Come November, a white collar fanfic

I can see trouble from here

And I think I'm gonna break soon

Neal's fingers are trembling in the shirt he's rumpled beyond recognition. His heart clenches once more as Peter runs his hand across the expanse of his back, up and down, up and down. The motion is supposed to be soothing, calming, giving not taking. Peter is allowing Neal to gather himself. His unspoken words clanging around in Neal's head, 'You can't have the world see you like this.'

Neal knows it's true, but right now he doesn't care that Peter sees him like this. It's his damn fault that Neal feels like he's falling apart like a cardboard castle left out in the rain. He doesn't have a plan for tomorrow, he has no idea how he'll react when he opens his eyes.

The day is on her last leg, the sun slipping beneath the New York skyline blanket. In a few hours he'll be gone. He doesn't stay longer than the night allows him, because he's leaving tomorrow and there's nothing Neal can do about it.

Peter told him that he's going away, DC is forcing him to work one of their cases. Neal knows it's a dangerous one, one that might get Peter killed, but he refuses to go down that road, because that road will definitely lead to Neal completely losing his mind.

He'll be gone for an unknown amount of time, Peter doesn't know because no one can tell him, therefore Neal doesn't know. Not knowing is eating him from the inside, little maggots chewing him up from deep within. Those maggots used to be butterflies whenever Neal laid eyes on Peter. Not now, looking at Peter now makes Neal want to throw a tantrum like an infant and demand to either tag along or have Peter stay put.

But he doesn't, because Peter would give him that look that screams 'you can't have the world see you like this' because he's Neal Caffrey and Neal Caffrey does not act like a two year old. So he clings to Peter's shirt for a little while longer and Peter allows him to gather himself, just a little while longer.

When Neal pulls back, smoothing Peter's rumpled shirt as much as he can, there are no tears in his eyes and Peter smiles. And a smiling Peter means it'll be okay, just not today.

Peter suggests pizza and beer. Neal scoffs. "I was thinking dinner, wine, the stars and that lovely breeze coming in from the balcony." Neal grins when Peter pulls a face at the mention of drinking wine. Neal knows Peter will drink the damn wine, because he's Peter and he'd do anything Neal wants. Neal amends quickly with a small grin. "Fine, beer it is."

Peter grins right back and pulls Neal close to him, thanking him with a kiss that speaks more than either of them will tonight. Neal savors the moment, the feeling of nirvana that flows over his entire being. Peter has that effect, he's like a whirlwind. Demanding, forceful, loving, calming.

Neal pulls back, walking over to the kitchen cabinet. Peter's hand slides from his shoulder, down his arm and clings momentarily to the tips of Neal's fingers as he walks away from Peter. The clear expression of everything Peter doesn't say causes Neal's throat to constrict slightly with emotion, but he forces it down. He won't live in limbo right now, he won't be in an empty bed, be won't be tired of the quiet and he is too damn young to play dead, everything he wants to do right now, but doesn't.

So they cook dinner, make jokes, drink beer and wine, share intimate longing kisses that makes Neal's heart feel like exploding because he has Peter here with him, on the verge of losing him the moment dawn approaches, but he clasps Peter's hand in his. It's enough for now.

Peter pulls plates from the cabinet, holding them up while Neal scoops their dinner onto them. Peter makes a show of sniffing the pasta Neal dishes out and Neal can't help but laugh. This is Peter being adorable, being sweet, being loving. This is Peter being what Neal needs him to be right now.

Peter grins and steals a kiss before backing out of the apartment and onto the balcony. Neal can't help but stare at Peter. A laugh bubbles up from his throat as he sees Peter shake his hips. Peter knows he's been staring at him. He doesn't mind one bit. Neal pours himself another glass of wine and grabs another beer for Peter before following Peter onto the balcony.

"I've never been more glad that I caught you, than I am today Neal." Peter says. He doesn't look at Neal, but Neal can see there's a soft smile on his lips.

"You only love me for my cooking." Neal teases and Peter laughs. A real laugh…one of those that bubble from his toes, up his throat and out of his mouth.

"Well there's your mind and body too." Peter says and winks at Neal when he pulls a face of mock offence.

"Glad to hear I'm a three-in-one combination, seduce one, get two free." Peter laughs loudly at this. Neal grins and twirls pasta onto his fork.

Later when they finish dinner, three beers and a bottle of wine and tumble into bed in a mass of sweaty limbs and tangled sheets, Peter running his hand distractedly up and down Neal's back again when he softly says into Neal's sweat-matted hair "Seducing you was the best decision I've ever made."

Neal smiles and twines his fingers with Peter's free hand, his nose pressed firmly under Peter's jaw.

"November." Neal mumbles. He can almost see the confused look on Peter's face, so he elaborates. "Be back by November Peter. I can only be stuck in limbo for so long before people start to get annoyed." Peter's fingers press a little harder into his spine and Neal leans a little closer.

'I'll miss you, every time I turn the lights on or off. I'll miss you when I think I hear your footsteps at the front door, and when I dream about hearing your heart beat underneath my ear, but none of it matters, 'cause you'll be home come November.'

Neal thinks of all the little things he wants to whisper against Peter's neck when they are suspended in heaven like this, how the pleasant ache in his bones makes him feel like he's home. How when Peter tried to seduce him, he uttered the words that started their relationship, how Neal likes to remind him that no one can fall in love alone.

But he doesn't, because Peter already knows these things. Neal just presses impossibly closer and drifts off to the sound of Peter's heartbeat, breathing and skin pressed tightly against his. Just before Neal falls asleep to everything Peter, two words are whispered into his hair.

"Come November." Just a small promise that he'll be back, that they'll be back to this before the year ends. Before either of them can whisper the words they both want to say, crave to utter.

'I love you.'

I love you.'

But not yet, not just yet.

"Come November."

*WC*WC*WC*

AN: So, uh…there you go… It's not much, but it made sense when it jumped from my mind to my fingers like a virus onto my computer. Please let me know what you think.

The song that inspired this is called 'Come November' by Thriving Ivory.

This little drabble is dedicated to Belle, because you are one awesome lady who always reads whatever my mind comes up with, no matter how strange it seems. Thank you dearest, truly, for everything.