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Trees….trees…trees…
Neal Caffrey sighed as he leaned his head against the cold car window, eyes tracking the blur of forest racing by. It had been two hours of driving and the road seemed endless…miles and miles of faded yellow dashes against graying asphalt. The only view out the window was that of coniferous trees.
Trees….trees…trees…
Driving them through this vast woods was Special Agent Peter Burke, the man he worked with, which began under the most interesting (and exciting) circumstances. They had been called upstate for a case and Peter had insisted on Neal tagging along. He normally did off site cases on his own, but for some reason, this time, Neal just had to be there.
Trees….trees…trees…
It wasn’t that Neal didn’t enjoy the great outdoors, but he found comfort in the city. Cities held opportunity, excitement dancing around every building, art bursting through the streets and museums, and most importantly, multitudes of human beings. And Neal loved people; he thrived off them, playing off their energy, gathering information, and in turn, empowering himself.
Peter, however, adored this kind of thing—driving through the woods in the middle of nowhere. Neal could see his lips turned upward in a constant, satisfied smile as they wound through the empty highway, his fingers drumming the steering wheel to an unknown song in his head. They had left New York City listening to whatever sports game was on the radio, but eventually the signal grew fuzzy and now the only sound was the hum of tires on the road below.
Trees….trees…trees…
Neal, ever eager to fill the silence, couldn’t find anything to say to Peter. Normally, a plethora of items to pester Peter about were bouncing around his brilliant mind, but this afternoon it was a blank canvas without so much as a drop of paint. Perhaps it was the dark silence of the woods, or the soft smile of contentment on Peter's face, or the slight annoyance that Neal couldn’t be back in the city browsing art galleries with Mozzie, or the fact that Peter had been lecturing him all week about the way Neal had chosen to close their latest case, but Neal just couldn't slice through the quiet.
Instead, he narrowed in and began to observe everything around him. Which included…
Trees….trees…trees…
And
Peter.
Neal was always deemed the handsome one of their unlikely crime fighting duo, but (though he’d never spoken it outloud) Neal held a much different opinion. From his warm brown eyes to his strong, broad chest and quirky smile, Peter was very much attractive. Pair that with the intelligence, determination, and a compassionate heart encased in a touch exterior—well, Neal had felt a spark from the first moment they met outside that bank. Something in Peter’s eyes that day had said, “I feel it, too,” as he took the green lollipop from Neal and tucked it into his pocket. From that moment on, Peter Burke thought he was chasing Neal Caffrey, but really, Neal’s heart was chasing Peter Burke’s.
Neal’s stomach flipped over. They were on this case alone.
There was a certain breathlessness that overcame him with the realization that they were isolated out here. And without his city around to distract him…well…these woods could lead to a lot of things. As much as he was opposed to being dragged out of the city and as much as Peter had been driving him mad that week…maybe it would be…different? He glanced over at Peter again, wondering like he had many times before what it would be like to—
“Bald eagle!” Peter exclaimed, pointing in front of them and making Neal jump a full six inches out of his seat, causing his seatbelt to lock tight against his chest.
“Peter!”
Peter laughed heartily, “Did you see it though?”
“No, you scared the hell out of me!” Neal took a breath. “Two hours of silence and then you decide to have a naturalist outburst?”
“Nah, I just think eagles are cool. They’re swift, intelligent, resourceful.” He was back to drumming the steering wheel. “I thought ya might want to see one.”
“Mmmhmm,” Neal murmured and slumped back into his seat again, growing impatient with the drive.
Peter let out a satisfied sigh and looked briefly at Neal, “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Getting out of the city. It’s refreshing!” Peter smiled again, voice filled with what Neal could only describe as glee.
“You’re treating it like a romantic getaway,” Neal said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, turning back to the window, his breath gathering condensation.
There was an awkward pause as they both considered Neal’s nonchalant words, their undeniable chemistry sparking and darting around the interior of the car.
Neal continued, attempting to diffuse whatever was brewing, “So what’s this case about anyway? And why did you insist on me coming? You never take me out off-site.”
Trees….trees…trees…
“It’s a high profile theft case at a manor in the mountains. Stolen family diamond. I brought you along for your expertise, of course.” Peter said shortly. Neal sensed tension. Peter’s brows were a straight line and his lips tight like they got when he lied.
“Really.” Neal stated, sitting up. “You sure this doesn’t have anything to do with our last case?”
Peter’s eyes shot over at him and then back on the road ahead, “Nope.”
Neal grinned sarcastically and leaned across the console towards Peter, his voice dipping lower, “I don’t even know why you try to lie to me anymore.”
Peter grunted and refused to look at Neal.
Neal laughed bitterly and shifted his weight towards the passenger door, staring pointedly out the window again.
Trees….trees…trees…
Trees….trees…trees…
Trees….trees…trees…
“Hughes didn’t want you unsupervised this weekend.” Peter finally said dryly, breaking through the hum of the car.
Of course, Neal thought.
“So you’re my babysitter.” Neal said coldly, "Peter I'm not on an anklet anymore."
“Neal,” Peter gently pressed. “No. Your diamond expertise is quite good.”
“Sure. And you can keep an eye on me out here, too.”
“Well Neal, what are we supposed to do when you do the complete opposite of the FBI’s orders under cover?” Peter asked, the calm Whitman-in-the-woods-esque demeanor beginning to vanish and frustrated-FBI-partner taking over.
“We closed the case much more quickly and efficiently my way,” Neal ran a hand through his hair and gestured, “You know that.”
Silence.
Trees….trees…trees…
“You were almost shot.” Peter said, barely audible, his voice carrying more weight than a whisper should.
“What does that matter?” Neal said bitterly as he pulled out his airpods to listen to something. Anything. Anything besides this redundant argument he and Peter had
All. The Time.
“It’s another score for you. I’m just a tool in the FBI toolkit anyway, even as a free man I will always be seen as a criminal,” he mumbled before jamming the airpods into his ears.
“Damn it, Neal!” Peter exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion and breaking the serene silence so fiercely, Neal jumped out of his seat yet again, dropping the airpods into the dark abyss that is the space in between the car seat and center console.
What did I do, now? Neal thought, unable to respond. He turned and glared at Peter, frustration bubbling in his chest. Peter’s brows were furrowed in equal irritation, his eyes firm on the road ahead, but there was something in his expression that Neal couldn’t define. It wasn’t the normal “Damn it, Neal, you stole a painting!” It was different. A look of concern, a look that Neal had only seen a few times…before Kate’s plane exploded, when Peter had revived him in the comic book room, after that bullet had missed him by inches last week.
Suddenly, the car began bumping loudly, obviously not on the smooth highway anymore. Peter had pulled off onto a gravel road, passing a sign marked “Scenic Overlook.”
“Are we there yet?” Neal asked, still annoyed. “What is this? Bathroom stop?”
What is he, five?! Peter thought, exasperated. Did Neal not understand what he had just said?
“ I’m just a tool… it doesn’t matter anyway”
Peter did not respond and kept driving, passing whatever scenic overlook and finally parked the car in a vacant gravel parking lot adjacent to a few picnic tables surrounded by woods.
“Are we camping?” Neal persisted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His expression made him look more like a sullen teenager than the thirty-something-year-old he was.
“No, we are not camping.” Peter snapped back, swung out of the car, and stormed until he halted at the edge of the woods. Neal’s voice, and footsteps, followed him, crunching the gravel loudly.
“Then why did you park? We obviously aren’t at the manor yet. And why have you been so mad at me this week?” Neal shot questions at him, each one hitting Peter square in the heart.
Can’t you see, Neal? Peter pleaded silently, keeping his back to Neal.
“Do you never stop talking once ya start, Neal?!” Peter yelled over his shoulder.
“I was quiet for TWO whole hours while you got all Robert Frost Walt Whitman driving through the woods on a snowy evening!” Neal punched back.
Peter almost laughed at Neal’s poetry reference, it was so Neal. But the reason he’d pulled off the road wasn’t poetic at all, he had to set the record straight and he didn’t want to have this conversation while they were driving.
The conversation.
He needed the fresh forest air, the eagles soaring overhead silently giving him confidence.
He wasn’t ready to put his heart on the line, but he knew no other way to make Neal understand. They had been going in circles for years; their trust wavering back and forth like a tumultuous thunderstorm filled with reactive fury and magnetic electricity. Neal had risked his life undercover before, but Peter had always been two steps away, ready to jump in. But last week was too close. If Neal had so much as taken too large of a breath, the bullet would have taken him so far away, Peter would never be able to find him. And Peter always found Neal.
That was his job.
It had become his life.
Peter’s heart tightened, his hands prickling and cheeks hot. Finally, he turned to look at the younger man: Neal’s blue eyes were filled with licks of fire, dark hair tousled from hours in the car, his lips slightly parted in aggravation. Butterflies erupted in his stomach; even while angry Neal was so…beautiful. His suit was disheveled from the ride, his tie off-center, but that didn’t hide how well his body wore a suit. And Peter had to look at that every day for the past few years and not attempt to kiss him? It didn't make it easier that now Neal was almost his equal...no anklet standing between them.
Besides that, Neal’s mind was so bright, and damn it did Peter love smart. Not to mention the charm. Oh god the charm irritated him to no end but made him want Neal so badly. But perhaps what drew Peter most to Neal was his heart. Though a charming con man was always plastered on the outside, a real, deep feeling human being was in there, sometimes scrambling to get out, to be understood. Peter had loved watching the real Neal emerge to him over the years, fragment by fragment, developing into a light-giving human being that outshone everyone around him.
Peter stepped towards Neal, careful to keep his distance. He didn’t know how long he could resist touching him if he got any closer.
“Do you believe what you said in the car?” Peter asked gently.
Neal flashed him a look through the bangs that had fallen on his forehead.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, and crawled up onto the picnic table, sitting on the top, his feet on the bench.
Peter walked over and sat beside him, their hands resting dangerously close to touching. “About just being a tool? About how what we do together is just another check off my case load?”
Neal’s eyes caught his, their blue intensity breathing into Peter’s soul. His body began tingling, his pulse quickening.
“I don’t know,” Neal whispered and broke their gaze, turning his head to stare into the forest, “Am I?
“No,” Peter said quietly, not daring to make eye contact, he was one pulse away from kissing Neal hard and fast, finally giving in to the temptation that had been pulling at him for years. If he looked into those eyes…
He inched his hand towards Neal’s, their fingertips brushing. He heard Neal’s breath intake sharply and saw the muscles in his jaw twitch. Peter slid his hand over Neal’s, sending shivers up his arm straight to his heart and for a moment Peter felt his chest would explode with nerves, sending little fizzing pieces everywhere around them. And just before Peter pulled his hand away out of fear, Neal slowly turned his hand over, curling his fingers around Peter’s. Peter traced the top of Neal’s hand with his thumb, Neal’s skin remarkably soft against his own calloused fingertips.
“You mean so much more to me than—” he began, but then felt Neal lean close to him, his hair whispering against Peter’s forehead. He could smell Neal’s cologne, hear his shallow breaths. Peter kept his eyes lowered, focusing on their joined hands; he didn't want to screw this up. How could someone like Neal, so brilliant and sexy, possibly want him , the FBI agent who’d put him in prison.
“Peter,” Neal breathed, almost pleading. Their knees were now touching, hands entangled, and now Neal’s forehead gently rested against his own. Each contact point felt like it was burning, aching for more.
Neal’s free hand found its way to Peter’s jawline and traced his thumb gently back towards Peter’s neck, pushing his fingers into Peter’s hair, forcing him closer and closer. Before Peter could say another word, Neal’s lips were on his, warm and wet, and so soft. Peter froze for a moment, his heart about to burst and then finally relaxed into the kiss, parting his lips and kissing Neal back.
They were kissing…and kissing and kissing and Neal’s skin was about to fly off of his bones, his heart pounding against his chest. He stood, drawing Peter up with him and then Peter’s hand was in his hair and the other slipped up his suit jacket, warm and strong against his back. He spread his hand over Peter’s thigh and felt him shudder at his touch, which, in turn, sent electricity up Neal’s spine. He had an urge to push him back down on the picnic table and continue this dance but his heart was hammering so hard he had to pull away to catch a breath.
“I’m sorry, I—” Peter started, but Neal silenced him by cupping his face and kissing him again, drawing it out as long as possible. Peter’s eyes closed and Neal could have sworn he heard a soft moan escape his lips. He traced his hands down Peter’s suited chest, grabbing his hands delicately, carefully placing each of his fingers in the space between Peter’s.
“Don’t apologize,” he whispered as he nuzzled Peter’s nose, which felt even more intimate than their kisses. He laughed lightly, “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting this?”
This time it was Peter who pulled back, letting go, their eyes meeting–Peter’s warm brown eyes engulfed him, swallowed him whole. He knew he had fallen for this man long ago but never dreamed that Peter would feel the same way.
“You’ve wanted this?” Peter asked, stunned.
Neal grinned wildly, “Come on, Peter. Could I have been more obvious?” His eyes began to dance, “I signed every birthday card with XOXO.”
Peter’s eyebrows flew up, “That long, huh?”
Neal gently laced his fingers with Peter’s and leaned his head on Peter’s shoulder, “That long.”
“Definitely didn’t read into the XOXOs.” Peter murmured, bewildered, “I thought you were just teasing me.”
“It’s called flirting , Peter.” Neal paused, “I literally gave you a lollipop at our first greeting.”
They laughed, Neal snuggling in closer and then they both grew quiet as they stood side by side, hands entwined, gazing into the woods. Crickets had begun to chirp and the sun had long dipped its head below the horizon. A chill was beginning to creep into the air but neither man could move. They knew they had to get back on the road, but it almost felt sacred, like if they let go of eachother right now they would never find their way back to this place. Neal squeezed Peter’s hand a little tighter, willing him to stay. All at once his beloved city was so distant—all he wanted was to press close to Peter, the mass of trees in front of them as their audience.
Suddenly, alarms went off in Neal’s head. He abruptly let go of Peter’s hand like it burned, “Elizabeth.”
Peter laughed, flat out laughed. “Elizabeth has been pestering me for months to make a move.”
Neal looked at him, wide-eyed. “She knows?! ”
Peter smiled, “She knew before I did. And as long as she isn’t left in the dark, she doesn’t care what we do.”
Neal raised an eyebrow coyly, wondering what “not being left in the dark” exactly meant, but whatever the definition, he didn’t care. As long as he had Peter, he didn’t care one bit. He would do anything Elizabeth commanded.
“She’s an amazing woman,” he said as he turned toward Peter, placing his hands on Peter’s hips, urging him closer. Their lips found eachother again, gentle and slow, each savoring the other. Their pace began to increase, hands growing wild and exploratory. Neal began to slide Peter’s suit coat off.
“You have too much on,” Neal breathed in his ear.
Peter melted into him, but mumbled, “We have to go. We can’t do this here—”
“Come one, Peter, you are renting an SUV and we’re in an abandoned parking lot…” he beamed Peter his most seductive grin.
Peter blushed, “No.”
Neal laughed heartily, “What?”
“I want this to be right. This isn’t just a random hook up for me,” Peter said, vulnerability dripping off of his words.
“I never said it was,” Neal said gently, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.
“You’re not conning me?” Peter teased, but his eyes held a flash of desperation, a plea for honesty.
Neal leaned in…and kissed him again…”No,” he said….kiss… “This is…” ..kiss… “real.”...kiss….
A relieved smile broke over Peter’s face, “It’s only about twenty more minutes until we get to the manor. They have us in a guest house. It’s so late at this point we can start on the case tomorrow…”
“Then I can be patient and wait twenty minutes,” Neal said. He then proceeded to kiss Peter slowly on the neck, eliciting a lustful sigh from him.
“My God, Neal,” he breathed.
Back in the car, it was silent once again, almost as if the thrilling detour had never happened. Peter was smiling and drumming his fingers… Neal was back to tracking the army of trees flying by his window.
Trees….trees…trees…
And for once, Neal didn’t feel a need to fill the silence. He didn’t miss the city. He was content to continue driving with Peter, their hands and hearts knit together, Peter’s fingers gently caressing his own.