[Fanfiction] Déjà-Vu (1/6)

[aragarna]

Title: Déjà-Vu
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie.
Genre, rating: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, gen, G.
Word count: 1033 this chapter. 7347 in total.
Spoilers: Set post-series.
Summary: Missing the good old days of their partnership, Peter convinces Neal to help him on a case. But things don't go as smoothly as expected...
Beta credit: My infinite gratitute to reve_silencieux for all the cheerleading, advices and hard beta work.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a simple fluffy ficlet. But then I read icecreammilktea's awesome prompt (spoilery, read at your own risk) over at Collar Corner, and it just ate my brain, turning an innocent fluffly fic into an epic h/c. Story is complete, I'll be posting it all over the next days.

Chapter One

Peter grabbed the leash from the hook next to the front door and turned to his dog. Satchmo eagerly rose from his basket and wagged his tail as he trotted toward the door, looking at Peter expectantly.

Neal put on his coat and turned to Elizabeth. “Thank you so much for yet another amazing lunch, Elizabeth.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Neal,” Elizabeth said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Peter opened the door, and Neal followed him and Satchmo down the steps.  They stopped on the sidewalk, exchanging a look and smiled at each other.

Peter was reluctant to let go of Neal. Not just yet.

“It was… nice,” he said.

Neal nodded. “It was.”

“Maybe we could…”

But Peter was interrupted by Satchmo suddenly pulling on the leash, throwing him off balance. Peter barely managed to catch his fall, making an acrobatic jump backward.

Neal burst out laughing. “Nice catch. You never told me about your stunt skills.”

“What can I say,” Peter retorted with a smirk. “Years of dog-walking practice.”

“I can see that.”

Peter pointed at Satchmo, who was still pulling on the leash. “I gotta go. See you, Neal.”

“See you, Peter,” Neal replied, still chuckling. He walked away and Peter took the opposite direction, to Satchmo’s relief and delight.

They walked down the block, following their familiar route. Neal’s crystal laugh was still ringing in Peter’s ears, way after he was out of reach. A laugh that brought back many memories for Peter. Strangely, his heart tightened in his chest as images of their old partnership popped in his head. He felt invaded by a wave of melancholy.

The first months after Neal’s death, the void that his disappearance had created had been excruciating. Even after a year, Peter was still sincerely missing him. But he was getting there. He was missing the years of partnership with Neal, but it wasn’t as painful anymore. Obviously, his son had been very good at creating an all new kind of chaos in his father’s life, monopolizing his attention and time. Between his family and his work, Peter’s life was as complete as ever, and his years of partnership with Neal were becoming simple and precious memories. The good old days.

So, now that Neal was back, very much alive and well, Peter had no reason to miss him anymore. And yet, Peter couldn’t shake that strange feeling. He was missing Neal, or more exactly, the idea of Neal. And it was somehow even more evident now that the young man was back, because as much as he was back, he wasn’t really back, not like before. And that just made it all the more obvious that the good old days were over.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter hadn’t even realized they were back in front of the house. Shaking off his melancholy, he quickly climbed the stairs and, once inside, released Satchmo from the leash.

Elizabeth was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes. Peter slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her at the small of her neck, and let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

“What? No,” Peter protested. “I’m fine.”

Elizabeth grabbed a towel to wipe her hands, and turned to face Peter. She looked closely at him.

“Right,” she said, giving him a meaningful look.

Peter perched on a chair at the kitchen island and Elizabeth sat next to him. “It’s just that… I miss Neal.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Neal? Neal Caffrey? He visits almost every Sunday. And when he’s doesn’t, you’re meeting him for lunch. How can you miss him?”

Peter shook his head. “I know, but it’s not the same. It’s nice, but I miss what we had. Working cases, being a team. I keep having these flashes. One time, he’d make that bright ‘I won’t admit it’ smile. Another time, it’d be the way he finishes my sentence, or even how he’d know exactly what to say to annoy me. Today, it was the way he laughed…”

Elizabeth took Peter’s hand and made him look at her. “And what prevents you for working cases again?”

“He doesn’t want to work for the FBI anymore, and he has no obligations to.”

“Did he say so?”

Peter shook his head. “No, but you can see how he’s reluctant to ask about work, about the FBI.”

Elizabeth took his hand. “And you did a pretty good job at avoiding the subject, too.”

Peter looked down. “It’s just… Given the lenghts he went to escape the FBI, it seemed pretty clear to me, he didn’t want to hear about it anymore.”

“The FBI, maybe. But you?”

Peter looked at El intensely, pondering this for a moment. “You think he would?”

Elizabeth stepped down from the chair and gave Peter a kiss on the cheek. “Can’t hurt to ask. I’m sure you can find just the words.”

“And the right case,” Peter completed.

“And the right case,” Elizabeth confirmed, “One he couldn’t resist.”

“And I know just the one,” Peter said cheerfully. He kissed El. “Have I ever told you how smart you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she said with a wink.

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Peter walked to his office, put his coffee mug down on his desk and grabbed a bunch of files from the stack of ongoing investigations. He perused through them, discarding all the insurance frauds and unimaginative thefts. All very boring. Where did all the smart criminals go?

Finally, he found the thick file. The MoMA case! A missing painting – Picasso’s Young Ladies of Avignon, no less – from one of the most prestigious museums of the city. Neal would never be able to resist that one, if only to prove he was smart enough to figure it out.

Smiling, Peter reached for his phone in his pocket, and dialed Neal’s number.

Neal picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Peter,” he greeted him cheerfully.

“Hey, Neal,” Peter said. “What would you say about catching lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Today?”

“Today?” Neal repeated, visibly surprised.

“Yes, I, um… I need your advice on something.”

There was a short silence before Neal answered. “Our diner? Noon?”

Peter liked the sound of ‘our diner’. “Perfect, see you then.”

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Chapter Two
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