Fifteen Minutes
Title: Fifteen Minutes
Author: litlover12
Rating: PG
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s): Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, various FBI agents
Summary: Peter's hidden talent is revealed.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 388
Author's Notes: For challenge 007: a little seduction and a whole lot of espionage. I was disappointed that nobody from the FBI actually got to see Peter doing that smoking hot tango in "Veiled Threat," so I did something about it! (The title is a reference to the saying about “fifteen minutes of fame.”) Tags please!
The bullpen was strangely quiet as Peter came in. He glanced around, confused, at the sea of empty desks. Everyone must be in the-he craned his neck a bit-yes, in the conference room. Staring at something he couldn’t see from here.
Peter took the steps two at a time. The door was slightly open, but just as he was about to go in, he froze at the sound of his own name.
“Are you sure that’s Peter?” The voice was Diana’s, sounding dazed.
Peter nudged the door gently, widening the crack just enough to get a decent view of the group. Though they were facing a little away from him, he could see that they were all wearing stunned expressions. Neal was positively slack-jawed.
Jones shook his head. “Maybe he has a clone or something?”
Peter followed the collective gaze to a screen on the other side of the room. A screen on which he and the recently arrested woman were performing a decidedly sultry tango.
“What the hell-?” Even as the words were leaving his lips, Peter realized: security camera.
The next thing he realized was that every chair in the room had swiveled in his direction, and a spontaneous roar of applause and whistling was breaking out. Scarlet-faced, he lunged for the remote, but Neal deftly held it out of reach.
“Dancing with the Stars for you on line one, Peter!” someone called from across the room.
“All right, all right,” Peter yelled, holding up his hands and waiting till the noise died down. Then he cleared his throat and began, “Ladies and gentlemen . . .”
“Thank you for this lovely mirrorball trophy!” That was Jones. A wave of laughter.
“Hey, pipe down! Fred Astaire has the floor.” Neal nodded to Peter.
Nervously, Peter straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind him. “I would just like to say one thing . . .” He gazed at his rapt colleagues. “I have a clone.”
He fled the room, followed by a chorus of more laughter and cheers, feeling his face burning hotter than ever as he pounded down the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, though, a grin had begun to break out.
The whole thing had been worth it, he reflected, just to see the look on Caffrey’s face.
Author: litlover12
Rating: PG
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s): Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, various FBI agents
Summary: Peter's hidden talent is revealed.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 388
Author's Notes: For challenge 007: a little seduction and a whole lot of espionage. I was disappointed that nobody from the FBI actually got to see Peter doing that smoking hot tango in "Veiled Threat," so I did something about it! (The title is a reference to the saying about “fifteen minutes of fame.”) Tags please!
The bullpen was strangely quiet as Peter came in. He glanced around, confused, at the sea of empty desks. Everyone must be in the-he craned his neck a bit-yes, in the conference room. Staring at something he couldn’t see from here.
Peter took the steps two at a time. The door was slightly open, but just as he was about to go in, he froze at the sound of his own name.
“Are you sure that’s Peter?” The voice was Diana’s, sounding dazed.
Peter nudged the door gently, widening the crack just enough to get a decent view of the group. Though they were facing a little away from him, he could see that they were all wearing stunned expressions. Neal was positively slack-jawed.
Jones shook his head. “Maybe he has a clone or something?”
Peter followed the collective gaze to a screen on the other side of the room. A screen on which he and the recently arrested woman were performing a decidedly sultry tango.
“What the hell-?” Even as the words were leaving his lips, Peter realized: security camera.
The next thing he realized was that every chair in the room had swiveled in his direction, and a spontaneous roar of applause and whistling was breaking out. Scarlet-faced, he lunged for the remote, but Neal deftly held it out of reach.
“Dancing with the Stars for you on line one, Peter!” someone called from across the room.
“All right, all right,” Peter yelled, holding up his hands and waiting till the noise died down. Then he cleared his throat and began, “Ladies and gentlemen . . .”
“Thank you for this lovely mirrorball trophy!” That was Jones. A wave of laughter.
“Hey, pipe down! Fred Astaire has the floor.” Neal nodded to Peter.
Nervously, Peter straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind him. “I would just like to say one thing . . .” He gazed at his rapt colleagues. “I have a clone.”
He fled the room, followed by a chorus of more laughter and cheers, feeling his face burning hotter than ever as he pounded down the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, though, a grin had begun to break out.
The whole thing had been worth it, he reflected, just to see the look on Caffrey’s face.