I don't own White Collar or Twilight; I only play with White Collar and bash Twilight whenever I can. Now I only watched the first movie and slept through the second. Any which way, the franchise sucks.
This is dedicated to Belle. I hope you like it burrito.
If you're a Twilight lover, leave now. Unbeta'd so any and all errors are mine.
The Twilight Marathon
"No Neal." Peter says gruffly. Neal can see that Peter is getting annoyed with his persistent nagging.
"But Peter-" Neal tries again, but Peter cuts him off immediately.
"I said no." Neal knows the conversation is over, but sometimes Peter underestimates him. Neal feels a dirty grin growing on his lips, his blindingly white teeth coming out into play. Peter doesn't notice. He's talking to Diana about a stakeout. Neal turns from Peter's desk and walks from the office. He has a spring in his step. Neal Caffrey has a plan.
:::
"You know, when I say no, it's not a veiled yes." Peter says as Neal crawls up his body slowly. He's out of breath. Neal grins again and licks his lips. His knees hurt, but it's worth it.
"I got you to say yes in the end." Neal teases.
"The method you used should be illegal." Peter runs his hand down his face and groans. Neal can feel the wheels turning in Peter's mind and places tiny kisses on Peter's neck.
"We have the weekend off. I'm taking advantage of it." Neal grins against Peter's neck.
"But Twilight? Really?" Peter is on the verge of whining. Neal can almost smell it. "When did we become hormone-charged tweens?"
Neal laughs and pulls away from Peter, righting his clothes. No Devore should be as crumpled like this.
"Be adventurous Peter." Neal throws over his shoulder as he leaves the file room and Peter, who stares numbly at Neal's retreating back before tucking himself away.
:::
Neal left the office early. Peter told him to go away. Peter's annoyance at Neal's less than acceptable method of convincing him has the entire office walking on eggshells. The air was thick with animosity. The oxygen charged. Peter's frown was ever-present, as was Neal's grin.
The smell of popcorn fills the apartment, pulling Neal from his thoughts. Peter called and said he'll be late. Neal knows he's stalling, but it doesn't matter. He knows Peter will be here, he won't go back on his word. It's one of the many things Neal simply lo-adores about Peter. Not love, no. It's much too soon to be classified as love.
Neal clears his throat and shakes his head, trying to throw the thoughts of love from his head like a dog shaking water off of its fur. Neal throws the popcorn into a bowl. Salt lightly sprinkled over the popped goodness.
The movies are perfectly lined up from four to one, next to the TV. Neal doesn't want to put the first movie into the DVD-player yet. He wants to hear that groan fall from Peter's lips as Neal makes him do it.
Pulling a wineglass from the cupboard and a bottle of wine from the wine rack, Neal grins as he hears Peter's cheap, clumpy shoes making his way up the stairs. He's walking slowly, very slowly. Neal feels a giggle bubble up from his lips. This is Peter being adorable; being grumpy; being hardheaded.
Peter reaches the landing. Neal hears him pause.
"It's open!" Neal calls, pulling the cork from the beautiful bottle of red he has cradled in his hands. Neal imagines the pout on Peter's face, the small frown lines making his eyes crinkle and his jaw clench.
Peter opens the door and steps into the apartment. He has a brown paper bag in his right hand. He brought beer. It'll keep him from losing his mind tonight. Neal grins and puts his opened bottle of wine on the table, next to the popcorn and his wineglass.
"Don't pout. It'll only make you look like a sour FBI agent." Neal teases. Peter doesn't go for it. The atmosphere is tense.
"I don't want to do this." Peter says after a few minutes of an intense stare down between the two men.
"I know." Neal doesn't look away from Peter's eyes. There's doubt in those eyes. Peter is adamant; he really doesn't want to do this.
"I still don't want to do this."
"See it as research. Insight into the minds of new-age criminals." Neal knows he's clutching at straws. Peter knows it too.
"What new-age criminal watches rubbish about a creepy boy who sparkles?" Peter's eyes are staring Neal down, almost squinting.
"Stupid ones." Neal grins. Peter sighs and finally closes the apartment door behind him. The bag is gently set down next to the glass bowl of popcorn; Peter's beer is taken out. Peter pulls the six-pack out of Neal's reach. He'd much rather put his beer in the fridge himself. It's Peter's way of maintaining at least some semblance of control over what can only be explained as an impending shit storm.
"There are definitely more morons in the world today with this rubbish going around." Peter grumbles.
"Agreed." Peter shoots Neal a dirty look once the fridge door closes. Neal chuckles and pours wine into his terrifyingly empty wineglass. This weekend isn't going to be tolerable without wine, Neal decides. Not if Peter keeps complaining the way he is.
"Grab the popcorn." Neal takes his glass and ambles over to his bed, his large, plush bed. Neal places his glass on the bedside table and makes himself comfortable on the bed. His sweatpants ride low on his hips. Peter reluctantly walks over with the popcorn bowl, putting the lukewarm bowl on Neal's stomach.
"You want to put the first one in? It's the one on the top of the stack." Neal grins and Peter lets out an audible groan. That groan that just has the ability to scream 'I-am-incredibly-annoyed-and-I-don't-know-why-you're-getting-turned-on-by-it.'
"Why do you want to torture me like this?" Peter whines.
"I'm not torturing you. I'm broadening your horizons. Isn't that what this is all about?" Neal gestures between him and Peter. His hand dives into the bowl on his stomach. Peter just blinks at him.
"Twilight isn't broadening my horizons." Peter glares at Neal again, but turns to put the first movie into the DVD-player. Neal puts the bowl next to his hip and catches the remote Peter vaults at his head.
"No need to get violent Agent Burke." Neal grins. Peter frowns and toes off his shoes before taking his jacket off.
"This is me being nice under difficult circumstances." Neal chuckles. Peter doesn't smile. This is going to be a long night.
:::
"You have got to be kidding me!" Peter almost yells at the TV screen. Neal is laughing loudly, clutching at his stomach.
"This kid should be arrested. Watching a girl sleep? Apart from it being incredibly creepy, that's against the law!" Peter is on a roll, Neal can tell. He doesn't mind though. Peter has stopped grumbling under his breath and decided to attack the movie.
"Thank God I'm not a girl. Is this what girls do these days? Hyperventilate when a creepy glitter ball goes in for a kiss?" Neal bursts out in giggles again and Peter shoots him a dirty look, only succeeding in making Neal laugh even louder. The look on Peter's face is incredulous. It's almost like he looks offended to be in the same room as the movie on the TV screen.
Neal doesn't expect Peter to lean down and kiss him. Peter pulls back and cocks his eyebrow when Neal does a little pant.
"With a little practice you can actually beat this girl." Peter grins. Neal only laughs again.
"I don't need practice. A twig is better than this girl is at acting." Peter laughs and turns back to the screen.
"I pity Dracula." Neal erupts in another fit of giggles.
:::
"Oh my God, turn it off!" Peter groans and covers his ears, before flopping down on the bed. They're on the second film now. Bella has taken to screaming.
"She sounds like a pig being led to the slaughterhouse." Peter sounds miffed. He's reverting back to being grumpy about being forced to watch what he calls "the worst thing to be invented since vibrating underwear."
Neal has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing again. His stomach is protesting at his thinly veiled giggles, his body keeps jerking as he tried to muffle his clear entertainment at Peter's offence. It feels like someone has pushed needles into his abs. Peter pulls his arms over his face, his ears shielded in the pillow.
"This doesn't count as broadening my horizons, Neal." Peter grumbles from beneath his arms.
"What bothers you most Peter, the awful acting or the plot?" Neal teasingly pulls Peter's arms away from his face. Peter gives him a pitiful look.
"How about the fact that this kid sparkles, watches the girl sleep and makes some strange sound when he drinks her blood or the fact that his voice is so annoying it could put an overactive toddler, high on sugar, into a coma?" Peter stares at Neal, but continues before Neal can get a word out.
"Or the fact that this Bella girl has the same amount of expressions as a brick wall, can't keep eye-contact, fiddles with her hair, nearly passes out every time when this fizzer tries to kiss her, goes comatose when he dumps her, screams like a lunatic or is just plainly annoying as hell?" Neal bites his cheeks to stop himself from laughing. He's already had to wipe too many tears of laughter from his cheeks.
"Please don't make me watch them all." Peter whines. He's on the verge of pouting.
:::
Neal wakes up with the apartment lights still on. The popcorn bowl sits abandoned next to the bed. The screen has turned blue. The DVD-player must have grown bored waiting for someone to change the disk and gone to bed too.
Peter is sleeping soundly, his head turned into the pillow beneath him. His left arm is draped over Neal's chest, but he moves Peter's arm onto the bed before getting up and turning everything electric off. The TV goes black, doors are locked and lights are switched off, allowing the moon to bathe the apartment in its dark blue hue.
Neal rolls back onto the bed next to Peter. He might love this man. Not yet though. Not when there is Twilight torture to be dished out. Neal is too tired to grin at his weekend plans. For now, he's content to fall asleep next to an FBI agent who is probably dreaming about shooting Edward Cullen and testing his glitter abilities.
:::
Monday rolls around much too quickly. Peter and Neal sit in Peter's office, each nursing a cup of coffee. Neal adjusts his collar, hiding Peter's rather unique manner of waking him up on Saturday and Sunday morning. His neck is purple and blue, right down to his right collarbone. Peter grins at Neal from behind the rim of his coffee mug. Neal doesn't say a word.
"Morning Boss, Neal." Jones appears from nowhere. Peter doesn't seem fazed. Neal doesn't change a glance at Jones. His neck is still stinging too much.
"I heard you two had a Twilight marathon this weekend." Jones is grinning; it's clear in his voice.
"Shut up Jones." Peter says gruffly. His eyes are shining, twinkling with amusement. Neal needs a new way of broadening Peter's horizons.
*WC*WC*WC*
AN: There you go, a little Twilight bashing one-shot. Please let me know what you guys think, reviews are love.