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twentysomething at 09:29pm on 21/11/2011 under crossover, fic, glee, i don't even know man, kurt/blaine, peter/el, white collar, wipvember
twentysomething at 09:29pm on 21/11/2011 under crossover, fic, glee, i don't even know man, kurt/blaine, peter/el, white collar, wipvemberFandom: White Collar/Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Peter/El
Length: 600 wordsish.
Warnings: See the title of this post.
Notes: I DON'T EVEN KNOW, MAN. Just. Yeah. I just thought that El and Kurt would love each other. And then this happened. This was written earlyish this past summer when I suffered less from writer's block and when I was high on fashion.
El prefers to stay out of Peter's work.
That being said, she doesn't exactly mind when she doesn't. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't thrilling, that she didn't have fun.
However, she hadn't really planned on dragging Kurt into it.
Although, judging from his expression, solemnly shaking Neal's hand, he doesn't exactly mind, either.
Two months ago, El had been swamped with work with no respite in sight- good for the Burke family pocketbook, stressful for her. She was picking up some last minute floral arrangements and had mentioned, apropos of needing to sleep sometime in the next month, that she was looking into getting an assistant. Becky had hummed thoughtfully.
"I think I know a guy," she'd said and Kurt had emailed El his CV before the day was out.
They'd met at Lady M the next day, and within half an hour, were busy talking about the catering nightmare that is mousseline.
Kurt is more or less indispensable now and Peter is extremely appreciative of El's return to the dinner table. El's actually sort of surprised it's taken this long for Peter and Kurt to meet, although she has no doubts that Peter ran a background check on Kurt when she hired him.
"Please tell me that's a Devore," Kurt says fervently, and El is sort of surprised Kurt hasn't already taken the jacket off of Neal to check. Neal smiles widely.
El has kept Neal from Kurt on purpose.
"It is," Neal agrees. "El, you have such wonderful taste in men, how did you ever end up with Peter?" Peter scowls as Kurt goes bright pink.
"I'm a very lucky woman," she counters, letting Peter slip an arm around her waist. Neal simply smiles with a "I never said otherwise" shrug.
"Alright, anyway," Peter tries. "Sorry to drag you two down here, but after what you've told me about Kurt, I thought he might be able to help us out here." She shoots a questioning glance at Kurt, who just smoothly takes one of the chairs in front of Peter's desk.
"Consider me all ears," Kurt says. Peter settles behind his desk, El takes the other chair and Neal leans, louche and graceful against the file cabinets.
"There was a break in last night at the Met," Peter begins, falling into the easy cadence he uses for criminal back story that El is tragically fond of. "The target was the new Alexander McQueen exhibit-" Kurt makes a muffled noise of horror. "-which I'm guessing you're familiar with."
"Oh my god, is- they didn't deface anything did they, what did they take, oh god," Kurt blurts out, clapping his hands over his mouth. There's a hint of amusement in the corner of Peter's mouth as he slips a sheaf of photographs over to Kurt.
"They took a number of garments, mostly from the first room," Peter explains as Kurt sighs sadly as he flips through the photographs. "So far the only connection we can find is that-"
"These are all from Daphne Guinness," Kurt says, flipping back and forth between the pictures. Peter looks surprised for a second, but nods.
"Right, how did you know?" he asks. Kurt smiles, wryly.
"I've been maybe six or seven times since the exhibit opened last month," he explains. "My boyfriend refuses to go with me anymore."
"Pity," Neal says, shameless as always. El narrows her eyes at him. Neal is not allowed to aimlessly homewreck a 19 year old. Kurt just hums fondly.
"He's not a bad guy," Kurt demurs, the same secretive smile he always uses when he talks about Blaine.
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Peter/El
Length: 600 wordsish.
Warnings: See the title of this post.
Notes: I DON'T EVEN KNOW, MAN. Just. Yeah. I just thought that El and Kurt would love each other. And then this happened. This was written earlyish this past summer when I suffered less from writer's block and when I was high on fashion.
El prefers to stay out of Peter's work.
That being said, she doesn't exactly mind when she doesn't. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't thrilling, that she didn't have fun.
However, she hadn't really planned on dragging Kurt into it.
Although, judging from his expression, solemnly shaking Neal's hand, he doesn't exactly mind, either.
Two months ago, El had been swamped with work with no respite in sight- good for the Burke family pocketbook, stressful for her. She was picking up some last minute floral arrangements and had mentioned, apropos of needing to sleep sometime in the next month, that she was looking into getting an assistant. Becky had hummed thoughtfully.
"I think I know a guy," she'd said and Kurt had emailed El his CV before the day was out.
They'd met at Lady M the next day, and within half an hour, were busy talking about the catering nightmare that is mousseline.
Kurt is more or less indispensable now and Peter is extremely appreciative of El's return to the dinner table. El's actually sort of surprised it's taken this long for Peter and Kurt to meet, although she has no doubts that Peter ran a background check on Kurt when she hired him.
"Please tell me that's a Devore," Kurt says fervently, and El is sort of surprised Kurt hasn't already taken the jacket off of Neal to check. Neal smiles widely.
El has kept Neal from Kurt on purpose.
"It is," Neal agrees. "El, you have such wonderful taste in men, how did you ever end up with Peter?" Peter scowls as Kurt goes bright pink.
"I'm a very lucky woman," she counters, letting Peter slip an arm around her waist. Neal simply smiles with a "I never said otherwise" shrug.
"Alright, anyway," Peter tries. "Sorry to drag you two down here, but after what you've told me about Kurt, I thought he might be able to help us out here." She shoots a questioning glance at Kurt, who just smoothly takes one of the chairs in front of Peter's desk.
"Consider me all ears," Kurt says. Peter settles behind his desk, El takes the other chair and Neal leans, louche and graceful against the file cabinets.
"There was a break in last night at the Met," Peter begins, falling into the easy cadence he uses for criminal back story that El is tragically fond of. "The target was the new Alexander McQueen exhibit-" Kurt makes a muffled noise of horror. "-which I'm guessing you're familiar with."
"Oh my god, is- they didn't deface anything did they, what did they take, oh god," Kurt blurts out, clapping his hands over his mouth. There's a hint of amusement in the corner of Peter's mouth as he slips a sheaf of photographs over to Kurt.
"They took a number of garments, mostly from the first room," Peter explains as Kurt sighs sadly as he flips through the photographs. "So far the only connection we can find is that-"
"These are all from Daphne Guinness," Kurt says, flipping back and forth between the pictures. Peter looks surprised for a second, but nods.
"Right, how did you know?" he asks. Kurt smiles, wryly.
"I've been maybe six or seven times since the exhibit opened last month," he explains. "My boyfriend refuses to go with me anymore."
"Pity," Neal says, shameless as always. El narrows her eyes at him. Neal is not allowed to aimlessly homewreck a 19 year old. Kurt just hums fondly.
"He's not a bad guy," Kurt demurs, the same secretive smile he always uses when he talks about Blaine.
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