In more than Cash, White Collar, PG-15
Nov. 14th, 2010 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronicasleepsTitle: In more than Cash
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
veronicasleeps
Rating: PG-15
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Mozzie
Word count: 300
Warnings/Spoilers: pre-series
Summary: They need money.
Prompt: Cash
Notes: this wanted to be written. I don't know why.
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When Neal opens the door to River with mostly frozen hands, he knows what is waiting for him on the inside.
He is not surprised to see Mozzie, frowning at him in a way that normally would be effective enough but that is softened by his flushed face and his half glazed eyes.
“You’re not very intimidating when you’re sick, Moz’,” he says, but avoids looking him in the eyes. “And it’s not like you’re one to talk. You did way worse things for me, when we first met.”
Mozzie isn’t buying his bullshit, that much is obvious.
Instead of trying to convince him, Neal puts the kettle on and takes a small bottle of pills out of the paper bag.
Mozzie takes them without saying anything, but Neal is sure he’s just dying to give his lecture on ‘appropriate job choices for artistically talented sixteen-year-olds’, but his aching throat keeps him from talking.
Neal has heard it seven times in the four years since he met Mozzie. He hears it every time the money gets tight, or they have to leave town and can’t use any of the safe houses.
It never keeps him from doing it again.
He pours the hot water over the tea leaves, and takes the pot with him to the sofa. Mozzie takes his wrist after Neal sets down the tea set, and tugs him carefully closer to him; there’s a bruise forming, dark and red, just above his pulse point and when Mozzie glares at it, disapproving, Neal shrugs his arm our of his hold and sits down in the armchair.
“He paid in more than cash for that.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, and they both keep staring at the steam that rises from the tea pot, quietly sharing space until sun rise.
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Author:
veronicasleepsRating: PG-15
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Mozzie
Word count: 300
Warnings/Spoilers: pre-series
Summary: They need money.
Prompt: Cash
Notes: this wanted to be written. I don't know why.
+
When Neal opens the door to River with mostly frozen hands, he knows what is waiting for him on the inside.
He is not surprised to see Mozzie, frowning at him in a way that normally would be effective enough but that is softened by his flushed face and his half glazed eyes.
“You’re not very intimidating when you’re sick, Moz’,” he says, but avoids looking him in the eyes. “And it’s not like you’re one to talk. You did way worse things for me, when we first met.”
Mozzie isn’t buying his bullshit, that much is obvious.
Instead of trying to convince him, Neal puts the kettle on and takes a small bottle of pills out of the paper bag.
Mozzie takes them without saying anything, but Neal is sure he’s just dying to give his lecture on ‘appropriate job choices for artistically talented sixteen-year-olds’, but his aching throat keeps him from talking.
Neal has heard it seven times in the four years since he met Mozzie. He hears it every time the money gets tight, or they have to leave town and can’t use any of the safe houses.
It never keeps him from doing it again.
He pours the hot water over the tea leaves, and takes the pot with him to the sofa. Mozzie takes his wrist after Neal sets down the tea set, and tugs him carefully closer to him; there’s a bruise forming, dark and red, just above his pulse point and when Mozzie glares at it, disapproving, Neal shrugs his arm our of his hold and sits down in the armchair.
“He paid in more than cash for that.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, and they both keep staring at the steam that rises from the tea pot, quietly sharing space until sun rise.
+