White Collar Fic "A Friend In Need" Parts 3 & 4
A Friend In Need
Rating: PG
Summary: Peter has to leave town, El has to deal with an annoying customer and Neal calls in a few favors. You can always count on your friends, right?
Pairing: Peter/El, Neal (gen)
Spoilers: Not really
Word count: ~ 10.000
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, it's sad but true.
Notes: A huge THANK YOU to Sedona (from the USA Network Forum) for your incredible help!!! She wrote the Elizabeth and Peter scenes and gave me much needed insight as well as helpful hints. Also I want to say THANK YOU to Chicca (also from the USA Network Forum and the Tim DeKay Forum) for her help with the translation of the Italian sentences! Mille grazie!
I swear, LJ is driving me crazy! Sorry for the strange format, but right now, I don't care.
Chapter 3
Still a bit tired Neal climbed up the stairs to the Burkes home the next morning. It was about 6 o'clock but the traffic was already busy. He had stayed late yesterday night to make sure everything was in order and came back first thing in the morning to make breakfast. Yawning he took out the spare key El had given him and he let himself in (not that he would have needed a key anyway). He dropped the grocery bag to the ground and listened cautiously but couldn't hear a sound while he stood in the hallway. But only a few seconds later the tapping from Satchmo's paws on the hard floor could be heard. The lab came to him happily wagging his tail. "Hey buddy," Neal greeted him quietly and knelt down to scratch the dog behind his ears. Standing up again he grabbed the bag and went into the kitchen to store away the groceries he just had bought. "Let's get you outside," he said after he had finished and looked for the leash. "Okay, here we go."
Returning half an hour later, Neal made sure that Satchmo's feet were clean before entering the house again. After that he went into the kitchen and began preparing the breakfast. Totally engrossed with his mission he didn't see El coming to the kitchen.
"Good morning," she greeted him and looked at him in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"Uhm, breakfast?" Neal replied surprised, too. "And I wish you a good morning, too Elizabeth." Smiling, he gestured to the table. "Sit down, please. How's the ankle?"
She limped to the chair. "A little bit better, but still hurting," she answered and inhaled the air. "Smells good."
"Thanks. Coffee? Tea?" he asked and worked on the scrambled eggs. "And are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"
"Neal, I've already told you yesterday. I'm fine," El said and quickly added, "yeah, well, as fine as I can be with a swollen ankle. Still can't put any weight on it though and walking is out of question I guess."
"See? I'd feel better if you would go to the doctor. Besides, Peter will kill me if we don't have that ankle checked out."
Elizabeth had to smile. "Don't you worry. Peter already knows. And to answer your earlier question - coffee, please."
Defeated, Neal rolled his eyes. "Alright. Just for the record - I did ask you. Twice." He came to her and handed her a mug of coffee.
It was then that Elizabeth realized that Neal didn't wear one of his designer suits but jeans and t-shirt. "Wait, aren't you supposed to work?"
"Nope," he said and grinned. "I've called Diana and I'm free to go. Figuratively." He went back to the stove and put the scrambled eggs on two plates altogether with some slices of toast. "Apparently the FBI trusts me hanging around Peter Burke's wife and that I won't run."
"Seriously? If you would run? Peter will find you, no matter what."
"Yeah, I guess they figured out the same thing." He put the plates down. "Enjoy your meal! We have quite a lot of work waiting for us." Last evening he had spent almost two hours calling in favors and so far he had succeeded.
"You weren't joking yesterday, were you?" El asked stunned. "About helping me?"
"Of course not!" Neal shook his head. "Everything is in order. Tony, my manager at 'The Greatest Cake' is handling the dessert and he happens to have a friend who is able to jump in with the food. Sort of. We will have to take a look at the menu in order to…," he paused for a moment, "…to reschedule some points. But we'll manage this. Trust me." The charming Caffrey smile appeared on his face. "It's like planning a con. And you know I'm very good at this. It'll be fun."
~*~*~
"Okay," Neal said and stretched his back while sitting at the table at Elizabeth's office where they have met with Tony and his friend Giancarlo. Tapping his pen on the notepad in front of him, he scanned the topics. For the last 2 hours he and El had been rescheduling and now it seemed that they had everything in order. It was like planning a heist. "Moz will take care of the wine and cheese and will also be our additional man in case something else comes up. Tony, you have everything you need?"
"Yes, Mr. Caffrey. I'm gonna head back and start right along."
Neal nodded and looked at Giancarlo. "And you?"
"I have some no problems with the menu, but I'm afraid there's another problem, though."
Fearing another bad news, El eyed him cautiously and took a deep breath. "Yes?"
"Well, since your approach is on short notice, I'm lacking one cook. I mean, I can do most of the meals myself, but it would take too long," Giancarlo explained with his Italian accent.
Neal thought about it and answered, "I think I know someone who can step in."
"That someone," Giancarlo made clear, tapping his index finger on the table, "must have experience with cooking. I don't have the time to explain every single step, you know."
"That should be no problem," Neal smiled.
"Okay, in that case…I'm confident that everything will work out," Giancarlo said and quickly added, "I'm thinking about something like an historic and modern cuisine theme. How about scampis with sweet and sour onions or guinea fowl terrine, homemade ravioli and old-fashioned duck with wild apple. Have you ever tried strawberry and basil soup? Oh and my famous passion fruit pudding. It's delicious! You must try it."
"I'm afraid we have a tight cost frame-"
The grey haired man shook his head. "It's okay. We can handle that. If we're still too pricey, I'm gonna take that one on me, signora."
"But...," El interrupted.
"Like I said," Giancarlo insisted and smiled, "I own Tony a favor and I'd be more than happy to help you out. We Italians feel very strong about paying debts." He looked at Neal. "Maybe we can do more business with you in the future. The bakery is one of the best in town. It would match perfectly with our services."
Suddenly Neal felt reminded of Don Corleone from the “Godfather” movies. Which wasn't that offbeat, since Giancarlo had a stunning resemblance with said criminal. But Giancarlo was an honest civilian. Chuckling, he answered, "Sounds good. I'm sure we can work something out.”
Tony and Giancarlo stood up and shook hands with Neal. "Call me, if anything comes up, alright?" Neal said.
"I'm afraid I'll have to remain seated," El replied sheepishly. The swelling on her ankle hadn't changed much so she preferred to keep it elevated.
"Ci sono cose peggiori," Giancarlo replied and smiled. "Sorry, old habit. It means-"
"There are worse things," Neal quickly stepped in and said to him in fluent Italian, "Molte grazie per il vostro aiuto."
Giancarlo raised his eyebrows and then laughed. "Why didn't you tell me that he speaks Italian?" he asked his fried Tony.
"I didn't know."
Looking at Neal, he grinned and shook his head in amusement before he said, "Prego. Fino ad allora."
With Tony in tow, Giancarlo went to the exit and stepped out.
"See you!" After the two men had left, El turned to Neal and was still a bit stunned. "You speak Italian? You still surprise me, even after all these years."
"Yeah, well...what can I say? I'm a genius," Neal laughed out loud.
"I'm glad Peter didn't hear this," El replied and laughed, too.
"I guess he already knows."
"He would never admit it."
"True, but still…," Neal didn’t finish the sentence and eyed El. For the first time since last evening she seemed to be convinced that they could handle the party and she visibly relaxed. He looked at his watch. "Okay, I think we have some time left. Do you want some coffee?"
"Sounds great. Wait, let me get it."
"Don't even think of standing up and going to the coffee machine," Neal told her with a stern voice. "I think I can manage this task, too." He went to the back office and after a short while he had found all the necessary things to get the machine started. A few minutes later he came back with two cups of freshly brewed coffee and sat down next to El.
"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for doing this," El said and was really touched. “It means a lot to me."
"It's only coffee," Neal joked, well aware what she really wanted to say.
El slapped him slightly on his arm. "You know what I mean!"
"I'm honored to help you out, El. Besides, now I'm really curious about tonight's dinner. Sounds great, what do you think?"
"Great? It's perfect! Mr. Wilson will love it, I'm sure." She stopped and frowned slightly. "I just hope that-"
"Everything will be fine, El," Neal said like he had read her mind. "Don't worry. It's a shame though that we don't have Peter as the bartender," he grinned.
El looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, that's…a long story," he answered and smirked. "I'll tell you someday."
"You are mean," El said and pretended to be pouting. "Why don't you tell me now?"
"Because NOW we still have some work to do."
~*~*~
The party was in full swing a few hours later and El was happy. She had changed into an evening dress and had been there since Neal had dropped her and drove off with her car to get "something done". She had been worried, but Neal had smiled at her and had reassured her to not worry. Since then, he was gone. After she had realized that fact, she felt a bit uneasy, but since no one from the FBI had called her and had asked about Neal, she was confident that so far Neal hadn't done anything wrong. A voice brought her back to reality and she blinked a few times.
"Mrs. Burke! I'm glad that you are still here, so I can thank you," he said with a cheerful voice and stepped to her table in the background.
Startled, El looked up and smiled briefly. "Oh, Mr. Wilson, you're welcome. I'm glad that you enjoy the evening."
"I've noticed that you have some issues. I hope you are okay."
"It's nothing. I've twisted my ankle yesterday, but it's getting better. I hope everything is like you wished for."
"It's beyond that. It's perfect." His smile was radiant. "The cheese and wine selection is superb, even if that guy is a bit…extraordinary."
El glanced towards Mozzie, who seemed to be enjoying himself. He wore a waiter garment and surely was telling the guest his theories, even if they weren't interested at all. "Well, yes. Mr. Haversham can be quite…entertaining."
"That's for sure," Wilson nodded. "And I must admit, I was doubtful about the rescheduling with the menu, but you have outdone yourself."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Wilson, but the thanks is due to someone else. But I make sure that the cook will be informed about your praise," she answered and was relieved. Just as she was about to add something, she spotted Neal on the other side of the room. He was wearing one of his Devore suits. "Oh, I think my driver has arrived," she gestured towards him.
Neal came to them, showing his charming smile. "I'm sorry for the delay, Elizabeth," he apologized politely and shook hands with Wilson. "Good evening, sir. I'm Neal Caffrey."
"Good evening, Mr. Caffrey. Will you excuse me; I'm supposed to get back to my guests. Again, Mrs. Burke, thank you for the excellent service."
"You're welcome, Mr. Wilson." El let out a deep breath as soon as Wilson was gone. "Wow. I still can't believe it." She looked at Neal. "We've made it!"
"Did you expect something else?" He winked at her. "Ready to go home?"
"Oh, yes please. I want to change into something more comfortable."
"Your wish is my command," Neal said and offered her his arm.
Accepting his offer, she took his arm while they slowly made the way towards the exit. She noticed the scent of shower gel and his still damp hair and was somehow proud of her observation skills. But the longer she thought about it, she decided not to ask why Neal had taken a shower while he was gone. It probably would be better not to know.
~*~*~
About twenty minutes later, Neal pulled the car into a stop right in front of the Burkes home and helped her gently upstairs. Once inside, they were greeted by an overjoyed Satchmo. "You want to change first? Or dinner?"
"You don't have to cook."
"Nah, I got that covered." He waved with one hand.
She watched him as he got outside and shook her head. Neal had been a great help the last two days and she had no clue how to thank him appropriately. Sighing she hobbled to the cupboard and got the dishes out. She had to talk to Peter in order to get Neal his well deserved reward. True to his words, Neal appeared a few moments later and carried a big Styrofoam box. "You keep surprising me," El said and pointed at the box. "What's in there?"
"Alright," he said. "I've got the whole menu from tonight. One for you and one for Peter. He can heat it up when he's home tomorrow." He placed the box on the table, but didn't open it.
"W-wait, why don't you stay?"
"Uhm, actually, I wanted to take Satch for walk while you are eating and then…," he looked at his watch and frowned, "…then it will be too late to get to the exhibition." He sighed and slumped his shoulders.
"Exhibition? You wanted to go to an exhibition this evening?"
"THE exhibition," he corrected her. "The Kandinsky collection. I've longed for this for months and tonight was the last date, but…," he took a deep breath and couldn't hide his disappointment, "…well, it seems that it wasn't meant to be."
A rush of guilt came over El. "Oh Neal," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you say something?" She went to him and touched his arm.
"I thought there would be enough time left, but Giancarlo and I were really busy in the kitchen and somehow I lost track of time," Neal smiled but his frustration was still evident.
Again, El was stunned. "You…were helping Giancarlo?" Suddenly an idea formed and her eyes got big because of her discovery. "That's why you had showered! You…were helping in the kitchen! You cooked!"
"I'm capable of doing that, yes."
"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "It's just…I…wow, I don't know what to say."
"But I do. Let's sit down and enjoy your meal before it gets cold." He opened the box and got some packages out which were wrapped with aluminum foil. Then he turned toward the lab. "Come on, buddy."
"Don't you want to eat something, too?"
"Oh, I'm good. I grabbed a little bit while cooking," he chuckled.
"I insist that you stay and get a decent meal," El answered and her voice didn't leave much room for interpretation.
"But Satch?"
"He can wait. Just let him outside in the backyard."
Neal nodded and opened the door. The lab quickly escaped outside and Neal closed the door again. "I’ll get something to drink. What do you want? I forgot to get a bottle from Mozzie."
"Believe it or not, but there are some bottles of wine in the Burke household waiting to be opened."
"I'm impressed."
After they had finished, Neal left with Satchmo while El changed into casual clothes. He returned thirty minutes later and was obviously in a better mood. Maybe the walk and the fresh air helped him to calm down. She smiled. "I'm still thrilled about the meal. It was delicious! I'm willing to get Giancarlo's service on more occasions," she told him and put the last item into the dishwasher.
"Why are you walking around? I would have taken care of the dishes."
"Neal, you've done more than enough already. Besides, it's a twisted ankle, for heaven's sake. It's not broken," she smiled and limped towards the couch.
"You were lucky. Imagine if it was really broken. That would have been nasty, I can tell you."
"You are speaking from experience?"
Neal hesitated. "I've had a broken arm as a kid. But I guess a broken ankle would be much worse."
El sat down and looked at Neal. "What happened?" She knew from Peter that Neal didn't talk much about his childhood, so she gave it a try.
Again, Neal seemed to weight his options. "It's late and I-" Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders then he sat down on the armchair. "Well, I was about eight and I wanted to impress the kids. So I took a belt and a drape and climbed up to the backyard shed. I felt damn cool with this…," he laughed, "…I thought I was Superman. I told them to watch and jumped. The result was a broken arm. But I've also got a kiss from one of the neighborhood girls." His grin was breathtaking and his eyes lit up with those memories.
El laughed out loud. "I can imagine this." She went silent for a moment. "You know, with those glasses on you really look like Clark Kent."
"I liked disguises. I always loved to pretend to be someone else."
"A superhero. Like your father." She knew that this topic was a sore spot for Neal, but she had the feeling that Neal was comfortable telling her this. Peter had spent hours talking about Neal's background with her while hunting him, but it was just two years ago that Neal had actually talked about his father at all.
"Probably. Just like any other kid, I guess."
"But unlike any other kid, you kept your way of living someone else's life."
"Yeah, I'm privileged."
"I thought more of a modern Peter Pan."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Of course." El leaned back on the couch and enjoyed the light conversation. "But your superman action wasn't the only stunt you pulled, right? I think you were quite a handful as a kid."
"It wasn't always easy growing up without a father," he confessed, his voice low.
"I guess so."
He started to laugh unexpectedly. "Once I fooled the Marshals and took a drive with the car from someone of the neighbors. At that time I was Earnhardt, you know? I took the opportunity and hit the road. Fast. Real fast. But I didn't see the ditch. First, I took out a mailbox, then I hit a fence and finally came to a stop in a barn. The cops came and called…," he stopped, swallowing had. "They informed my mother, but it was Ellen who lectured me."
El nodded sympathetically. The young man still mourned the death of his surrogate mother.
"At least I met the farmer's daughter," he smiled sadly.
She tried to lighten up the mood a bit as she replied, "You know, maybe that Earnhardt thing is the reason why Peter doesn't want you to drive the Ford."
A grin appeared on Neal's face. "He doesn't know about this." Then he frowned. "At least I think so."
"Speaking of Peter…," El continued, "…now I want to hear about him as a bartender…"
Chapter 4
Neal was sleeping in late, the Bureau having unexpectedly given him Friday off. He wondered if that meant trouble but nothing seemed in the offing so he lingered in bed, feeling tired. Surprising how honest work could be so exhausting, he thought muzzily. Glancing at the bedside clock, he was aghast to see it was already past noon. Strange nobody had called or made themselves at home. He indulged in a long shower and a leisurely breakfast. Checking his phone there had been another thank you message from Elizabeth but that was it. It was later in the day he started to feel that vague sense of unease; Peter was due back today. By now, Neal was feeling real remorse from his reckless actions the other day and he wondered if Peter would come back in a good mood or if the agent was still angry. He thought he might have won some brownie points by helping out Elizabeth however…
Who was he kidding? He would have helped Elizabeth out whether or not Peter was mad at him or being his best friend. Sometimes he wondered why he thought along those lines - but most of the time it was ingrained, a habit that could not be broken. Besides, that kind of thinking had helped him out of many of tight spot before.
Unconsciously he began to watch the time and then as the afternoon turned into evening and there was no call, Neal started to get miffed. Just use me and throw me away, like the Bureau, he thought sourly, deciding to build a wall of resentment. Moz called on nothing every important, Neal cut him off abruptly and then it was silence again.
By the time the phone rang Neal had worked himself into a snit but he still jumped at the first ring, cringing when his treacherous hand went ahead and answered the call. About time.
"Hey." A weary sounding Peter Burke greeted his rather snippy hello.
"How’s Elizabeth?" Neal asked.
"She’s all right; mending. And staying off her ankle today."
"She was talking about picking you up from the airport yesterday," Neal informed him.
"Incredible as it may be, I won that battle," Peter replied. "Flight was delayed a couple of times and it was hell to catch a shuttle by the time I made it to New York, but I finally got home a couple of hours ago."
"That’s nice," Neal said formally. "Glad you made it."
"Neal," Peter’s voice took on a new timbre, that serious, soft voice that meant pay attention, "I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. El tells me she could not have coped without you the other day. It, well, it means a lot to me that you came over."
For his part, Neal wasn’t sure if he was proud of the praise (well, yeah, he was, a little) or offended that Peter would think he would ever hesitate over something like this. "You know I would always be there for Elizabeth, don’t you?"
"Yes, I do," Peter replied quietly. "No matter what comes between us, I know you will always help El. But sometimes I do say thank you. When it’s not parole related of course," he added hastily.
Neal couldn’t help it; he laughed. "Killed you to say that, didn’t it?"
To his relief, there was laughter in Peter’s voice as well. "A little."
Neal shook his head. "Did you have a good time?"
"It was all right," Peter replied. "Didn’t do much though. Most of the stuff I already knew, for better or worse. But I mainly wanted to say thank you and ask what you are doing tomorrow night?"
"Well," Neal fought the urge to make to make up a story; nothing to be gained by admitting he was at loose ends. But, really, what was there to say? To his chagrin, he blurted the truth. "Nothing much, I guess."
"Well, El and I don’t want to interrupt your busy life but I guess we’re going to that, wait, what is it called, El?" Neal heard Elizabeth’s voice in the background with a smile, "Kandinsky exhibition and we wondered if you want to go along? They are having a special showing before it leaves."
"What? It is still here?" Neal blinked. "You are actually going?"
He could almost see Peter shrug. "I guess we owe you," he said glumly. Elizabeth exclaimed, "Peter!" in the background.
Neal laughed. "I am so totally there! You will love it Peter!" He proceeded to explain the exhibition’s many fine points to a completely unimpressed and tired Peter who, no longer willing to hear more, handed the phone to El.
~*~*~
"This is great. Isn’t this great? Don’t you just love the color?" Neal enthused to Peter, who walked along with his hands in his pockets, looking a bit bored. "Look at the originality!" Neal stopped to admire a huge wall sized mural.
Peter looked too, but he stood in astonishment, rather than admiration. "Somebody actually managed to make money throwing paint fastballs on a huge canvas? Wow, there has to be some sort of fraud in that," he added, his tone taking on a new measure of respect.
"You have no imagination," Neal informed him pompously.
Peter however, was still lost in his idea of money making. "You know I could get a bunch of different colors, have Satchmo run through them and make an obscene lot of money on multi colored dog prints. Throw some fancy title on it like The March of Society - and clean up the cash." He brightened. "Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all. It would certainly beat a government pension."
Neal looked annoyed. "You are a complete Philistine, you know. I think you should know that, in case no one has told you before."
Peter smirked. "Whatever."
They strolled on, arguing and walking. Elizabeth grinned as she sat in the coffee shop watching them. She had wanted to accompany them on the entire tour. However, her ankle had improved but was still on the sore side, so she decided to wait until they reached the special part of the exhibition, for wealthy patrons only. This part of the exhibition - the Kandinsky - had been held over without publicity and, as it happened, the part Neal most wanted to see. The museum had been justifiably nervous having Neal Caffrey, master thief and forger, attend their private showing but between her vouching for him and Peter’s shield, Peter had been able to swing it, with the proviso that he never leave Neal unattended. And it looked like Neal was supremely happy with the whole thing. Elizabeth was glad; he had really saved her the other day. It was the least she could do.
When they finally returned, Elizabeth got up to join them on the special exhibit. "Are you boys playing nice?" she asked formally.
"Elizabeth, we are having a wonderful time. Aren’t we, Peter?" Neal’s joy shone from his eyes.
"Yeah, cool," Peter said flatly, itching to check his phone for the Rangers score.
Elizabeth laughed and linked arms with Peter while giving Neal’s arm a squeeze.
Later, when they were nearly finished, Elizabeth stood next to Neal. "I hope this is some way conveys my thanks for all of your help, Neal. I literally could not have done it without you."
Neal shrugged but his smile betrayed his true feelings, an odd event for Neal Caffrey. "Well, I needed to get back in Peter’s good books."
El froze; please don’t let him mean that.
Observant as ever, Neal smiled again but this time it was a bit strained. "I guess that was a bad reason why, wasn’t it?"
"Kind of. But it wasn’t the only reason though, was it, Neal?" Elizabeth asked firmly.
Neal squirmed a bit but finally admitted, "No. Of course not. But I don’t know what Peter will say," he nodded to where Peter stood with a security guard, both trying to catch the hockey game on their phones, although Neal was never out of the agent’s sight.
"I think Peter is saying thank you," Elizabeth replied, with a small smile on her lips. "This may come as a surprise to you, but he doesn’t normally attend these kinds of shows."
Peter rejoined them as Neal chuckled. "Are we done here?" he asked hopefully.
Elizabeth glanced at Neal, questioning. "Well, we could do a little more in depth look at the Romantics section-"
Both he and Elizabeth laughed when they noticed Peter’s look of frozen horror. "No, we are done here," Neal relented but he took one last wistful look around.
"How about joining us for dinner tonight?" Peter asked hastily, not liking the look in Neal’s eyes.
"Sure. Where are you going?"
"We thought we’d let you pick," Elizabeth said firmly, with a sharp look at Peter, who nodded reluctantly.
Neal smiled. "I suppose we could try that new French place on 29th; their cuisine and wine list are said to be superb."
"Don’t you need reservations?" Peter asked quickly, hope rising in his voice.
Neal sighed. "Well, I could probably get us in without them." Noticing Peter’s look of disappointment and Elizabeth about to scold him for it, Neal quickly added, "Or we could go to that Italian place around the corner. The bar has a nice television."
"You might have mentioned that first," Peter grumbled.
Elizabeth shushed him. "It really is your choice tonight, Neal. Is that what you want?"
Neal glanced at Peter, who nodded, putting a good face on it. "She’s right. But don’t do anything illegal getting into that French place," he added hastily.
Neal smiled. "It’s okay. As it happens, I’m in the mood for Italian tonight."
"We can still make the fourth quarter,” Peter agreed enthusiastically. As they started to leave, he paused. “El, maybe we should get you a cab?"
"I’m fine; it will take longer to flag down a cab tonight than it’s worth. Just don’t walk at FBI speed, no matter how much you want to watch the fourth quarter."
Smiling, Peter put his arm around her shoulders and Neal led the way, opening the doors and chattering about the art, obviously in a good mood. Earlier, Peter had informed him there would be no formal reprimands for Neal on his actions earlier, but he had given Neal the ‘be careful’ speech, for the hundredth time so Neal claimed. Peter shot back that he wouldn’t have to do it so often if Neal would only listen the first time.
While they walked over to the restaurant, dodging the large crowds on Saturday night, Elizabeth turned to her husband. "By the way, I have an event coming up next month that I could really use an expert bartender, honey. Are you interested?"
"What?" Peter sputtered, Neal laughed, Peter glared, and Neal looked unconcerned. Elizabeth tightened her hold on her husband’s arm, smiling as Peter stammered through an explanation about the origins of Kevin the bartender.
It was funny; Elizabeth thought while walking between Peter and Neal, how such a bad week could end so well after all.
END
Rating: PG
Summary: Peter has to leave town, El has to deal with an annoying customer and Neal calls in a few favors. You can always count on your friends, right?
Pairing: Peter/El, Neal (gen)
Spoilers: Not really
Word count: ~ 10.000
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, it's sad but true.
Notes: A huge THANK YOU to Sedona (from the USA Network Forum) for your incredible help!!! She wrote the Elizabeth and Peter scenes and gave me much needed insight as well as helpful hints. Also I want to say THANK YOU to Chicca (also from the USA Network Forum and the Tim DeKay Forum) for her help with the translation of the Italian sentences! Mille grazie!
I swear, LJ is driving me crazy! Sorry for the strange format, but right now, I don't care.
Chapter 3
Still a bit tired Neal climbed up the stairs to the Burkes home the next morning. It was about 6 o'clock but the traffic was already busy. He had stayed late yesterday night to make sure everything was in order and came back first thing in the morning to make breakfast. Yawning he took out the spare key El had given him and he let himself in (not that he would have needed a key anyway). He dropped the grocery bag to the ground and listened cautiously but couldn't hear a sound while he stood in the hallway. But only a few seconds later the tapping from Satchmo's paws on the hard floor could be heard. The lab came to him happily wagging his tail. "Hey buddy," Neal greeted him quietly and knelt down to scratch the dog behind his ears. Standing up again he grabbed the bag and went into the kitchen to store away the groceries he just had bought. "Let's get you outside," he said after he had finished and looked for the leash. "Okay, here we go."
Returning half an hour later, Neal made sure that Satchmo's feet were clean before entering the house again. After that he went into the kitchen and began preparing the breakfast. Totally engrossed with his mission he didn't see El coming to the kitchen.
"Good morning," she greeted him and looked at him in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"Uhm, breakfast?" Neal replied surprised, too. "And I wish you a good morning, too Elizabeth." Smiling, he gestured to the table. "Sit down, please. How's the ankle?"
She limped to the chair. "A little bit better, but still hurting," she answered and inhaled the air. "Smells good."
"Thanks. Coffee? Tea?" he asked and worked on the scrambled eggs. "And are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"
"Neal, I've already told you yesterday. I'm fine," El said and quickly added, "yeah, well, as fine as I can be with a swollen ankle. Still can't put any weight on it though and walking is out of question I guess."
"See? I'd feel better if you would go to the doctor. Besides, Peter will kill me if we don't have that ankle checked out."
Elizabeth had to smile. "Don't you worry. Peter already knows. And to answer your earlier question - coffee, please."
Defeated, Neal rolled his eyes. "Alright. Just for the record - I did ask you. Twice." He came to her and handed her a mug of coffee.
It was then that Elizabeth realized that Neal didn't wear one of his designer suits but jeans and t-shirt. "Wait, aren't you supposed to work?"
"Nope," he said and grinned. "I've called Diana and I'm free to go. Figuratively." He went back to the stove and put the scrambled eggs on two plates altogether with some slices of toast. "Apparently the FBI trusts me hanging around Peter Burke's wife and that I won't run."
"Seriously? If you would run? Peter will find you, no matter what."
"Yeah, I guess they figured out the same thing." He put the plates down. "Enjoy your meal! We have quite a lot of work waiting for us." Last evening he had spent almost two hours calling in favors and so far he had succeeded.
"You weren't joking yesterday, were you?" El asked stunned. "About helping me?"
"Of course not!" Neal shook his head. "Everything is in order. Tony, my manager at 'The Greatest Cake' is handling the dessert and he happens to have a friend who is able to jump in with the food. Sort of. We will have to take a look at the menu in order to…," he paused for a moment, "…to reschedule some points. But we'll manage this. Trust me." The charming Caffrey smile appeared on his face. "It's like planning a con. And you know I'm very good at this. It'll be fun."
~*~*~
"Okay," Neal said and stretched his back while sitting at the table at Elizabeth's office where they have met with Tony and his friend Giancarlo. Tapping his pen on the notepad in front of him, he scanned the topics. For the last 2 hours he and El had been rescheduling and now it seemed that they had everything in order. It was like planning a heist. "Moz will take care of the wine and cheese and will also be our additional man in case something else comes up. Tony, you have everything you need?"
"Yes, Mr. Caffrey. I'm gonna head back and start right along."
Neal nodded and looked at Giancarlo. "And you?"
"I have some no problems with the menu, but I'm afraid there's another problem, though."
Fearing another bad news, El eyed him cautiously and took a deep breath. "Yes?"
"Well, since your approach is on short notice, I'm lacking one cook. I mean, I can do most of the meals myself, but it would take too long," Giancarlo explained with his Italian accent.
Neal thought about it and answered, "I think I know someone who can step in."
"That someone," Giancarlo made clear, tapping his index finger on the table, "must have experience with cooking. I don't have the time to explain every single step, you know."
"That should be no problem," Neal smiled.
"Okay, in that case…I'm confident that everything will work out," Giancarlo said and quickly added, "I'm thinking about something like an historic and modern cuisine theme. How about scampis with sweet and sour onions or guinea fowl terrine, homemade ravioli and old-fashioned duck with wild apple. Have you ever tried strawberry and basil soup? Oh and my famous passion fruit pudding. It's delicious! You must try it."
"I'm afraid we have a tight cost frame-"
The grey haired man shook his head. "It's okay. We can handle that. If we're still too pricey, I'm gonna take that one on me, signora."
"But...," El interrupted.
"Like I said," Giancarlo insisted and smiled, "I own Tony a favor and I'd be more than happy to help you out. We Italians feel very strong about paying debts." He looked at Neal. "Maybe we can do more business with you in the future. The bakery is one of the best in town. It would match perfectly with our services."
Suddenly Neal felt reminded of Don Corleone from the “Godfather” movies. Which wasn't that offbeat, since Giancarlo had a stunning resemblance with said criminal. But Giancarlo was an honest civilian. Chuckling, he answered, "Sounds good. I'm sure we can work something out.”
Tony and Giancarlo stood up and shook hands with Neal. "Call me, if anything comes up, alright?" Neal said.
"I'm afraid I'll have to remain seated," El replied sheepishly. The swelling on her ankle hadn't changed much so she preferred to keep it elevated.
"Ci sono cose peggiori," Giancarlo replied and smiled. "Sorry, old habit. It means-"
"There are worse things," Neal quickly stepped in and said to him in fluent Italian, "Molte grazie per il vostro aiuto."
Giancarlo raised his eyebrows and then laughed. "Why didn't you tell me that he speaks Italian?" he asked his fried Tony.
"I didn't know."
Looking at Neal, he grinned and shook his head in amusement before he said, "Prego. Fino ad allora."
With Tony in tow, Giancarlo went to the exit and stepped out.
"See you!" After the two men had left, El turned to Neal and was still a bit stunned. "You speak Italian? You still surprise me, even after all these years."
"Yeah, well...what can I say? I'm a genius," Neal laughed out loud.
"I'm glad Peter didn't hear this," El replied and laughed, too.
"I guess he already knows."
"He would never admit it."
"True, but still…," Neal didn’t finish the sentence and eyed El. For the first time since last evening she seemed to be convinced that they could handle the party and she visibly relaxed. He looked at his watch. "Okay, I think we have some time left. Do you want some coffee?"
"Sounds great. Wait, let me get it."
"Don't even think of standing up and going to the coffee machine," Neal told her with a stern voice. "I think I can manage this task, too." He went to the back office and after a short while he had found all the necessary things to get the machine started. A few minutes later he came back with two cups of freshly brewed coffee and sat down next to El.
"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for doing this," El said and was really touched. “It means a lot to me."
"It's only coffee," Neal joked, well aware what she really wanted to say.
El slapped him slightly on his arm. "You know what I mean!"
"I'm honored to help you out, El. Besides, now I'm really curious about tonight's dinner. Sounds great, what do you think?"
"Great? It's perfect! Mr. Wilson will love it, I'm sure." She stopped and frowned slightly. "I just hope that-"
"Everything will be fine, El," Neal said like he had read her mind. "Don't worry. It's a shame though that we don't have Peter as the bartender," he grinned.
El looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, that's…a long story," he answered and smirked. "I'll tell you someday."
"You are mean," El said and pretended to be pouting. "Why don't you tell me now?"
"Because NOW we still have some work to do."
~*~*~
The party was in full swing a few hours later and El was happy. She had changed into an evening dress and had been there since Neal had dropped her and drove off with her car to get "something done". She had been worried, but Neal had smiled at her and had reassured her to not worry. Since then, he was gone. After she had realized that fact, she felt a bit uneasy, but since no one from the FBI had called her and had asked about Neal, she was confident that so far Neal hadn't done anything wrong. A voice brought her back to reality and she blinked a few times.
"Mrs. Burke! I'm glad that you are still here, so I can thank you," he said with a cheerful voice and stepped to her table in the background.
Startled, El looked up and smiled briefly. "Oh, Mr. Wilson, you're welcome. I'm glad that you enjoy the evening."
"I've noticed that you have some issues. I hope you are okay."
"It's nothing. I've twisted my ankle yesterday, but it's getting better. I hope everything is like you wished for."
"It's beyond that. It's perfect." His smile was radiant. "The cheese and wine selection is superb, even if that guy is a bit…extraordinary."
El glanced towards Mozzie, who seemed to be enjoying himself. He wore a waiter garment and surely was telling the guest his theories, even if they weren't interested at all. "Well, yes. Mr. Haversham can be quite…entertaining."
"That's for sure," Wilson nodded. "And I must admit, I was doubtful about the rescheduling with the menu, but you have outdone yourself."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Wilson, but the thanks is due to someone else. But I make sure that the cook will be informed about your praise," she answered and was relieved. Just as she was about to add something, she spotted Neal on the other side of the room. He was wearing one of his Devore suits. "Oh, I think my driver has arrived," she gestured towards him.
Neal came to them, showing his charming smile. "I'm sorry for the delay, Elizabeth," he apologized politely and shook hands with Wilson. "Good evening, sir. I'm Neal Caffrey."
"Good evening, Mr. Caffrey. Will you excuse me; I'm supposed to get back to my guests. Again, Mrs. Burke, thank you for the excellent service."
"You're welcome, Mr. Wilson." El let out a deep breath as soon as Wilson was gone. "Wow. I still can't believe it." She looked at Neal. "We've made it!"
"Did you expect something else?" He winked at her. "Ready to go home?"
"Oh, yes please. I want to change into something more comfortable."
"Your wish is my command," Neal said and offered her his arm.
Accepting his offer, she took his arm while they slowly made the way towards the exit. She noticed the scent of shower gel and his still damp hair and was somehow proud of her observation skills. But the longer she thought about it, she decided not to ask why Neal had taken a shower while he was gone. It probably would be better not to know.
~*~*~
About twenty minutes later, Neal pulled the car into a stop right in front of the Burkes home and helped her gently upstairs. Once inside, they were greeted by an overjoyed Satchmo. "You want to change first? Or dinner?"
"You don't have to cook."
"Nah, I got that covered." He waved with one hand.
She watched him as he got outside and shook her head. Neal had been a great help the last two days and she had no clue how to thank him appropriately. Sighing she hobbled to the cupboard and got the dishes out. She had to talk to Peter in order to get Neal his well deserved reward. True to his words, Neal appeared a few moments later and carried a big Styrofoam box. "You keep surprising me," El said and pointed at the box. "What's in there?"
"Alright," he said. "I've got the whole menu from tonight. One for you and one for Peter. He can heat it up when he's home tomorrow." He placed the box on the table, but didn't open it.
"W-wait, why don't you stay?"
"Uhm, actually, I wanted to take Satch for walk while you are eating and then…," he looked at his watch and frowned, "…then it will be too late to get to the exhibition." He sighed and slumped his shoulders.
"Exhibition? You wanted to go to an exhibition this evening?"
"THE exhibition," he corrected her. "The Kandinsky collection. I've longed for this for months and tonight was the last date, but…," he took a deep breath and couldn't hide his disappointment, "…well, it seems that it wasn't meant to be."
A rush of guilt came over El. "Oh Neal," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you say something?" She went to him and touched his arm.
"I thought there would be enough time left, but Giancarlo and I were really busy in the kitchen and somehow I lost track of time," Neal smiled but his frustration was still evident.
Again, El was stunned. "You…were helping Giancarlo?" Suddenly an idea formed and her eyes got big because of her discovery. "That's why you had showered! You…were helping in the kitchen! You cooked!"
"I'm capable of doing that, yes."
"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "It's just…I…wow, I don't know what to say."
"But I do. Let's sit down and enjoy your meal before it gets cold." He opened the box and got some packages out which were wrapped with aluminum foil. Then he turned toward the lab. "Come on, buddy."
"Don't you want to eat something, too?"
"Oh, I'm good. I grabbed a little bit while cooking," he chuckled.
"I insist that you stay and get a decent meal," El answered and her voice didn't leave much room for interpretation.
"But Satch?"
"He can wait. Just let him outside in the backyard."
Neal nodded and opened the door. The lab quickly escaped outside and Neal closed the door again. "I’ll get something to drink. What do you want? I forgot to get a bottle from Mozzie."
"Believe it or not, but there are some bottles of wine in the Burke household waiting to be opened."
"I'm impressed."
After they had finished, Neal left with Satchmo while El changed into casual clothes. He returned thirty minutes later and was obviously in a better mood. Maybe the walk and the fresh air helped him to calm down. She smiled. "I'm still thrilled about the meal. It was delicious! I'm willing to get Giancarlo's service on more occasions," she told him and put the last item into the dishwasher.
"Why are you walking around? I would have taken care of the dishes."
"Neal, you've done more than enough already. Besides, it's a twisted ankle, for heaven's sake. It's not broken," she smiled and limped towards the couch.
"You were lucky. Imagine if it was really broken. That would have been nasty, I can tell you."
"You are speaking from experience?"
Neal hesitated. "I've had a broken arm as a kid. But I guess a broken ankle would be much worse."
El sat down and looked at Neal. "What happened?" She knew from Peter that Neal didn't talk much about his childhood, so she gave it a try.
Again, Neal seemed to weight his options. "It's late and I-" Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders then he sat down on the armchair. "Well, I was about eight and I wanted to impress the kids. So I took a belt and a drape and climbed up to the backyard shed. I felt damn cool with this…," he laughed, "…I thought I was Superman. I told them to watch and jumped. The result was a broken arm. But I've also got a kiss from one of the neighborhood girls." His grin was breathtaking and his eyes lit up with those memories.
El laughed out loud. "I can imagine this." She went silent for a moment. "You know, with those glasses on you really look like Clark Kent."
"I liked disguises. I always loved to pretend to be someone else."
"A superhero. Like your father." She knew that this topic was a sore spot for Neal, but she had the feeling that Neal was comfortable telling her this. Peter had spent hours talking about Neal's background with her while hunting him, but it was just two years ago that Neal had actually talked about his father at all.
"Probably. Just like any other kid, I guess."
"But unlike any other kid, you kept your way of living someone else's life."
"Yeah, I'm privileged."
"I thought more of a modern Peter Pan."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Of course." El leaned back on the couch and enjoyed the light conversation. "But your superman action wasn't the only stunt you pulled, right? I think you were quite a handful as a kid."
"It wasn't always easy growing up without a father," he confessed, his voice low.
"I guess so."
He started to laugh unexpectedly. "Once I fooled the Marshals and took a drive with the car from someone of the neighbors. At that time I was Earnhardt, you know? I took the opportunity and hit the road. Fast. Real fast. But I didn't see the ditch. First, I took out a mailbox, then I hit a fence and finally came to a stop in a barn. The cops came and called…," he stopped, swallowing had. "They informed my mother, but it was Ellen who lectured me."
El nodded sympathetically. The young man still mourned the death of his surrogate mother.
"At least I met the farmer's daughter," he smiled sadly.
She tried to lighten up the mood a bit as she replied, "You know, maybe that Earnhardt thing is the reason why Peter doesn't want you to drive the Ford."
A grin appeared on Neal's face. "He doesn't know about this." Then he frowned. "At least I think so."
"Speaking of Peter…," El continued, "…now I want to hear about him as a bartender…"
Chapter 4
Neal was sleeping in late, the Bureau having unexpectedly given him Friday off. He wondered if that meant trouble but nothing seemed in the offing so he lingered in bed, feeling tired. Surprising how honest work could be so exhausting, he thought muzzily. Glancing at the bedside clock, he was aghast to see it was already past noon. Strange nobody had called or made themselves at home. He indulged in a long shower and a leisurely breakfast. Checking his phone there had been another thank you message from Elizabeth but that was it. It was later in the day he started to feel that vague sense of unease; Peter was due back today. By now, Neal was feeling real remorse from his reckless actions the other day and he wondered if Peter would come back in a good mood or if the agent was still angry. He thought he might have won some brownie points by helping out Elizabeth however…
Who was he kidding? He would have helped Elizabeth out whether or not Peter was mad at him or being his best friend. Sometimes he wondered why he thought along those lines - but most of the time it was ingrained, a habit that could not be broken. Besides, that kind of thinking had helped him out of many of tight spot before.
Unconsciously he began to watch the time and then as the afternoon turned into evening and there was no call, Neal started to get miffed. Just use me and throw me away, like the Bureau, he thought sourly, deciding to build a wall of resentment. Moz called on nothing every important, Neal cut him off abruptly and then it was silence again.
By the time the phone rang Neal had worked himself into a snit but he still jumped at the first ring, cringing when his treacherous hand went ahead and answered the call. About time.
"Hey." A weary sounding Peter Burke greeted his rather snippy hello.
"How’s Elizabeth?" Neal asked.
"She’s all right; mending. And staying off her ankle today."
"She was talking about picking you up from the airport yesterday," Neal informed him.
"Incredible as it may be, I won that battle," Peter replied. "Flight was delayed a couple of times and it was hell to catch a shuttle by the time I made it to New York, but I finally got home a couple of hours ago."
"That’s nice," Neal said formally. "Glad you made it."
"Neal," Peter’s voice took on a new timbre, that serious, soft voice that meant pay attention, "I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. El tells me she could not have coped without you the other day. It, well, it means a lot to me that you came over."
For his part, Neal wasn’t sure if he was proud of the praise (well, yeah, he was, a little) or offended that Peter would think he would ever hesitate over something like this. "You know I would always be there for Elizabeth, don’t you?"
"Yes, I do," Peter replied quietly. "No matter what comes between us, I know you will always help El. But sometimes I do say thank you. When it’s not parole related of course," he added hastily.
Neal couldn’t help it; he laughed. "Killed you to say that, didn’t it?"
To his relief, there was laughter in Peter’s voice as well. "A little."
Neal shook his head. "Did you have a good time?"
"It was all right," Peter replied. "Didn’t do much though. Most of the stuff I already knew, for better or worse. But I mainly wanted to say thank you and ask what you are doing tomorrow night?"
"Well," Neal fought the urge to make to make up a story; nothing to be gained by admitting he was at loose ends. But, really, what was there to say? To his chagrin, he blurted the truth. "Nothing much, I guess."
"Well, El and I don’t want to interrupt your busy life but I guess we’re going to that, wait, what is it called, El?" Neal heard Elizabeth’s voice in the background with a smile, "Kandinsky exhibition and we wondered if you want to go along? They are having a special showing before it leaves."
"What? It is still here?" Neal blinked. "You are actually going?"
He could almost see Peter shrug. "I guess we owe you," he said glumly. Elizabeth exclaimed, "Peter!" in the background.
Neal laughed. "I am so totally there! You will love it Peter!" He proceeded to explain the exhibition’s many fine points to a completely unimpressed and tired Peter who, no longer willing to hear more, handed the phone to El.
~*~*~
"This is great. Isn’t this great? Don’t you just love the color?" Neal enthused to Peter, who walked along with his hands in his pockets, looking a bit bored. "Look at the originality!" Neal stopped to admire a huge wall sized mural.
Peter looked too, but he stood in astonishment, rather than admiration. "Somebody actually managed to make money throwing paint fastballs on a huge canvas? Wow, there has to be some sort of fraud in that," he added, his tone taking on a new measure of respect.
"You have no imagination," Neal informed him pompously.
Peter however, was still lost in his idea of money making. "You know I could get a bunch of different colors, have Satchmo run through them and make an obscene lot of money on multi colored dog prints. Throw some fancy title on it like The March of Society - and clean up the cash." He brightened. "Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all. It would certainly beat a government pension."
Neal looked annoyed. "You are a complete Philistine, you know. I think you should know that, in case no one has told you before."
Peter smirked. "Whatever."
They strolled on, arguing and walking. Elizabeth grinned as she sat in the coffee shop watching them. She had wanted to accompany them on the entire tour. However, her ankle had improved but was still on the sore side, so she decided to wait until they reached the special part of the exhibition, for wealthy patrons only. This part of the exhibition - the Kandinsky - had been held over without publicity and, as it happened, the part Neal most wanted to see. The museum had been justifiably nervous having Neal Caffrey, master thief and forger, attend their private showing but between her vouching for him and Peter’s shield, Peter had been able to swing it, with the proviso that he never leave Neal unattended. And it looked like Neal was supremely happy with the whole thing. Elizabeth was glad; he had really saved her the other day. It was the least she could do.
When they finally returned, Elizabeth got up to join them on the special exhibit. "Are you boys playing nice?" she asked formally.
"Elizabeth, we are having a wonderful time. Aren’t we, Peter?" Neal’s joy shone from his eyes.
"Yeah, cool," Peter said flatly, itching to check his phone for the Rangers score.
Elizabeth laughed and linked arms with Peter while giving Neal’s arm a squeeze.
Later, when they were nearly finished, Elizabeth stood next to Neal. "I hope this is some way conveys my thanks for all of your help, Neal. I literally could not have done it without you."
Neal shrugged but his smile betrayed his true feelings, an odd event for Neal Caffrey. "Well, I needed to get back in Peter’s good books."
El froze; please don’t let him mean that.
Observant as ever, Neal smiled again but this time it was a bit strained. "I guess that was a bad reason why, wasn’t it?"
"Kind of. But it wasn’t the only reason though, was it, Neal?" Elizabeth asked firmly.
Neal squirmed a bit but finally admitted, "No. Of course not. But I don’t know what Peter will say," he nodded to where Peter stood with a security guard, both trying to catch the hockey game on their phones, although Neal was never out of the agent’s sight.
"I think Peter is saying thank you," Elizabeth replied, with a small smile on her lips. "This may come as a surprise to you, but he doesn’t normally attend these kinds of shows."
Peter rejoined them as Neal chuckled. "Are we done here?" he asked hopefully.
Elizabeth glanced at Neal, questioning. "Well, we could do a little more in depth look at the Romantics section-"
Both he and Elizabeth laughed when they noticed Peter’s look of frozen horror. "No, we are done here," Neal relented but he took one last wistful look around.
"How about joining us for dinner tonight?" Peter asked hastily, not liking the look in Neal’s eyes.
"Sure. Where are you going?"
"We thought we’d let you pick," Elizabeth said firmly, with a sharp look at Peter, who nodded reluctantly.
Neal smiled. "I suppose we could try that new French place on 29th; their cuisine and wine list are said to be superb."
"Don’t you need reservations?" Peter asked quickly, hope rising in his voice.
Neal sighed. "Well, I could probably get us in without them." Noticing Peter’s look of disappointment and Elizabeth about to scold him for it, Neal quickly added, "Or we could go to that Italian place around the corner. The bar has a nice television."
"You might have mentioned that first," Peter grumbled.
Elizabeth shushed him. "It really is your choice tonight, Neal. Is that what you want?"
Neal glanced at Peter, who nodded, putting a good face on it. "She’s right. But don’t do anything illegal getting into that French place," he added hastily.
Neal smiled. "It’s okay. As it happens, I’m in the mood for Italian tonight."
"We can still make the fourth quarter,” Peter agreed enthusiastically. As they started to leave, he paused. “El, maybe we should get you a cab?"
"I’m fine; it will take longer to flag down a cab tonight than it’s worth. Just don’t walk at FBI speed, no matter how much you want to watch the fourth quarter."
Smiling, Peter put his arm around her shoulders and Neal led the way, opening the doors and chattering about the art, obviously in a good mood. Earlier, Peter had informed him there would be no formal reprimands for Neal on his actions earlier, but he had given Neal the ‘be careful’ speech, for the hundredth time so Neal claimed. Peter shot back that he wouldn’t have to do it so often if Neal would only listen the first time.
While they walked over to the restaurant, dodging the large crowds on Saturday night, Elizabeth turned to her husband. "By the way, I have an event coming up next month that I could really use an expert bartender, honey. Are you interested?"
"What?" Peter sputtered, Neal laughed, Peter glared, and Neal looked unconcerned. Elizabeth tightened her hold on her husband’s arm, smiling as Peter stammered through an explanation about the origins of Kevin the bartender.
It was funny; Elizabeth thought while walking between Peter and Neal, how such a bad week could end so well after all.
END