A/N: Just a little something I came up with when browsing around the White Collar section. Just a small drabble-ish oneshot.
Disclaimer: Go look at USA Network.
Warning: Language, sexual implications, mentions of threesomes, involving slash.
Pairing: Mentions of Neal/Kate and Neal/Peter/Elizabeth.
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Neal never expected falling in love with anyone other than Kate, because Kate was everything to him. She was perfection in human form, just like all those paintings and that jewelry he stole. He never started stealing because of the thrill—well, that was part of it after the fact—but because it was so damn perfect. So beautiful that he had to have it. It didn't deserve to be locked away where no one can touch, admire, lovingly caress and show off. And neither did Kate. So, when he found her, he knew he had to have her like all the others. And he did—have her, he meant. For awhile. And she loved him, never faltering, stole away with him. If Neal was honest with himself, the only thing she didn't like was the cat-and-mouse game he played with Agent Peter Burke. And, even then, she understood. Until he got locked up.
For so long, she visited him. For so long, he watched her demeanor change. For so long, he began to notice how she 'forgot' to say she loved him back when she left the visiting room. For so long, Neal was at a loss as to what he should do.
By the time the chase for Kate begun, he already knew his Plan B. And Plan B was perhaps the only man that Kate never liked. Peter.
Sadly, Neal never expected to fall in love with anyone other than Kate. Kate was perfect…and yet, so was Peter and Elizabeth. The epitome of an American dream. What with the white-picket fence, the two story house with a dog, good jobs…love. The only thing they missed was two little kids running around, creating chaos everywhere they went.
And jealousy swept in Neal's heart as he watched the two, so loving and understanding with one another. Elle had accepted him rather immediately, Peter hesitantly falling in step. He became part of the family. Why was it he wanted so to be more? Why was it that Kate was slowly becoming a game he played on the side? Why was it that Mozzie could see what was wrong with him—flashing knowing smiles and winks and jabs at his expense—while Neal was so at loss?
And, God, why was it he had started having wet dreams with the two of them?
He never, ever, had dreamed of anyone in that way. Kate even falling behind. In fact, wet dreams had never been on the list for him. He found them rather disgusting and an unnecessary pleasure when you had the real thing anywhere. But he found that this thing was one he couldn't have, and maybe that was what encouraged the dreams to come back, over and over.
He had always been up for a challenge, but this seemed off limits. He flirted, that was for sure—who couldn't do so with two gorgeous people in their lives?—but to go any further was suicide. He didn't want to cross that invisible line ad lose them forever. He was cautious as he tested boundaries, often finding himself making up excuses to go over there.
They didn't seem to mind, especially not Elle. But he wasn't sure how much further he could go.
He loved them, he knew that now. But how the hell was he supposed to tell them?
