Work Text:
Title: *ucked
Author: Ursula
Rating: rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke/ El
Notes: Spoilers: not many except for series general facts
Warnings: Slash, het not very overtly written
Word Count:
Summary: Neal Caffrey asks Peter to find out where he came from
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
OooOooO
"I need another favor," Neal said, crossing his legs and showing ankle monitor.
Peter managed to produce a frown instead of drool, but it was a close one. He said, "What this time? The crown jewels? Some hashish from the Old Man in the Mountains?"
"No," Neal said, leaning forward to breech what little space he had left between them. "I want you to find out where I came from."
"Ah, Neal," Peter said unhappily. "I could work on the crown jewels."
"If anyone can do it, you can," Neal said. "I want to know why I was in care. Why did my parents lose me? How? I start thinking that it was something I did like the foster father who kept saying I was a fairy. I was six. I don't think I knew what side was up at six. Please, Peter?"
"Of course, it was not something you did," Peter scoffed. "You were a little kid."
"Thanks, Peter," Neal said, as Peter drowned in his blue eyes.
OooOooO
Foster care records could be difficult to open, but it wasn't impossible. A court order works wonders. Peter knew a judge who thought he was Eliot Ness and J Edgar Hoover combined. All he had to say was that Neal had a serious, life-threatening disease and he had a court order to open Neal's records. Peter would never lie to the judge. Kleptomania was a disease, wasn't it? And Peter had threatened to kill Neal if he ever stole another painting. Honesty is the best policy as long as you are creative about you phrase it.
All those records documented a run of bad luck that Peter hoped wasn't often repeated. The retired social worker who brought the copies to him explained it was rare for a young child as bright and beautiful as Neal not to be adopted. It seemed that every couple who tried had some disaster or turned out to be the wrong fit such as the father Neal remembered who seemed to be obsessive about calling the young boy 'a fairy."
"And he seemed so liberal when I interviewed him," Ellen Dobbs said. "Well, here is the part the poor boy wanted to see. I'm afraid he will be disappointed. This is the end of the trail."
OooOooO
Neal bowed under the weight of the news. His hands shook as he opened the file, read the police report that described how he was found in a garden, how police knocked on doors all over the city to try to find the mother of the newborn and how, in the end, the case was never solved.
"I guess I was lucky that I didn't die of exposure."
"You were well wrapped in blankets and, apparently the old lady that owned the garden was a foster parent who always worked on her vegetables early in the morning. Your mother must have looked for the safest place they could find."
"Could you hold me, Peter, just hold me?"
Any protest died on Peter's lips. They had elected to do this at Neal's home and that was good, because the embrace became a kiss became a tumble into Neal's bed.
Neal smelled so good, like flowers, like something half remembered that you needed to savor. And his skin was silk. His hair was satin. And inside him was perfect pleasure.
OooOooO
Peter's confession to El involved being down on knees, sobbing out his guilt, and the quiet explanation, "You heard that expression, he charmed the pants off of me, and he did."
"I'll forgive you if you forgive me," El said.
"What?"
"It just happened. I felt like I was under a spell. I had to do it. He didn't even speak a word. It was an innocent hug and then we were in bed, all over each other."
"You know what this means?" Peter asked.
"You want a divorce?" El gasped.
"No, never, of course not," Peter said rapidly. He stood up and put his arms around Elizabeth and explained, "It means we should share him!"
"What a good idea!" El said.
Modestly, Peter said, "I thought so."
And so it was done. Peter, Elizabeth, and Neal in the big bed.
OooOooO
They might have lived happily ever after, but Kate, damned Kate appeared. She tried to seduce Neal, but he was filled with virtue and love from his trysts with Peter and El. Besides Kate had quite the huge zit on her nose when she tried and Neal was excessively fastidious.
Ah, but Kates are never easy to turn down.
One warm evening when the three of them were relaxing between a bout of play, Kate walked into the house with a strange wooden gun. "The gun may be made of wood, but the bullets are cold iron, Neal. Tell me where your treasure lies or I will surely shoot your lovers dead. And then I will shoot you."
"Steel," Peter corrected. "The bullets are steel."
"No, they are definitely iron and why does it matter?"
"I just thought you might be embarrassed when you land in prison and don't know iron from steel."
Peter planned a heroic move, but before he could execute it, Mozzie arrived. There was a flash of light and suddenly he was there. Before Kate could do more then let out a shriek, a hideous shriek, Moz whipped out a bow and arrow, shooting with great accuracy and speed. Kate fell dead, but almost instantly her black dress fluttered and moved, separated and became a colony of wheeling bats, causing both Elizabeth and Neal to try to burrow into Peter for safety.
"How?"
"Hang on, let me let the bats out," Moz said, doing so. "Kate was short for Hecate, you know, talk about having a bad attitude at the wrong time of the month. Sheez. And in case, you were wondering, her task was to find Neal's fairy dust before I could use it on him."
"Neal, where is your cache? It’s time to end this charade," Moz demanded.
"What charade?"
"Our revels now are ended and all of that," Moz said, scratching his ass through a hole in his tights, which were green and decorated with leaves. He wore a leaf like hat as well with a strange yellow tassel. "Come on, dude, time's awaiting. Let's rock out of this joint."
Peter drove them to a location deep in Central Park. Neal dragged out a rock and light poured out. The alcove was filled with famous lost paintings, a mint Spiderman Number One, jewels, lush furs, and gold. There were a few other items also.
"My lucky tie," Peter cried out, reclaiming the long lost treasure.
"My favorite pair of black lace panties!" Elizabeth added.
Neal blushed.
Moz reached deep into the alcove and produced a tiny sack. "This has been with you since first you were abandoned in Mother Hubbard's garden, 'neath cabbage leaves and tansy."
Opening the sack, Moz extracted a glowing powder into his hand. He blew this shining substance at Neal and what had been a handsome young man became a thing of such beauty, clad in bespoke gossamer and gold thread, bestrewn with love in idleness flowers.
That entrancing scent pervaded the park, causing a love-in not seen since 1967 in Haight-Ashbury.
"Sign here," Moz said.
Peter took the quill and almost signed before asking, "What am I signing?"
"The usual contract, first born fair of face and charmed of life. The two of you having riches, promotions, and happiness abounding."
"And what do we have to give? Our souls?"
"Look, keep your mythology straight. Fairy, not the devil," Moz said. "No, it's a release of indemnity for any damage done due to inadvertent acts under enchantment of Neal Caffrey aka Robin Good Fellow."
Moz shrugged. "A guy can only sip nectar so long. I got a law degree a few generations of your time ago. I keep up on the buzz and pass the bar every decade or so."
"I think we should sign," Elizabeth said, her hand on her stomach. Fertility tests had long resigned them to being a childless couple. "Our first born child!"
At El's pleading eyes, Peter gave in and signed. Elizabeth flourishing her signature while winking at Neal or Robin as he should be known.
Moz signed his name, wincing a little.
"Mustard Seed? Your name is Mustard Seed?"
"I didn't pick it," Moz said, "You blame me for preferring 'Moz'?"
"No," Peter admitted.
"The deal is that fairies live forever even if they don't get the clap," Moz or Mustard Seed explained, "But every once in while they have to reboot, turn into babies. And you know, it's a busy life for a fairy so we leave the little brats err precious babes in gardens for humans to raise. We usually pick 'em back up sooner, but the records get lost sometimes like they did with Neal. Then Neal wouldn't tell his old friend, Moz, where his treasure cache was so I couldn't retrieve his memory dust."
"Memory dust?"
"Think of it as a back up device for the long long memories of a fairy, especially an elemental like Robin Good Fellow."
"I would never have dreamed Neal had mob connections!" Peter said.
El hit him, "Not that kind of good fella! Duh! Peter, must you be so dense?"
Glowing light shone down as Oberon and Titania came down from heaven, all wrapped in stars.
El whispered, "Peter, they look a bit like us."
As the fairy king and queen extended their hands, Neal walked up the moon beams to greet each with a kiss. The kisses were no peck on the cheek. They were hungry kisses, Neal passed from mouth to mouth until his lips were near purple with passion.
As the fairy bridge closed behind him, Neal turned wistfully to gaze back and called, "I'll come to you in your dreams. Don't forget me."
"Our revels now have ended," Robin said.
Nothing was left but the anklet and it was suddenly constructed of gold and jewels. Peter sadly picked it up and stroked the still warm metal. It was gold but the real treasure was gone.
OooOooO
Despite the promotion, the unexpected stock bonus, El's positive pregnancy test, and Peter's dramatically lower cholesterol count, Peter still moped.
"Ah, Puck, Puck, Puck," Peter mourned to the space left empty across from his chair.
Looking up, he saw Ruiz running through the building, tearing at his hair. Peter went out to ask what was wrong.
Jones said, "Ruiz has gone mad. He swears his head is up his ass."
Lauren said, "Sorry about Neal's escape, Peter, and Jones, Ruiz doesn't think his head is up his ass; he thinks his head has been replaced by an ass head. I would never have thought Ruiz loved the classics."
And for one moment, if Peter listened hard, he heard far away silver bells and a laugh he knew full sweetly and well.
The End