Just One More Con
Title: Just One More Con
Prompt: Pre Neal/Jones: Night time
Author: ladygray99
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings:Pre Neal/Jones
Word count: 548
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Sometimes simple questions come with complicated answers
Notes: Written for elrhiarhodan Prompt Fest VI.
Beta: none
Just One More Con
Jones often thought about the things that didn’t get mentioned in the FBI recruitment literature. The raw quantity of paperwork is not once mentioned. Jones knows if it was they’d never get anyone in. The other thing that was never mentioned is the opportunity for boredom, soul crushing, mind numbing, boredom.
Their current sting/con was going to need perfect timing. All the players were in place but it couldn’t start until their suspect showed up. Their best guess was that he’d put in appearance somewhere between 3 and 7 a.m. It was closing in on five. The night was beginning to feel never ending, and even the constant artificial glow of New York couldn’t disguise that fact that it was the middle of the night when all sensible people should be asleep.
Jones wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he was stuck in an SUV was Caffrey. On the one hand Neal was entertaining. On the other hand Neal was there. And all Jones needed was ten minutes alone with Neal before the urge to ask questions Neal won’t answer surfaced.
There was a moment of quiet as Neal finished his oral dissertation on late impressionism and how it influenced the early surrealists. An odd question that had slid into Jones’ mind early in the case floated to the top.
“You have never once hit on me,” Jones stated much to his own surprise and quickly blamed it on the late hour. Normally it wouldn’t have been something to ever cross his mind but for the current case Neal had been cranking up the charm to high levels, even for him, and a good amount had overflowed into the office.
“It that a problem?” Neal answered without a hitch.
“You hit on everyone. You hit on Peter, you hit on Elizabeth, you hit on Diana, I’ve seen you make passes at inanimate objects, but you’ve never even looked my way.”
“Jealous?”
Jones realized he was just a little. “Well I mean I’m not exactly chopped liver.”
Neal smiled. It was his con man smile which was different from his trust me smile. Neal’s con man smile screamed I’m a criminal, come and catch me. Neal leaned across the SUV sliding into Jones’ space.
“You wouldn’t want me to make a pass at you, you wouldn’t want a glance, or a flutter of eyes.”
“Why not?”
Neal’s smile shifted into something that started a low burn deep in Jones’ stomach. Neal leaned in closer. “Because I’m a con man,” Neal whispered. “Because if I came after you I could catch you. I could spin your head around, make you feel things you weren’t sure existed, pin you right to my side, but no matter what I did, or what I said, or how real it was, or wasn’t, there would always be a tiny doubt in the back of your mind. A little voice telling you not to believe because it’s probably just one more con.”
Jones’ mouth went dry and he suddenly found himself hyperaware of the few little greys in Neal’s stubble, or the tiny little lines in the corner of his eyes.
“Show time,” Neal whispered again.
“What?”
Neal nodded his head toward the cross street. Their suspect had finally arrived.
Prompt: Pre Neal/Jones: Night time
Author: ladygray99
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings:Pre Neal/Jones
Word count: 548
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Sometimes simple questions come with complicated answers
Notes: Written for elrhiarhodan Prompt Fest VI.
Beta: none
Just One More Con
Jones often thought about the things that didn’t get mentioned in the FBI recruitment literature. The raw quantity of paperwork is not once mentioned. Jones knows if it was they’d never get anyone in. The other thing that was never mentioned is the opportunity for boredom, soul crushing, mind numbing, boredom.
Their current sting/con was going to need perfect timing. All the players were in place but it couldn’t start until their suspect showed up. Their best guess was that he’d put in appearance somewhere between 3 and 7 a.m. It was closing in on five. The night was beginning to feel never ending, and even the constant artificial glow of New York couldn’t disguise that fact that it was the middle of the night when all sensible people should be asleep.
Jones wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he was stuck in an SUV was Caffrey. On the one hand Neal was entertaining. On the other hand Neal was there. And all Jones needed was ten minutes alone with Neal before the urge to ask questions Neal won’t answer surfaced.
There was a moment of quiet as Neal finished his oral dissertation on late impressionism and how it influenced the early surrealists. An odd question that had slid into Jones’ mind early in the case floated to the top.
“You have never once hit on me,” Jones stated much to his own surprise and quickly blamed it on the late hour. Normally it wouldn’t have been something to ever cross his mind but for the current case Neal had been cranking up the charm to high levels, even for him, and a good amount had overflowed into the office.
“It that a problem?” Neal answered without a hitch.
“You hit on everyone. You hit on Peter, you hit on Elizabeth, you hit on Diana, I’ve seen you make passes at inanimate objects, but you’ve never even looked my way.”
“Jealous?”
Jones realized he was just a little. “Well I mean I’m not exactly chopped liver.”
Neal smiled. It was his con man smile which was different from his trust me smile. Neal’s con man smile screamed I’m a criminal, come and catch me. Neal leaned across the SUV sliding into Jones’ space.
“You wouldn’t want me to make a pass at you, you wouldn’t want a glance, or a flutter of eyes.”
“Why not?”
Neal’s smile shifted into something that started a low burn deep in Jones’ stomach. Neal leaned in closer. “Because I’m a con man,” Neal whispered. “Because if I came after you I could catch you. I could spin your head around, make you feel things you weren’t sure existed, pin you right to my side, but no matter what I did, or what I said, or how real it was, or wasn’t, there would always be a tiny doubt in the back of your mind. A little voice telling you not to believe because it’s probably just one more con.”
Jones’ mouth went dry and he suddenly found himself hyperaware of the few little greys in Neal’s stubble, or the tiny little lines in the corner of his eyes.
“Show time,” Neal whispered again.
“What?”
Neal nodded his head toward the cross street. Their suspect had finally arrived.