Title: Let Sleeping Suits Lie (or, 5 Times Peter Fell Asleep at Neal's)
Author: Amory Puck (pucktheplayer on LJ)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild language, sexualy suggestive humor
Pairings: none, gen
Author's Notes: Written for the prompt '5 Times Peter Fell Asleep at Neal's Apartment' for leesa_perrie on collarcorner on Livejournal. I saw it and my brain went insane. Silliness ensues! :D
o o o
Let Sleeping Suits Lie (or, 5 Times Peter Fell Asleep at Neal's)
o o o
1.
The shower was a steady hum. How long could a man spend in the damn shower? Didn't Neal ever run out of hot water? How long did it take to scrub your butt?
Peter sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. When he'd told Neal he'd be coming by to get him at five, he'd expected the man to be ready. 'Just a quick shower,' he'd said. 'Quick as a superhero.' Ha. Quick like a turtle with a broken leg was more like it. Quick like a granny who's lost her walker. Quick like a snail traveling through a salt storm… Man he was sleepy…
With that thought, Peter's head thumped down on the table and he began to snore.
Sugary snails dancing through salt! Puppies that frolic in the bright summer sun! A creepy black car parked off to the side… flashing its FANGS!
"Vroom, vroom, vroom," it growled as it shot forward, running over puppies and slugs like they weren't even people.
"Peter, watch out!" Neal shouted as he slammed into the evil car with his Batmobile. "Quick, get in!" he shouted, blue eyes shining bright behind his batmask. The Batmobile shot forward, then came to a screeching halt.
"Dammit, I'm out of gas!" he cried. "I knew I should have forged some this morning!"
"No worries, Superwife is here!" El shouted as she plummeted down from the sky, grabbing the car and hefting it up into the air. "Peter, where's your unitard? You don't even look like Wolverine in that suit!"
"I think he's lost his memories, Superwife!" Neal shouted back. "He doesn't seem to know who I am!"
"Oh no, Batcon! What are we going to do?"
"I don't know," Neal wailed. "Superwife, look out!"
Peter let out a cry as a lightening bolt came out of nowhere, and he began to shake, a million volts of electricity slicing through his veins-
Peter sat up with a gasp, gripping hard at the table as he looked around madly, heart pounding in his chest.
"Good morning, Peter," Neal said with a smile as he straightened his his tie. Wow. That bright pink really made the man's lips come to life. "Ready to go?"
Peter stretched, giving a big yawn. "Yeah, I'm ready. I've *been* ready. You're the one who was running late."
Neal just flashed him a smile and set his mug in the sink.
o o o
"Good morning, boss—oh!"
Peter frowned as the new probie tripped over his own feet, dropping an arm full of files all over the ground. "Good morning, Grayson," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Feeling a little tipsy this morning?"
The young man didn't reply, just stared up at him through his thick glasses like he'd grown another head. Peter huffed. Someone was off their game this morning.
"Morning, Peter," Diana said as she walked in their general direction, nose buried in a case file. "Hey, have you seen—whoa." She cleared her throat, face twitching in a strange manner.
"Something wrong, Diana?" Peter asked.
"No," she said, face still twitching. "Nothing wrong at all, sir. I'll just, uh, be over here…"
Peter's brow furrowed as she suddenly took off across the room, case apparently forgotten. "Okay, then…" People sure were acting strangely today.
"Peter, I've been wanting to ask you—what the hell?" Hughes came to a stop in front of him, eyebrows shooting up to the hairline he didn't have.
"Excuse me?" Peter said, frowning. "You want to ask me 'what the hell?'"
Hughes reached up, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Y'know, Peter, I think maybe you should take a break. Go to the bathroom." He gave a nervous chuckle. "Powder your nose."
Powder his nose? What the hell was he talking about? "I don't really think my nose needs powdering, Reese," Peter said dryly. "But thanks for the beauty tips."
A strange sound came from Neal, and Peter glanced over, eyes narrowing at the look on the man's face. He looked like he was about to explode, cheek twitching and throat contracting and his very pink lips doing their best to stay straight…
Dammit, what had he done now?!
o o o
"You're fired," Peter said flatly as Neal had to lean against the bathroom stall, he was laughing so hard.
"Aw, come on, Peter," he choked out between laughs, tears running down his cheeks. "You can't fire me. It's not like I'm really hired."
"Go to hell, Caffrey," Peter said through gritted teeth as he inspected the twenty or so bright pink kisses all over his face.
"Come on," Neal said, doubling over. "You have to admit it's funny."
"It's not funny," Peter snapped back, cheeks going almost as pink as the lipstick prints themselves.
"Oh, you know it is," Neal said, slapping his leg. "Oh my God, the look on your face."
"How the hell do I get these off?" Peter asked, only managing to smear the stuff all over his face.
Neal shook his head, still giggling. "A girl never tells her secrets."
"I cannot believe you," Peter muttered as he pulled out his cellphone, hitting speed dial for his wife.
"Hey, at least I didn't draw a penis," Neal said with another laugh, wiping at his eyes.
Peter glared over at him. "Because I would have punched you in the face. How old are you, five?"
"Aw, Peter, sticks and stones…"
"Hey, hon, what's up?" El said in his ear, and Peter let out a loud sigh.
"Hey sweetie, I need some advice. My faces is covered in kisses. How the hell do I get them off?"
2.
Man, it was late. Peter yawned widely as he glanced at his watch. It was past midnight. How long did it take a man to run through his black market contacts? Peter had been waiting here since seven o'clock. El had to be wondering where he was by now.
Peter sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position on the sofa. He would give Neal another half hour, and then he was out of here. A half an hour, not a second more…
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock… Hm, that was a nice clock. So slow and steady and true… A nice gentle tick tock, tick tock… Peter's eyelashes fluttered closed and he began to snore.
'Wake up in the mornin' feelin' like P-Diddy!' Neal sang loudly as he danced around the stage in sparkly short shorts and a green tube top.
'Hey, what up, girl?!' El shouted, doing a high kick.
'Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city!' Neal shouted, shoving a pair of Lady Gaga-eque sunglasses on his face.
'Let's go!' El shouted, dancing up against him in her rainbow colored dress.
'Before I leave, I brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack, 'cause when I leave for the night, I ain't comin' back!' Neal began to shake his hips.
'Tonight, I'ma fight 'til we see the sunlight, TICK TOCK on the clock, but the party don't stop!' El shouted as Neal jumped on the back of the hot pink llama that had just appeared, shouting 'yeeee-haaaw!' as he threw a shiny lasso at Peter, yanking him onto the stage.
Peter's face went red as he looked down and realized he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of his wife's panties.
'TICK TOCK on the clock, but the party don't stop, TICK TOCK—"
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Peter sat up abruptly, looking down frantically. Oh, thank God, he was still wearing his pants. Oh, man. He leaned back, letting his breath out in a whoosh. Man, he hated that dream.
"Morning, sleep head," came Neal's voice and Peter jerked again, putting a hand on his chest in relief as he saw the man standing across the room, not dressed in short shorts, thank God.
"Ugh, what time is it?" Peter said, palming his face tiredly.
"Almost three," Neal said. "Sorry, but the contacts didn't pan out."
"Fantastic," Peter said irritably as he stood, stretching. "I'm glad I waited all night to hear that. I better get home. El's probably freaking out."
Neal smiled brightly at him. "Okay. Night, Peter."
"G'night," Peter mumbled, yawning as he stumbled out the door.
o o o
"Honey, is that you?" El called out as Peter did his best to tip toe into the bedroom. Dammit, he hadn't wanted to wake her.
The lamp beside the bed came on and El sat up, blinking at him with tired eyes. "Are you okay? I was worried."
Peter smiled at her, settling down on the edge of the bed. "I'm fine. Just a really late day. Nothing serious."
"Oh, okay," she said, then her brow furrowed up. "Honey, what happened to your eyebrows?"
Peter's hand went up, fingers searching for his eyebrows and coming up blank. His face went red, and he clenched his fists as El began to giggle.
Oh, Caffrey was *so* dead.
3.
"A good forgery takes time, Peter," Neal said in a patient voice as he added yet another painstaking stroke to the picture. "Lots and lots of time. This is going to have to hold up against the experts."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Peter muttered as he stretched out on the couch, wishing that Neal's decorative pillows were a little more comfortable. "Please, feel free to take your time. It's not like I have a job or a wife or anything."
"Oh, quit being a sour puss," Neal said, applying another tiny bit of color to the enormous canvas. "You want the best, you have to pay the price."
"Whatever," Peter said, moving his head around until he was as comfortable as he was going to get on an embroidered pillow with jeweled accents. "Wake me up when you're done. Oh, and Neal?" he said in a warning tone. "If you even *touch* my face, I am going to kick your ass, you got it?"
Neal glanced over with a smirk. "Sure thing, Peter—"
"Seriously," Peter said, glaring at him. "One finger on my face, and I'm coming for you."
"Fine, fine," Neal said, sounding put out. "I solemnly swear I won't touch your face, okay?"
"Good," Peter said flatly, letting his eyes drift shut. Hm… this pillow wasn't *so* bad…
'Who do you think you are?' the bed roared, and Peter hunkered down, clutching the pillow sham tight to his chest. 'Trying to dress *my* pillow up in that fancy ass case? Embroidery and jewels, my baseboard! I raised that pillow, and he ain't gonna be wearing any of that fancy prancy 700 count linen under my covers!'
'Please, daddy bed, it's who I am!' the pillow cried out, feathers spilling out of it as it sobbed. 'Please, help me, Peter! I need to be who I am—"
"All finished!" Neal said, giving Peter a hard shake, and he let out a groan, rubbing at his eyes. How long had he been asleep? It hadn't seemed very long, but still…
Peter stood up abruptly, giving Neal a hard stare as he headed straight for the bathroom. He twisted his head all around in the mirror, checking and double checking, even running a hand along the back of his head to make sure there wasn't any hair missing. All was good.
A smug smile grew on his face. Apparently his warning had worked.
Peter strode back into the room, and Neal pouted in his general direction.
"I told you I wouldn't touch your face."
"Hey," Peter said, holding up his hands. "I just had to make sure."
"Uh-huh," Neal said, rolling his eyes. "Man, you are such a control freak. It's like you think you own me."
o o o
"God save your soul!" an old woman said as she gave Peter a shove hard enough to make him stumble.
"What the hell?" he said, grimacing as he wiped spilled coffee off his hands.
"I hope that's a joke, dude." Peter turned around, frowning at a pair of teenagers giggled and poking each other in the arms.
"Oh, that is not good," a Middle Eastern guy standing behind a hot dog stand said, shaking his spoon in Peter's direction. "Allah does not approve!"
Peter stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he turned to look at Neal. "What did you do?" he said in a low voice. "I swear to God—"
RING RING! RING RING!
Peter scowled deeply as he reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone.. "We are not finished," he said in a warning tone as he lifted the cell to his ear. "Hello, Burke here."
"How much for the pretty guy?" a gruff voice said, and Peter frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"How much for the pretty guy? My wife and I are interested."
What the heck? Suspicion grew in his mind, and Peter shoved his phone back into his pocket, reaching around behind him, clawing at his back. The piece of paper was taped on *really* well.
Dammit, Neal!
Peter yanked off the sign as Neal began to chuckle, sides already shaking.
"Hey, you only said not to touch your face," he managed to get out through his giggles.
Peter stared down at the sign, mouth dropping open.
'FOR SALE BY OWNER,' it read. 'CALL 555-2489.' Underneath was a long red arrow, pointing off to the right. Off to the right where Neal had been *walking*.
"Oh, you are so dead!" Peter said, flinging the paper onto the ground.
Neal let out a loud laugh. "Oh, come on, you know it's funny—UMF!" His laughter turned to a shout as Peter tackled him to the ground.
Oh, yeah. That felt good.
4.
"Seriously, Moz, I really thinks I should just maybe go home, ya know?" Peter said in a sluggish voice, downing the last of the wine in his glass. He was feeling kind of tipsy, which wasn't surprising considering that it was just one more glass in a long line of glasses. Okay, he was feeling more than tipsy. He was flat out drunk. Mozzie sure was good at getting people to down the vino. "I don't think Neal's coming home tonight. Maybe he stayed over at Sara's…"
"Oh, don't be silly, Suit," Mozzie said, waving the words away. "He'll be back any minute. Here, have another glass." He reached out, dumping more wine into Peter's glass.
"Mmm, okay," Peter said drowsily, giving the man a smile. Nice Mozzie. Good Mozzie. Fuzzy Mozzie. "Just one more glass, I guess—"
THUMP.
'The hills are alive, with sound of muuuuusic!' Peter sang as he made a running leap at the Slip N Slide, laughing as he splashed around in the pinot gregio. "Wooohooo!'' he shouted as he slid along the alcohol, raising his arms up in the air.
"Man, this is an awesome party!" Neal said, smiling brightly at Peter. He sure looked funny dressed up as a bottle of wine, though the cork did make a nice hat.
"Isn't it?" El agreed as she shimmied up in her champagne costume. "I love Alcohol Anonymous."
"Hey, look!" Satchmo shouted, terror in his puppy voice. "Up there! In the sky!"
Peter's eyes went wide as he looked up at a bright light descending from the stars.
"Greetings, Earthlings!" Mozzie called out as he floated above them in his spaceman suit. "Fear not! I bring tidings of peace and great joy!" He waved his magic wand and President John F. Kennedy suddenly appeared next to him in the air. "Tonight, the human race shall touch down on the moon for the first time—"
The first thing he felt was the shooting pain in his temple, followed by a sick feeling in his gut.
"Oh, my head," Peter moaned as he slowly pushed himself into sitting position, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth. He reached up, rubbing at his forehead, frowning when he realized he was tucked up in Neal's bed. "God, what did I do last night?"
"Oh, nothing much," came a voice next to him, and Peter let out a little shriek as Mozzie popped up out of the covers, flashing him a big smile. "Nothing we shall speak of anyway," he added mysteriously, and Peter let a whimper as the little man climbed out of bed, revealing himself to be butt naked.
Peter's stomach twisted as he raised up the covers, confirming his worst fear. Mozzie wasn't the only one who was butt naked.
"So, as much as I hate to touch and run, I have yoga class in an hour," Mozzie said, yanking up his pants. "It was great, Suit. Have a nice life."
No. No, no, no, no, NO! There was no way. No way *at all*. Was there?
Peter lifted up the covers again, like maybe his clothes might have mysteriously reappeared, but it was no good. He was absolutely, one hundred percent butt naked.
Oh God, this could not be happening.
Peter climbed to his feet, grabbing Neal's short little silk robe off the bedside table when he saw his clothes were nowhere to be found and yanking it on, his face flaming. How could this have happened? Oh, God, what was he going to tell El? This was insane!
Peter practically ran into the living area, letting out a cry as a horn blared and Neal jumped out from behind the couch, June popped out from behind Neal's easel, and a fully clothed Mozzie sprung out from behind the table, all yelling 'SURPRISE!' at the top of their lungs.
"Oh my God!" Peter shouted, falling to his ass as confetti rained down from the sky. "What the hell? Seriously, what the HELL?!"
All three of them were laughing so hard they looked like they were going to die.
"Oh, come on," Mozzie said through his laughter, wiping the tears off his cheeks. "You didn't really think I'd sleep with a *Suit*, did you?"
"Man, that was priceless!" Neal said, grinning broadly. "Thank God I got it on camera!" He held up the object in question triumphantly, and June slapped him on the back.
"Oh, Neal, you are quite the pranking god!"
The pranking god indeed. Peter's eyes narrowed. This was the last straw. It had officially gone too far. Neal was not going to get away with it, not this time.
The war was on.
5.
Peter snored softly, head tipped back on Neal's couch, his mouth hanging open. There was a soft shuffling beside him, and then fingers snapped beside his head. He was careful not to even twitch.
"Okay, he's definitely out," Neal said softly. "Do you have the itching powder?"
"The strongest they've got," Mozzie replied. "You want me to put it down there, or do you want to handle it?"
There was a long pause. "You know, Moz, that really wasn't the best way to phrase that question," Neal said, sounding like he wasn't sure if he was amused or horrified. "But here, give it to me. I'll do it."
"Okay. But be careful. You get any on me, and you're a dead man."
Neal's fingers began to play with Peter's belt and, very carefully so as not to draw attention, Peter squeezed his hand into a fist three times. The show was on in 5, 4, 3, 2—
"Hands up!" a loud voice shouted as the door to Neal's apartment slammed open. Peter jumped, like he was just waking up, faking a shocked expression as about ten cops poured into the room, guns drawn.
"Get on the floor!" one shouted, gesturing angrily at Mozzie and Neal. "Right now! I said get on the floor!"
"What the hell?" Neal shouted, face white as a sheet as two of the cops grabbed him and forced him down onto his knees. "This is my house! What are you doing?!"
"We got a call from the neighbors across the street!,"one of the cops said as he cuffed Neal's hands behind his back. "An eye witness report saying that you were about to sexually assault this guy!"
"What?" Peter said, pretending to be shocked. "Sexually assault me? You're out of your mind. I'm with the FBI."
"I don't answer to no FBI," the cop shot back, giving him a quick wink as he shoved Neal's face into the ground. "I got a report, and I'm taking them in. These freaks can tell it to a judge!"
"Peter, tell them!" Neal shouted, looking terrified. "Tell them!"
"I'm trying!" Peter shouted back, throwing his hands up in the air. "They aren't listening!"
"See?" Mozzie shouted. "This is what happens when you mess with a Suit! I told you, Neal, didn't I? The Man is taking us down!"
"You have the right to remain silent," one of the cops growled as they dragged both men to their feet. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, well you don't really need one anyway since I work at the deli down the street."
"Wait, what?" Neal said, head jerking over toward the man. "What did you say?"
The cop's eyebrows shot up. "Didn't you hear me? I said if you can't afford one, it will be provided by the state."
"No," Neal said slowly, "I'm pretty sure that you said that you worked at the deli down the street—"
"Are you questioning me, freak boy?" the cop shouted in his face, and Peter couldn't hold it back anymore, he began to laugh, and this time the tears were running down *his* face.
"Oh, man, talk about priceless," he said, shoulders shaking with laughter. "The look on your *face,* Neal."
Neal's mouth fell open, looking utterly shocked. "Wait a second, you were behind this?"
Peter wiped at the tears in his eyes, grinning widely. "You get what you give, Caffrey."
Neal's face grew red. "This is not fair! I thought I was going back to *prison.* That's *not* funny!"
"Oh, it was a little funny, I think," June said as she walked into the room, smiling brightly. She moved over to Peter, giving his arm a tender little squeeze. "Quite the grand finale for your little prank war, I think." She held out a bottle of water and he took it from her, smiling.
"Glad you enjoyed it," he said as he took a sip. "Thanks for helping me out."
Neal scowled deeply, a pouty look coming over his face. "That wasn't funny."
"It was so," Peter said, smirking. "You know that it was."
Neal glared at him. "I hate you, you know that?"
Peter laughed. "Aw, come on, you know you love me," he said as he uncuffed the man. "And it *was* funny. You know it was. Don't be a sore loser."
Neal made a rude sound. "Fine, fine, maybe it was a little funny. But I'm no loser! Mine were still better!"
"You're just lucky I didn't break the false tooth with my emergency cyanide before the truth came out, Suit!" Mozzie said, glaring at him through crooked glasses as Peter freed him from the cuffs.
"Says the man who hates to 'touch and run,'" Peter shot back, smirking at the look on Mozzie's face. "You guys just can't stand it that you were the ones who got pranked."
"I am still the pranking king," Neal shot back. "One big bang doesn't beat out my small but stealthy attacks."
"Here you go, lads," June said with a smile, handing Neal and Mozzie each a bottle of water. "You need to cool down, I think. That was quite a scare."
"Come on, you know mine was best," Peter said with a superior sniff. "Yours hardly compare."
"You're right, they hardly compare," Neal shot back as he sipped his water. "Mine were works of art. Yours was just a heavy handed attempt to compete. Why don't you just pull it out and show it off?"
"He's right, Suit," Mozzie said, taking a long drink out of his own bottle. "We are the prank masters. You're just a wannabe with a badge."
"Actually," June said with a wicked smile. "I would have to disagree with you all."
All three men looked at her, wearing confused expressions.
"What?" Neal said, obviously shocked the woman was not on his side.
"I would say that *I* am the best prankster of all time, seeing that all three of you boys are going to be spending the next, oh, four hours or so in the bathroom." She let out a delicate giggle, wagging her eyebrows. "I suggest you each go looking for your own toilet now. The tub says it begins to work in fifteen to twenty minutes."
They all stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then Neal held up his water bottle with a horrified look on his face. "No way. You didn't."
Wow, June sure had a wicked laugh. "Oh, I most certainly did. Run along, gentleman! The true prank queen is in the building, and she's taking home her crown. But don't worry, you can keep your porcelain thrones." She winked at them as she walked out the door, leaving the men speechless.
They just stood there dumbly for a moment, then Neal threw his water bottle into the sink, looking panicked.
"Out!" he shouted, waving his arms at them. "Out of my house! Neither of you is taking a dump in here! Go home to your own pots!"
"Oh, man, El is gonna *kill* me," Peter moaned, clutching at his stomach as it began to rumble and moan.
"Where am I supposed to go?" Mozzie said frantically. "Tuesday? No, I love Tuesday. Friday? No, I just had her remodeled, I can't ruin her forever."
"I don't care where you go," Neal said a little frantically, his face twisting up in discomfort. "But get out now or shit over the balcony. The bathroom's mine!"
"Prank war over?" Peter called out as he began to stumble for the door, still clutching his stomach.
"Oh yeah," Neal groaned back, taking off for the bathroom. "Prank war is definitely over. Official winner: The landlady from hell."
The End!