(no subject)

[gyzym]

Oh, look, a ridiculous little cracky drabble. Neal and Peter after seeing the 2009 Sherlock Holmes movie, written for hoosierbitch and nearly entirely to blame for my current Holmes/Watson obsession. Whoops.



"That," Peter says, "was a terrible movie."

Neal makes a horrified little sound, but Peter scowls and ignores it. It was been a terrible movie, and to hell with whatever Neal Caffrey--snooty snotty criminally snobby Neal Caffrey--thinks. It was too long and the sound of British accents never failed to make him sleepy and a woman behind them had been whispering inanities every ten minutes. There are popcorn kernels trapped between Peter's back teeth and he's sore from nearly three goddamn hours in that stupid wobbly chair and Neal is bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning, the way he always does when he plans on being a bastard.

"You have no sense of culture," Neal says. "None. It's actually kind of disgusting. If I weren't so sure you were like this all the time, I'd take you to the hospital and get you checked."

Peter scoffs. "Just because I prefer the classics--"

"It's Sherlock Holmes! It's the definition of classic!" Neal cries. Then he pauses and bites down on a laugh. "Besides," he adds, wheedling, "you have to see some similarities."

"In what?"

"In us, Sherlock," Neal says, rolling his eyes.

Peter considers this. "You're crazy," is his deduction, and Neal makes the horrified little sound again, but says nothing.

They walk three blocks. Then:

"So you think I'd be Holmes?" Peter asks, trying not to betray his own investment in the question. Neal slants him a bright, amused smile and makes a show of considering this.

"Well," he says, "only one of us can be the genius, and I think we both know--"

"Only one of us can be the boss, Caffrey," Peter snaps. "And we do both know who that is."

Neal laughs. "You certainly have Holmes's personality down," he murmurs. "Am I likely to find you up in the night playing the violin, then?"

"No more likely that I am to find you practicing medicine."

--

Two hours later, back at the office for the Saturday afternoon work they'd taken a break from, Neal wants Thai for dinner. Peter hates Thai, and he thinks he's had about enough of following Neal's whims for the day. He slaps a Chinese menu on the table and raises an eyebrow.

Jones and Cruz both hastily excuse themselves when they see Neal's jaw set. Peter can't necessarily blame them. But instead of the carefully sidestepped whining and begging Peter has come to expect, Neal leans across the table.

"You know," he says. "there've always been rumors about Sherlock Holmes."

"No there haven't," Peter tells him. "What's your order?"

"Pad Thai," Neal says, "and yes there have. "

"Neal--"

"Some say," Neal muses, "that Holmes was more top than bottom, but I think it was Watson holding the reigns, don't you?"

Peter feels himself go bright red, but Neal doesn't stop. "The whole thing can be seen as a love story, really," he continues. "Holmes is a real terror to everyone else but Watson knows how to handle him--but I mean, if you want to be Holmes than I can certainly adapt to change things up in the bedro--"

Peter glances around. No one else is crazy enough to be in the office at 5:00 on a Saturday and Jones and Cruz have gone out for a smoke, so he grabs Neal by the back of the throat and kisses him, a filthy, claiming thing.

"I get to be Watson," he says.

"Then I get to order Thai," Neal returns, and it feels like a victory until Peter gets the chance to think about it.

Comments

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

I was waiting for you to do a crossover.*g*

This is cute ♥