Fic: I'll Figure It Out (With Some Help From My Friends) - Chuck/White Collar, Neal + Peter, G
Author's Note: I think this post needs an explanation. I wanted to write something for the Porn Battle with this prompt: Chuck/White Collar, Chuck Bartowski/Neal Caffrey, flirt. And I started to. And what I came up with was nowhere near porn; more like a piece of plot taken out of a much longer story... Except that said story does not exist :p So just in case anyone's interested, here it is. It takes place in a universe in which the whole evil!Shaw development never occurred. But Chuck still didn't get assigned to Rome. Sarah followed Shaw to D.C. and Chuck was assigned to New York along with his choice of spy team. (You don't actually have to know that to read this. Just. In case you were wondering...)
AO3
Title: I'll Figure It Out (With Some Help From My Friends)
Fandoms: Chuck/White Collar
Pairing: Chuck Bartowski/Neal Caffrey
Rating: G
Word Count: 1600
Summary: “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was your idea of a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ speech.” “First of all, if I had a daughter, your intentions would be to not do anything for which I would have to shoot you.” “Ah.”
‘Harmless flirting, Peter,‘ Neal’s called it, a thousand times. Neal’s never flirted this heavily with a man in front of Peter before; he’s never taken the term ‘harmless’ to a place of such irony as to ‘harmlessly flirt’ with a member of the CIA. So, granted, parts of this are new.
But the other stuff… The way Neal’s jumped into his pursuit of Carmichael (Oh, yeah. Peter knows Neal. Knows Neal when Neal’s got his eye on something Neal wants; Neal is pursuing the agent) feet first and probably in over his head… That’s classic Neal Caffrey.
Peter isn’t sure which side of the equation bothers him more. The unknown risks Neal takes every time he and “Chuck” have an encounter? Or the very familiar, selective vision Neal employs when evaluating those encounters and discussing them with Peter. (Bringing to Peter’s mind the memory of how Neal turned a blind eye all to often to certain elements of his relationship with Kate.) Maybe it’s what everything is adding up to. Something terrific or something tragic… Peter finds it impossible to guess which.
“This is flirting?” Peter asks, the day an impressive arrangement of orchids, hydrangeas, and… some other pink thing Peter doesn’t know enough about flowers to name… appears on Neal’s desk. “I was getting ready to propose to Elizabeth before I started making gestures like these.”
And it’s not just the flowers, though those are very nice. The arrangement is massive and undoubtedly expensive. Neal had been fending off the ’ooh’s and ’ah’s and gentle ribbing of half the bull pen when Peter finally came down to see what everyone was buzzing about downstairs.
“They’re a joke, Peter,” Neal insists as he finishes chuckling over the card that came with the delivery. “Casey made this crack about men and flowers-”
“Colonel Casey?” Peter can’t help but feel uneasy at Neal’s spending time around that man. Chuck is - Okay, Peter will admit it - nothing like Peter would expect a government spy to be. But John Casey could be Espionage Weekly’s cover model twelve issues straight if such a thing existed; Peter has met few men who managed to look as threatening while armed to the teeth as the Colonel probably looks when he sleeps. He certainly doesn’t strike Peter as the kind of guy to “crack a joke” with a criminal consultant.
“Yeah. See-” Neal notices the look on Peter’s face. “I guess you had to be there.”
“That’s a Tiffany vase, Neal.”
Neal’s been shooting down Peter’s attempts to talk about this for days. Peter doesn’t want to make it into a thing. Neal’s a big boy… He can see who he pleases, how he pleases. He can call it just flirting if that is his wish. But if Peter was worried when it was just Neal who seemed to be pursuing Chuck, then he’s certainly concerned now that Chuck has started reciprocating. He just wants a short, honest conversation with Neal about whether or not he’s ready for where this is headed. Just so he can rest a little easier.
“Okay, then, what about the Montebello?” he asks when he and Neal are in the car, on their way downtown to follow a lead.
“What about it? Do you want me to get you and Elizabeth a reservation? Because I could probably-” Peter glares at him in the rearview until Neal stops talking. The expression on Neal’s face feigns innocence but the glimmer in his eyes speaks the truth. “Sorry. I know where you’re going with this.”
“You should. How many times has he taken you there these past three weeks?”
“Four times… As friends. Peter, wipe that look off your face.”
“What look? I wasn’t giving you any-”
“You know very well what look. He wanted my advice on the best places to eat in the city. He found out that I’d always wanted to try out the Montebello and asked if I wanted to tag along. We had a good time, so the next time he went, he asked me to join him again…”
“And paid the bill each time, I‘m betting,” Peter remarks.
The look Neal gives Peter is so dry it could evaporate rain. “He insists. It’s not like my paycheck from the FBI is better suited for lunches at Montebello than his cover as a wealthy Manhattan playboy.”
As if it’s Carmichael’s bank account that Peter is concerned with. “And how is that unlike dating?” Peter asks.
He parks the car in front of the building where they’ll begin their latest security frauds investigation. “Where is all this coming from?” Neal asks, in lieu of answering Peter’s own question, as they get out. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was your idea of a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ speech.”
Peter locks up the car and joins Neal on the sidewalk. “First of all, if I had a daughter,” Peter begins (and what a thought), “your intentions would be not to do anything for which I would have to shoot you.”
“Ah.”
“And second… Neal, I just want to know that you’ve got some idea as to what Chuck’s intentions are in all of this. And your own. Because everything that happens between you two? You toss up to this platonic… bromance of yours that just happens to involve lots of flirting and Tiffany vases… And intimate meals at a high-end restaurant.”
Peter’s doing what he promised El he wouldn’t do. Switching into Agent Burke mode and approaching this conversation like listing off evidence is the way to get a friend to open up to him. And Neal is reacting by crossing his arms, not looking altogether “open”. So Peter sighs and tries to get his most salient point out there before Neal totally shuts down on him.
“Look, if you just don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Tell me it’s none of my business and I’ll let it rest. But,” Peter says, “be honest. With me and yourself. Even wealthy Manhattan playboys don’t give someone flowers… and a weekly invitation to the Montebello because they just want to be really good guy friends.”
Peter’s said his piece. With a raised brow, Neal seems to consider Peter’s words.
“My turn?” he asks. Making Peter glad that he doesn’t, in fact, have his own children. Lecturing Neal (or whatever the hell he’s trying to do here; at some point Peter feels like his tongue took on a life of its own) is awkward and exhausting enough. Peter nods, a little sheepish.
“Okay, first of all…” Neal mimics, with a smile so Peter knows he isn’t being seriously sarcastic. “You’d love me as a son-in-law. I’d be a perfect gentleman to your daughter.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Second… bromance, Peter? Really? Also, you wouldn’t buy me something from Tiffany’s?”
“Not even if you paid for it.”
“Ouch. Alright, then. Third: I never said that how I feel about Chuck is platonic.” Neal looks Peter in the eye as he says it, confident and sincere. Peter is proud that at least Neal knows what a non-issue gender is for him, when it comes to his friends’ happiness. “But we really were joking about how people react differently when a man gets sent flowers rather than a woman. And our lunches aren’t dates. Usually, Casey and Morgan are with us.”
Casey and Morgan are almost always with Chuck. Casey, a wall of muscle posing as Charles Carmichael’s bodyguard; Morgan, Chuck’s very own younger, hairier version of Mozzie (if Mozzie was more perky than paranoid when he was young; Peter doubts it.) Peter doesn’t think their presence necessarily says anything about the purpose of the time Chuck’s spent with Neal, but-
But when he looks closer at Neal’s casual expression… When he looks really close…
Peter blinks. Like a light bulb’s just gone off over his head. “You’re afraid to get your hopes up.”
The surprise on Neal’s face is all Peter needs to confirm his suspicions.
“I-”
“That’s why you keep writing things off as flirtation or friendship… You don’t make the obvious assumption because you don’t want to be wrong.” Peter can’t help but laugh. Neal looks pitiful… stung and perhaps even embarrassed - and there’s still the issue of Chuck’s being a spy to concern him - but with Peter’s greatest worry (that Neal has been cagey about his relationship with Chuck because either he, or Chuck, has been up to something) laid to rest, Peter feels that a weight has been taken off his shoulders. If Neal didn’t have the tendency to overlook certain things about the people he cares for, he probably would as well.
“Peter…”
“Neal, I’m sorry. But you have to have noticed that Chuck doesn’t exactly go around flirting with just anybody. The guy’s nuts about you. I’d bet my badge on it.”
Neal frowns and opens his mouth, like he’s about to say one thing… then closes it and looks unsure. Peter isn’t at all surprised when Neal finally works himself up to saying, “You think so?”
Peter laughs again.
Neal starts walking towards the building.
“Neal.”
“Shut up, Peter.”
“It’s just too cu-”
“Say it and I’ll drive myself back to prison. Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you love me. Even though I don’t buy you orchids. And you love my wife and she puts up with me too.” Peter hurries to catch up with Neal and reaches ahead of him to open the door when Neal reaches it. “And because I’m letting you out of the van tonight so you can go and tell your playboy how not platonic you feel about him.”
Neal isn’t really mad at him. Peter can tell. But he lets Neal pretend to scowl and doesn’t comment on the way Neal’s lips twitch.
“If you were really sorry, you’d let me out of two-”
“Don’t push it, Neal.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“Yes, it was.”
[end.]
AO3
Title: I'll Figure It Out (With Some Help From My Friends)
Fandoms: Chuck/White Collar
Pairing: Chuck Bartowski/Neal Caffrey
Rating: G
Word Count: 1600
Summary: “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was your idea of a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ speech.” “First of all, if I had a daughter, your intentions would be to not do anything for which I would have to shoot you.” “Ah.”
‘Harmless flirting, Peter,‘ Neal’s called it, a thousand times. Neal’s never flirted this heavily with a man in front of Peter before; he’s never taken the term ‘harmless’ to a place of such irony as to ‘harmlessly flirt’ with a member of the CIA. So, granted, parts of this are new.
But the other stuff… The way Neal’s jumped into his pursuit of Carmichael (Oh, yeah. Peter knows Neal. Knows Neal when Neal’s got his eye on something Neal wants; Neal is pursuing the agent) feet first and probably in over his head… That’s classic Neal Caffrey.
Peter isn’t sure which side of the equation bothers him more. The unknown risks Neal takes every time he and “Chuck” have an encounter? Or the very familiar, selective vision Neal employs when evaluating those encounters and discussing them with Peter. (Bringing to Peter’s mind the memory of how Neal turned a blind eye all to often to certain elements of his relationship with Kate.) Maybe it’s what everything is adding up to. Something terrific or something tragic… Peter finds it impossible to guess which.
“This is flirting?” Peter asks, the day an impressive arrangement of orchids, hydrangeas, and… some other pink thing Peter doesn’t know enough about flowers to name… appears on Neal’s desk. “I was getting ready to propose to Elizabeth before I started making gestures like these.”
And it’s not just the flowers, though those are very nice. The arrangement is massive and undoubtedly expensive. Neal had been fending off the ’ooh’s and ’ah’s and gentle ribbing of half the bull pen when Peter finally came down to see what everyone was buzzing about downstairs.
“They’re a joke, Peter,” Neal insists as he finishes chuckling over the card that came with the delivery. “Casey made this crack about men and flowers-”
“Colonel Casey?” Peter can’t help but feel uneasy at Neal’s spending time around that man. Chuck is - Okay, Peter will admit it - nothing like Peter would expect a government spy to be. But John Casey could be Espionage Weekly’s cover model twelve issues straight if such a thing existed; Peter has met few men who managed to look as threatening while armed to the teeth as the Colonel probably looks when he sleeps. He certainly doesn’t strike Peter as the kind of guy to “crack a joke” with a criminal consultant.
“Yeah. See-” Neal notices the look on Peter’s face. “I guess you had to be there.”
“That’s a Tiffany vase, Neal.”
Neal’s been shooting down Peter’s attempts to talk about this for days. Peter doesn’t want to make it into a thing. Neal’s a big boy… He can see who he pleases, how he pleases. He can call it just flirting if that is his wish. But if Peter was worried when it was just Neal who seemed to be pursuing Chuck, then he’s certainly concerned now that Chuck has started reciprocating. He just wants a short, honest conversation with Neal about whether or not he’s ready for where this is headed. Just so he can rest a little easier.
“Okay, then, what about the Montebello?” he asks when he and Neal are in the car, on their way downtown to follow a lead.
“What about it? Do you want me to get you and Elizabeth a reservation? Because I could probably-” Peter glares at him in the rearview until Neal stops talking. The expression on Neal’s face feigns innocence but the glimmer in his eyes speaks the truth. “Sorry. I know where you’re going with this.”
“You should. How many times has he taken you there these past three weeks?”
“Four times… As friends. Peter, wipe that look off your face.”
“What look? I wasn’t giving you any-”
“You know very well what look. He wanted my advice on the best places to eat in the city. He found out that I’d always wanted to try out the Montebello and asked if I wanted to tag along. We had a good time, so the next time he went, he asked me to join him again…”
“And paid the bill each time, I‘m betting,” Peter remarks.
The look Neal gives Peter is so dry it could evaporate rain. “He insists. It’s not like my paycheck from the FBI is better suited for lunches at Montebello than his cover as a wealthy Manhattan playboy.”
As if it’s Carmichael’s bank account that Peter is concerned with. “And how is that unlike dating?” Peter asks.
He parks the car in front of the building where they’ll begin their latest security frauds investigation. “Where is all this coming from?” Neal asks, in lieu of answering Peter’s own question, as they get out. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was your idea of a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ speech.”
Peter locks up the car and joins Neal on the sidewalk. “First of all, if I had a daughter,” Peter begins (and what a thought), “your intentions would be not to do anything for which I would have to shoot you.”
“Ah.”
“And second… Neal, I just want to know that you’ve got some idea as to what Chuck’s intentions are in all of this. And your own. Because everything that happens between you two? You toss up to this platonic… bromance of yours that just happens to involve lots of flirting and Tiffany vases… And intimate meals at a high-end restaurant.”
Peter’s doing what he promised El he wouldn’t do. Switching into Agent Burke mode and approaching this conversation like listing off evidence is the way to get a friend to open up to him. And Neal is reacting by crossing his arms, not looking altogether “open”. So Peter sighs and tries to get his most salient point out there before Neal totally shuts down on him.
“Look, if you just don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Tell me it’s none of my business and I’ll let it rest. But,” Peter says, “be honest. With me and yourself. Even wealthy Manhattan playboys don’t give someone flowers… and a weekly invitation to the Montebello because they just want to be really good guy friends.”
Peter’s said his piece. With a raised brow, Neal seems to consider Peter’s words.
“My turn?” he asks. Making Peter glad that he doesn’t, in fact, have his own children. Lecturing Neal (or whatever the hell he’s trying to do here; at some point Peter feels like his tongue took on a life of its own) is awkward and exhausting enough. Peter nods, a little sheepish.
“Okay, first of all…” Neal mimics, with a smile so Peter knows he isn’t being seriously sarcastic. “You’d love me as a son-in-law. I’d be a perfect gentleman to your daughter.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Second… bromance, Peter? Really? Also, you wouldn’t buy me something from Tiffany’s?”
“Not even if you paid for it.”
“Ouch. Alright, then. Third: I never said that how I feel about Chuck is platonic.” Neal looks Peter in the eye as he says it, confident and sincere. Peter is proud that at least Neal knows what a non-issue gender is for him, when it comes to his friends’ happiness. “But we really were joking about how people react differently when a man gets sent flowers rather than a woman. And our lunches aren’t dates. Usually, Casey and Morgan are with us.”
Casey and Morgan are almost always with Chuck. Casey, a wall of muscle posing as Charles Carmichael’s bodyguard; Morgan, Chuck’s very own younger, hairier version of Mozzie (if Mozzie was more perky than paranoid when he was young; Peter doubts it.) Peter doesn’t think their presence necessarily says anything about the purpose of the time Chuck’s spent with Neal, but-
But when he looks closer at Neal’s casual expression… When he looks really close…
Peter blinks. Like a light bulb’s just gone off over his head. “You’re afraid to get your hopes up.”
The surprise on Neal’s face is all Peter needs to confirm his suspicions.
“I-”
“That’s why you keep writing things off as flirtation or friendship… You don’t make the obvious assumption because you don’t want to be wrong.” Peter can’t help but laugh. Neal looks pitiful… stung and perhaps even embarrassed - and there’s still the issue of Chuck’s being a spy to concern him - but with Peter’s greatest worry (that Neal has been cagey about his relationship with Chuck because either he, or Chuck, has been up to something) laid to rest, Peter feels that a weight has been taken off his shoulders. If Neal didn’t have the tendency to overlook certain things about the people he cares for, he probably would as well.
“Peter…”
“Neal, I’m sorry. But you have to have noticed that Chuck doesn’t exactly go around flirting with just anybody. The guy’s nuts about you. I’d bet my badge on it.”
Neal frowns and opens his mouth, like he’s about to say one thing… then closes it and looks unsure. Peter isn’t at all surprised when Neal finally works himself up to saying, “You think so?”
Peter laughs again.
Neal starts walking towards the building.
“Neal.”
“Shut up, Peter.”
“It’s just too cu-”
“Say it and I’ll drive myself back to prison. Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you love me. Even though I don’t buy you orchids. And you love my wife and she puts up with me too.” Peter hurries to catch up with Neal and reaches ahead of him to open the door when Neal reaches it. “And because I’m letting you out of the van tonight so you can go and tell your playboy how not platonic you feel about him.”
Neal isn’t really mad at him. Peter can tell. But he lets Neal pretend to scowl and doesn’t comment on the way Neal’s lips twitch.
“If you were really sorry, you’d let me out of two-”
“Don’t push it, Neal.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“Yes, it was.”
[end.]