Author:
Rating: PG
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Mozzie
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 800
Summary: Eight Clauses That Define Their Relationship - This is What Friends Do For Each Other
Because I can’t help but link my fics together, each one of the segments references something in, relies somewhat on one or more of my previously written stories. I note this just so you don’t think I’m repeating myself accidently.
We the People – See Minutes and Hours, Truth and Nightmares
“Moz…thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. Saving my life, my sanity.”
He and Neal go back a long time, but he hasn’t always been the most reliable friend and so he’s never really hurt that Neal doesn’t fully trust him. But this … this extravagant declaration is almost more than he can bear. It implies a debt that he doesn’t want carry, it’s a marker than he’ll never be able to call. So he rubs the back of his neck, rolls his shoulders a bit and moves a pawn forward.
“Moz – are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, Neal. You thanked me. You’re welcome. Are you going to play chess or what?” Moz tries to keep the irritation out of his voice, but doesn’t succeed.
“Moz, what’s the matter?”
He looks at Neal – that beautiful face, those bright blue eyes sucking him in, and he thinks about all the times that he’s let him down. The near miss in Venice, the screw up in Prague, completely misreading the situation with the box in Copenhagen – and of course the disaster with the bonds, Neal’s arrest, his imprisonment, Kate, everything. But these past two years, he’s had the chance to redeem himself. Not that Neal ever thought he was responsible for all the messes that they’ve gotten into. But Moz knows better.
So he gives Neal a sour smile and tries to brush the whole thing off. “We’re friends, that’s what we’re supposed to do. No thanks needed.”
Neal nods his head, but he doesn’t let it go. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t stand by me. Peter told me what you did afterwards … after the explosion.”
“Well, your suit is – and I hate to say it – a good man. You really should trust him…and no Zen-like excuses anymore. He’s not going to give up on you.”
“That’s actually sort of about what I want to tell you.”
Moz stares intently at the chessboard. He knows what’s coming – he’s seen it coming almost since the moment Neal told him he was working with the FBI.
“We’re sleeping together.”
“WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????” This is NOT what he is expecting to hear. “I thought you were going to tell me you’re going completely legit. Not that you were having sexual relations with your FBI handler.”
“Oh, I will probably have to give up my criminal endeavors – it’s not like I’ve been terribly successful at them, anyway.”
Moz was outraged. “What do you mean, not successful?”
“Come on, Mozzie – I never got the big score. Lots of little ones, a few good ones, but nothing really, truly huge.”
“What about the Monet? The two Cezanne? The Canaletto drawings? The Antioch Manuscripts? The Vinland Map? I’d consider all of those pretty big scores.”
“And I can’t touch them. You know that. I’m sitting on a museum’s worth of art and I can’t move a single piece. Probably should give it all back at some point.” Neal smiles at him, and it’s a real smile, not the professional one that’s charmed its way across three continents. It reminds him that there’s something bigger than Neal’s desire to do the wrong thing.
“Enough with the distractions. Do you know what you’re doing – you’re having sex with The Suit.” Moz isn’t heartbroken. Bodily congress and fluids and germs and skin are getting to be a bigger turn off as the years pass, and he knows that he was never Neal’s beau ideal anyway – but The Suit?
“And what about Mrs. Suit – that very nice lady with the house and the dog and the fois gras. Don’t you think she’s going to be really pissed when she finds out you’re schtupping her husband?”
“Well, technically, he’s schtupping me, but it’s not just me and Peter.” Neal’s voice drops, and Moz holds his breath. “It’s the three of us.”
Moz’s jaw hits the table. “You and both The Suits?”
“Yeah.” The wonder in Neal’s voice makes him, well, envious.
“At the same time?”
“We’re – together. And sometimes separately.”
Moz has to ask, because he knows Neal’s fatal weakness. “Are you in love with them?”
Neal blinks and his face goes blank. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can feel that anymore. But I’m happy. That’s not something I expected.”
“It’s going to be difficult. You’ve still got that piece of jewelry – and you can’t even cut it anymore. What if the other suits find out?”
“Moz – I don’t know what’s going to happen, day to day. We’ve got a lot of stuff to work out. We are people -- flawed people. There’s going to be issues. We’re discreet. And it’s not about sex – well, not all the time”
“You. The Suits. Of all people.” Moz shakes his head. “You are one lucky son of a bitch."
GO TO PART II: In Order To Form a More Perfect Union
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