White Collar ficlets with rare pairings
Okay, they're not all rare, but they're not that common. Basically, I felt like doing little one-shots about pairings that I've never written:
Jones/Hughes: established relationship fic with their views on Neal/Peter (a bit cracky)
June/Neal: angsty roleplay fic with sensory deprivation
Peter/Moz: total schmoop
multiple pairings: a series of very fluffy 'how they knew they wanted each other' fics with Diana/Cruz, Diana/Elizabeth, Cruz/June, Cruz/Mozzie
June/Neal
"You know I... don't expect this, Neal," she said carefully.
He smiled. Reassurance. "I know it. You're not a user, June, I could tell the first day I met you."
"Oh?" she said with skepticism and a smile.
He returned the second. "Plain as day. You're the type who sees the user for who he is and loves him anyway. Believe me, I've had ample motivation to learn to recognize the type."
They laughed then, even though it was more truth than joke.
June sighed then. "This is a terrible thing to ask a friend Neal. A man never likes to be told a woman wishes he were someone else.... It's wrong of me." It wasn't an apology, just a matter-of-fact acknowledgment.
Neal gripped her fingers then, entwining them with his own. He gave a seductive look.
"I've pretended to be other people my whole life, June. And it was hardly ever for a better reason than helping a beautiful woman remember the man she loved." He leaned over then to kiss her cheek, and she remained motionless. The kiss itself would have been chaste as sunshine if there wasn't the thickness of tension over them.
"Tell me again," Neal said, with just a hint of assertion in his voice, "Tell me about Byron."
"He would blindfold me with his tie," she said, looking off into space, as if this were mere reminiscence, "He would be gentle, kissing... the lips... to the neck... to - to the chest -... and to the mouth again. His hands would be so light and slow, like he wanted to savor every inch of skin. But his voice... Neal, his voice could make you melt til you felt like your bones were made of honey. And he would whisper in my ear as he slowly... well. You can guess. But... we had a rule."
"Rules can be fun," Neal said softly, encouraging.
"The whole time, I wouldn't say anything to him except 'please.' My tone told him, 'please more' or 'please go back to where you were' or whatever else. But the only thing I could say was 'please.'" She looked at him, gauging his reaction, wondering if she could really ask this, if it wasn't degrading to Neal and to Byron and herself all in one.
Neal smiled, softly. Not wolfishly, like he so often did. "I like Byron's style," he said, "But then that's no surprise."
June remembered then the way Byron always had a quick answer to everything. His flamboyance, his handsome charm, his good heart wrapped in a hundred layers of bad habit. Same build, same suits, same beautiful lips, same intelligent eyes.
Neal got up and stood behind her and gently tied his - Byron's - tie around her eyes. Byron had always liked that tie. She felt the hot wetness of a man's mouth - for the first time in years - on the side of her neck, urgency in the kisses like he wanted her desperately, like he needed her to be all his. A deep breath made her realize that Neal had found Byron's old cologne, and suddenly her body changed, it realigned itself to a decade long past, when her life was less secure and more interesting than it was now.
Her life with Byron.
The man's mouth stopped its kisses and whispered in her ear. "Would you like more, June?"
"Please," she gasped out, struggling to look composed.
"Please what?" the deviously charming voice said.
"Please, Byron. Please."
Jones/Reece, implied N/P
Reece looked at Jones for a moment and then said, "So... Caffrey and Burke?"
"What about them?"
"Anything unusual about them? Anything I should know?"
"Unusual? Like the fact that he's a criminal? Or the fact that our team's success rate is the highest of everyone under you?" Jones asked.
Reece smiled as he leaned on the desk in front of the office chair where Jones was sitting. "I'm asking as your boss, Clinton, so can the smartassery. Is there anything... inappropriate?"
"Inappropriate how?" Jones said, his best innocent face on. He may be friendly with the Reece during off hours, but that didn't mean he was about to become the kind of guy who reports on his colleagues and boss to the bigger boss.
"Come on, Clinton, it's hard not to notice." Reece looked exasperated. It was a look that had cowed lesser agents.
But Jones just grinned in reply. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Surely, you're not suggesting that there might be untoward relationships going on in this building. For gosh sakes, this is the FBI."
Reece flashed him an annoyed look but then put his hand on Jones' belt buckle. "And we know that nobody in the Bureau likes to have fun in the office."
Jones smiled. He gave a little look downward, permission for Reece to unbuckle the belt, and said, "It would go against regulations. I know that because you made us all attend that sexual harassment seminar."
Reece kneeled between Jones' legs and unzipped him, smirking as Jones' breath hitched.
"All agents are required to have proper workplace training," Reece said casually as he reached into Jones' boxers and ran a finger along the underside of Jones' dick.
Jones swallowed. He wasn't about to become a quivering mess that easily. "And this, Hughes? Is this appropriate behavior for my superior?"
He smiled. "Of course. If you were the one on your knees, it would be inappropriate use of my status as your employer. But this way, it's just a motivational technique." He licked his lips, making Jones remember all the times Reece's tongue had been on him, all the times he had wondered how experienced Reece must have been to know those exquisite tricks.
Jones responded, though, concentration rapidly faltering, "I'm pretty sure that's not how they explained it at the harassment seminar."
Reece grinned. "You must have missed that part. So tell me, are Caffrey and Burke going to be a problem?"
He stared at him. "Seriously, Reece? You're asking me NOW?"
A grin. "Like I said, motivational."
Jones thought back to the times he had seen Neal with Peter when they thought they were alone. Peter, with his possessiveness, Neal with his energy, playing off each other like magnets. Everyone on the team knew there was something there, though they had placed bets to see whether Peter knew yet.
But Jones looked Reece in the eyes and said, "The only workplace sex I know of is with the two people in this room, Reece. So find some other reason to motivate me, or I'm going home."
Reece grimaced then, but as he looked at Jones in reluctant acceptance, Jones could see there was respect in his eyes. Reece liked to know what was happening, but he liked loyalty better. So Jones wasn't surprised when Reece just nodded, said, "I guess this one's just a general morale booster," and leaned his face deep into Jones' lap.
Damn, did this job have some perks, Jones thought, before his mind filled with nothing coherent.
Peter/Mozzie AU
It starts when Neal is injured. Mozzie insists on staying at the hospital all night. Near 4AM, his head nods down as he falls asleep on Peter's shoulder. Peter lets him stay there.
In the morning, Neal, who, of course, is perfectly fine and is sneaking out to get some non-hospital-issue breakfast, sees the two of them leaning on each other, fast asleep in the nearest guest area. Neal teases them, but they don't seem to mind.
Later, when Neal decides he needs to find Kate, Mozzie comes to Peter with a deal. Mozzie tells Peter how to find Neal, if Peter tells the FBI that Neal is on a case rather than on the lam. Peter makes the deal and drags Neal back to New York, literally dragging him for the first part of the trip. Neal yells at Mozzie when they get there, accuses him of betrayal, makes a childish insult: "If you love Peter so much, be best friends with him, not me." Peter and Mozzie are tired of this, and so they look at each other and nod. They decide that the three of them will spend all their free time together, talking and drinking and listening to Mozzie's old opera tapes on odd days, watching sports on even days. They will smother Neal with both friendship and an overbearing paranoia about his actions (with Moz the paranoia specialist and Peter the expert at overbearing). Neal sulks a great deal at first, but when Kate turns out to be playing him, Neal eventually gets used to having both Peter and Moz around.
Neal notices that they seem to get along well. Too well. And he wonders if he should be jealous, but really, he's never been the jealous type. They really are cute together, he thinks. And so he sees the writing on the wall and actively starts to help the process along, helping Mozzie shop for Peter's birthday present, telling Peter which play Mozzie desperately wanted to attend.
The process was a slow one, but Neal had patience. Eventually it got to the point where Neal could jokingly refer to them as "Mom and Dad." Mozzie would sometimes ask, "Which one of us is the dad?" Peter would answer, "How should I know? Ask our delinquent son."
Various pairings (not the same 'verse' as above
Cruz and Diana were never exclusive. It just didn't interest them.
Still, they were great together. Cruz had grown up a tomboy and still loved sports, and would playfully wrestle or tackle Diana sometimes. Diana had a few years on local police force before joining the Bureau and so she had no problem putting Cruz on the ground with a swift gesture and some leverage. It was always a nice combination of soft and rough, playful and intense.
Diana and Elizabeth met through Peter, of course, and Diana tried to keep it courteous and professional, but it was damn hard when Elizabeth kept flirting with her, kept giving her a hard time about all her cop-FBI habits, kept putting her hand gently on Diana's thigh or shoulder or face in a series that could be friendly affection if it weren't for the look in Elizabeth's eyes. She would use her perfect fingers to feed Diana catering samples to get her opinion, but then she would always touch Diana's lips as she placed the delicacy in her mouth. It wasn't long before Diana's lips knew every part of Elizabeth (but still not much more about actual cuisine).
Cruz had met June when Peter went on vacation and asked the team to take turns checking on Neal. It wasn't long before June was telling her that she reminded her of herself when she was young, and surely a nice young person had time to try on one of her old dresses, a little evening gown that would bring out her eyes. They both knew June was playing the innocent elder woman card, but there was fun to be had in pretending that their time was about kindness and courtesy rather than testing and curiosity.... Cruz scarcely recognized herself in the mirror in that gold dress, and every inch of it was gorgeous and perfectly beaded and fit, though Cruz had to say that it did a lot more for her ass than for her eyes. As June looked wistfully at her, Cruz stated that June must have really loved wearing the dress. June said that the dress wasn't hers; it had belonged to her lover. They had once scandalized a black-tie affair by dancing together, June said. Cruz smiled and took out her music player and turned the speaker up, finding an old standard she liked on the playlist. She put out her hand and raised an eyebrow at June, who laughed and danced with her to the faint tunes of a portable player. When the song was done, they kissed, and then Cruz said, "Sounds like a fascinating time. Tell me more about it." June had given her a voracious look and said, "I can do more than tell you."
While June had seduced Cruz with her radiance and her charm - and truly, seduced was the word Cruz thought fit best, since she had always liked that word - Mozzie had ended up sharing a bed with Lauren for reasons other than his ability to make her feel like a different person. He was suspicious of her at first, calling her 'Junior suit.' When she had objected to the condescending term, he had given a brief diatribe on bureaucratic hierarchies and then agreed to call her 'the pretty suit.' She still had her doubts about that nickname, but she found amusement in the fact that his nickname for Jones was 'the other pretty suit.' That had been the extent of their relationship until Neal and Cruz were told to go undercover as a couple who were looking to buy a vinyard from a agricultural corporation that had been buying up land way below market price, likely using shady methods. Neal had been unimpressed with her knowledge of pinots and merlots and some other words with silent t's, so he had insisted that she spend the day in wine bootcamp with a 'Mr. Haversham' while he and Peter investigated on their own. Which Lauren assumed meant they were getting a room. But Mozzie, when not accusing her of violating his constitutional rights by looking at him 'that way,' turned out to be quite delightful. Apparently, there's only so much you can dislike a person when you spend the day spitting wine into a yellow plastic bucket with smiley-face daisies, all the while complaining about how clueless Suit and Neal could be. Peter and Neal she reminded herself so she wouldn't accidentally call her boss 'the Suit' when she went to work the next day. When it became clear that Cruz was never going to be a wine connoisseur, and she was about to get discouraged, Moz had smiled and said, "It's no problem. Just smile at every wine you taste and say you think it's 'quite nice,' but with your face pretend like you don't actually like it much at all. That way you have discerning taste but you're too polite to say anything, so you leave the criticisms to your 'husband.'" Cruz had smiled at him, enjoying the way he drunkenly gesticulated with each enthusiastic suggestion, and said, "So that's it? Experts and wine-lovers don't really have to know anything, they just have to be ready to say their taste is better than others'?" Moz had smirked, "And that's the dirty little secret of the wine world.... But don't tell Neal I said that." Lauren had laughed, "He would make us both attend a lecture series on the differences between French and Italian wine." Moz answered, "He would write the lecture series himself!" Cruz said, "And Peter would go to it just to complain about how Neal shouldn't love luxury wines because it's symbolic of Neal's overall need to wanhhwanhhwannhh." With the last part of her sentence, Cruz switched to a pitch-perfect impression of the teacher from Charlie Brown, making Moz giggle so hard he almost made wine come out of his nose. Finally, he calmed down enough to say, a bit drunkenly, "If you're weren't a tool of the man, plus totally out of my league, I would totally make out with you right now." Lauren stared at him for a second and felt a wave of something in her reacting to his directness, his wit, his plain old adorable and bizarre and paranoid and damaged but hopeful self. She said, "You should kiss me and find out if your reasons are really good enough." Moz looked at her, want visible, but then he gently set down his wine glass and said, "Lessons over. If you still want that when one or both of us is sober, you know where to find me.'' Lauren felt a little rejected but after leaving and thinking about it, she realized that it was probably a good point he made. So the next time she met with Moz, she brought over a six-pack of beers; when he opened the door, she said, "This time we do making out first, rowdy drunkenness second." Moz looked surprised but then he smiled a damn nice smile and said, "I'm going to have to start calling you 'the Smart Suit.'"
Jones/Hughes: established relationship fic with their views on Neal/Peter (a bit cracky)
June/Neal: angsty roleplay fic with sensory deprivation
Peter/Moz: total schmoop
multiple pairings: a series of very fluffy 'how they knew they wanted each other' fics with Diana/Cruz, Diana/Elizabeth, Cruz/June, Cruz/Mozzie
June/Neal
"You know I... don't expect this, Neal," she said carefully.
He smiled. Reassurance. "I know it. You're not a user, June, I could tell the first day I met you."
"Oh?" she said with skepticism and a smile.
He returned the second. "Plain as day. You're the type who sees the user for who he is and loves him anyway. Believe me, I've had ample motivation to learn to recognize the type."
They laughed then, even though it was more truth than joke.
June sighed then. "This is a terrible thing to ask a friend Neal. A man never likes to be told a woman wishes he were someone else.... It's wrong of me." It wasn't an apology, just a matter-of-fact acknowledgment.
Neal gripped her fingers then, entwining them with his own. He gave a seductive look.
"I've pretended to be other people my whole life, June. And it was hardly ever for a better reason than helping a beautiful woman remember the man she loved." He leaned over then to kiss her cheek, and she remained motionless. The kiss itself would have been chaste as sunshine if there wasn't the thickness of tension over them.
"Tell me again," Neal said, with just a hint of assertion in his voice, "Tell me about Byron."
"He would blindfold me with his tie," she said, looking off into space, as if this were mere reminiscence, "He would be gentle, kissing... the lips... to the neck... to - to the chest -... and to the mouth again. His hands would be so light and slow, like he wanted to savor every inch of skin. But his voice... Neal, his voice could make you melt til you felt like your bones were made of honey. And he would whisper in my ear as he slowly... well. You can guess. But... we had a rule."
"Rules can be fun," Neal said softly, encouraging.
"The whole time, I wouldn't say anything to him except 'please.' My tone told him, 'please more' or 'please go back to where you were' or whatever else. But the only thing I could say was 'please.'" She looked at him, gauging his reaction, wondering if she could really ask this, if it wasn't degrading to Neal and to Byron and herself all in one.
Neal smiled, softly. Not wolfishly, like he so often did. "I like Byron's style," he said, "But then that's no surprise."
June remembered then the way Byron always had a quick answer to everything. His flamboyance, his handsome charm, his good heart wrapped in a hundred layers of bad habit. Same build, same suits, same beautiful lips, same intelligent eyes.
Neal got up and stood behind her and gently tied his - Byron's - tie around her eyes. Byron had always liked that tie. She felt the hot wetness of a man's mouth - for the first time in years - on the side of her neck, urgency in the kisses like he wanted her desperately, like he needed her to be all his. A deep breath made her realize that Neal had found Byron's old cologne, and suddenly her body changed, it realigned itself to a decade long past, when her life was less secure and more interesting than it was now.
Her life with Byron.
The man's mouth stopped its kisses and whispered in her ear. "Would you like more, June?"
"Please," she gasped out, struggling to look composed.
"Please what?" the deviously charming voice said.
"Please, Byron. Please."
Jones/Reece, implied N/P
Reece looked at Jones for a moment and then said, "So... Caffrey and Burke?"
"What about them?"
"Anything unusual about them? Anything I should know?"
"Unusual? Like the fact that he's a criminal? Or the fact that our team's success rate is the highest of everyone under you?" Jones asked.
Reece smiled as he leaned on the desk in front of the office chair where Jones was sitting. "I'm asking as your boss, Clinton, so can the smartassery. Is there anything... inappropriate?"
"Inappropriate how?" Jones said, his best innocent face on. He may be friendly with the Reece during off hours, but that didn't mean he was about to become the kind of guy who reports on his colleagues and boss to the bigger boss.
"Come on, Clinton, it's hard not to notice." Reece looked exasperated. It was a look that had cowed lesser agents.
But Jones just grinned in reply. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Surely, you're not suggesting that there might be untoward relationships going on in this building. For gosh sakes, this is the FBI."
Reece flashed him an annoyed look but then put his hand on Jones' belt buckle. "And we know that nobody in the Bureau likes to have fun in the office."
Jones smiled. He gave a little look downward, permission for Reece to unbuckle the belt, and said, "It would go against regulations. I know that because you made us all attend that sexual harassment seminar."
Reece kneeled between Jones' legs and unzipped him, smirking as Jones' breath hitched.
"All agents are required to have proper workplace training," Reece said casually as he reached into Jones' boxers and ran a finger along the underside of Jones' dick.
Jones swallowed. He wasn't about to become a quivering mess that easily. "And this, Hughes? Is this appropriate behavior for my superior?"
He smiled. "Of course. If you were the one on your knees, it would be inappropriate use of my status as your employer. But this way, it's just a motivational technique." He licked his lips, making Jones remember all the times Reece's tongue had been on him, all the times he had wondered how experienced Reece must have been to know those exquisite tricks.
Jones responded, though, concentration rapidly faltering, "I'm pretty sure that's not how they explained it at the harassment seminar."
Reece grinned. "You must have missed that part. So tell me, are Caffrey and Burke going to be a problem?"
He stared at him. "Seriously, Reece? You're asking me NOW?"
A grin. "Like I said, motivational."
Jones thought back to the times he had seen Neal with Peter when they thought they were alone. Peter, with his possessiveness, Neal with his energy, playing off each other like magnets. Everyone on the team knew there was something there, though they had placed bets to see whether Peter knew yet.
But Jones looked Reece in the eyes and said, "The only workplace sex I know of is with the two people in this room, Reece. So find some other reason to motivate me, or I'm going home."
Reece grimaced then, but as he looked at Jones in reluctant acceptance, Jones could see there was respect in his eyes. Reece liked to know what was happening, but he liked loyalty better. So Jones wasn't surprised when Reece just nodded, said, "I guess this one's just a general morale booster," and leaned his face deep into Jones' lap.
Damn, did this job have some perks, Jones thought, before his mind filled with nothing coherent.
Peter/Mozzie AU
It starts when Neal is injured. Mozzie insists on staying at the hospital all night. Near 4AM, his head nods down as he falls asleep on Peter's shoulder. Peter lets him stay there.
In the morning, Neal, who, of course, is perfectly fine and is sneaking out to get some non-hospital-issue breakfast, sees the two of them leaning on each other, fast asleep in the nearest guest area. Neal teases them, but they don't seem to mind.
Later, when Neal decides he needs to find Kate, Mozzie comes to Peter with a deal. Mozzie tells Peter how to find Neal, if Peter tells the FBI that Neal is on a case rather than on the lam. Peter makes the deal and drags Neal back to New York, literally dragging him for the first part of the trip. Neal yells at Mozzie when they get there, accuses him of betrayal, makes a childish insult: "If you love Peter so much, be best friends with him, not me." Peter and Mozzie are tired of this, and so they look at each other and nod. They decide that the three of them will spend all their free time together, talking and drinking and listening to Mozzie's old opera tapes on odd days, watching sports on even days. They will smother Neal with both friendship and an overbearing paranoia about his actions (with Moz the paranoia specialist and Peter the expert at overbearing). Neal sulks a great deal at first, but when Kate turns out to be playing him, Neal eventually gets used to having both Peter and Moz around.
Neal notices that they seem to get along well. Too well. And he wonders if he should be jealous, but really, he's never been the jealous type. They really are cute together, he thinks. And so he sees the writing on the wall and actively starts to help the process along, helping Mozzie shop for Peter's birthday present, telling Peter which play Mozzie desperately wanted to attend.
The process was a slow one, but Neal had patience. Eventually it got to the point where Neal could jokingly refer to them as "Mom and Dad." Mozzie would sometimes ask, "Which one of us is the dad?" Peter would answer, "How should I know? Ask our delinquent son."
Various pairings (not the same 'verse' as above
Cruz and Diana were never exclusive. It just didn't interest them.
Still, they were great together. Cruz had grown up a tomboy and still loved sports, and would playfully wrestle or tackle Diana sometimes. Diana had a few years on local police force before joining the Bureau and so she had no problem putting Cruz on the ground with a swift gesture and some leverage. It was always a nice combination of soft and rough, playful and intense.
Diana and Elizabeth met through Peter, of course, and Diana tried to keep it courteous and professional, but it was damn hard when Elizabeth kept flirting with her, kept giving her a hard time about all her cop-FBI habits, kept putting her hand gently on Diana's thigh or shoulder or face in a series that could be friendly affection if it weren't for the look in Elizabeth's eyes. She would use her perfect fingers to feed Diana catering samples to get her opinion, but then she would always touch Diana's lips as she placed the delicacy in her mouth. It wasn't long before Diana's lips knew every part of Elizabeth (but still not much more about actual cuisine).
Cruz had met June when Peter went on vacation and asked the team to take turns checking on Neal. It wasn't long before June was telling her that she reminded her of herself when she was young, and surely a nice young person had time to try on one of her old dresses, a little evening gown that would bring out her eyes. They both knew June was playing the innocent elder woman card, but there was fun to be had in pretending that their time was about kindness and courtesy rather than testing and curiosity.... Cruz scarcely recognized herself in the mirror in that gold dress, and every inch of it was gorgeous and perfectly beaded and fit, though Cruz had to say that it did a lot more for her ass than for her eyes. As June looked wistfully at her, Cruz stated that June must have really loved wearing the dress. June said that the dress wasn't hers; it had belonged to her lover. They had once scandalized a black-tie affair by dancing together, June said. Cruz smiled and took out her music player and turned the speaker up, finding an old standard she liked on the playlist. She put out her hand and raised an eyebrow at June, who laughed and danced with her to the faint tunes of a portable player. When the song was done, they kissed, and then Cruz said, "Sounds like a fascinating time. Tell me more about it." June had given her a voracious look and said, "I can do more than tell you."
While June had seduced Cruz with her radiance and her charm - and truly, seduced was the word Cruz thought fit best, since she had always liked that word - Mozzie had ended up sharing a bed with Lauren for reasons other than his ability to make her feel like a different person. He was suspicious of her at first, calling her 'Junior suit.' When she had objected to the condescending term, he had given a brief diatribe on bureaucratic hierarchies and then agreed to call her 'the pretty suit.' She still had her doubts about that nickname, but she found amusement in the fact that his nickname for Jones was 'the other pretty suit.' That had been the extent of their relationship until Neal and Cruz were told to go undercover as a couple who were looking to buy a vinyard from a agricultural corporation that had been buying up land way below market price, likely using shady methods. Neal had been unimpressed with her knowledge of pinots and merlots and some other words with silent t's, so he had insisted that she spend the day in wine bootcamp with a 'Mr. Haversham' while he and Peter investigated on their own. Which Lauren assumed meant they were getting a room. But Mozzie, when not accusing her of violating his constitutional rights by looking at him 'that way,' turned out to be quite delightful. Apparently, there's only so much you can dislike a person when you spend the day spitting wine into a yellow plastic bucket with smiley-face daisies, all the while complaining about how clueless Suit and Neal could be. Peter and Neal she reminded herself so she wouldn't accidentally call her boss 'the Suit' when she went to work the next day. When it became clear that Cruz was never going to be a wine connoisseur, and she was about to get discouraged, Moz had smiled and said, "It's no problem. Just smile at every wine you taste and say you think it's 'quite nice,' but with your face pretend like you don't actually like it much at all. That way you have discerning taste but you're too polite to say anything, so you leave the criticisms to your 'husband.'" Cruz had smiled at him, enjoying the way he drunkenly gesticulated with each enthusiastic suggestion, and said, "So that's it? Experts and wine-lovers don't really have to know anything, they just have to be ready to say their taste is better than others'?" Moz had smirked, "And that's the dirty little secret of the wine world.... But don't tell Neal I said that." Lauren had laughed, "He would make us both attend a lecture series on the differences between French and Italian wine." Moz answered, "He would write the lecture series himself!" Cruz said, "And Peter would go to it just to complain about how Neal shouldn't love luxury wines because it's symbolic of Neal's overall need to wanhhwanhhwannhh." With the last part of her sentence, Cruz switched to a pitch-perfect impression of the teacher from Charlie Brown, making Moz giggle so hard he almost made wine come out of his nose. Finally, he calmed down enough to say, a bit drunkenly, "If you're weren't a tool of the man, plus totally out of my league, I would totally make out with you right now." Lauren stared at him for a second and felt a wave of something in her reacting to his directness, his wit, his plain old adorable and bizarre and paranoid and damaged but hopeful self. She said, "You should kiss me and find out if your reasons are really good enough." Moz looked at her, want visible, but then he gently set down his wine glass and said, "Lessons over. If you still want that when one or both of us is sober, you know where to find me.'' Lauren felt a little rejected but after leaving and thinking about it, she realized that it was probably a good point he made. So the next time she met with Moz, she brought over a six-pack of beers; when he opened the door, she said, "This time we do making out first, rowdy drunkenness second." Moz looked surprised but then he smiled a damn nice smile and said, "I'm going to have to start calling you 'the Smart Suit.'"