Neal Caffrey one shots | White Collar

The aftermath of alcohol is never fun

It was a late saturday evening when Neal and Mozzie were sat in his apartment. Mozzie was passed out on the couch, Neal was still drinking their own forged whiskey. The two spent all day trying to make the best one, and that meant they had a lot of alcohol in their system. Neal was, obviously, drunk and filled with energy. He took one last sip, then abruptly got up and grabbed his jacket. He swayed down the stairs and barely made it outside. He mumbled something as he stumbled his way to the Burke's house.

When he got there, one hour later, he knocked loudly. He leaned on the door, eyelids closed and mouth half way open. When the door opened he tumbled inside, luckily he was caught by Peter. 'Neal?' he asked in shock. It was midnight, he didn't expect his CI to turn up at this hour.

'Peter!' Neal yelled, suddenly very awake again. He stumbled inside and hugged Elizabeth who was watching him with an inspecting look.

'Is he drunk?' she asked her husband as the ex-criminal fell face first on their couch.

'I think he is' Peter nodded when Neal started to sing "Heaven" at the top of his lungs, the sound muffled as his face was pressed in a pillow. 'Neal, Neal' Peter said, trying to shut his CI up.

'Peter, what are you doing here?' Neal asked as he looked around. Apparently he had already forgotten where he was.

'You're in my house Neal. How much did you drink?' the FBI agent said.

Neal frowned. 'A few glasses of whiskey, I think' he muttered.

'What whiskey?' Peter asked, placing his hands on his hips.

Neal smiled drunkenly. 'My whiskey' he answered, his words now slurred as he was beginning to fall asleep.

Peter shook his head in disbelieve. He knew he would regret giving Mozzie that equipment to make whiskey. Peter glanced at his wife, then looked back at Neal to see he was already passed out.

'I'll grab a blanket' Elizabeth chuckled. Peter sighed. Neal was gonna be grumpy when he woke up.

*

When Neal woke up the next day he definitely regretted drinking. He groaned painfully as he sat up, noticing he was in the guest room of the Burke's house. How did he end up there? He couldn't remember anything from the previous night after he and Mozzie had their 25th tasting. Suddenly a wave of nausea hit him and he sprinted from the guest room to where he thought the bathroom was. He made it to the toilet just in time before he started puking.

Not long after that he felt a warm hand on his back, keeping him steady as he dry heaved above the toilet. His body was trying to empty his system but there was nothing left to throw up.

'Easy Neal' Peter mumbled, sitting Neal back against his chest as he placed a wet cloth against the younger man's forehead.

Neal closed his eyes as his head started to pound. He leaned his head back against the shoulder of his handler and relaxed into the warmth of his body.

'You're staying home today' Peter declared once he felt the heat radiate from his CI. Neal just mumbled something, too tired and hungover to reply.

'How is he?' Elizabeth asked her husband from where she stood against the doorway.

'I think he's made himself sick' Peter answered, his voice becoming close to a whisper when Neal muttered about how they were screaming.

Elizabeth sighed. 'I'll make him some soup and pickle juice' she said, leaving to do just that.

'Don't worry bud, you'll be fine in no time' Peter said, helping the boy up from the ground and back to bed. 'Go back to sleep. We'll wake you later so you can take your soup and pickle juice' Peter mumbled as Neal laid down. He was about to walk away when Neal grabbed his hand.

'Thank you' he mumbled, looking at Peter through half opened eyes. Peter nodded with a smile and then left the room, closing the door behind him.