A/N: And on to the second date as partly referenced on the show. I also used a couple of lines from the show between Peter and Neal because I thought it would be funny (and likely) that Peter was just passing on some 'advice' he had once been given himself. Maybe some of you will recognize it. Either way, thanks for the wonderful reviews!
Kissing Elizabeth was the only thing he could think about. And the bank fraud case on Peter's desk did nothing to distract him. Quite the opposite really. The letters and numbers in the case file became blurred and got replaced by a vision of her.
God, she had looked so beautiful. She had never not been beautiful of course, but last night, when they had finally gone on that date and Peter had officially been allowed to take notice, she had looked even more stunning. And at some point, all of Peter's apprehension about not having a lot of experience in the dating department had just slipped away. Elizabeth had made him feel as if he didn't need to be anyone but himself. As a result, he was beginning to think that the best version of himself included being with her.
Then Peter felt like a lovesick fool and tried to remember that it had still been only one date.
Which was why he was going to make it two – today. He had no idea how long you were supposed to wait to call these days, and he didn't care either. At lunch time, he took a page from her book and headed over to the DeArmitt Gallery. He realized he might be coming on too strong, but he was going to take that risk. He was only proposing lunch after all. Something to tide him over so he could maybe get some work done later.
Peter didn't feel the need to explain that to the new receptionist, and she didn't try to stop him when he introduced himself as an FBI agent. After all, what was waving his badge to get a lunch date compared to putting the woman he liked under surveillance?
Before he actually got to the offices, though, Elizabeth bumped right into him. Some of Peter's bravado left him when he noticed that she was obviously in a hurry and that her mind seemed to be on something very different than kissing him.
"Peter! What are you doing here? Are there any more stolen paintings I don't know about?" Elizabeth asked. At least her eyes still lit up when she saw him.
Which encouraged Peter to answer truthfully, "No, I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to grab lunch with me?"
Elizabeth's stressed demeanor softened further, and she freed a hand from the stack of folders she was carrying to put it on his chest. "Oh, I would love to, but I can't. We've run a little behind on meeting with the vendors for the new exhibit opening. But I'm free tomorrow night."
"Ah, I have a previous engagement of sorts tomorrow," Peter replied, then realized how dumb and potentially misleading that sounded and hurried to explain, "A couple of agents from White Collar and Organized Crime are playing hockey, like once a month."
Elizabeth's slightly confused expression turned into a smile. "Oh, well, can I come?"
"You want to watch me play?" Peter asked, surprised and a little caught off guard by her request.
"Sure, if I won't get to see you play baseball, I'll take hockey instead. Maybe you can even teach me afterwards. I always wanted to learn how to skate. It looks so beautiful."
Peter frowned, not sure if they were talking about the same sport. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that about ice hockey."
"Oh no, I meant figure skating. I love watching it on TV. But I'd love to watch your game, too."
The way she smiled at him didn't exactly help Peter to concentrate and think this through. He knew that the other guys brought their families, mostly their kids but also wives or girlfriends, to watch sometimes and to go on the ice after the game. But he wasn't sure if that's where they were right now or if this was appropriate for a second date. Then again, if Elizabeth really wanted to come, if she wanted to have that second date, he didn't actually care about any of that.
"Game's at seven. I can pick you up half an hour earlier."
"Great, I'll see you tomorrow then." Elizabeth stretched a little to give him a kiss, more of a peck on the lips really, and then she was gone before Peter could hold on to her or that kiss.
So much for getting him to stop thinking about her all the time.
Tomorrow night couldn't come fast enough.
"How long have you been playing?" Elizabeth asked on their way over to the hockey rink.
Peter had a hard time dividing his attention between her and traffic. She was wearing slim jeans, tall boots, and a vest over a cute red sweater. It was the sportiest look he had seen on her so far. Apparently, she had been serious about wanting to learn to skate. Peter wasn't sure about that part yet. But Elizabeth looked gorgeous in any outfit, and funnily enough, his team usually played in red jerseys, so once again they were a match.
"Since I was a kid. On-again, off-again," he replied.
"Baseball came first?" Elizabeth guessed.
Peter gave her a smile. It felt nice that she had made a point to remember that about him and could now make an educated guess like that. "It did," he confirmed.
"So how good are you? Obviously you've never played pro, but are you good enough to kick those Organized Crime guy's asses?"
Surprised by her competitiveness, Peter almost missed the right turn. "You really like to win, don't you?"
"Isn't that what it's all about in professional sports?" Elizabeth asked innocently.
"Well, this is just for fun," Peter said, but he couldn't hide a grin when he added, "A fun game that White Collar has won twice as often as Organized Crime."
Elizabeth laughed and rested a hand on his knee. "That's what I like to hear."
Thankfully, Peter had just pulled into a parking space. He really needed to get out of this car. Just like the other night, he circled round to open the passenger door for her, but this time he deliberately planted himself in her way, so once she got out, she couldn't actually go anywhere, stuck between him and the car.
"I'm glad you wanted to come tonight," Peter said simply.
Elizabeth gave him a curious smile. "I'm hoping you'll impress me on that ice rink."
Peter looked from the smile on her lips to her bright blue eyes and then back to her lips, making sure he had permission before leaning in to kiss her. He started out slow again, but he had waited for this for two days, so his kiss quickly became urgent enough to push Elizabeth back against the car frame. Then Peter reigned himself back in, not wanting to go too far.
But Elizabeth was still smiling when she asked, "What was that for?"
"Good luck," Peter replied, and when he finally stepped away from the car, he offered her his hand. If they were going to do this and show up together, they could just as well do it right.
Elizabeth didn't hesitate to take it, and together they headed inside. As Peter had hoped, some of the other agents had brought their families, so he didn't have to leave Elizabeth sitting all alone in the stands while he went into the locker room to change.
"I take it you closed more than just the investigation then," Carl greeted him with a big grin, having seen them come in together.
"Shut up," was Peter's only reply, and he turned away to hide a grin of his own.
When they got out on the ice, Peter had to admit that things felt different. He had never realized that he wanted this – having someone in the stands to look out for, knowing that someone would take a special interest in how he played. It felt good.
It also made him nervous. What he loved about being on the ice was that he could let go of everything that went on in his life, which mostly meant work, and focus on nothing but the game. Tonight, he couldn't help playing with his focus split. When he lost the puck, he thought of what Elizabeth had said about wanting to be impressed. When he body checked another player, he worried about coming off as too aggressive. When he had the chance to score a goal, he cramped up, too focused on not missing to actually take a good shot.
Shortly before the end of the first period, they were down by two points and Peter got body slammed into the boards by a rookie on the Organized Crime team. After that, Peter was glad for the break. When he skated over to where Elizabeth was sitting, she jumped to her feet.
"Are you okay? I knew ice hockey was a physical game, but it never looked quite like this on TV," she said, eyeing him as if checking for serious injuries.
Peter dropped down on the bench next to her. "All part of the game," he shrugged it off. There was no chance in hell he was going to tell her how badly his shoulder throbbed.
Elizabeth seemed to suspect as much anyway and shook her head. "Maybe you should all choose a different game."
"Why?"
"Don't you see enough violence in your line of work?" Elizabeth wondered.
"Exactly, this is a way to work through all that. It's all in good faith," Peter tried to explain.
She thought about that for a moment. "In that case, you need to watch out for number 4. He's got it in for you. But ever since he checked your winger earlier, it looks like he's favoring his right knee. Maybe that's his weak spot. You should use that."
Peter couldn't keep a stupid grin off his face. "Anything else, coach?"
"Yes, I was promised a win, and I'd like my man to keep his promises."
Peter almost choked on the mouthful of water he had just taken from his bottle. "Your man?"
Elizabeth merely gave him the sweetest of all smiles. "Is there something wrong with that?"
"No," Peter replied quickly. "But I think I might need more good luck."
She laughed before willingly planting another kiss on him.
Honestly, if he had to choose between going back on the ice and staying here kissing Elizabeth, Peter's decision would have taken all of two seconds. But she had also reminded him how much he wanted to win this game. He wanted to win it for her as much as for the rest of his team. And he finally stopped worrying about what Elizabeth might be thinking.
So Peter went ahead and scored a goal for his team, cutting the other team's lead in half. Elizabeth had a proud smile on her face when she gave him a celebratory wave. Peter was pretty sure that no one had ever looked at him like that.
But when he scored another goal, bringing the game to a tie, Elizabeth was barely even paying attention. She was engaged in a conversation with a woman who Peter recognized as the wife of Marcus, who was playing goalie for them. In his surprise, Peter almost crashed right into Carl.
"Woah! What are you doing? I'm on your team, man!" he protested.
Peter mumbled an apology, his eyes still trained on Elizabeth. She glanced at him and smiled distractedly but otherwise seemed entirely focused on her conversation with Mary.
"Maybe you shouldn't have brought her if she messes with your head like that," Carl said, shaking his head.
"No, it's just… what do you think they're talking about?"
Carl looked at the two women and raised both eyebrows. "They're probably talking about shoes."
Peter frowned. "Really?"
"No, man, they're talking about you, of course." Carl laughed and patted him on the back. "You've got a lot to learn about women, my friend."
That's what he had been afraid of. "I barely even know Mary. What could she possibly be saying about me?"
"Depends. Have you been nice to Marcus lately?" Carl winked at him and skated away.
Peter didn't have time to think too much about that with the game resuming. He and Marcus were friendly but had never worked closely together. And he couldn't do anything about whatever Mary and Elizabeth were talking about anyway. All he could do was help his team win the game.
Thankfully, when they did win, Elizabeth was back to cheering for him. So Peter relaxed a little, especially when Elizabeth greeted him with a cheerful, "Nice win, Agent Burke."
"Thanks, we got a tip that number 4 of the opposing team had a bum knee." He winked at her.
All around them family members came onto the ice to skate a little as well. Elizabeth looked at him expectantly. So Peter got her a pair of skates in her size and extended a hand to help her wobble from the bench to the ice after she had put them on. Then Peter let go, so Elizabeth could stand on her own two feet on the ice for the first time. She looked almost as excited and apprehensive as some of the kids before she actually dared to move.
And then he didn't know what happened. She was quite terrible at it. That was not a word Peter had associated with Elizabeth so far. Obviously she had never done this before, and it was normal to need some time to get used to the skates and how it felt to move in them. But Elizabeth seemed to have no coordination or sense of balance. She was practically sprawled on the ice like Bambi. It was both adorable and a little terrifying.
Peter had no idea what to do about it. Helping her would likely include touching her. There was nothing he wanted to do more, but there were kids and fellow agents on the ice. Peter wasn't sure if he trusted himself enough around her. Ever since their first kiss, he felt like a drug addict, craving another fix.
Also, to tell her how to do better, he would have to criticize her, and he definitely didn't want to do that. Maybe he was a bit of a coward, but Peter thought he had a right to play it safe on their second date.
So he sort of hovered near her, making rather unhelpful comments every now and then, until Elizabeth tried to make a turn that almost had her crashing into the ice. Peter caught her just in time but only by pulling her body very tightly against his. After he had righted them both, he knew he should have let go. Instead he intertwined his fingers behind Elizabeth's back, holding her to him, trying not to go crazy at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. She was so soft and so beautiful with her cheeks flushed from the fall, there was no way he could have resisted the urge to kiss her.
Elizabeth had held on to him tightly at first, scared of hitting the ice, but the longer their kiss lasted, the more Peter could feel her relax in his arms. She trusted him to keep her safe. It only made him want to kiss her more.
Someone cleared their throat while skating past them, which finally caused them to break apart. At least their lips did. Peter wasn't letting go of her – and not just because the woman was a safety hazard on the ice.
"If that's how you teach someone how to skate, I would have signed up a long time ago," Elizabeth joked.
"It only works in special cases," Peter replied.
"Yeah? What kind of cases?" Elizabeth asked with a teasing smile.
"The ones where the teacher can't take his eyes off his student."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Sounds like it's a good thing you're not actually a teacher."
"Right, because I'm an FBI agent who just won a hockey game. So can I buy you a drink to celebrate?"
"Sure."
Glad he had convinced her to get off the ice, Peter showered and changed in a hurry before walking with Elizabeth to a sports bar across the street. It wasn't as nice as the Italian place, but it was closest, which was why they sometimes got drinks here after a game.
Elizabeth seemed fairly interested in some of the memorabilia on display, although that might have been for his sake, since Peter was happy to explain all of it to her. When the bartender asked them what they would like to drink, Peter hesitated. He had no idea if the wine was any good here.
"What do you usually have?" Elizabeth asked him straight.
"Just a beer," he answered truthfully. No use pretending he had a more refined taste than that.
"Sounds good. I'll have one."
Peter furrowed his brow. "I thought you were partial to wine."
Elizabeth shrugged. "When in Rome…"
They brought their beers over to a table and sat. "So, I saw you talking to Mary earlier," Peter said because he was too curious for his own good.
"Oh yes, she was very nice. She said that the team has gotten a lot better since you joined. She and Marcus have been married for three years, so she's seen quite a number of these games. Their anniversary is next week. But you probably know all of that already." Elizabeth shrugged.
"Actually, I didn't," Peter admitted. "Maybe you should assist me in my next interrogation. You seem to have a knack for gathering a lot of information in a short time."
Elizabeth shook her head. "I probably asked very different questions."
"Like what?"
"Well, mostly we talked about what it's like being an FBI wife."
Peter froze with his beer glass halfway to his mouth. He knew he should have let it go. What on Earth was he supposed to respond to that? He couldn't even figure out what shocked him more –that she was worried about the pitfalls of being married to a federal agent or the fact that she was thinking about marriage at all.
His feeling of treading on quicksand only worsened when Elizabeth covered her mouth with one hand and still utterly failed to hide the fact that she was laughing.
"What?" Peter asked, finally managing to put down his glass.
"I'm sorry, Peter, but the look on your face just now was priceless," she explained in between giggles.
The dumbfounded expression on his face didn't get any better. Reading people was his job, but he had no idea what Elizabeth wanted from him right now.
Eventually, her laughter subsided, and she sounded serious again when she said, "Honestly, Peter, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just curious. Because from what I can tell working for the FBI is such a demanding job, and I was wondering how best to be supportive."
That Elizabeth seemed worried about his job not for her sake but for his finally pushed all of Peter's insecurities aside and replaced them with more affection towards her than he knew how to express. "Well, I don't know anything about being an FBI wife either," he joked, eliciting another laugh from her, "but I'd imagine that kind of smile is the only support that's needed."
"Just a smile, huh? No dinner on the table when the husband comes home?" Elizabeth teased.
"It's 1998. I've heard rumors that men have finally learned to cook for themselves."
Elizabeth's eyes gleamed. "Are you one of those men?"
Oh God, maybe he shouldn't have said that. "I do make a mean pot roast," Peter said the first and only thing that came to mind.
"Pot roast? That doesn't sound like something you make for just one person." The look on her face said that she was wondering if he had seduced other women with that particular skill, but Peter wasn't falling for that.
"That's because I used to make it with my dad. We'd have pot roast, drink beer, and watch a game. We still do when I have the time to visit."
Any suspicion was gone from Elizabeth's face, replaced by a bright smile. "That sounds lovely," she said. "Would you like to come over Saturday and cook something together?"
"At your place?" Peter asked as nonchalantly as possible.
"Yes, I don't have to work Sunday, so I thought it might be nice to stay in, have a nice dinner…"
Her suggestion trailed off there, and Peter had no idea if he should read anything into that. It didn't really matter since Elizabeth had definitely just invited him to spend what would be their third date in the rather intimate setting of her own apartment. No matter whether that implied anything or not, it meant he would get to see her again. Right now, that's all he cared about.
"Just tell me when to be there."
