Well HELLOWW THAR!! :)
Just so we get this straight lets get this over with, I do not own White Collar, any of its hot characters, nor do I own a bottle of Vodka for that matter.
Yes I am well aware that there are a LOT of spelling mistakes on this and thats because well, who talks even CLOSE to perfect when your drunk out of the door?
PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!!!!! REVIEW AND FAV!!!!!!!!!!! RECOMMEND!! Me likey that =3
Peter couldn't help his curious mind, there was just something that seemed completely off. Neal never pushed off a free meal. Of course Peter had tried calling Neal's house phone several times and even went back to his computer to check out Caffery's location but that only showed he was home. Peter pulled open the door to June's home, June was out of town for a few days visiting family and whatnot. He shot a glance around the floor, his eyes scanning almost every pulverized corner of the perfectly tidied home. That women was the one for cleanness.
"Neal." Peter shouted, hearing a familiar mumbled song coming from upstairs. Peter sighed, about to turn around but once again his curiosity got the best of him. "Neal!" He called again, starting for the stairs in the distance. He trotted with ease up them until he reached the white door that held the thick songs coming through the walls. Peter hesitated slightly before pushing the door open just to be completely shocked at what he saw in front of his eyes.
"Tick to-k 'ound the cloka deejaayy blow may speakars zup tonight I will figh'-" Neal broke off in the middle of the song to look at Peter in the door way. "Aye! Lookie who showeded up to my lovingly home of awezomness. Pete whatchu doin' ova ter? Get over har FBI guy!" He called from the dining room table. Peter raised his eyebrows and sighed at the sight of Neal slumped in his chair, a bottle of vodka in his hand. His tie was undone and hung around his neck and the buttons on his shirt were loose. Peter sighed and walked toward Neal, eyeing him conspicuously.
"Neal, what the hell did you do now? Your drunk as day!" Peter pulled out a chair and sat with Neal, watching him with a stern face.
"Mmmm not drun' you…re the drun' one. Looka you, your fallin off o the char Pete." Neal stammered with a goofy look in his blue eyes. Peter shook his head.
"No Neal, you're pretty out there. Your just so drunk you don't notice your head leaning against your shoulder…" Peter said with slight humor. Neal straightened his head off his shoulder and kept his eyes on Peter.
"Oh will ya lookie thar? I guess you'rah right on that one. Hehe. Here I'll give you some a tis magical water. It makez you feel gooooooood." Neal pulled his arm up to expose the large bottle of vodka and tipped it into a glass on the table. Nothing came out, not even a drop. Neal shook the bottle lazily up and down but still nothing came out. He flung his arm up above his head and gazed inside of the bottle, closing one eye as he peered into it. "Oopzi daisies. I think I drinked it all. It waz here a momn't go I swear." Peter eyed him and nodded.
"I'm sure it was, kid. Lets get you to bed. God knows your going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. " Peter got to his feet and took a step toward Neal before Neal interrupted.
"Nah buddy, letz-stalk a lil bit, kay?" Neal asked, putting the bottle on the table with a loud clunk. Peter shook his head.
"No I think now would be better. We'll talk tomorrow, when you aren't totally wasted out of your tree."
"Awww. Wheres the fun in that? I don't see it. Funnnnnn. Where are you fun?" Neal leaned back in his chair, head tilted back as he called into the open house. He sat up slightly and shrugged at him. "I don' think it likeses you Pete, don' worray I'll make it come back nother' day." Peter nodded and started to pull him off the chair. Neal hesitated and flailed his arms.
"Neal, cut it out!" Peter said loudly, stepping away to glare at Neal.
"Don' wanna go to bed, not yet. Please Pete don't make me go. Lil longer." He begged. Peter huffed a 'fine' and went to go sit back in the seat he was sitting in before. "Thank you sweetie." He said in a drunkened tone. Peter shot him a 'what the heck' look. Neal leaned over and placed his elbows on the table, looking at Peter in the eyes. "That's wha Liz-beth calls you. She calls you sweetie. I hear her."
"Well…that's great Neal…" Peter said cautiously. Neal laughed a giddy laugh and leaned his head back, gazing up at the ceiling. He rolled his head to look at Peter, who was odiously both scared but concerned for Neal.
"Aye Pete?" Neal asked, extending one arm to Peter's shoulder as he patted it sleepily. Peter was almost amused by his actions.
"I tink I'm drun'" He said with crazed blue eyes.
"Really? What makes you say that?" Peter asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"I feel like I'm flyin'." Neal held his arms up in the air as his head fell to the side. "Look Pete, I'm Pete'r Pan! Whooshhhhhh." He said, moving his arms in a flying motion. Peter raised his eyebrows and watched Neal. Neal the suddenly looked up and shot an alarmed glance at Peter. "That means that you're the Pan guy, yous guys gots the same name! But Peter, wouldn't that mean I'm that really old fat guy with the big red nose?" He asked.
"No, that's captain hook's assistant, not Peter Pan's." Peter chuckled.
"CAPTAIN HOOK?! WHERE!?" Neal shouted best he could, barely getting up to his feet with his hand on his hip in a fist. In the other hand he held the vodka bottle in the other. He fell pretty much instantly from the time he stood up, before Peter could catch him.
"Jesus Christ. Neal be quiet and calm down!" Peter scrambled toward Neal and picked him up, not gaining any support on Neal's side. "That's it, you're going to bed. Stand up." Neal picked himself off the floor as his legs twisted and turned with every movement. He wasn't even this bad when he was drugged!
"Okiz Peter Pan but you gotta do your chours firs' kay darlin'? Never Never land is posed' to be nice and tidily clean" Neal stated. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled Neal toward his room, one arm under Neal's arms. Neal tilted his head back as Peter buckled under the younger man's weight. "Home, home in the city. Where the faries and the agents play!" He called loudly.
"Neal! Shut up!" Peter shouted.
"My, my, aren't we the lil gumpy type?" Neal teased. Peter picked him up again and this time they made it to the room. Peter moved him onto the bed.
"There we go, kid." As soon as he leaned off of Neal to help him get his shoes off and pull down the covers Neal fell onto the bed face first and hunched over, mumbling some other things into the blanket. The only thing Peter caught was when Neal turned his head to the side, avoiding the muffling blankets to speak clearer.
"I love you buddy but I don' thin' you'd look good in a bikini…." He said in Peter's direction as he untied Neal's shoe laces. Peter ignored it and removed his shoes for him. By the time he was finished he sat up and looked to Neal's face to see his eyes closed and his chest slowly rising and falling. Peter shook his head and laughed at his passed out partner as he positioned Neal better and rolled him onto his back. Neal let out some snoring and completely ignored Peter's existence, which Peter didn't really mind at the moment. Note to self. NEVER take Neal out for a few drinks. He thought. Neal didn't really seem like he was in a good state to be left alone, he could wake up and well…hurt himself. He was Peter's responsibility. Peter then took out his phone and pressed speed dial #1. The phone let out a few light buzzes before a sweet rhythmic voice picked up on the other end.
"Hey honey, I don't think I'll be coming home tonight."
SO much fun writing that chapter! Prob gonna be a 2 shot, possibly 3...i wanna get the day after :] LOL that should be fun...
Hes soooo drunk off his ass XXD