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hoosierbitchTitle: Cowboy Up
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth, Neal/Kate, Jones/Cruz
Word Count: 3,000
Notes: Almost exactly three years ago I had this really weird idea for a "Toy Story" AU. I finished plotting it in my head while watching "Carmen" the opera a few weeks ago, so. Somehow I made a fic about animated children's toys sad? IDEK.
Thanks:rabidchild67 did a lovely beta job for me! Thanks, hon!
Summary: When Jeff got a new doll for his birthday, Sheriff Peter Burke knew the hat-wearing conman was nothing but trouble. (Sheriff badge sold separately.)
*
It was Jeff Eastin’s birthday, and, judging from the noise filtering up from the living room below, he got quite a haul this year.
Sheriff Peter Burke, Jeff’s first and only and best-loved cowboy toy, was not a fan of new toys.
Eventually the guests left, and after a spate of Mrs. Eastin yelling at him to clean up after himself, Jeff burst into the room, a doll-like figure in one hand and a bunch of other new toys tucked under his arm. He then proceeded to go into paroxysms of birthday-generated joy before collapsing in exhaustion on his bed. A watergun fell onto the floor. A stuffed dog tipped over onto Jeff’s pillow. There were a couple books that spilled out onto the bed, a few video games, and…and a male doll, plastic, maybe a bit smaller than Peter. He didn’t recognize the make or model.
“Adler gives the weirdest presents,” Jeff said, propping the doll up and making him walk across the bed’s cowboy comforter. He’d gotten the comforter after he got Peter, and so Peter was completely justified in feeling proprietary about it. “Nick Halden, the accountant. What a weird toy. I’ve never even heard of you before.” Jeff ran a finger over Neal’s perfect plastic hair and hummed. “You don’t look like a Nick. Maybe John. Or…Frederick? Nah. How about Neal? Yeah. Hi, Neal—welcome to my room.” Jeff lifted Neal’s arms into a victory V. Peter, from his position at the foot of the bed, glared for a second before resuming his easygoing grin.
Jeff played with Neal and his stuffed dog and then his X-Box, and fell asleep with his hand wrapped around Neal.
*
The next morning, as soon as the bus’s horn blared and Jeff’s door slammed behind him, introductions began.
Peter’s wife, Elizabeth, a baker (complete with apron and white chef’s hat) hopped onto the bed as soon as the door closed, and was swiftly joined by Jeff’s pair of matching GI Joe-and-Jane model dolls, Jones and Cruz; the two-way radio, Diana; a collector’s edition porcelain hound dog named Hughes; and every other mobile creature in the room.
Neal was…charming. He introduced himself with smiles and waves, made eye contact with everyone, repeated back names and made compliments and brushed aside questions about himself with a quick wit that made Peter’s threads stand on end. Neal even kissed Elizabeth on the cheek, which probably would have made her blush if it weren’t already painted on her cheeks.
“And I’m Peter,” he said abruptly, pulling Elizabeth away from Neal and into his arms. She slapped him on the bicep and disentangled herself from his hold. “I’m Jeff’s sheriff.”
“And I’m Neal,” the other doll said. “Accountant, apparently. When I was with Adler I was a thief, so I guess I’m moving up in the world! Still making money, either way.”
“A thief?” Peter glared and Neal’s mouth curved up again. Neal in motion looked like he was built to smile. It was almost as if the still, cold face Peter had watched through the night had never existed.
“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Neal said, plastic hand drawing a cross over his nonexistent heart. “I’ve changed my criminal ways. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Soon Neal was off with Jones and Cruz, admiring their collection of weapons (all sold separately) and being introduced to all of the green army men, whose individual names and ranks he somehow seemed to remember.
Peter really did not like new toys.
*
"I hate birthdays," Peter muttered that afternoon, as they all got back into position for Jeff’s return.
"I know, honey,” Elizabeth said. “That's why you always forget to celebrate my manufacturing date, right?"
"What? No! I—El..."
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder joint. "I know your sheriff duties keep you very busy, honey, but be honest—if we didn't have a new influx of toys every now and then, you'd be bored. Wouldn't you?"
Thankfully Diana chimed a warning and Elizabeth went back to the toy trunk before Peter had to answer.
*
"He's moved into June's place," Peter told Elizabeth a few days later, staring into the old dollhouse shoved in the corner of Jeff's room. "Can you believe that? Taking advantage of an old toy like that..."
Elizabeth patted him on the head. "She's been lonely since Jeff lost Byron at summer camp. She's got plenty of extra room. And I don’t think Jeff ever got rid of Byron’s clothes, so there's got to be closets full of outfits in Neal's size."
"I'll just bet there are.”
*
Whenever Jeff was gone for the evenings—soccer games, sleep-overs, school field trips—Neal could be found at the bedroom window, staring into Adler’s bedroom, which was in the next house over.
When Peter worked up the courage to ask about it (his voice steady and filled with a feigned indifference), Neal told him about Kate. About Kate, who he’d loved and lost. Adler’s bedroom light was turned on, but all that they could see was the back of his head as he sat at his desk doing his homework.
"I need to get her back," Neal said. His voice echoed. Peter knew Neal wasn't solid inside, he was plastic through-and-through, but somehow, when he talked about Kate, he sounded hollow.
"What happened between you two?"
Neal opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He stayed still for so long that Peter wondered if Jeff had reentered the room when he wasn't looking; wondered if he, Peter, should pretend not to be alive, too. "I loved her," Neal said. "We weren't a matched set, but Adler—Adler's particular about his toys, so we…we fit. I loved her. She loved me back. Then—I don’t know. Something went wrong. Adler stopped putting us together when he played his little games."
"Is that why you ended up here?"
"Maybe. Jeff's birthday was coming up, and Adler's enough of a dick to re-gift. I guess he thought it would be...I don't know. Cruel? Poetic? Funny? For me to have Kate so close, and not be able to get to her."
The window in Jeff's room was almost always closed, and even when it was open, there were storm screens. Peter still wanted to pull Neal away from the ledge.
"Do you ever see her over there?"
"No. Maybe. I think so, sometimes. Just...just the flash of her hair, or a bit of arm or a leg. Could be anyone, I know that. Could be some new toy or a different model. Hell, maybe Adler chopped her up and cannibalized her for parts." His voice was raw and Peter's eyes ached in sympathy for how hard Neal was looking for any glimpse of her. "Or maybe he's hiding her from me, and the only parts of her I can see are when she’s trying to get free to see me."
"Neal..." Peter didn't know what to say. Jeff had a lot of fairytale books with princesses in them who were like Kate. Beautiful, bland, magical. Sometimes they were good; sometimes they weren't. The only thing they all had in common was that none of them were real.
*
Peter had to hand it to Neal. The kid was a pretty smooth operator. He started out small—when Jeff came back into his room after school, sometimes he'd find one of Byron's old shoes on his bookshelf, or Neal would just put on hats like he thought no one would notice. Jeff yelled at Matt, his younger brother, and told him to stop messing around with his stuff, but that's all that happened.
By the end of his first month with Jeff, Neal was wearing a new (old) suit, a rotating selection of hats, and fancy shoes. (All of the soles unmarked. Byron had been a vintage toy, and Jeff's mom hadn't always remembered to mark Jeff’s toys with his initials. Jeff can write his own name now. The uneven JE on the bottom of Peter's boots was the first time Jeff had marked a toy as his own.) Neal had also somehow convinced Diana, Jeff's two-way radio, to tune into some jazz station, and when Peter went under the bed one evening to see what was happening, he found a—
"Is this a speakeasy?"
Neal laughed and twirled in Peter's direction. June was tucked into the angle of Neal's arms like they'd been molded for each other, but when Neal let her go their fingers parted awkwardly. Not everyone fit like Peter and Elizabeth did; different manufacturers, different styles; same-sized fingers to flex and hold.
"It's a dance party, Peter. Surely they had dance parties back in the ol' West?"
"Well—they—you're children's toys," he hollered, seeing Jones and Cruz in a corner bending each other in positions they really weren't meant to be in. "Get a hold of yourselves!" Jones and Cruz straightened up and separated, but Diana just turned up her volume.
"We're off the clock, boss," she said. "Jeff’s gone for the night. And I'm picking up some great signals from a house a few doors down..."
"Maybe you and I could have a dance sometime," Neal said to Diana, eyeing her antenna.
"No," Peter said, yanking Neal away. "No dancing. No dancing for you. You're not even on her dance card."
Neal looked down at where Peter was pulling on his suit. It fit Neal unbelievably well, but it hadn't been made for him; between the gap of the collar and his neck Peter could see the pale pink of Neal's skin. He wanted to lick it and find out what Neal was made of.
He shoved Neal away from him. "Right," Neal said quietly. "No dancing."
*
Peter thought about touching Neal sometimes. Thought about it when Jeff made them fight, or when he left the two of them in a tangled pile of limbs (Elizabeth sometimes there with them after welcoming them ‘home,’ her chef’s hat and Neal’s fedora usually next to them on the floor).
Elizabeth went to the next dance party and dragged Peter with her. Peter danced once with her and once with Cruz, and then sat back with an old Russian nesting doll named Mozart that Neal had dug out from some dark corner of Jeff’s closet, and watched his wife and Neal dance.
*
He still found Neal at the window on the nights when Jeff was gone and Adler’s light was on. After weeks had passed, and Neal's smile got smaller and smaller, Peter came to the window and asked him why he still bothered. When Peter asked him, asked him why he kept trying (it was hopeless), why he even wanted to leave when he was Jeff’s now (Jeff’s and treasured and needed) Neal had to think about the answer for a while before he spoke.
“Because I love her,” Neal said. “And she loves me, so—I have to find her. I have to at least try. What if she's there, Peter? What if he's hurting her?"
"What if he's not hurting her? What if she's not trying to get back to you the way you're trying to get to her?" Maybe Peter was getting too pessimistic in his old age. Maybe his judgment had been clouded by some jealousy inside of him rearing its ugly green head. Or maybe it was the same protective instinct that made Peter want to protect everyone; that made him believe that, if he tried hard enough, he could save everyone (everyone and especially Neal).
Neal, whose joints never seemed to freeze up, who was more graceful than Mrs. Eastin's porcelain ballerina, stumbled and fell against the window. “She loves me," Neal said again.
"I hope she does," Peter replied.
It was hard, knowing Kate only through the filter of Neal's eyes. She didn't sound real. She didn’t sound like she was good for Neal.
Mostly he just wanted Neal to get away from the window.
*
Jeff had them act out new stories every week. Sometimes Hughes was the villain, sometimes it was his little brother down the hall (so they’d launch full-scale operations, complete with code-names and car chases and tumbles down the stairs), sometimes they fought against some Great Unknown Evil who would send in secret agents (mostly toys Jeff stole from Matt) that they had to defeat.
Sometimes Elizabeth was involved as an innocent bystander or a co-conspirator, but mostly she was left behind in the toy trunk or set up somewhere waiting to be rescued.
Elizabeth wasn’t a big fan of Jeff’s storytelling.
Things boiled over at June’s, where Peter and Elizabeth had started staying more often. June, who’d been through a lot of homes before ending up at Jeff’s, always had fascinating stories to tell, and Neal was—despite Peter’s constant underlying suspicion—a charming conversationalist.
One Monday morning, after a weekend of being precariously balanced on a Lincoln log tower, waiting for Peter and Neal to see through Hughes’ Cunning Plan and come rescue her, Elizabeth’s frustrations boiled over.
"Why do I never get to be the hero, huh? Why am I always 'in distress?' Or stuck at home, waiting dutifully to see if you’ll return? Like I don’t have better things to do!" Elizabeth slammed June’s front door on her way out. The plastic slab thwunked into place behind her.
Sometimes (too often) rescuing Elizabeth was the goal, but sometimes it was money, and sometimes it was just Defeating Evil.
Sometimes it was Neal against Peter.
Peter knew it wasn't real. He knew they were just acting—or that Jeff was, Jeff was acting, all that the rest of them had to do was grin and bear it. But as the weeks passed it became harder and harder to smile when Jeff was doing Peter’s voice, yelling at Neal, accusing him and insulting him. Neal retreated more and more to June's house when Jeff left for school. Peter knew that Neal didn't like playing the villain any more than he did, but Jeff only had so many toys.
Sometimes Peter wouldn't see Neal between games. He only saw him when Jeff was the one making him move and talk and hurt Peter, hurt Elizabeth, hurt all of them.
Peter liked it best when he and Neal got to be on a team together. Sometimes, instead of an accountant, Jeff made Neal an FBI agent. It was the best cool role Jeff could think of for a toy that wore suits like Neal did. It wasn’t often that Jeff needed the combined forces of an accountant-turned-FBI-agent and a Sheriff, but when he did, Neal’s tense expression almost always morphed into a smile whenever Jeff’s back was turned, and sometimes Peter dared to knock off Neal’s hat when Jeff wasn’t looking.
*
When Neal tried to leave he didn't say goodbye. Peter's sentry system (a network of green army men, Diana on comm with handheld radios and binoculars perched on the high shelves) alerted him to unauthorized movement by the window.
He'd thought it would be a pigeon. He was cool with pigeons. Moz, the nesting doll who sometimes took himself apart in order to spy on the other toys, loved pigeons. He'd get a kick out of it.
He wasn't expecting to see Neal slipping through an opening in the screen.
“Were you going to say goodbye?”
Neal stops halfway to freedom. “Peter, I—”
“I get that you want to leave. I just didn’t think you’d leave like this.” The wire from the screen was digging into Neal’s hands. Peter wondered if it was going to leave marks. “You’ve got a life here,” Peter said, gesturing behind him.
Neal had a house with June, he had dance parties under the bed, he had a dance that Diana had promised to give him one day, he had—he had Peter and Elizabeth and the evenings they’d spent sitting on the stairway, watching the Lifetime movies Jeff’s mom put on in the living room when Jeff was at school.
None of the fairytale books on Jeff's shelves had characters like Neal in them. All of them had characters like Peter: knights or princes or noble woodcutters. Elizabeth teased him every time Jeff or his mom watched a movie with cowboys, and every time Jeff had a birthday she crossed her fingers that Jeff would get a white horse for him to ride. But when Neal jumped off the ledge—one hand still stretched out towards Peter; Byron’s sleeve catching on the screen and tearing—Peter knew that he must not have played his part right.
Jeff turned the room upside down looking for Neal, but to no avail. He gave his brother the silent treatment for a week, suspecting him of stealing Neal for himself, but eventually Jeff gave up. Neal was gone, looking for Kate, and now it was Peter’s turn at the window, staring into the darkness until Elizabeth took him home and told him that Neal would come back to them. Told him that everything would be all right.
Moz shut himself back in the closet, June kept the doors of her house closed, and the dance parties stopped.
Maybe he will come back, Peter hoped, as the days passed and the nights got longer. Maybe our story isn’t over yet.
*
Feedback is appreciated. :-)
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth, Neal/Kate, Jones/Cruz
Word Count: 3,000
Notes: Almost exactly three years ago I had this really weird idea for a "Toy Story" AU. I finished plotting it in my head while watching "Carmen" the opera a few weeks ago, so. Somehow I made a fic about animated children's toys sad? IDEK.
Thanks:
rabidchild67 did a lovely beta job for me! Thanks, hon!Summary: When Jeff got a new doll for his birthday, Sheriff Peter Burke knew the hat-wearing conman was nothing but trouble. (Sheriff badge sold separately.)
It was Jeff Eastin’s birthday, and, judging from the noise filtering up from the living room below, he got quite a haul this year.
Sheriff Peter Burke, Jeff’s first and only and best-loved cowboy toy, was not a fan of new toys.
Eventually the guests left, and after a spate of Mrs. Eastin yelling at him to clean up after himself, Jeff burst into the room, a doll-like figure in one hand and a bunch of other new toys tucked under his arm. He then proceeded to go into paroxysms of birthday-generated joy before collapsing in exhaustion on his bed. A watergun fell onto the floor. A stuffed dog tipped over onto Jeff’s pillow. There were a couple books that spilled out onto the bed, a few video games, and…and a male doll, plastic, maybe a bit smaller than Peter. He didn’t recognize the make or model.
“Adler gives the weirdest presents,” Jeff said, propping the doll up and making him walk across the bed’s cowboy comforter. He’d gotten the comforter after he got Peter, and so Peter was completely justified in feeling proprietary about it. “Nick Halden, the accountant. What a weird toy. I’ve never even heard of you before.” Jeff ran a finger over Neal’s perfect plastic hair and hummed. “You don’t look like a Nick. Maybe John. Or…Frederick? Nah. How about Neal? Yeah. Hi, Neal—welcome to my room.” Jeff lifted Neal’s arms into a victory V. Peter, from his position at the foot of the bed, glared for a second before resuming his easygoing grin.
Jeff played with Neal and his stuffed dog and then his X-Box, and fell asleep with his hand wrapped around Neal.
*
The next morning, as soon as the bus’s horn blared and Jeff’s door slammed behind him, introductions began.
Peter’s wife, Elizabeth, a baker (complete with apron and white chef’s hat) hopped onto the bed as soon as the door closed, and was swiftly joined by Jeff’s pair of matching GI Joe-and-Jane model dolls, Jones and Cruz; the two-way radio, Diana; a collector’s edition porcelain hound dog named Hughes; and every other mobile creature in the room.
Neal was…charming. He introduced himself with smiles and waves, made eye contact with everyone, repeated back names and made compliments and brushed aside questions about himself with a quick wit that made Peter’s threads stand on end. Neal even kissed Elizabeth on the cheek, which probably would have made her blush if it weren’t already painted on her cheeks.
“And I’m Peter,” he said abruptly, pulling Elizabeth away from Neal and into his arms. She slapped him on the bicep and disentangled herself from his hold. “I’m Jeff’s sheriff.”
“And I’m Neal,” the other doll said. “Accountant, apparently. When I was with Adler I was a thief, so I guess I’m moving up in the world! Still making money, either way.”
“A thief?” Peter glared and Neal’s mouth curved up again. Neal in motion looked like he was built to smile. It was almost as if the still, cold face Peter had watched through the night had never existed.
“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Neal said, plastic hand drawing a cross over his nonexistent heart. “I’ve changed my criminal ways. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Soon Neal was off with Jones and Cruz, admiring their collection of weapons (all sold separately) and being introduced to all of the green army men, whose individual names and ranks he somehow seemed to remember.
Peter really did not like new toys.
*
"I hate birthdays," Peter muttered that afternoon, as they all got back into position for Jeff’s return.
"I know, honey,” Elizabeth said. “That's why you always forget to celebrate my manufacturing date, right?"
"What? No! I—El..."
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder joint. "I know your sheriff duties keep you very busy, honey, but be honest—if we didn't have a new influx of toys every now and then, you'd be bored. Wouldn't you?"
Thankfully Diana chimed a warning and Elizabeth went back to the toy trunk before Peter had to answer.
*
"He's moved into June's place," Peter told Elizabeth a few days later, staring into the old dollhouse shoved in the corner of Jeff's room. "Can you believe that? Taking advantage of an old toy like that..."
Elizabeth patted him on the head. "She's been lonely since Jeff lost Byron at summer camp. She's got plenty of extra room. And I don’t think Jeff ever got rid of Byron’s clothes, so there's got to be closets full of outfits in Neal's size."
"I'll just bet there are.”
*
Whenever Jeff was gone for the evenings—soccer games, sleep-overs, school field trips—Neal could be found at the bedroom window, staring into Adler’s bedroom, which was in the next house over.
When Peter worked up the courage to ask about it (his voice steady and filled with a feigned indifference), Neal told him about Kate. About Kate, who he’d loved and lost. Adler’s bedroom light was turned on, but all that they could see was the back of his head as he sat at his desk doing his homework.
"I need to get her back," Neal said. His voice echoed. Peter knew Neal wasn't solid inside, he was plastic through-and-through, but somehow, when he talked about Kate, he sounded hollow.
"What happened between you two?"
Neal opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He stayed still for so long that Peter wondered if Jeff had reentered the room when he wasn't looking; wondered if he, Peter, should pretend not to be alive, too. "I loved her," Neal said. "We weren't a matched set, but Adler—Adler's particular about his toys, so we…we fit. I loved her. She loved me back. Then—I don’t know. Something went wrong. Adler stopped putting us together when he played his little games."
"Is that why you ended up here?"
"Maybe. Jeff's birthday was coming up, and Adler's enough of a dick to re-gift. I guess he thought it would be...I don't know. Cruel? Poetic? Funny? For me to have Kate so close, and not be able to get to her."
The window in Jeff's room was almost always closed, and even when it was open, there were storm screens. Peter still wanted to pull Neal away from the ledge.
"Do you ever see her over there?"
"No. Maybe. I think so, sometimes. Just...just the flash of her hair, or a bit of arm or a leg. Could be anyone, I know that. Could be some new toy or a different model. Hell, maybe Adler chopped her up and cannibalized her for parts." His voice was raw and Peter's eyes ached in sympathy for how hard Neal was looking for any glimpse of her. "Or maybe he's hiding her from me, and the only parts of her I can see are when she’s trying to get free to see me."
"Neal..." Peter didn't know what to say. Jeff had a lot of fairytale books with princesses in them who were like Kate. Beautiful, bland, magical. Sometimes they were good; sometimes they weren't. The only thing they all had in common was that none of them were real.
*
Peter had to hand it to Neal. The kid was a pretty smooth operator. He started out small—when Jeff came back into his room after school, sometimes he'd find one of Byron's old shoes on his bookshelf, or Neal would just put on hats like he thought no one would notice. Jeff yelled at Matt, his younger brother, and told him to stop messing around with his stuff, but that's all that happened.
By the end of his first month with Jeff, Neal was wearing a new (old) suit, a rotating selection of hats, and fancy shoes. (All of the soles unmarked. Byron had been a vintage toy, and Jeff's mom hadn't always remembered to mark Jeff’s toys with his initials. Jeff can write his own name now. The uneven JE on the bottom of Peter's boots was the first time Jeff had marked a toy as his own.) Neal had also somehow convinced Diana, Jeff's two-way radio, to tune into some jazz station, and when Peter went under the bed one evening to see what was happening, he found a—
"Is this a speakeasy?"
Neal laughed and twirled in Peter's direction. June was tucked into the angle of Neal's arms like they'd been molded for each other, but when Neal let her go their fingers parted awkwardly. Not everyone fit like Peter and Elizabeth did; different manufacturers, different styles; same-sized fingers to flex and hold.
"It's a dance party, Peter. Surely they had dance parties back in the ol' West?"
"Well—they—you're children's toys," he hollered, seeing Jones and Cruz in a corner bending each other in positions they really weren't meant to be in. "Get a hold of yourselves!" Jones and Cruz straightened up and separated, but Diana just turned up her volume.
"We're off the clock, boss," she said. "Jeff’s gone for the night. And I'm picking up some great signals from a house a few doors down..."
"Maybe you and I could have a dance sometime," Neal said to Diana, eyeing her antenna.
"No," Peter said, yanking Neal away. "No dancing. No dancing for you. You're not even on her dance card."
Neal looked down at where Peter was pulling on his suit. It fit Neal unbelievably well, but it hadn't been made for him; between the gap of the collar and his neck Peter could see the pale pink of Neal's skin. He wanted to lick it and find out what Neal was made of.
He shoved Neal away from him. "Right," Neal said quietly. "No dancing."
*
Peter thought about touching Neal sometimes. Thought about it when Jeff made them fight, or when he left the two of them in a tangled pile of limbs (Elizabeth sometimes there with them after welcoming them ‘home,’ her chef’s hat and Neal’s fedora usually next to them on the floor).
Elizabeth went to the next dance party and dragged Peter with her. Peter danced once with her and once with Cruz, and then sat back with an old Russian nesting doll named Mozart that Neal had dug out from some dark corner of Jeff’s closet, and watched his wife and Neal dance.
*
He still found Neal at the window on the nights when Jeff was gone and Adler’s light was on. After weeks had passed, and Neal's smile got smaller and smaller, Peter came to the window and asked him why he still bothered. When Peter asked him, asked him why he kept trying (it was hopeless), why he even wanted to leave when he was Jeff’s now (Jeff’s and treasured and needed) Neal had to think about the answer for a while before he spoke.
“Because I love her,” Neal said. “And she loves me, so—I have to find her. I have to at least try. What if she's there, Peter? What if he's hurting her?"
"What if he's not hurting her? What if she's not trying to get back to you the way you're trying to get to her?" Maybe Peter was getting too pessimistic in his old age. Maybe his judgment had been clouded by some jealousy inside of him rearing its ugly green head. Or maybe it was the same protective instinct that made Peter want to protect everyone; that made him believe that, if he tried hard enough, he could save everyone (everyone and especially Neal).
Neal, whose joints never seemed to freeze up, who was more graceful than Mrs. Eastin's porcelain ballerina, stumbled and fell against the window. “She loves me," Neal said again.
"I hope she does," Peter replied.
It was hard, knowing Kate only through the filter of Neal's eyes. She didn't sound real. She didn’t sound like she was good for Neal.
Mostly he just wanted Neal to get away from the window.
*
Jeff had them act out new stories every week. Sometimes Hughes was the villain, sometimes it was his little brother down the hall (so they’d launch full-scale operations, complete with code-names and car chases and tumbles down the stairs), sometimes they fought against some Great Unknown Evil who would send in secret agents (mostly toys Jeff stole from Matt) that they had to defeat.
Sometimes Elizabeth was involved as an innocent bystander or a co-conspirator, but mostly she was left behind in the toy trunk or set up somewhere waiting to be rescued.
Elizabeth wasn’t a big fan of Jeff’s storytelling.
Things boiled over at June’s, where Peter and Elizabeth had started staying more often. June, who’d been through a lot of homes before ending up at Jeff’s, always had fascinating stories to tell, and Neal was—despite Peter’s constant underlying suspicion—a charming conversationalist.
One Monday morning, after a weekend of being precariously balanced on a Lincoln log tower, waiting for Peter and Neal to see through Hughes’ Cunning Plan and come rescue her, Elizabeth’s frustrations boiled over.
"Why do I never get to be the hero, huh? Why am I always 'in distress?' Or stuck at home, waiting dutifully to see if you’ll return? Like I don’t have better things to do!" Elizabeth slammed June’s front door on her way out. The plastic slab thwunked into place behind her.
Sometimes (too often) rescuing Elizabeth was the goal, but sometimes it was money, and sometimes it was just Defeating Evil.
Sometimes it was Neal against Peter.
Peter knew it wasn't real. He knew they were just acting—or that Jeff was, Jeff was acting, all that the rest of them had to do was grin and bear it. But as the weeks passed it became harder and harder to smile when Jeff was doing Peter’s voice, yelling at Neal, accusing him and insulting him. Neal retreated more and more to June's house when Jeff left for school. Peter knew that Neal didn't like playing the villain any more than he did, but Jeff only had so many toys.
Sometimes Peter wouldn't see Neal between games. He only saw him when Jeff was the one making him move and talk and hurt Peter, hurt Elizabeth, hurt all of them.
Peter liked it best when he and Neal got to be on a team together. Sometimes, instead of an accountant, Jeff made Neal an FBI agent. It was the best cool role Jeff could think of for a toy that wore suits like Neal did. It wasn’t often that Jeff needed the combined forces of an accountant-turned-FBI-agent and a Sheriff, but when he did, Neal’s tense expression almost always morphed into a smile whenever Jeff’s back was turned, and sometimes Peter dared to knock off Neal’s hat when Jeff wasn’t looking.
*
When Neal tried to leave he didn't say goodbye. Peter's sentry system (a network of green army men, Diana on comm with handheld radios and binoculars perched on the high shelves) alerted him to unauthorized movement by the window.
He'd thought it would be a pigeon. He was cool with pigeons. Moz, the nesting doll who sometimes took himself apart in order to spy on the other toys, loved pigeons. He'd get a kick out of it.
He wasn't expecting to see Neal slipping through an opening in the screen.
“Were you going to say goodbye?”
Neal stops halfway to freedom. “Peter, I—”
“I get that you want to leave. I just didn’t think you’d leave like this.” The wire from the screen was digging into Neal’s hands. Peter wondered if it was going to leave marks. “You’ve got a life here,” Peter said, gesturing behind him.
Neal had a house with June, he had dance parties under the bed, he had a dance that Diana had promised to give him one day, he had—he had Peter and Elizabeth and the evenings they’d spent sitting on the stairway, watching the Lifetime movies Jeff’s mom put on in the living room when Jeff was at school.
None of the fairytale books on Jeff's shelves had characters like Neal in them. All of them had characters like Peter: knights or princes or noble woodcutters. Elizabeth teased him every time Jeff or his mom watched a movie with cowboys, and every time Jeff had a birthday she crossed her fingers that Jeff would get a white horse for him to ride. But when Neal jumped off the ledge—one hand still stretched out towards Peter; Byron’s sleeve catching on the screen and tearing—Peter knew that he must not have played his part right.
Jeff turned the room upside down looking for Neal, but to no avail. He gave his brother the silent treatment for a week, suspecting him of stealing Neal for himself, but eventually Jeff gave up. Neal was gone, looking for Kate, and now it was Peter’s turn at the window, staring into the darkness until Elizabeth took him home and told him that Neal would come back to them. Told him that everything would be all right.
Moz shut himself back in the closet, June kept the doors of her house closed, and the dance parties stopped.
Maybe he will come back, Peter hoped, as the days passed and the nights got longer. Maybe our story isn’t over yet.
*
Feedback is appreciated. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 12:32 am (UTC)And the ending is so heartbreaking! Poor Peter, waiting for Neal to come back *hugs him*
Also, you have chosen the perfect toys for each of our heroes. I particularly adore Moz - the nesting doll who sometimes takes himself apart to spy on other toys (lol). You are a genius :D
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 06:35 am (UTC)And you should not feel odd for making animated children's toys sad, as there was Toy Story 3.
Ahahaha, Jeff. Oh, Jeff. I love Neal randomly ending up on the other side and never getting to be an FBI Agent and all that. That was a thing of beauty.
I love how Elizabeth and Peter aren't literally made for each other and fit anyway. That was a beautiful touch.
In short: OMG. YAY. Toy Story AU.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 07:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 12:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 01:03 pm (UTC)This is definitely a case of "well worth the wait."
So maybe, some day, a sequel?
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-30 02:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-01 09:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-02 01:37 am (UTC)I can't log in and will gush more when I can, but all I could think was Yes! This is what the show was striving for with the Kate question, and poor pining Neal, and Peter with his overdeveloped sense of responsibility and pragmatism.
This fic is awesome. I enjoyed it--and the image of Neal's perfect plastic hair--thoroughly.
--ivorysilk
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-02 01:38 am (UTC)Thank you so much for posting this.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-03 04:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-04 05:11 am (UTC)(oh, and also, THIS LINE! He wanted to lick it and find out what Neal was made of.)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-05 04:52 am (UTC)Poor Peter; forgetting El's manufacturing date (lol) and Neal immediately moving into June's.
I also loved the parts with some bite to them; ie, Elizabeth always being rescued, among others.
Very poignant end; Peter waiting endlessly at the window. (sniffle)
Ready for part two any time. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-07 03:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-07-23 03:51 am (UTC)BUT IS NEAL GOING TO RETURN?! PETER LOVES HIM!!!!
I mean, um. I hope you write a sequel. :D
Seriously, this was fan-freaking-tastic.