's a place in Neal Caffrey's head where he doesn't have to lie to himself or be three steps ahead of the other guy, but so far only Peter has found it -- and Peter won't give him what he really wants. Elizabeth, meanwhile, is slowly adjusting to the idea of abetting felons...

Chapter One - Chapter Two

(no subject)

My mum just sent me a photograph from her phone of five large, cheerful looking greyhounds. (Which, for the record, is four and a half greyhounds too many.)

The subject line was marked "D's Dogs" and the only text was "I'll tell you who D is later."

I think she's getting me an arranged marriage for my birthday.

Or possibly the worst puppy ever for someone living in a one-bedroom apartment.

(no subject)

Okay. Tonight I make attempt number two at going out in public after dark. Hooray for me?

R has a gig tonight, I promised I'd be there, he even sent me a reminder so I have to go. I have to "go to a bar" and "order a beer" and probably "interact with people".

Think of me fondly, internet.

(no subject)

Well, that was certainly no end of interesting.

I sat in the back, scammed a free beer, saw some good acts, and got briefly hit on by a very methed out hippie rocker (who then got thrown out; my life is a freakmagnet). I got to check out R's new Chromatic, the love of his life -- it's a sixteen-hole trigger operated harmonica, which can duplicate the entire span of a piano keyboard, and I think he might sleep with it under his pillow. I also heard someone play the theme from Pagliacci on the harmonica, which I'd never heard before. (R played When I Fall In Love, because he knows I like it.)

I have to say, I've seen R gig once or twice and I've heard many recordings of his gigs, but I've never seen him DJ, I've never seen him work a room, and it is frankly startling. Remember how I said living with him was basically like being Watson to a blues-playing Holmes? Yeah, so watching him work tonight was like living with Sherlock Holmes only to find out that when I'm not around he's actually Neal Caffrey. Only in corduroys and a newsboy cap.

I had no idea he could switch on that much charm. I feel like I should go back next week to ensure that I didn't hallucinate it.

Also the guy who plays opera on the harmonica said he'd be back, and he was stone cold awesome.