Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Neal says in greeting. “How’s my favorite Burke?”

Peter gives Neal a cross between an amused and perplexed look. Before the former opens his mouth to respond, Neal adds: “It’s been a while since I’ve sat down with Elizabeth.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Peter drawls. Neal gives him a winning smile. “What’s got you in a good mood?”

“Isn’t it enough that the sun is shining?” Neal says. “The worst of winter is behind us? The —”

“Spill it, Caffrey.”

Raising his hands, Neal concedes, “Alright.” The two men enter their headquarters and walk to the elevator. “You caught me.” Peter gives him a smug look. “I let you catch me.”

“Uh huh.” They enter the elevator.

“Am I not allowed to be in a good mood that the Ponzi scheme case is behind us?” Neal asks. “Seriously, that thing about money being the root of all evil? They were onto something.”

Absent-mindedly, Peter says, “My mother used to listen to The Andrews Sisters.”

The elevator dings. The doors open and they step out onto their floor.

“1 Timothy 6:10,” Neal says. He opens the door and holds it for his boss. “He really should’ve trademarked it.”

Peter rolls his eyes. Before he can reach his office, Diana and Jones waylay them.

“Boss,” Diana says. She wears a grim expression. “I caught a case.”

“Okay,” Peter says, slowly. He looks between her and Jones, who’s eyes widen an imperceptible amount. As if to say: Tread lightly. “Is it on my desk?”

“It didn’t come through the regular channels.” Peter already doesn’t like where she’s headed. “Can we bring this to the conference room?”

Peter feels Neal’s eyes on him as he nods in agreement.

The four of them walk up the stairs in silence. Peter is the last one in and closes the door behind them. He looks expectantly at the two agents before him.

“Lay it out for me.”

“I got home late last night after finishing my paperwork,” Diana begins. “When I walked inside, Christie was in the kitchen and trying to talk down one of our good friends. He was hysterical.”

“It turns out that he went to a bar earlier in the night. Alone,” Diana explains. “He began talking to this guy and everything seemed normal.” Neal furrows his eyebrows. “Suddenly, they’re going to a hotel room. Things are … well, you get the picture,” Diana gives them all a meaningful look.

“Vividly,” Jones mutters. Diana shoots him a warning look and he raises his hands.

“Things are happening when, all of a sudden, the guy is saying all this stuff about how if our friend doesn’t pay up, he’ll doxx him. The works. Family, friends, employer.”

“Jesus,” Neal breathes. He runs a palm over his jaw and paces toward the window. He feels Peter’s eyes tracing his movements.

“How much did the guy demand?” Peter asks.

“Ten thousand. Wired,” Diana sighs.

Dumbfounded, Peter says, “And he did it?”

Diana’s lips turn downward, but it’s Neal who responds.

“How’d he swing the transfer if it was during off-hours?”

“The perp knew a guy who could speed things along,” Diana replies.

“Of course he did,” Neal scoffs. “We always know a guy.” The three agents stare at him. “Figure of speech.”

Jones arches an ironic eyebrow as Diana faces Peter again.

“I want to run with this boss.”

“To what end?” Peter asks. “Is your friend willing to ID the guy?” Diana hesitates. “Diana.”

“You don’t get it, Peter. I was afraid to share all of myself with my folks. Compared to his family, mine might as well be marching down Christopher Street each June. He works for his dad. His friends are his family. Christie and I are his family. I can’t just let this go.”

“Okay. Say — say we run with this,” said Peter. Diana’s eyes grow more alert. “You still haven’t answered to what end. How are we playing this?”

“Let me call the bar. A couple of bars,” Diana proposes. “You don’t just wake up one morning and start extorting people for tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Diana’s right,” Neal says. He begins pacing again. “You build up to it. You start small. You might not even stick with the same bar until you get clever.”

“What makes you think the bars have any knowledge of it if it wasn’t reported?” Jones asks.

Neal gives him a look.

“When you were down and — if you’ll pardon the word choice — out, haven’t you ever — again, if you’ll pardon my wording — poured your heart out to the guy behind the bar?”

Jones jerks his eyebrows in acknowledgment.

“I’d bet you anything the bartenders want to fly under the radar almost as much as the patrons,” Diana says. “Whether it’s to sustain their business or protect themselves and their customers. It won’t be easy, but we can’t just ignore it. Especially not if there’s a pattern.”

Neal and Diana stare expectantly at Peter. Jones looks on in interest as well.

“Alright,” Peter agrees. “You two.” He points to Neal and Diana. “Get out there.”

***

“I knew it!” Diana says as they walk out of the third bar. “I knew this wasn’t an isolated attack.”

“You called it,” Neal confirms. “They were all pretty tight-lipped.”

“Yeah,” Diana says. She deflates a bit. “It’s not gonna be an easy case.”

“This really means something to you,” Neal remarks. Diana gives him an odd look. “I mean more than a friend getting caught in the crosshairs.”

Diana is silent for several minutes as they walk down the street. Eventually, she speaks again.

“How I told the people closest to me and when I told them was my call,” she says. “It was when I was ready, but it was still fucking scary.”

Neal gives her a solemn nod.

“You don’t get that back,” she continues. “It doesn’t matter how old you are. It sure as hell doesn’t matter that more people are open-minded now. That’s something straight people tell themselves to qualify their ‘right to know’ about other people’s business before they’re ready.”

Neal’s eyes drift down to his dress shoes. He sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I get it.”

“Well, you do and you don’t.” When Neal doesn’t offer a witty response, Diana looks carefully at him. “Neal?”

Neal glances to his right at her. Diana’s jaw slackens.

“I … You … We …”

“All excellent pronouns,” Neal says. “Let’s try for an adjective.”

“But … Kate. And Alex. And Sara.”

“Diana Berrigan,” Neal says, coming to a halt. Diana stumbles slightly before regaining her footing. “Are you suggesting there are only two possible …?”

“No,” she interjects, groaning. “Please don’t finish that. Jesus Christ, I’m an asshole.”

“Hardly,” Neal says. “You made an assumption. People make plenty about me. On both sides of this particular topic, by the way.”

“Really?”

“An art lover who’s impeccably dressed? A notorious flirt?” Neal says, arching an eyebrow. “The stereotypes not only write themselves but burn from both ends.”

“Why are you telling me?” Diana asks.

Neal weighs his next words.

“Because this bothers me, too,” he says, eventually. “And you’re right. It won’t be easy to get to the guy behind the blackmailing and extortion. We’ll need a believable mark. Someone who isn’t afraid and who can ‘play the part’, as it were, without playing it like it’s a part.”

Understanding washes over Diana.

“You’re going be the mark, aren’t you?”

“He’s targeting men in their 30’s. Mostly brunette. Tall and handsome. Clearly well off, at least by all appearances,” Neal says. “Remind you of anyone?”

“Quit fishing for compliments.” Neal snorts. “Are you sure about this?”

“Berrigan, think about it. Aside from the fact I’m not actually selling a lie, who’ll be convincing in this setting?” Neal asks. “Me or Bert and Ernie back at the office?”

“You know, a lot of people think Bert and Ernie —”

“Okay, bad example.”

Diana’s lip twitches. Neal relaxes internally, but Diana isn’t finished.

“Most guys in this department would not want to touch this sort of undercover assignment with a ten foot pole. The ones with lesser relationships than you and Peter wouldn’t expect their CIs to do it either.” Diana pauses. “Are you ready to deal with his surprise or skepticism?”

“I am,” Neal says. They stand on opposite sides of Diana’s car. “Because, in my case, my choice not to discuss this part of me doesn’t make it a secret.”

“Okay,” Diana exhales. She opens the car door and motions for Neal to do the same. “Let’s start formulating our pitch.”

“Admit it,” Neal says, lowering himself into the car. “You’re thrilled to finally have something slightly in common with me.”

Diana barks a laugh.

“Keep dreaming, Caffrey.”

***

“You want to do what?”

“Send Neal undercover,” Diana says, patiently. “He’s a consultant. This is what he does.”

“He’s on loan as an art consultant,” Peter counters. “This is hardly within his purview. Plus,” he continues, before Diana can interrupt him. “It’s a big ask.”

“Why?” Diana challenges. “Because he has to flirt with and get picked up by a man? Unlike all of the times I’ve had to do it?”

Peter flounders. He looks to Jones for assistance.

“Deploy the parachute, man,” Jones advises.

Peter looks between the agents.

“How does Neal feel about this?”

“Neal’s the one who proposed the idea.”

All three heads turn toward the direction of the doorway. Neal strolls into the conference room with a purpose. He hands Diana a stack of papers full of detailed information.

“Three bars. At least nine targets that the bartenders knew about,” Neal says. “More than half at the same bar as Diana’s friend. This guy found where he operates best.”

“Anything for a description?” Jones asks.

“We did a partial-blind sit down with my friend over the computer,” Diana says. “He described the man to me over the phone and I relayed it to Neal.”

“Personally, with what I had to work with, I think it’s some of my best work,” Neal says.

He is only half joking.

“This was really your idea?” Peter confirms. Neal nods. “You do realize this goes deeper than running a con or pretending to be someone you’re not, Neal.” Neal stiffens. “There is a strong likelihood that you’ll have to kiss whoever this guy is.”

Neal fixes Peter with a flat look. The agent shifts uncomfortably under the conman’s scrutiny.

“Do you really think I disregard laws, but I draw the line at labels?” Neal asks. The sound of a pin dropping would echo in the tense silence to follow. “I’ve kissed men before, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes grow wide in surprise. He looks from Diana to Jones and back in rapid succession. Jones seems caught off-guard, but not as taken aback as Peter feels.

“You’ve never said,” are Peter’s first words. “Was it for …”

Peter trails off and Diana groans in exasperation. Peter flushes when Neal arches an eyebrow.

“A con?” Neal supplies.

“That came out wrong,” Peter says, hastily.

“I’ll say,” Neal says with an edge. He glances at Diana. “What’s my play?”

Diana waits for a moment to see whether Peter will object and blow apart the entire operation. When he doesn’t, she answers Neal.

“Like we discussed on the ride here,” Diana says. “You don’t approach him. Once you lay eyes on him, you make him want to approach you. Your story is —”

“I’m from out of town, visiting on business,” Neal finishes.

He gives the other two men meaningful looks.

“Married?” Jones says in recognition.

“Bingo,” Neal says. “A perfect candidate for someone who wouldn’t want any of his late-night rendezvous publicized.”

“And a heavy hitter with resources,” Peter acknowledges. “This could work.”

“I know,” Neal says, pointedly. “I’ve been in worse situations.”

“There’s just one thing that no one has mentioned yet,” Peter says, ignoring Neal’s latest remark. “The likelihood that this guy is not only targeting people he knows will comply and give him what he wants. There’s a strong likelihood this could turn into a violent hate crime.”

“Does he have any history of menacing with a weapon?” Jones asks Diana.

“None that we’ve identified,” Diana replies. She still looks troubled. “But Peter’s right. If you don’t immediately fall into lock-step with him or if you get made, it could spell danger.”

“Every case could spell danger,” Neal counters. “You’re not going to scare me out of doing this.”

He addresses the room at large, but his eyes linger on Peter as he says the last part.

“We’ll be in the van,” Peter says in lieu of a rebuttal. “Ears on you the entire time and eyes when you’re entering the hotel.”

“Great,” Neal quips. “I’ll focus on the rest of the body.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, boy,” Peter says softly to Satchmo.

Peter scratches behind the dog’s ear. He chuckles at Satchmo’s contented response.

“Someone’s happy to see you,” Elizabeth says. She enters the living room with a smile. “Tell him the line starts behind me.”

Peter straightens up and pulls his wife in for a kiss.

“Long day?” Peter asks when they pull apart.

“Clearly not as long as yours.” Elizabeth shoots him a concerned look. “What’s up?”

“Where to start,” Peter announces, with a dramatic flair. “I have to head back out in a few hours. Please tell me there’s beer left from last night.”

“And I brought home pizza.”

Peter stares at his wife.

“I love you so damn much.”

***

“And then he says, ‘Do you really think I disregard laws, but I draw the line at labels? I’ve kissed men before, Peter.’ Like he was reporting the weather!”

“That does sound like Neal,” Elizabeth says, contemplatively. “I have a question.”

“Just one?” Elizabeth gives him a look.

“Should you be telling me this?”

Peter blinks.

“There’s no secrets and lies between us.”

“This isn’t something that affects us or our marriage,” Elizabeth reasons. “Did Neal tell the three of you about this in confidence?”

Peter thinks back on the conversation.

“It wasn’t … he didn’t like, ‘come out’ or something,” he fumbles. “He just said it matter-of-factly. Like he just never got around to mentioning it.”

Elizabeth watches as Peter twists the label from his peeled back bottle.

“Does it bother you?”

“I don’t care that he’s attracted to men, too. Diana’s gay.”

“It’s different with men,” Elizabeth says. “Men can get weird about other men.”

“I’m not that guy,” Peter insists. Elizabeth nods.

“What’s bothering you, then?”

“He talks about everything, El. Everything,” Peter emphasizes. “From art to history to Mozzie’s latest conspiracy.”

“This week is about crop circles,” Elizabeth says.

“What — never mind, I don’t want to know,” Peter decides. “But this. He doesn’t mention this?”

“Maybe he didn’t feel he needed to. Maybe it wasn’t important to him until this case,” Elizabeth says. “Or maybe he’s being Neal. He may not lie to you, but is he really that forthcoming?”

“What do you mean?”

Elizabeth sighs before replying, “He answers when he’s asked to. But he doesn’t give anyone enough about himself for them to use it against him. What do we know about his childhood or his life in general before New York?”

“Next to nothing that’s not in reports,” Peter admits. “But it’s us. He talks to me more now.”

Peter does wonder whether that is really true. Or is it yet another successful Caffrey con?

“He’s still Neal, hon,” Elizabeth reminds him. She stands up and brings their plates to the sink. “Don’t lose sight of that.”

Peter nods. His eyes follow her departing figure.

***

At the same time …

“Salutations!” Mozzie announces as he walks into Neal’s apartment. “I come bearing the finest grapes illicit funds can buy.”

“Really,” Neal says, absent-mindedly. “When you could drain my cabinet?”

“Been there, drank that. Last night, to be precise.” Neal scoffs. “What’s with you?”

“What?”

“You’re all … wound tight. Like the Suit,” Mozzie says. He places his bag of liquor on the table. “A harsh observation, I know. But true by all appearances.”

“Careful,” Neal says. “Peter might take exception to the comparison.”

“Doesn’t he always?” Mozzie snorts. “I’m convinced his holier than thou-ness can be addressed by a simple dietary adjustment. Do you know where Mrs. Suit shops?”

“I really don’t,” Neal replies. He hasn’t lifted his eyes from the schematics in front of him.

“New assignment?” Mozzie asks. “Or a personal pursuit?”

“Little bit of both, depending on what side of the room you find yourself standing,” Neal says. “A guy is targeting men at gay bars. Leaving with them and after they mess around for a while, he demands that they pay up.”

Uncomprehending, Mozzie says, “Like a hooker?”

“Like extortion,” Neal clarifies. “His mark is the well-dressed, well-groomed, and well-endowed. In more ways than one. The type that will fulfill his demands —”

“— because it’ll cost them more if they don’t,” Mozzie finishes with a grimace. “Bastard.”

“Yeah,” Neal says, shortly.

“Where do you factor into the equation?” Neal arches an eyebrow and tilts his head. He waits. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“Not you, too, Mozz,” Neal warns. “I already have Berrigan’s approval.”

“Of course you do. She’s probably the only Suit who’d want to catch the son-of-the-bitch as much as you. Neal, this could be dangerous.”

“They all could be dangerous. Plus,” Neal continues, “I’ve seduced lethal women.”

“Who, for as lethal as they were, you still had the advantage of physicality,” Mozzie points out. “Unless any of those women were secret MMA fighters, there was less chance of them pinning you down and causing physical harm without a weapon.”

“That’s backwards, Mozz. Especially for you.” Neal stands up and walks toward his bed full of outfit options. “What would you wear to pick up a man who extorts other men?”

“A coat made of Saccharomyces boulardii, because I’d be shitting myself,” Mozzie replies. “What does the Suit have to say about all of this?”

Neal’s lip curls.

“When I told him it wouldn’t be a problem because I’ve kissed men before, he started to ask whether it was for a con.” Mozzie hesitates. “I don’t want to hear how it’s a fair assumption.”

“Have I ever sided with the Suit over you?”

“With growing and alarming frequency,” Neal retorts. “Just because I have more history with women doesn’t make me any less …” Neal gestures vaguely around them.

“Of a free, unlabeled spirit?” Mozzie offers. Neal points at his friend and makes a clicking noise with his tongue and the roof of his mouth. “At least let me go over your exit strategies with you, in case it all goes south before the winter.”

Neal hums in acknowledgment.

“Still,” Mozzie says, shaking his head. He leans back as he uncorks the bottle of wine. “Law enforcement staking out a gay bar. Maybe I should’ve brought the ingredients for cocktails.”

Neal gives his friend a sidelong glance. His lip twitches upwards in amusement. Mozzie takes that as a victory in itself.

“‘I always believed that we would have a fight back. I just knew that we would fight back,’” Neal recites. “‘I just didn’t know it would be that night.’”

“Sylvia Rivera,” Mozzie says.

Neal nods as confirmation.

“Tonight’s our night.”

***

“Hey, Neal,” Elizabeth welcomes, as she opens the front door.

She leans in for a hug, which Neal reciprocates. He studies her once they separate.

“No secrets and lies,” Neal says, more to himself than to her.

“In Peter’s defense, I don’t think he thought it was a —”

“Elizabeth. It’s fine,” Neal interrupts her. “Peter didn’t exactly open Pandora’s big gay box.”

“In that case, can I ask you a personal question?” Neal nods. “Have you ever dated a guy?”

“Nothing serious, and not for any particular reason,” Neal replies. “The timing was never right. Plus, people who are trying to live their most authentic lives tend to take exception to the guy who changes his name as often as his underwear.”

Elizabeth lets out a surprised laugh, which makes Neal crack a smile.

“You look really good tonight, by the way,” Elizabeth says before walking over to Satchmo. She grabs his leash off the coffee table.

“Hey,” Peter says, as he descends the stairs.

“Hey.” Neal gives him a curt nod.

“Listen,” Peter says, carefully. “About earlier …” He pauses, but Neal remains silent. Peter realizes that Neal isn’t going to make an apology easy. “It was a stupid thing for me to say.”

“Why?” Neal asks. He means for it to come off as casual, but he immediately hears the strained note in his voice. He inwardly curses. “I am a conman, Peter. I know how to sell any truth to the right audience.”

“Hold on. Back up,” Elizabeth says. She looks from Neal to her husband. “What exactly did you say to him, Peter?”

Neal’s smile feels inauthentic before he even attempts one.

“No secrets and lies,” Neal repeats. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “We’re late.”

Neal nods to Elizabeth before walking back out the front door. Elizabeth shakes her head at Peter in astonishment.

“Peter.”

“He told us that he’s kissed men before, El. Not that he’s gay,” Peter says, hurriedly. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can, hon.”

Elizabeth kisses his cheek before Peter rushes out the door.

“Be careful, hon,” she says with a long-suffering sigh.

***

“Hey. Hey, stop for a second.”

“We’re late, Agent Burke.”

“Agent Burke,” Peter echoes. “That’s distantly familiar.”

“I figured it’s for the best, right?” Neal snaps. “You clearly feel like I’ve kept something major from you. Something you were entitled to know despite being a footnote in the otherwise colorful life that I lead. Why not revert to formalities from when we didn’t pretend to know each other or be friends?”

“Calm down,” Peter hisses.

“Why?” Neal demands. “I’m trying to do my job, Peter. Remember that?” Neal not-so-subtly points to his obscured ankle monitor. He approaches the van, but stops before he opens the door. He turns to face Peter again. “Answer me something. Was Berrigan right?”

When Neal doesn’t elaborate, Peter asks, “About what?”

“Most guys in this department would not want to touch this sort of undercover assignment with a ten foot pole. The ones with lesser relationships than you and Peter wouldn’t expect their CIs to do it either.” Diana pauses. “Are you ready to deal with his surprise or skepticism?”

“I am,” Neal says. They stand on opposite sides of Diana’s car. “Because, in my case, my choice not to discuss this part of me doesn’t make it a secret.”

“Well?” Neal presses him. “If we came back to the office with all the reconnaissance we collected and I hadn’t already told Diana that I’d go undercover, would you have tapped me for it?”

Peter hesitates for a moment too long.

“Yes.”

Neal gives him the worst sort of pitying look Peter’s seen cross the other man’s features.

“No secrets and lies,” Neal says. “Elizabeth is one lucky woman.”

“You can’t go into this assignment like this,” Peter insists. “Not like this. Not this angry.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” Neal says. “Because regardless of everything else going on right now, I’m mad as hell that this piece of shit is ruining lives. So I’m going to take a leaf out of the Agent Burke guidebook and do something about it.”

Neal does turn and enter the van that time. Peter follows and watches as Neal puts on a mask so quickly that the former nearly gets whiplash.

Diana and Jones are already set up and waiting. As they turn to face the new arrivals, Diana releases a low whistle.

“You don’t clean up half bad, Caffrey,” she says.

“What are you talking about?” Jones says. “You’ve seen him in a tux.”

“You’ve been single for too long if you think dressing up for a night out and a gala are the same thing,” Neal teases the agent. “My accessory?” Jones rolls his eyes and unlocks the anklet.

Peter doesn’t know how Neal flips it on and off like that, conman or not. He’s still — until proven otherwise — a human being. Peter doesn’t know what’s going on inside of Neal.

Despite his bravado, Neal feels a certain nervous anticipation. No worse than the adrenaline that he normally feels on a case. But it’s different. It is not because of the rush of danger or unknown factors that keep things interesting. It’s the fact that he’s tapping into a part of himself that brings with it so many more questions than he’s willing to divulge answers for to anyone. Even Mozzie.

“You good?” Jones checks with him.

“Yeah,” Neal says, instinctively. Peter catches the consultant’s eye. He knows he looks doubtful, but Neal turns to face Diana as he responds. “I guess it’s been some time for me as well. There are different rules with what works on men and women.”

“I’m told it’s like riding a bicycle,” Diana drawls. Neal shoots her a look. “Too on the nose?”

“Like we’ve discussed,” Peter interjects. “You’re going in there alone, but use a safe word if you need us to pull you out. We’ll be watching your back.”

“Yeah,” Neal says, shortly. He fixes his hair and walks toward the van door. “It’s not my back I’m worried about.”

“What’s your word?” Diana checks.

Neal finally locks eyes with Peter. The older man doesn’t move an inch.

“‘Trust me,’” Neal responds.

A moment later, he is gone.

Chapter Text

Neal realizes, of course, there is a major potential flaw to their plan.

Diana’s friend’s blackmailer struck last night. There’s every possibility that he’ll lay low and not hit the same bar two nights in a row.

What’s no less true is that this man is likely not only a threat, but a homophobe who is on a mission. He could just as easily strike when the mood suits him.

They all agree it’s worth trying to find him tonight, even if he merely shows up for a drink. They can identify him and if Neal is as good as he usually is, he may tip the scales in the FBI’s favor.

The bartender clocks Neal as he enters the bar. He nods imperceptibly at the consultant.

“Some of your top-shelf,” Neal requests, his voice slightly raised. The bartender nods as Neal surveys his surroundings. “This place always so crowded?”

“More on Fridays and Saturdays,” the man replies.

Neal accepts his drink with a nod of thanks. His back faces the bar as he speaks into his watch.

“I’m not seeing anything yet,” Neal murmurs, barely moving his lips. “It’s wall-to-wall. And yes, Peter. I’ll stay alert.”

“He thinks he has me all figured out,” Peter says, unbeknownst to Neal.

“I think you two have spent way too much time together,” Jones says.

While that conversation takes place, Neal’s eye catches a familiar figure.

“Oh, you’re kidding me.”

The van’s occupants freeze.

“What?” Peter says, sharply. “What’s going on?”

“Talk to us, Caffrey,” Diana says, even though it’s a pointless demand.

“He’s here,” Neal says, eventually. “But he’s not alone. Don’t move in,” he adds, hastily. “He’s with Mozzie.”

Jones makes a noise of disbelief and Diana curses.

“Damn it, Neal!” Peter snaps. “How many times have I told him that he can’t tell his criminal underling about our cases!” He lets out a groan. “What are they doing?”

Neal locks eyes with the other man. Mozzie says something to him that the blond man is clearly amused by — and Neal can make an educated guess.

Neal quirks his lips before turning to lean forward on the bar. His face and his words are easily his greatest assets, but they are not his only assets.

Neal glances briefly over his shoulder to indicate that he’s still interested.

“I’m in,” Neal mutters. “Mozzie wants to get in my pants.”

Neal promptly goes radio silent.

***

The van members stare at one another in disbelief.

“Did we all just hear the same thing?” Jones asks.

“I don’t like this,” Peter mutters.

“Care to settle a wager between me and my new pal?”

“That must be him,” Diana hisses.

Peter motions for her to stay quiet. He listens closely on the headset.

“That depends,” Neal replies, smoothly.

“On?”

“So many things.” Peter can picture Neal’s charming-as-ever smile. “What’s your wager?”

“A simple one,” the man says. “Kenneth, here, thinks you were checking him out. I disagree.”

There’s a suggestive note to his voice. Peter rolls his eyes at the way Jones’ shoulders shake now that they fully understand Mozzie’s play.

“Well, with all due respect to you, Kenneth,” Neal says. His voice drips with sarcasm that is only noticeable to those who know him. “I was trying to figure out where I’ve seen your friend before.”

The entire van freezes. Peter and Diana exchange alarmed looks.

“Oh, yeah?” the man replies.

There’s a cautious note to his tone.

Definitely him, Peter mouths.

What are you doing Neal?

“You probably get that a lot,” Neal says, with a self-deprecating laugh. “What with those classic movie star looks.”

“Laying it on thick, isn’t he?” Jones whispers.

But the other man laughs. Peter knows then that Neal has made it beyond the first step.

“Egos are egos,” Diana murmurs. “Well played, Caffrey.”

“We need a name,” Peter says.

“What are you drinking?” Neal asks the other man.

There’s a moment of silence while the van waits with bated breath.

“Gin and tonic.”

“A classic,” Neal says, silkily. “Another for my new acquaintance,” he adds to the bartender.

The van cannot know for sure what exchange — if any — passes between the three men, but suddenly Mozzie is saying, “I can tell when I’m becoming a third wheel. Although,” he adds. “I maintain that I could’ve had you if I wanted you.”

“Confidence is an attractive quality, Kenneth.” The subtle note of sarcasm has returned. “Maybe on a rainy day in another life. If you’re man enough.”

Mozzie coughs and presumably walks away from them. Peter shakes his head in amazement.

“Was he correct?” Neal asks. “Was he third-wheeling?”

“I hope so,” the man replies. “You’re not from the city, are you?”

“What gave me away?” Neal asks, with an amused lilt.

Peter knows that tone. Neal is taking inventory and laying traps. You never know what you will catch when winter comes back around and animals seek warmth and cover. In spite of Neal’s apparent amusement, Peter can detect a cold front coming.

“Your eyes,” the man says. “They’ve seen a great deal. Do you travel?”

“For work,” Neal confirms. “I’m here on business, as a matter-of-fact. What’s your line of work?”

“Acquisitions.”

“Oh, he’s funny,” Peter deadpans. Just then the van’s back door opens. “Get the hell in here.”

“Hello, Suits. You’re welcome, by the way,” Mozzie greets them.

“That little stunt you pulled back there could’ve gone sideways in at least seven different ways,” Diana snaps. “I realize this isn’t important to you —”

“Don’t presume to know anything about me, Lady Suit,” Mozzie cautions. “You know what they say about assumptions.” He gives Peter a pointed look.

Peter shakes his head while staring at the roof of the vehicle.

“At any rate,” Mozzie says. “Neal’s pissed at me, and he’s actually someone I’d half consider answering to.”

“He told you to stay out of this?” Diana says.

“In no uncertain terms,” Mozzie says. “He’s committed to bringing this guy down. He’s not alone in that, either.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Jones says. “Did you get a name from him?”

“No,” Mozzie says. “When I got a glimpse of his wallet, he wasn’t carrying any ID on him.”

“A glimpse?” Jones says, disbelievingly.

“You’re going to question my methods of obtaining private information?” Mozzie says, gesturing wildly around them. “May I remind you —”

“Everyone quiet,” Peter hisses.

The van goes silent. Mozzie grabs a headset.

***

“— playing with your ring finger.” The other man studies Neal. “Like it’s missing something. Something that explains why a strip of it is paler than the rest of the finger.”

That bit of detail was a joint effort between Diana and Neal. Peter had pointed out that Neal would need to tip the guy off somehow that he’s married.

Neal reminded him that married men don’t generally go around bars flashing wedding bands. Which is when Diana stepped in to ask Neal if he could give his finger a partial tan.

Neal delivered and here they are now.

Neal doesn’t immediately respond. When he does, he says, “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. Not if,” the man continues, “you explain why you’re here.”

“Why I’m here,” Neal repeats, thoughtfully. The bar stool scrapes as he moves to sit on it. “Do you want the long version? Or the SparkNotes?”

“Whichever version helps me to better know you.”

“Jesus, what a line,” Mozzie mutters.

Neal may not hear it, but he knows it’s what the entire van is thinking and for good reason.

“We were young,” Neal says. “I loved her. Still do. I told myself that my house has many rooms, and I occupy only a few.”

”The rest were meant to remain unvisited,” he continues. “Pretending to be someone else consistently gets me into trouble.”

Neal pictures a smug expression on Peter’s face. Not the actual troubled one.

“Queer As Folk reference.” Neal’s brought back into the reality of their conversation.

“Technically,” Neal says. He extends a hand. “Neal observation.”

“Pleasure to meet the real you, Neal,” the man says. “Jeffrey.”

“Do we think that’s his real name?” Jones asks.

“Doubtful,” Mozzie answers. “He probably doesn’t expect Neal’s name to be his own.”

“He should’ve tried for a full name,” Peter says.

“No, he made the right call,” Diana says. “A full name would’ve been a red flag for someone in this-Neal’s position.”

Neal continues shaking the alleged-Jeffrey’s hand with a winning smile. It does not at all reflect what he feels internally for the man.

Neal has experienced the skin-crawling sensation more times than the average person. Most instances barely rank in comparison to how he feels about this man’s actions.

“You want to go somewhere less crowded?” Jeffrey asks him.

Neal feels as though his skin stretches of its own accord.

“Read my mind.”

***

“This feels weird,” Mozzie says, removing the headset.

“It’s the job,” Peter replies.

“Listening to your CI bed someone?” Mozzie snorts. “I must’ve missed that in the guidebook.”

“Neal’s not bedding anyone,” Diana says, rolling her eyes.

“No, you’re right,” Mozzie says. “By-the-by, have the lovebirds made it out of the elevator?”

They have, actually. Peter hears the elevator ding and its doors open.

He looks at the monitor and sees the two men stumble down the hall while wrapped around each other. It is hard for Peter to know what to make of it.

All of it seems so natural to Neal. Peter supposes it shouldn’t surprise him. Neal’s never shied away from finding his mark and working his magic.

Men are every bit as susceptible as women to flattery and manipulation. It’s the lack of feelings associated with these sorts of cases that always confounds Peter. It’s why he doesn’t like going undercover when he has to play a romantic part.

Aside from not wanting to touch another woman in any way resembling how he touches El, it doesn’t just leave him feeling uncomfortable. It feels empty. But he does have El to go home to at the end of the night. Neal doesn’t have an El of his own.

Something else weighs on Peter. He’s long held an awareness that Neal’s body is no longer his own. Why does it suddenly feel less okay that he is using it to entice a male criminal?

What does that say about Peter and his possibly warped perception of power and gender dynamics?

Neal and the other man — supposedly, Jeffrey — are in the room.

Neal’s bug is implanted in his watch. It doesn’t exactly matter how much of his clothes he removes. Peter would still prefer for it to be the bare minimum.

There is no telling what Jeffrey might do if Neal ends up in too vulnerable of a position.

“Top or bottom?” they hear Jeffrey breathe.

“Oh, geez,” Jones grimaces.

Diana smacks his arm as Mozzie begrudgingly listens again.

“I’m versatile,” Neal replies. He releases a breathy chuckle. “I guess that’s obvious.”

“Took you for someone who needs to be in control,” Jeffrey remarks.

“Oh, I am,” Neal confirms. “I’m not easily backed into a corner, and I can work any angle.”

The two resume whatever they’re doing until Neal breaks apart to say, “Do you want anything from the mini bar? We’ve got all night.”

Good. Move this along, Peter thinks.

“Current pace is good,” Jeffrey says. “Arms.” The sound of a shirt rustling. “Lay on your back.”

“Come on, Neal,” Diana says, exasperated. “This isn’t the sort of deal-closing we discussed.”

“You like control, too,” Neal remarks. The sound of a belt buckle. “Being on top.”

“I’ve never had any complaints.”

“You still won’t,” Neal assures him. “I admire a man who can reign me in.”

Peter catches Jones giving him an ironic look.

“No use unpacking that statement?” Jones deadpans.

Peter looks incredulously at his subordinate. The former makes a series of gestures understood clearly as: Listen and do your job!

“You’re really fucking hot.”

“And yet,” Neal says, calmly, “I’m feeling a bit underdressed by comparison.” A pause. “Care to join me?”

“How long is Caffrey going to play chicken?” Diana says.

Mozzie shoots her a look.

“Is that an actual question, Lady Suit?”

If Jeffrey was going to respond, he doesn’t get a chance. The sound of a phone ringing echoes in their headpieces and makes them wince.

Jeffrey sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Jeffrey says. “I need to get that.”

He must disappear into the other room, because Neal suddenly whispers, “Don’t come yet. Uh, actually, that’s a poor choice of words.”

Peter facepalms himself.

”Before your heads start exploding, let me try to see this out. I still have a few tricks up my … well, you get it.”

The sound of another person entering the room floats through their headpieces.

“I’m really sorry, Neal,” Jeffrey says. He sounds as though he really does mean it. “There’s a crisis at work and only one man can put out the fire.”

“Oh, no. Really?” Neal says. “It can’t wait until morning?”

“Trust me,” Jeffrey says. “You have no idea how much I wish it could.” Peter averts his gaze from nothing in particular at the sound of the men kissing. “Are you here long?”

“I don’t fly out until next week,” Neal says.

“Any chance of rain-checking for tomorrow?”

“I’d be disappointed if we didn’t,” is Neal’s simple response. Another kiss. “‘Night.”

“Come on,” Peter says to Diana. “You two stay here,” he adds to Jones and Mozzie. “Too many people heading to the same place could send up red flags.”

“Especially since the lowest-IQ fence would make you for feds from a mile away,” Mozzie quips.

Peter and Diana don’t deign to provide that remark with a response.

***

There’s a knock on the door. Neal rolls his eyes.

“Enter.”

Peter and Diana walk inside as he buttons his trousers and re-assembles his belt buckle.

Peter notes the conman is still shirtless, but that’s not all that he notices. Neal’s hair is entirely mussed and his lips are shiny and swollen. His cheeks are slightly flushed and when he turns, there are raised marks on his back.

“Jesus,” Diana says, noticing it as well. “Did you pick up Edward Scissorhands?”

Neal gives her a wry look before he focuses on doing up his buttons.

Curiously, Peter asks, “What exactly did you have up that proverbial sleeve of yours?”

“Short of pretending that I’m a lightweight? Not much,” Neal replies. “I was working on it. It was too soon to pull out.” He smirks.

“You’re just full of these tonight, aren’t you?” Peter says. Neal tilts his head. “Enough.”

Neal raises his hands. He looks in the mirror and snorts before fixing his hair.

Peter’s eyes never stray from his figure.

“Were you able to get anything on him aside from what was probably an alias?” Diana asks. “Mozzie said that he wasn’t carrying any ID.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Neal confirms. “But all’s not lost.” Peter and Diana wait. “His Rolex.”

“What about it?” Peter asks.

“It’s brand new. As in, it just dropped today,” Neal says.

“Okay,” Peter says, slowly. “He’s just come into real money, so it’s unlikely he ordered it in advance. Which means he probably went to the store to buy it and even then, he probably bought it with cash. That’s too broad a scope.”

“All that would be true. Except,” Neal says, “the watch is inscribed. LJH. I’d venture a guess that Jeffrey is his middle name. And that Mr. LJH paid for it by card, because he knew that he would have enough money to pay it off at the end of the month.”

“Something tells me his time will be up by then,” Peter says.

Neal snorts.

“Strictly professional curiosity,” Diana begins.

“When did I get that close of a glimpse at his watch?” Neal says. “You’d be amazed what people fail to notice when they’re thoroughly distracted. Not to mention, attracted.”

Neal glances from Diana to Peter and winks at the latter before blowing past them.

“You know, if I went that way,” Diana says.

“You’d be weak in the knees?” Peter finishes.

“Not a chance,” she laughs. “But I might be curious enough to find out if he lives up to the hype.”

Diana pats Peter’s bicep before following Neal. Peter stands there in contemplation.

The moment passes. He turns out the light as he leaves the hotel room.

Chapter Text

Peter’s stress levels start elevating at six o’clock the next morning.

By six thirty, the physical manifestation of his headache walks through the front door.

“He wants to do what?” Elizabeth cries.

“Sleep with the guy!” Peter exclaims from the living room. “He actually called me an hour ago to say that’s our best course of action.”

“Your husband grossly exaggerates. As usual.” The Burkes turn to see Neal walk through the front door. Mozzie follows behind him. “I said I’d take one for the team if it comes down to it.”

“And he will be vetoed by all of said team,” Peter reminds him. “Do not go rogue.”

“While you’re at it, don’t press the big red button,” Mozzie says, sarcastically. “It’s like you haven’t learned anything about him, Suit.”

“Neal,” Elizabeth says. “I get you want to catch the guy. This isn’t the way to do it.”

“We’re on the clock, Elizabeth,” Neal says. “What better way to get him to show his ass?”

Mozzie gives Neal a dry look. Neal says, “You’re better than that.” Mozzie shrugs. Plaintively, Neal continues, “We don’t have enough on him.”

“We have a name,” Peter points out. “Lee Jeffrey Hollins. We will put a tail on him and when he strikes again, he won’t get away with it.”

“You’re right,” Neal says, obstinately. “Because I’m the last target.”

“Did you stop to consider that you might not be a target for him at all?” The three men turn to look at Elizabeth. “That you might be …” She gestures as she tries to find the right word. “His personal reward for a good week’s work.”

Mozzie furrows his brows in consideration.

“She has a point, Neal.”

“Her point makes me want to hurl, Mozz.”

“Hear us out,” Mozzie says. “I barely had to put any legwork into pointing him in your direction. Once he saw you, he was hooked.”

“So were you,” Neal deadpans. “It’s an act.”

“Unless it’s not,” Peter says, slowly. “In which case, your options are either getting made or getting laid. Neither option is acceptable under the circumstances.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Neal’s phone rings. He looks at the caller ID.

“It’s pseudo-Jeffrey,” Neal says.

“When did he give you his number?” Peter demands.

“He entered it before he left.”

“You didn’t tell us!”

“What were you gonna do? Dump it?” Neal snaps. “With what warrant? It’s not like he was lying low, either. We made plans.”

“Answer the damn thing!” Peter hisses.

Neal shoots him a dirty look but obliges.

As Neal puts the phone on speaker, Peter watches the other man’s demeanor shift. Neal adopts his usual self-assured, charming persona.

“Jeffrey. Hey,” Neal answers. “I was wondering when I might hear from you.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night either, huh?” Lee says.

“And what could’ve been,” Neal says, suggestively. “I’m not usually one for living in the past.”

“What about the future?” Lee replies.

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve got a long day ahead of me,” Lee says, “but I thought maybe you were right last night. Why rush it?”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shoot up as she locks eyes with Mozzie. He looks dumbstruck.

“What would you say to a late dinner?”

Peter starts gesturing wildly to get Neal to say, “No.”

There are too many unpredictable variables and ways that things could go wrong in a public setting.

“I can do you one better,” Neal says. “Late-night room service. A bottle of champagne chilled. A view that the best restaurants in the city couldn’t pay for. Say, nine o’clock?”

“Better make it nine thirty,” Lee replies. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Neal proceeds to hang up the phone.

“What was that about him not being interested in you?” Elizabeth says.

“I can use this.”

“This is a bad idea,” Peter warns him.

“And you sound like a broken record,” Neal retorts. “Next time you need to pimp me out for a female suspect, I’ll take your concern under advisement.”

Neal turns on his heel and begins walking back the way that he arrived.

“Where are you going?” Peter calls after him. “We’ve still got ten minutes.”

“I’ll meet you at the office.”

Mozzie tips a metaphorical hat to Elizabeth before giving Peter an exasperated look. He follows Neal.

“Don’t say it,” Peter implores.

“He’s right,” Elizabeth says. Peter presses his lips into a firm line. “And you know it.”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Not how to handle the way Neal’s taken on this case,” Elizabeth says. “Why is that, Peter?”

Peter stares at her.

“I’m not homophobic, El.”

“You’re something,” Elizabeth replies. “And making that assertion doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in its truthfulness.”

She studies him for a long moment.

“You and Neal have a close relationship,” she continues. “Closer than the average agent and CI. I’m starting to wonder …”

Peter’s mouth goes dry when Elizabeth’s eyes get shiny.

“You’re starting to wonder what, hon?” Peter says. Elizabeth swallows. “El. Honey.”

“Peter. Don’t,” Elizabeth insists.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I know,” Elizabeth says. Her voice cracks. “That scares me.”

“I love you,” Peter says. “It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

“But —”

“No but’s,” he argues. “No and’s, no or’s. No Neal Caffrey.”

Elizabeth’s eyes somehow look sadder.

“That’s just not true,” Elizabeth says. “He’ll always mean something to you, and that’s not even a problem at face value. It’s the way you’re treating him because of it that worries me.”

“I’ll do better,” Peter insists. “I swear, El. I’ll rebuild those boundaries.”

Elizabeth creates a bridge with her fingers. She presses them against the corners of her eyes.

“I’m not worried about boundaries. I know the man I married. I know the man that Neal is. Neither one of you would do anything untoward. Neither one of you would hurt me.”

“Then, what?” Peter implores. “Draw me a map, because I’m lost.”

“That,” she says, pointing at him. She walks to grab her purse from the kitchen table. She slings it over her shoulder. “That frightens me. If there’s one thing Peter Burke knows, it’s his way. If he loses it …” Elizabeth shakes her head. “There’s no telling who may get hurt.”

Peter stands frozen as Elizabeth kisses his cheek. Then, she whispers:

“Including you.”

Peter suddenly finds himself standing alone in their house.

Fuck.

***

“You need to create distance from the Suit.”

Neal arches an eyebrow and lifts his pants leg.

“Easier said than done.”

“We both know that’s a crock of shit. You’ve done more with less resources,” Mozzie says. “And I don’t mean physical distance. Emotional.”

Neal’s expression is stoic as he replies, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The fuck you don’t.” Mozzie pulls his friend to a grinding halt. “You think I don’t see the way you look at him?”

“I’m urging you to stop right now,” Neal says, with a threatening tone.

“Jesus Christ, Neal,” Mozzie says, shaking his head. “The greatest lies a conman tells are to himself. I’ve always said that. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Then explain when you got so hard-up that you decided to play the long con on yourself.”

Neal’s face slackens. He turns to Mozzie with a pained expression and says, “Stop it.”

“Neal —”

“I said, stop!” Neal shouts, raising his voice. He walks at a brisker pace. “Don’t follow me.”

Neal’s mind whirls from Mozzie’s words as he puts more and more distance between them.

Fuck.

***

“Who pissed in your coffee, Caffrey?”

Neal gives Jones a strange look. He turns to address Diana instead of responding.

“Hollins called,” he says. Diana sits up straighter. “He wanted to have a late dinner tonight. I guess I made an impression.” Neal sticks his hands in his pockets. “I convinced him that room service is the way to go.”

“It’s risky,” Diana muses. “This is becoming more and more like someone who’s interested in screwing you, not screwing you over.”

“So I’ve been told,” Neal says. “How do you want to approach this?”

“So, Berrigan’s opinion holds weight for you. But not the guy who got you out of prison?”

Neal tenses at the sound of Peter’s voice. He continues staring at Diana as he replies, “Diana is the one who brought this case to the office. She’s leading it. And,” Neal presses on before Peter can interrupt him, “she’s never given me a reason to believe she’s biased.”

“You’d better check —”

“You two. Conference room,” Diana interjects. Neal and Peter stare at her. “Now.”

Diana turns and walks up the stairs without waiting to see whether they follow her. They both know better than to cross her, so they oblige. Once they enter the conference room, they turn and see that Diana is about to leave.

“Where are you going?” Peter asks, accusatory.

“You need to work out whatever shit you’re not dealing with,” she says. “I don’t give a damn what it is. It just had better not affect this case that’s already hanging by a thread.”

She starts to leave again when Neal asks, “Did you show your friend Lee’s photo from the bar?”

Diana pauses with her hand on the door frame. She nods.

“It’s him,” is all Diana says before leaving them alone.

Neal takes one look at Peter before pacing by the window.

“I’m not accustomed to my subordinates telling me off.”

Neal gives him a skeptical look.

“Is this your first apology?”

“I have nothing to apologize for!” Peter exclaims. “I’m trying to protect you and this operation.”

Neal scoffs.

“You’ve had a chip on your shoulder ever since I said I was willing to go undercover to bring this guy to justice. Why is that Peter?”

“I don’t know.” Neal blinks. “There, are you happy?”

Shaking his head, Neal replies, “Not good enough.”

“Well, that’s all I’ve got,” Peter says. “I’m in hot water here, I’m in hot water at home …”

“What does Elizabeth have to do with this?”

“Everything, apparently. Because she’s on Team Caffrey,” Peter snarks. “She thinks you and I are closer than most CIs and agents.”

Neal’s skin itches from the accusation. Or, is it an observation? It’s hard to tell these days.

“Mozz has a solution,” Neal says. “He thinks it’s time I put distance between us.”

Neal gestures between the two of them. Peter raises his eyebrows.

“By what means?” Peter’s eyes drift down to Neal’s obscured anklet.

“Emotional ones.” Peter’s head whips up again.

“Caffrey …”

“I told him in not as many words that he’s full of it,” Neal says. He does his level-best to keep his voice from trembling. “I meant it, too. But he is right about one thing.”

Cautiously, Peter asks, “Which is, what?”

“I care too much. About what you think of me,” Neal says. “I see you as a friend, you see me as a liability who uses any means necessary for a result. It’s not really wrong, but it is unbalanced. We’re unbalanced, and sometimes I manage to forget that. So it hurts when I breathe and you look at me like I’m trying to pull one over on you.” Peter stands there frozen. “Your silence is a pretty significant indicator that I’m right on the mark.”

Peter swallows and turns his attention to the birds flying past their window.

“A few things were said or done last night that got me thinking,” Peter says. “The first was when you said pretending to be someone else has consistently gotten you into trouble.”

“I thought you’d get a kick out of that.”

Peter stares at him in disbelief.

“I wasn’t snickering and bumping fists with Jones in the van, Neal,” Peter says. “I’m glad you’ve at least developed some level of self-awareness where your aliases are concerned, but I didn’t get the impression that was really what you meant. I know most of those aliases were for cons and illegal actions. I’m not delusional or so narrow-minded that I don’t recognize some of them were for self-preservation. So you didn’t have to focus on what you’d rather compartmentalize.”

Neal shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t offer a response. Peter takes a deep breath.

“All I’ve wanted since we started working together — and before, but then it was a pipe dream — is for you to be honest with me,” Peter says. “And, okay, I recognize you tried to be honest with me yesterday and I threw it back in your face. I definitely could have reacted better after learning that men do it for you as much as women. I apologize for that. Truly.”

Peter eyes him anxiously until Neal nods in recognition.

“What’s the second thing?” Neal asks. Peter furrows his brows. “You said there were a few things that got you thinking.”

Peter rolls his lips. This is the tricky one.

“Last night,” Peter says, carefully, “I came to a sort-of realization. ‘Sort-of’ in the sense I always knew it, but never thought anything of it until this case’s dynamics forced me to consider it. The FBI … I own your body.”

Neal’s face remains impassive, but he inwardly recoils at Peter’s candor.

“You may be willing to give all of yourself to this case … to any case … but maybe I’m starting to realize I’m not okay with that,” Peter says. “It probably shouldn’t have taken you seducing a man for me to see it, but it did. Because the threat’s always real. But this particular case has all sorts of threats and perimeters that I can’t see, and that worries me. Because I might miss a warning sign and it could come at the cost of your life or well-being.”

“I can see those threats and perimeters,” Neal says once he finds his voice. “If you trust me.”

There are those two words again.

“What’s your word?” Diana checks.

Neal finally locks eyes with Peter. The older man doesn’t move an inch.

“‘Trust me,’” Neal responds. A moment later, he is gone.

“I do trust you,” Peter says, firmly. “God help me, I do.”

“Prove it,” Neal challenges. “If you’re worried, tell me. But stop trying to undermine me or what I know I can handle. Trust that I’ll tell you when I’m in over my head.”

Peter nods slowly as he absorbs Neal’s words. Trust him, he thinks.

“Okay,” Peter says, finally. “What do you think should happen next?”

“I think Elizabeth’s right. Maybe it started like the other attacks, but there’s something off the more I think about it. He had plenty of opportunities to extort me. But he made a mistake.”

“What?”

Neal smiles dryly at him.

“He didn’t pursue me on his own.”

***

“You’re sure about this, Mozzie?” Peter asks.

“Let’s go over it one more time,” Diana adds.

“I’ve got it,” Mozzie says. He looks from Neal and Diana to Peter and Jones. “Neal will suggest a drink at the hotel bar first. When he excuses himself to answer a call from home …” He shoots Neal an ironic look. “I’ll approach Hollins. I know the plan.”

“If this goes to plan, no one is heading back to that hotel room,” Peter says. “Everyone ready?”

“Almost,” Neal says. He leverages his foot on a nearby console so Peter can unlock the anklet. “Too bad this relationship with Hollins was doomed from the start. I could’ve held out for some actual jewelry. No offense,” he adds to Peter.

“Ha-ha,” Peter intones. “Okay. You go first. Mozzie, you wait until we have eyes on Hollins. Hey,” Peter adds as Neal walks to the van’s exit. Neal looks over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

Neal nods and ducks to exit the van.

***

“Long time, no see.”

Show time.

“Jeffrey,” Neal says, pasting a smile onto his face. “Glad you could make it.”

“Likewise,” Lee says. “I’m sorry again about bailing last night. Rest assured, heads rolled.” Neal forces a laugh that almost sounds genuine to his own ears. “I thought we’re heading upstairs?”

“We are,” Neal confirms. “I thought it would be nice to share a drink first.” Neal’s eyes sparkle. “It is a little difficult to have a real conversation when there’s a third party in the room.” Lee tilts his head in confusion. “The bed.”

Lee throws his head back and laughs. He joins Neal at the bar and orders himself a drink. When it’s firmly in his hand, he raises it in toast. Neal follows suit.

“To chance encounters,” Lee says.

“And all that they bring.”

***

“… the youngest of four boys. The others were star-athletes.”

“Sounds like our suspect has more than one complex,” Diana says.

“Do you think that’s what this is?” Peter asks. “Some internalized hatred?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine,” Diana replies. “I liked it better when I thought he was some straight asshole. That’s familiar. This …”

“Is something more personal?” Peter finishes when Diana doesn’t continue.

She nods and then studies him.

“You and Caffrey seemed better,” she observes.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, noncommittally. “Thanks.”

Thanks for making us deal with it. Peter doesn’t say it in so many words, but he knows Diana can pick up on the subtext.

“… your family like?”

“I never knew my dad,” Neal replies. “Just that he was a cop.”

“Did he leave?” Lee asks. “Or …?” The blond man hesitates.

“Or.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Neal makes a noise of appreciation. “A cop, huh?”

“Yeah,” Neal laughs, like he finds it amusing.

Peter knows better.

That whole bit about Neal never knowing his dad? It’s true in all the ways Neal isn’t expressing to Lee.

It still pains Peter to consider his role in the mess, despite Neal insisting he has nothing to feel guilty about.

Peter has a hard time reconciling how Neal desperately wanted to know the man who left him behind as a boy with the reality that Neal watched that man walk out of his life again, all so he could save Peter’s life.

“I thought about it for a while. Becoming one,” Neal says. “Until I was eighteen. I still haven’t decided whether my mother was disappointed or relieved.”

“I’ve never had much use for cops,” Lee admits.

“I bet,” Jones drawls.

“So,” Lee continues. “I’m glad you chose a different path.”

They clink glasses.

“Mozzie, are you in position?” Diana asks.

“Affirmative, Lady Suit.”

Peter’s turn. He pulls out his phone and dials Neal’s phone number. He waits.

“I’m so sorry,” Neal apologizes. “It’s my wife. I have to make sure it’s not about the kids.”

“Sure,” Lee replies, easily. “I’ll be here.”

The phone clicks a moment later.

“Mrs. Caffrey,” Neal purrs. Peter snorts. “Is Mozzie en route?”

“As we speak,” Peter confirms. “I’ll put you on speaker so you can hear it for yourself.”

“Hello, friend.” That’s Mozzie.

“What are you doing here?” Lee demands. “Get lost.”

“Hot date?” Mozzie says, sarcastically. A pause. “You’re with him again, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you? Still think you have a shot?” Lee mocks.

“I’ve moved on to ‘bigger and better.’ Emphasis on the bigger,” Mozzie retorts.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Neal mutters.

Peter stifles a laugh.

“I’m not going to say it again. Get out of here.”

“I need your help, man,” Mozzie says. “I’m in the red and need some fast cash.”

“You’ve come to the wrong guy.”

“Weren’t you the one bragging about how you recently came into a windfall?” Mozzie says. “You must’ve done something right. What was it? A side hustle?”

“So-to-speak,” Lee says. “Nothing you’d be able to pull off.”

“Try me.”

“Look,” Lee hisses. “Now is not the time. He’ll be back any minute.”

“Then talk quickly. Unless you want my blood on your —”

“All right, all right. Fine,” Lee snaps. He pauses, most likely looking to make sure they’re alone. “There is something you can do. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“Try me.”

“Go back to that bar. Where we met New-In-Town,” Lee explains. “Find a well-endowed guy. Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Rich?”

Lee must nod, because next he says, “Style of clothes, job description. Pay attention,” Lee says. “The more aloof, the better. Ones with families or who look like they have something to hide.”

“Hold on,” Mozzie says, playing the part a little too well. “Is that what you’re doing to New-In-Town? Taking him for a different sort of ride?”

“No,” Lee snaps. “He’s different.”

“Really?”

The sarcasm in Mozzie’s voice sounds a little too much like how he actually feels.

“Careful, Mozzie,” Peter murmurs.

“I actually like the guy, believe it or not,” Lee says. “I didn’t plan on it, but he’s interesting and he’s handsome. I may never see him again after this week, but what we have going is real. I have no interest in conning him out of his money like the others.”

“We’ve got him,” Diana says, triumphantly.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Neal says. Peter doesn’t know when he wandered back toward the bar. “Because, in my experience, few people can truly con a conman. Trust me, Lee Hollins.”

“Everyone — move in!” Peter orders, jumping into action.

***

“Neal,” Lee says, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“FBI! Don’t move!” several voices shout at once.

Lee’s eyes grow wide as he looks from the agents to Neal and Mozzie. The blond goes slack-jawed.

“You’re FBI?”

“You know,” Neal says, coolly. “You thinking that is probably the least offensive thing about you.”

“Rough case,” Mozzie grunts.

Neal nods in agreement.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Peter says to Diana.

“With pleasure. Lee Jeffrey Hollins,” Diana begins. “You’re under arrest …”

Neal watches in silence as Diana reads the criminal his rights. Lee stares at Neal.

“I wasn’t lying,” Lee says. “You have to believe me.” Neal arches an eyebrow so cynical that it sends a chill down Peter’s spine. “You were there. No one can fake that. No one’s that good.”

“He is,” Peter says, glancing at Neal. “And we’re better off for having him on our side.”

Neal locks eyes with him. The sudden softness in Neal’s causes Peter to feel slightly unbalanced.

He clears his throat.

“Get him out of here,” Peter tells Diana and Jones. “We’ll follow.”

“Wait a minute,” Neal says. The agents stop and hold Lee in place. “If you meant what you said about telling me the truth, then answer me this. Why this way? Why are you targeting men who like men?”

Lee stares uncomprehendingly at Neal.

“I needed the money.”

Neal’s lip curls in disgust.

“Get him out of here.”

Diana and Jones oblige, yanking Lee with force. An awkward silence hangs in the air until, hesitantly, Mozzie turns to Neal.

The two men have not had a conversation aside from Neal asking him for help on the assignment. Mozzie, of course, followed through with no questions asked.

Yet they know the conversation from earlier requires a longer discussion.

“See you back at yours?” Mozzie asks.

Neal silently nods. Mozzie starts to leave, but not before Neal adds, “Thanks, Mozz.”

Mozzie turns and gives him a slight smile before exiting the hotel.

Abruptly, Neal says, “We should get going.”

“We have a minute or two,” Peter counters. “How are you doing?”

Neal gives a half-hearted chuckle. He shakes his head and averts his gaze, blinking a few times.

“I preferred not knowing he likes men.”

“Diana said something similar.” Neal nods in a solemn manner. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Neal says, candidly. “But thanks.”

Neal jerks his head toward the door. Peter nods in understanding.

They both walk outside of the hotel and start the journey back to headquarters.

Chapter Text

Peter knows when he’s not alone.

“You’re still here,” he says, looking up from his desk at Neal.

It’s not exactly a question, but Neal nods anyway.

“Jones and I just finished our paperwork. Diana’s tying up loose ends,” Neal says. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I’m basically finished,” Peter says. He switches off his lamp and rubs his eyes. “Glad this is over.” Realizing how that sounds, he adds, “Not for the reasons you may think.”

“I know,” Neal says. He walks further into the office and leans against the wall. “Trust me, I found no joy in this case.”

Trust me. The words echo in Peter’s mind.

The lapse in conversation is mildly disconcerting, but not as uncomfortable as earlier. Another thought that has nagged at Peter since the previous night pounds harder around his head. He didn’t bring it up earlier, but his hand is forced when Neal breaks their silence.

“What are you thinking?”

“What?” Peter says. Neal gives him a look.

“‘You and I are closer than most CIs and agents,’” Neal recites. “You said that to me.”

“Technically, El said that to me.”

“I know your ‘tells,’” Neal says, dismissively. “Out with it.”

“It’s nothing,” Peter lies. “Really.”

“Peter.”

The older man sighs.

“It’s just something else you said last night to Hollins,” Peter says.

Neal crosses his arms and waits.

“You like control, too,” Neal remarks. The sound of a belt buckle. “Being on top.”

“I’ve never had any complaints.”

“You still won’t,” Neal assures him. “I admire a man who can reign me in.”

Peter catches Jones giving him an ironic look.

“No use unpacking that statement?” Jones deadpans.

Neal continues to stare impassively at Peter.

“I still haven’t heard a question,” Neal says.

“There’s no question.”

“Bullshit,” Neal says, bluntly. Peter winces. “Ask me, Peter.”

“Neal …”

“Don’t be shy, Agent Burke.”

Peter shoots him a warning look.

“Stop.”

“Was I attracted to you during our thrilling cat and mouse saga?” Neal says. “I suppose it may be a two-part question. As in, did any possible attraction fade?”

Peter isn’t sure which question he’s more wary of hearing the answer to first.

“You’re a complex man, Peter Burke. I knew it from the start,” Neal says. He hasn’t moved from his spot against the wall. “If the only way we can move forward is for me to answer what you’re too afraid to ask me —”

“I’m not afraid.”

“— Then, yes.” Peter freezes. “I found your drive and skills attractive. They’re rare, and many of them were used solely in response to me. Chalk it up to feeling special,” Neal adds, glibly. “I find how much you care about helping people, even people who may not deserve it …” Neal gives a meaningful look. “… Attractive.”

“Right,” Peter says, unsure of how to respond.

Neal’s expression turns to pity.

“I’m not attracted to you in that way, Peter,” he says. “I’m not fantasizing about you or wishing for something neither one of us can give. In case you forgot, we tried living in the same space. I am still convinced Elizabeth deserves special compensation for dealing with your smelly socks and sports-obsessed persona.”

Peter blinks several times. It feels as though he’s suffering from whiplash.

“Elizabeth,” he says.

“Elizabeth,” Neal echoes. “Someone who I consider a good, true friend.”

Any existing allure disappeared once we became friends. Neal doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t need to in order to convey the message.

“I love my wife,” Peter says. “I don’t say that as any sort of preface.”

“Understood.”

“Something about this case made me realize that I see things so starkly. One way or the other,” Peter admits. “But maybe it wasn’t the assignment. Maybe it’s you. And how you’re perpetually a confident, unapologetic — not-to-mention, pain in my ass — person.”

“Your flattery knows no bounds.”

“I’m not wired that way. Never have been. Confidence has never come naturally to me.”

“You’re a natural leader, Peter,” Neal contradicts.

“Competent and skilled? Sure. Natural? It doesn’t always feel that way,” Peter says. “I’m not sure if I can chalk all this up to a late midlife crisis of sorts or something else. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you. Unless,” he hesitates. “I cannot believe the next words that are about to come out of my mouth. Unless, is Mozzie right? Have we become too close?”

Peter knows it’s a cop-out to put that question on Neal. Only, Neal doesn’t feel burdened by it.

“Probably,” Neal says. “But I think we’re better for it. We don’t work well when we’re not all in. Aside from Mozzie, I trust you more than anyone else in my life. Past or present.”

Neal always makes these grand declarations. They almost always overwhelm Peter, but it feels different now. Volatile.

“You must’ve trusted other people on a similar level, if not more,” Peter tries.

Neal shakes his head.

“Trust isn’t just knowing someone will be there or that you can confide in them,” Neal says. “You are consistently the person who has consciously wanted a better life for me. Who’s advocated on my behalf. The one person I know can hurt me the most, but will never set out to do it.”

“Neal,” Peter says, shaking his head. “Whether it’s me or someone else, you can’t put all that on one person. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment. I’m imperfect.”

“Hell yes, you are. Don’t misunderstand me.” Neal gnaws at his lip. “You remember that doctor? The one who manipulated her patients with mind-altering drugs to do things they didn’t recall?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“We did a word-association exercise,” Neal replies. He rolls his lips. “You know, she says one thing. I say the first word that comes to my mind.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept. Your point?”

“‘Job … confined. Jealousy … weak,’” Neal recites. “‘Money … prop. Women … hope. Peter …’”

“Neal —”

“‘Worthy,’” Neal finishes.

Worthy. The word rolls over Peter in waves.

“That’s the first word you thought of?” Neal nods. “It’s not a word I’ve heard used instinctively to describe me,” Peter ponders. The word somehow keeps him grounded.

“That’s a shame.” Neal genuinely means it.

“Granted,” Peter continues, like there was no interruption, “it’s coming from someone who’s not like most people.” Neal purses his lips in mild amusement. “It wasn’t just for her benefit?”

“Have I ever done anything for anyone else’s benefit?”

“Just the people you care about.”

“Well,” Neal concedes, “there is probably some overlap.”

Peter inhales and then releases a breath. He subconsciously straightens his tie and studies the man who still stands casually before him.

What Peter never seems to realize, though, is Neal feels so few things in a casual way. He feels so much. He gets so involved. It’s what got him into his life of crime in the first place.

Neal will be an “all in” sort of guy until he has nothing left to give. Until every last part of him is used up for a cause — whether it be his own or someone else’s.

The most worthy of causes.

“It’s getting late,” Peter says. He stands from behind his desk and goes to grab his jacket. “El should be finishing up dinner. Should I call ahead and ask her to set an extra place?”

An olive branch. Neal shakes his head, but strives to show his appreciation.

“Mozzie’s waiting for me.”

“Right,” Peter nods, suddenly remembering. “See you in the morning.”

Peter reaches to pat Neal on the shoulder but then pauses. Without allowing himself much time to second-guess, he redirects and firmly cups the back of Neal’s neck.

He gently jostles Neal in a way that Peter hopes conveys all that he wants to say. All that must remain unsaid.

The corners of Neal’s eyes prickle. He gives Peter a wobbly smile and nods. It occurs to him that Peter’s previous declaration may also double as a question.

Him needing as much reassurance as Neal just received.

“You will,” Neal promises.

Trust me.