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elrhiarhodanTitle: The Price of Knowledge – A Dragon'verse Timestamp
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elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Mozzie, Peter Burke, Reese Hughes
Pairings: Peter/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~2100
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Set in my Dragon'verse, Neal is kind of desperate to understand the Draconis and their ways. So Moz helps him out, and then helps himself to some wine. What else is new?
A/N: Written fordaria234 for Promptfest IX, for her prompt "Ancient Code".
__________________
"I think I've found what you're looking for." Moz burst into his apartment, a smile on his face and a huge book in his arms.
Neal looked up from the Degas he was working on. "What have I been looking for?"
Moz dropped the book on the table and all but ran over to Neal's wine rack. Without even a by-your-leave, he helped himself to a hundred-dollar bottle of Barolo. The whole bottle, not just a glassful. It disappeared into Moz's messenger bag and Neal waited patiently as his friend and more than occasional partner in crime poured a glass from the only slightly less expensive bottle of Burgundy that he'd had left open to breathe.
"Moz?"
"Oh, you want a glass, too?"
"That would be nice, but what have I been looking for?"
Moz sat down and patted the book. "The history of your people."
Neal blinked, not quite sure he heard Moz correctly. "You found a history of the Draconis?"
Moz nodded and patted the book again.
Neal reached for the volume and …
Growled in frustration. "The book is locked. Why is this locked?"
Moz buried his face in the wine glass. He didn't answer
"And how old is this book?"
Moz finished the glass and reached for the one he poured for Neal and drained that, too.
"Mozzie?"
"It's old, okay?"
"I can see that." A terrible, horrible thought occurred to Neal. "Where did you get this?"
Moz went back to the kitchenette and retrieved the bottle of Burgundy. He filled his glass almost to the brim.
"You stole this, didn't you?"
"You're very quick to pass judgment, mon frère. I just borrowed it."
Neal closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "Who did you borrowthis from?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Because I don't feel like being eaten today."
"Oh, dragons don't eat people. That's just a myth."
"I'm not so sure about that." Neal hadn't told Moz about how Peter and the FBI resolved the incident with The Ghost.
Moz picked up on something in his voice, because he gave him a sharp look. Neal tried not to squirm and redirected the conversation. "It's really not a good idea to borrow anything from a Dracon."
"Only if they find out."
Neal didn't want to go into it, but he was pretty certain that Draconis could track each item in their hoard, down to the dust speck. "Where did you get this, Moz?" Neal toyed with the lock, which seemed to have no hinge or hasp or keyhole.
"I might have found it inreesehughes'library."
"What?" Neal thought he heard Peter's boss' name in that statement. "Did you say Reese Hughes?"
Moz nodded, and at least he had the grace to look a little sheepish.
"Wonderful. Just wonderful." Neal scrubbed his eyes, wondering why his life was so damn complicated. "You know what, you need to go. Take my Barolo and the Amarone you've had your eye on and disappear for a few weeks."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Moz lingered, though.
"Take the Chateauneuf du Pape, too."
"You really want me gone, don't you?"
Neal had to be honest. "I think you messed up big time. I might be able to fix this and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."
"You're counting on them giving you slack because you're one of them, right?"
Neal nodded.
"I was only trying to help."
"I know, Moz. Just … go." Something was tingling along the base of his spine and the sensation was familiar. Peter was on his way. "Take the elevator, okay? And don't do anything to call attention to yourself."
"As if."
Moz left through the side door and Neal counted the heartbeats until Peter's arrival. For the first time since Peter took him out of Sing-Sing, Neal wasn't looking forward to seeing the Dracon.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Peter had a headache. A Neal-sized headache induced by an eight-hundred year-old Dracon.
"Your protégé has something of mine." Reese didn't roar and he had exquisite control over his subvocalizations. Not a single lightbulb shattered.
Peter still had the good sense to be terrified. He lowered his posture. It felt wrong and unnatural, but Reese was clearly not in a mood to have his dominance challenged. "What did he take?"
"It doesn't matter what he took. He has something of mine and I want it back."
Peter nodded but kept his head low. The last time he saw Reese this angry, three treaties had been broken. "Okay."
"And tell Caffrey that if this happens again, I won't ask him to return it. I'll take it back, and I won't particularly care about the consequences."
There was a dead quiet hush throughout the entire White Collar office. Hughes spoke English, but the walls hummed as if he'd used Drathic. Peter felt each syllable in his bones and nearly lost his own control as scales started to pop up along his neck and throat.
Despite his submissive posture, Hughes had threatened his hoard in the most basic way and Peter's reaction was atavistic, biological, primal. Hughes had seen the scales, recognized them for what they were and nodded sharply before leaving his office.
Which was why Peter was impatiently searching for a parking spot on the northern end of Riverside Drive. There was'nt a single legitimate spot in a three block radius from the Ellington mansion.
Fed up, Peter muttered "fuck it" and pulled in front of a mail box, a no-parking zone in Manhattan. He tossed his FBI placard on the dashboard and headed for the big Beaux Arts house on the corner. He hoped that June wasn't in residence; he didn't want to have to deal with her protectiveness at the moment. She'd taken way too much of a shine to Neal, and that set Peter's scales twitching. She wasn't actually interfering with his hoard rights, but she was skirting very close. And after Hughes' threats, Peter wasn't sure he had enough control to deal with June.
Thankfully, June wasn't at home and the housekeeper let him know that Mister Neal was in his apartment and he might have company. The woman had let a friend in a little while ago, but she thought she'd heard someone leave through the garden door.
Peter ground his teeth and reined in his temper. His mood was dire enough to crack the foundations of this old house, down to the bedrock. Soon, but not today, he needed to meet this friend of Neal's, the one who seemed to enjoy getting the young Dracon into trouble.
The door to Neal's apartment was opened and Peter didn't bother to knock. Neal was sitting at his dining table, an easel had been pushed to one side and a box of oil pastels was opened. There was a faint stink of linseed oil in the air, an odor Peter had quickly come to associate with Neal, but it couldn't mask the stench of fear.
Good.
"I think you're looking for this." Neal pulled a cloth away to reveal a hide-bound book on the table. "I was going to return it when I was finished with it."
Peter took a deep breath and relaxed. Trust Neal to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Then he looked at the book. Peter couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and he turned it around so that the title was legible.
He laughed and the windows and skylights vibrated with his amusement.
"What's so funny?"
"You took this?"
Neal didn't say anything. He was playing that game again.
"Okay, you acquired this?"
"It's only borrowed. I would have returned it as soon as I was finished."
"Really?" Peter didn't try to keep the smile off his face.
"Yes, really."
"How were you planning on reading this?" Peter touched the binding. "I don't think this is a lock even you can pick."
Neal shrugged.
Peter sat down and stretched out, tilting his head to the right and then to the left. The sounds of the tendons and joints popping was quite pleasurable. He looked at the book, grinned, and looked back at Neal, who seemed distinctly nonplussed. He decided to play with Neal, a game of cat and mouse was just the thing he needed right now. "Why this book?"
Neal shrugged again.
"Come on, you can tell me."
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Neal shook his head and carried on before Peter could answer. "No, of course you don't. You were born and raised a Dracon. You knew what you were from the beginning of your existence. You had family to teach you what it meant to be Dracon, they spoke Drathic to you, they gave you all the tools you needed to get on in the world. I didn't."
"So you stole this?"
"I didn't steal it."
"You borrowed it."
"I acquired it."
Peter had to ask. "Do you know what this is?" He stroked the cover, enjoying the almost velvety texture of the ancient hide.
"It's a guidebook for Draconis. It'll teach me how to get along with the rest of you. If I have to deal with Lauren and Diana and Clinton laughing at me one more time because I've made some Draconic faux pas, I'm going to lose it."
Peter murmured, "Hmm, we don't want that to happen."
"Don't humor at me, I'm serious. Didn't you tell me that I need to keep control of my emotions?"
"Yes, I did. And I'm sorry, I really didn't mean any disrespect."
"I detect a high degree of insincerity in your voice, Agent Burke."
Peter couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. Neal was getting riled up; it was kind of like watching a tiny kitten deal with an unexpected soaking - all ruffled dignity and frustration. Peter was both aroused and amused.
Neal glared at him. "What?"
"You don't know what this book is, do you?"
Neal let out a deep sigh. "I take it that it's really not a guidebook for Draconis culture."
Peter tried not to chuckle. "Let's just say that whoever borrowed this has a slight working knowledge of Drathic. Better than yours, but only marginally."
Neal blinked.
"It is a guidebook. Of sorts."
"Of sorts?"
"Yup." Peter caught Neal's gaze and didn't let it go for the space of several heartbeats.
"Of what sorts?" Neal stared at the book. "Oh. OH. It's a sex manual?"
"It's rather like the soft-skin's Kama Sutra, providing practical advice for dragon mating - for both procreation and for pleasure." Peter enjoyed the deep blush that covered Neal's cheeks.
"Why would Mo - " Neal bit his lip.
Peter took pity on Neal, and on the mysterious friend who'd helped himself to his volume. "The title roughly translates to 'The Handbook for Draconic Living.' Acrosh a'dracon shiri'n." Peter kept the subvocalizations to a minimum - there was way too much glass in Neal's apartment for any extensive use of Drathic. "The misunderstanding is understandable. Sex and pleasure are essential components of Draconic life. Just as they are in Human life."
Neal nodded. "That makes sense, of sorts."
He still sounded very put out and Peter had to resist the urge to pull Neal onto his lap and do his best to soothe that temper.
"Was Agent Hughes very angry?"
"To put it mildly. Your quest for knowledge is admirable, but raiding a Dracon's hoard to satisfy that urge is pretty damn stupid."
"I know, I know." Neal ran a hand through his hair.
"Tell your friend that if he does it again, he's not going to like the consequences."
"I've tried, but he doesn't believe that Draconis actually eat people."
"And he's better off for that ignorance."
"True."
Neal reached for the book but Peter slapped his hands away. "This isn't yours and you're better off not touching it."
"I'm curious - you can't tell me it's a Draconic sex manual and not let me look at it."
Peter was torn. On one hand, this was too good of an opportunity to miss. On the other hand, this was Reese's and hoard law had to be obeyed. "Tell you what. I'll return this and come back with my own copy. It's not quite so precious at this one."
"You're going to lend it to me?" Neal was rightfully surprised that he'd be so willing to give up something from his hoard.
"Not lending it." Peter relished bursting that bubble. "You won't be looking at it alone, Neal."
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Mozzie, Peter Burke, Reese Hughes
Pairings: Peter/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~2100
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Set in my Dragon'verse, Neal is kind of desperate to understand the Draconis and their ways. So Moz helps him out, and then helps himself to some wine. What else is new?
A/N: Written for
daria234 for Promptfest IX, for her prompt "Ancient Code"."I think I've found what you're looking for." Moz burst into his apartment, a smile on his face and a huge book in his arms.
Neal looked up from the Degas he was working on. "What have I been looking for?"
Moz dropped the book on the table and all but ran over to Neal's wine rack. Without even a by-your-leave, he helped himself to a hundred-dollar bottle of Barolo. The whole bottle, not just a glassful. It disappeared into Moz's messenger bag and Neal waited patiently as his friend and more than occasional partner in crime poured a glass from the only slightly less expensive bottle of Burgundy that he'd had left open to breathe.
"Moz?"
"Oh, you want a glass, too?"
"That would be nice, but what have I been looking for?"
Moz sat down and patted the book. "The history of your people."
Neal blinked, not quite sure he heard Moz correctly. "You found a history of the Draconis?"
Moz nodded and patted the book again.
Neal reached for the volume and …
Growled in frustration. "The book is locked. Why is this locked?"
Moz buried his face in the wine glass. He didn't answer
"And how old is this book?"
Moz finished the glass and reached for the one he poured for Neal and drained that, too.
"Mozzie?"
"It's old, okay?"
"I can see that." A terrible, horrible thought occurred to Neal. "Where did you get this?"
Moz went back to the kitchenette and retrieved the bottle of Burgundy. He filled his glass almost to the brim.
"You stole this, didn't you?"
"You're very quick to pass judgment, mon frère. I just borrowed it."
Neal closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "Who did you borrowthis from?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Because I don't feel like being eaten today."
"Oh, dragons don't eat people. That's just a myth."
"I'm not so sure about that." Neal hadn't told Moz about how Peter and the FBI resolved the incident with The Ghost.
Moz picked up on something in his voice, because he gave him a sharp look. Neal tried not to squirm and redirected the conversation. "It's really not a good idea to borrow anything from a Dracon."
"Only if they find out."
Neal didn't want to go into it, but he was pretty certain that Draconis could track each item in their hoard, down to the dust speck. "Where did you get this, Moz?" Neal toyed with the lock, which seemed to have no hinge or hasp or keyhole.
"I might have found it inreesehughes'library."
"What?" Neal thought he heard Peter's boss' name in that statement. "Did you say Reese Hughes?"
Moz nodded, and at least he had the grace to look a little sheepish.
"Wonderful. Just wonderful." Neal scrubbed his eyes, wondering why his life was so damn complicated. "You know what, you need to go. Take my Barolo and the Amarone you've had your eye on and disappear for a few weeks."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Moz lingered, though.
"Take the Chateauneuf du Pape, too."
"You really want me gone, don't you?"
Neal had to be honest. "I think you messed up big time. I might be able to fix this and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."
"You're counting on them giving you slack because you're one of them, right?"
Neal nodded.
"I was only trying to help."
"I know, Moz. Just … go." Something was tingling along the base of his spine and the sensation was familiar. Peter was on his way. "Take the elevator, okay? And don't do anything to call attention to yourself."
"As if."
Moz left through the side door and Neal counted the heartbeats until Peter's arrival. For the first time since Peter took him out of Sing-Sing, Neal wasn't looking forward to seeing the Dracon.
Peter had a headache. A Neal-sized headache induced by an eight-hundred year-old Dracon.
"Your protégé has something of mine." Reese didn't roar and he had exquisite control over his subvocalizations. Not a single lightbulb shattered.
Peter still had the good sense to be terrified. He lowered his posture. It felt wrong and unnatural, but Reese was clearly not in a mood to have his dominance challenged. "What did he take?"
"It doesn't matter what he took. He has something of mine and I want it back."
Peter nodded but kept his head low. The last time he saw Reese this angry, three treaties had been broken. "Okay."
"And tell Caffrey that if this happens again, I won't ask him to return it. I'll take it back, and I won't particularly care about the consequences."
There was a dead quiet hush throughout the entire White Collar office. Hughes spoke English, but the walls hummed as if he'd used Drathic. Peter felt each syllable in his bones and nearly lost his own control as scales started to pop up along his neck and throat.
Despite his submissive posture, Hughes had threatened his hoard in the most basic way and Peter's reaction was atavistic, biological, primal. Hughes had seen the scales, recognized them for what they were and nodded sharply before leaving his office.
Which was why Peter was impatiently searching for a parking spot on the northern end of Riverside Drive. There was'nt a single legitimate spot in a three block radius from the Ellington mansion.
Fed up, Peter muttered "fuck it" and pulled in front of a mail box, a no-parking zone in Manhattan. He tossed his FBI placard on the dashboard and headed for the big Beaux Arts house on the corner. He hoped that June wasn't in residence; he didn't want to have to deal with her protectiveness at the moment. She'd taken way too much of a shine to Neal, and that set Peter's scales twitching. She wasn't actually interfering with his hoard rights, but she was skirting very close. And after Hughes' threats, Peter wasn't sure he had enough control to deal with June.
Thankfully, June wasn't at home and the housekeeper let him know that Mister Neal was in his apartment and he might have company. The woman had let a friend in a little while ago, but she thought she'd heard someone leave through the garden door.
Peter ground his teeth and reined in his temper. His mood was dire enough to crack the foundations of this old house, down to the bedrock. Soon, but not today, he needed to meet this friend of Neal's, the one who seemed to enjoy getting the young Dracon into trouble.
The door to Neal's apartment was opened and Peter didn't bother to knock. Neal was sitting at his dining table, an easel had been pushed to one side and a box of oil pastels was opened. There was a faint stink of linseed oil in the air, an odor Peter had quickly come to associate with Neal, but it couldn't mask the stench of fear.
Good.
"I think you're looking for this." Neal pulled a cloth away to reveal a hide-bound book on the table. "I was going to return it when I was finished with it."
Peter took a deep breath and relaxed. Trust Neal to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Then he looked at the book. Peter couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and he turned it around so that the title was legible.
He laughed and the windows and skylights vibrated with his amusement.
"What's so funny?"
"You took this?"
Neal didn't say anything. He was playing that game again.
"Okay, you acquired this?"
"It's only borrowed. I would have returned it as soon as I was finished."
"Really?" Peter didn't try to keep the smile off his face.
"Yes, really."
"How were you planning on reading this?" Peter touched the binding. "I don't think this is a lock even you can pick."
Neal shrugged.
Peter sat down and stretched out, tilting his head to the right and then to the left. The sounds of the tendons and joints popping was quite pleasurable. He looked at the book, grinned, and looked back at Neal, who seemed distinctly nonplussed. He decided to play with Neal, a game of cat and mouse was just the thing he needed right now. "Why this book?"
Neal shrugged again.
"Come on, you can tell me."
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Neal shook his head and carried on before Peter could answer. "No, of course you don't. You were born and raised a Dracon. You knew what you were from the beginning of your existence. You had family to teach you what it meant to be Dracon, they spoke Drathic to you, they gave you all the tools you needed to get on in the world. I didn't."
"So you stole this?"
"I didn't steal it."
"You borrowed it."
"I acquired it."
Peter had to ask. "Do you know what this is?" He stroked the cover, enjoying the almost velvety texture of the ancient hide.
"It's a guidebook for Draconis. It'll teach me how to get along with the rest of you. If I have to deal with Lauren and Diana and Clinton laughing at me one more time because I've made some Draconic faux pas, I'm going to lose it."
Peter murmured, "Hmm, we don't want that to happen."
"Don't humor at me, I'm serious. Didn't you tell me that I need to keep control of my emotions?"
"Yes, I did. And I'm sorry, I really didn't mean any disrespect."
"I detect a high degree of insincerity in your voice, Agent Burke."
Peter couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. Neal was getting riled up; it was kind of like watching a tiny kitten deal with an unexpected soaking - all ruffled dignity and frustration. Peter was both aroused and amused.
Neal glared at him. "What?"
"You don't know what this book is, do you?"
Neal let out a deep sigh. "I take it that it's really not a guidebook for Draconis culture."
Peter tried not to chuckle. "Let's just say that whoever borrowed this has a slight working knowledge of Drathic. Better than yours, but only marginally."
Neal blinked.
"It is a guidebook. Of sorts."
"Of sorts?"
"Yup." Peter caught Neal's gaze and didn't let it go for the space of several heartbeats.
"Of what sorts?" Neal stared at the book. "Oh. OH. It's a sex manual?"
"It's rather like the soft-skin's Kama Sutra, providing practical advice for dragon mating - for both procreation and for pleasure." Peter enjoyed the deep blush that covered Neal's cheeks.
"Why would Mo - " Neal bit his lip.
Peter took pity on Neal, and on the mysterious friend who'd helped himself to his volume. "The title roughly translates to 'The Handbook for Draconic Living.' Acrosh a'dracon shiri'n." Peter kept the subvocalizations to a minimum - there was way too much glass in Neal's apartment for any extensive use of Drathic. "The misunderstanding is understandable. Sex and pleasure are essential components of Draconic life. Just as they are in Human life."
Neal nodded. "That makes sense, of sorts."
He still sounded very put out and Peter had to resist the urge to pull Neal onto his lap and do his best to soothe that temper.
"Was Agent Hughes very angry?"
"To put it mildly. Your quest for knowledge is admirable, but raiding a Dracon's hoard to satisfy that urge is pretty damn stupid."
"I know, I know." Neal ran a hand through his hair.
"Tell your friend that if he does it again, he's not going to like the consequences."
"I've tried, but he doesn't believe that Draconis actually eat people."
"And he's better off for that ignorance."
"True."
Neal reached for the book but Peter slapped his hands away. "This isn't yours and you're better off not touching it."
"I'm curious - you can't tell me it's a Draconic sex manual and not let me look at it."
Peter was torn. On one hand, this was too good of an opportunity to miss. On the other hand, this was Reese's and hoard law had to be obeyed. "Tell you what. I'll return this and come back with my own copy. It's not quite so precious at this one."
"You're going to lend it to me?" Neal was rightfully surprised that he'd be so willing to give up something from his hoard.
"Not lending it." Peter relished bursting that bubble. "You won't be looking at it alone, Neal."
