STICKY: My Stories

So far, it's all White Collar.  It's mostly PG, since I don't write slash (because I think I'd be really, really bad at it); nor do I do excessive violence.  At least, I don't THINK it's excessive, Neal might disagree.

Plus, there are two lines I don't expect to ever cross in the White Collar world (which are better described here).  I write my own characters for that kind of treatment.  :)

If I don't say it enough, thanks so very much for reading.



The Effects of Certain Experimental Treatments on Short, Bald Men
Mozzie's attempts at a treatment for a very rare disease he's probably never going to get go awry.  Neal deals.  A fill for my Round 5 h/c bingo, surprise sex swap.  There really isn;'t much actual hurt, because, well, there just isn't.  Neal's nerves are pretty shot.

Twenty-five Days
A post-5.13 fic about Neal's kidnapping.  Also a fill for the Round 5 h/c bingo, Wild Card square ("kidnapping).

Speaking of that bingo card...
Maybe this will be the year I actually write five in some kind of line or something.

Broken Ice
A fill to answer the question, "What if Jones arrived too late when the Russian thug slammed Neal's head against the wall," during 5.06, Ice Breaker.

Nothing Special
A story about childhood memories, deviled ham, and home cooking.  Written for the "comfort food or item" square on my h/c bingo card, and submitted for Caffrey-Burke Day.  Yes, the beginning is completely different than the S5 premier, but it's all fiction anyway.

Down By The River
Everyone always says you can drown in just a few inches of water, but, really?  A fill for the "drowning" square on my h/c bingo card.

The title comes from an old Neil Young song, but that's because I couldn't think of anything else.  No one gets shot.

Wonder Why We Ever Go Home
June has a rough night; Neal is by her side.  A fill for the "taking care of somebody" square on my round 4 h/c bingo card.

The title comes from a Jimmy Buffett song, "Wonder Why We Ever Go Home" (strangely enough).  It's about getting older and time racing by, which I think would be on June's mind.  Here's a youtube link, if you've never heard it.

Round 4 h/c bingo card
(so I don't have to keep scrolling - talk about lazy)

Five Times Neal was Sick (and slept on the Burkes' couch)
An upper respiratory infection after Free Fall, a headache from his time in Avery's vault, exposure to an eye irritant, a broken arm, buckshot to the chest.  Good thing the Burkes have a couch.

Elizabeth's insistance that Neal lie to Peter to keep his out of Neal's search for Ellen's evidence box has unintended consequences.

Tag for Brass Tacks.

Soft Words to Light the Darkness
Neal, Elizabeth, trapped in a storage unit as a result of a raid with an unexpected outcome.  This was originally written for the LAS challenge beginning Fall 2012.


Trust Takes a Tumble

It turned out that fall Neal took while preventing Sophie Covington's kidnapping was a bit more serious than he realized.

Written for the HC Advent 2012

Exigent Circumstances Reconsidered
Peter thought that Neal's plan to catch Curtis Hagen had been brilliant.  Then he reconsidered.

Tag to the Pilot

Early Dismissal
A case brings back nighmarish memories of being Danny Brooks.
Warning:  risk of child sexual assault

A Walk in the Park
It started out as a simple walk in the park.  Then a shot was fired.  Maybe.

Second Chances
" Everybody gets one big mistake in life, and one opportunity to fix it. I believe in second chances, Miss Hunter." The opportunity that Adler offered Alex.
Warning:  Aftermath of a sexual assault

Tag to Forging Bonds

Stuck (in the metal with you)
You know those metal grates in some New York sidewalks? The ones over the subway tracks? The ones that are perfectly safe to walk on? Unless somebody did something really, really stupid, and you're wearing a tracking anklet.

Written for the HC Freak Accident Fest.

I'll be Seeing You
Neal made it through two months of prison after Kate's death, then through a major bank robbery case.  Then comes his first weekend out with nothing to occupy him.

Tag to Withdrawal

Last One Standing
Neal, a scared probie, and guns.  Fluff, really.

Field Day
In order to complete an operation, Hughes must step outside of the office and into the van. Then he has to step outside of the van and break a rule or two.

Straight Up
Peter doesn't realize the toll an undercover operation is taking on Neal until June forces him to notice.  Then he has to send his exhausted CI out to seal the deal.  My first attempt at a case fic.

Diana's New Friend
Diana is assigned protection duty.  It's not a good fit.

Be My Host
A felon walks into a thrift store and finds a new confidant and a home.  Title from the song, Be My Host, from the musical "No Strings," starring the wonderful Diahann Carroll.

Tag to the Pilot

Neal and the Copperhead
Neal gets bitten by a snake on his way into work. The day goes downhill from there.


(no subject)

Hello, everyone. My name is Adrienne, Sharon's daughter. Looking over her journal here I see it's been quite some time since she last posted anything as she dealt with her battle against cancer. Sadly she lost that battle on January 20th. I apologize for taking so long to say anything, but it wasn't been an easy couple of months. I do want to thank everyone that was friends with my mom. I teased her a little about things, sure, but it actually made me really happy to see her enjoying and participating in a fandom. Thank you all for making her last few years enjoyable.

FIC: The Effects of Certain Experimental Treatments on Short, Bald Men

Title: The Effects of Certain Experimental Treatments on Short, Bald Men

Author: calis_1st
Rating: PG
Characters: Neal, Mozzie
Spoilers: None
Word count: ~ 1200

Disclaimer: Characters are all from the brilliant mind of Jeff Eastin and probably a writer or two.

Summary: Mozzie's experimental treatment for a very rare disease goes awry.

Note: For my round 5 h/c bingo card, surprise sex swap.  There's very little hurt (nerves are shot, doesn't that count?), with maybe a tad bit more comfort  .Okay, it's a lot closer to  crack than anything, but I was desperate to finally get back to my bingo card.

"Mozzie, what did you do?" asked Neal very carefully, using a tone of voice meant to not startle small children and nervous cats that still had claws.

"Why do you ask?"

"For one thing, you have hair that looks nothing like a wig.  For another, your body - shape - has, well,  shape."

"Oh.  It's noticeable?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Hmph.    I was testing out a new treatment for tularemia.  I guess this particular mixture had more estrogenic properties than I expected."

"Tularemia?  Really, Moz?  When was the last case reported in NYC?"

"There've been four cases since 2004.  Two were on Staten Island in 2004 and 2007.  Brooklyn had a case in 2008.  And there was one in Manhattan in 2009, although she may have brought it over from Europe.  Neal, it's just a matter of time."  The pitch of his voice was rising.  Neal didn't know if it was nerves or hormones.

"Moz, do you need to see someone about your - side effects?"

"Aww,  you're sweet for worrying.  I'm sure they'll wear off soon enough.  Hey, you're not planning any trips to Staten Island, are you?"

"It's outside my  radius so, nothing soon."

"Good.  But if you do, let me know.  I'll give you a shot.  Better safe than infected with tularemia."

Mozzie sat on Neal's loveseat and patted the empty cushion beside him.



"Join me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling shyly.

"When did you say you tested this new drug?"

"Last week.  You're just now noticing I haven't been around?"

"Let's face it, Moz, you often disappear for days at a time.  I usually start worrying about you after a we - five days," he said, noticing a scowl on Mozzie's face.

"Then, come sit beside me.  You look like you've had a long day."

Neal took a step back.

"Moz,  you're kind of freaking me out."

"What, can't a guy just want his best friend to be comfy in his own home?"

Neal sighed.  This was far from Mozzie's first experimentation with pharmaceuticals, although it was the first time Neal was aware that Moz was self-testing.

"Sure, okay.  Wine?  Or do you need to stay alcohol-free?"

"Do you have a white zin?  Or maybe a Reisling?"

Neal walked over to his wine rack.

"A little sweet for you, aren't they?" he asked, opening a Reisling he'd found on the lower part of the rack.

"What can I say, I've developed a taste for them recently," Mozzie said, with a slight giggle as he sipped from the glass.  "Aren't you joining me?"

"I think this calls for something more of an amber color," Neal replied, as he poured two fingers - then a third - of scotch.

"So," Neal asked, after he settled next to Mozzie, "how long do you expect these side effects to last?"

"Oh, I don't know, it shouldn't be more than a couple more weeks, three tops.  The pharmacology of  the mixture indicates a biological half life of no more than four days, so, eight half-lives is just over a month.  Of course, I somehow missed the feminizing effect, so I could be off in my calculations."

Neal sighed.

"Where are you staying in the meanwhile?"

Mozzie had snaked one arm over the back of the loveseat and behind Neal's head.

"I was kind of hoping I could stay here.  It's - it's kind of lonely at Sunday, and you have a far superior wine assortment than I have. And nicer furniture.  And bed linens."   His hand had found Neal's shoulder.

"I don't know, Moz.  What happens when Peter shows up?  You know he will."

Neal slid forward from his seat (and the hand that had just started massaging his shoulder) and turned to look at his friend, just in time to see a tear start to form on his lower lid, followed by a slight sniffle.

"Never mind, Neal, I just thought - I don't know what I thought.  I'm not exactly myself, and I hoped that you, out of everyone I know, would understand that feeling of being out of control, and needing a safe place to hide.  It's okay."  He started to stand.

"No, no, you're absolutely right," Neal said, pulling Mozzie back to the couch.  "Stay here as long as you need to."  He finished his tumbler of scotch and eyed the bottle, but was pretty sure nothing good could come of inebriation.

Mozzie looked up at Neal with a heartbreakingly sweet smile, as the tears that had been forming in his eyes slid down his cheeks.

"You're the best friend a man could ever hope for," he said to Neal.

Neal looked at the bottle again, reconsidering his earlier caution about getting drunk, but shook those thoughts away as he realized Mozzie was tentatively holding his hand.

"Moz," he said a little more sternly than he'd meant to, "look at what you're doing,  You've never been a touchy-feely kind of guy, so, if you remember this - and I'm sure you will, eidetic memory and all - maybe you want to be more of a Theodore and less of a Thea. Okay?"

Mozzie nodded and withdrew his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't even realize it.  But, you know you're a really good looking man, don't you? "

Neal jumped up and looked panicked.

"I'm just saying, I'm not going to do anything.  But, you know..."

"Mozzie, we will never speak of this again.  Never.  This conversation didn't happen.  And, for the duration, no more wine for you."

Neal had taken to pacing and running one hand through his hair.

"Fair enough, but, for the sake of complete disclosure, you're going to have to not do that for the next few weeks, as well."

"Do what?"

"That thing you're doing right now, with your hand and your hair.  You don't know what it's like for guys like me who pretty much can't."

Neal stopped immediately.

"Sorry, Moz, I won't do it again."

He sat down next to Mozzie again.

Mozzie's hand crept up and lightly touched  the back of Neal's head.

"Sorry, man, I'm sorry.  Maybe you should sit -"  Mozzie waved toward the kitchen table.

Neal grabbed his empty glass and, well, didn't exactly run, but definitely moved faster than a stroll, to the chair right in front of the bottle of scotch.  To hell with his earlier resolve; if there was ever a reason to get utterly drunk, other than sampling a forged bottle of whiskey, this was probably it.

"Three weeks, huh?"

Mozzie just nodded.

"Good, then you'd better think of what you're going to tell Peter, and soon.  Even I can't come up with a story that won't end up with at least one of us in some sort of an institution.  Just be sure to let me know when I sober up."

Neal filled the tumbler halfway.

"Are you expecting Peter anytime soon?  You know, I never really thought about it, but he's a pretty good looking guy, too.  In a Suit-like, rugged sort of way."

Neal froze, then carried both his drink and the bottle to the sink and poured both down the drain.

"Three weeks, huh?"  was all he could say.

FIC: Twenty-five Days (part 1)

Title: Twenty-five Days
Author: calis_1st
Rating: PG
Characters: Neal, Peter, Jones, Diana, Mozzie, "Boots," Mara Summers
Spoilers: Season 5, particularly Diamond Exchange (5.13).and Controlling Interest (5.04); mentions of  few bad boys and girls from earlier seasons.
Word count: ~ 11,100

Disclaimer: Characters are all from the brilliant mind of Jeff Eastin and probably a writer or two.

Summary: "I'm about to become the last person on earth who knows where you are."  Neal has twenty-five days to make that not true.

Note: For my round 5 h/c bingo card, wildcard square ("kidnapping").  It would have been last year's "disappearing" square, but I was painfully slow with finishing it.


"I'm about to become the last person on earth who knows where you are."

Faster than Neal could even voice the obvious question his arms were pinned and a sack was pulled over his head and down past his shoulders.  He struggled to escape but with his first breath he felt lightheaded and off-balance as he was pulled forward.  With his second breath he realized he was being drugged, and by his third he was already unconscious on the floor of the van.  He recalled Peter telling him it wasn't over, but he was pretty sure that it was.


Collapse )

FIC: Broken Ice

Title: Broken Ice
Author: calis_1st
Rating: PG
Characters: Neal, Peter, Jones
Spoilers: 5.06, Ice Breaker, and earlier episodes.
Word count: ~ 3200

Disclaimer: Characters are all from the brilliant mind of Jeff Eastin.

Summary: What if Jones arrived a few seconds later ....  an alternate ending for "Ice Breaker"

Note: Written in response to a Collar Corner prompt by azertynin, who wanted to know what would happen if "Jones arrived too late when the Russian thug slammed Neal's head against the wall."  It also fills the "death" square on my h/c bingo (no, it is NOT a death!fic).


“Hey, buddy! It's Neal Micali. Come on, the party’s just gettin’ started, where’s the fire, my man?” Nikolai walked past him and tried to ignore the irritating, gum-chewing American.

Collapse )