A Gentleman's Guide to Suits, Ties, and (White) Collars: 6/10
Title: A Gentleman's Guide to Suits, Ties, and (White) Collars
Chapter Title: The Way You Look Tonight
Fandom: Suits/White Collar Crossover
Pairing: Harvey/Mike, Peter/Neal, Diana/Christie
Wordcount: 3000 for this chapter, 18,500 total
Rating: T
Fic Summary: Harvey visits his good friend Peter at work, takes one look at Neal, and decides he wants one; that afternoon he hires Mike Ross. But when Mike ends up being more than a fling and tells Harvey he wants Peter and Neal to be as happy as they are, Harvey Specter somehow finds himself in the position of matchmaker at the world's craziest crossover dinner party.
Chapter Summary: The night of Harvey's party has finally arrived - Peter and Neal go on a very eventful ride with Diana, Christie, and a special guest appearance by New York's most dedicated limo driver.
One week later.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Harvey said, glancing around his newly decorated apartment with something akin to despair.
"Because you can't say no to me," Mike said with a grin.
Harvey seemed about to argue, but one look at the gigantic ice sculpture atop his dining room table caused him to deadpan instead, "So it would seem."
"And," Mike added, stepping forward to place his palms on Harvey's chest, "because underneath that perfectly tailored tuxedo jacket beats the heart of a man who actually cares about his friends and wants them to be happy."
"Oh, so you've got me all figured out, have you?" Harvey asked, cocking his head doubtfully to one side.
"I'm sorry to say that you are far less mysterious than you think you are," Mike retorted with a bright flash of a smile.
"Okay then,” Harvey challenged, crossing his arms, “What am I thinking right now?”
Mike looked him over appraisingly for just a second before leaning in to whisper, “You’re thinking that with the way that I look in this tuxedo you made me buy, you’re going to have an awfully hard time keeping up the fiction that we aren’t sleeping together.”
When Mike pulled back, he could see Harvey’s eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. “And you,” Harvey murmured, grabbing Mike’s hips and pulling them against his own, “are thinking that since I will be forced to keep my hands off you during the party, I would be a fool not to take advantage of the time we have now.”
“Harvey, you never told me you were psychic,” Mike exclaimed in mock amazement as he moved his hands around to the small of Harvey’s back. “But we only have fifteen minutes before the guests arrive.”
The grin which Harvey gave him was positively shark-like. “Then it’s a good thing,” he whispered, “they don’t just call me New York’s best closer for my legal abilities, isn’t it?”
One hour later, in a townhouse across town...
“I don’t see why I can’t just wear my normal work outfit,” Peter objected, as Neal wound the purple silk tie around his neck. “It's a suit!”
“First of all, that is seriously debatable,” Neal said with a small shudder. "Second, this is not the sort of event where a bordering-on-threadbare pants and jacket set from a place called Sal's Suit Barn is going to cut it."
"I'll have you know that I've worn this suit to many an office party and never gotten any complaints,” Peter objected a bit petulantly.
“Peter, this isn’t Norm the Mail Guy’s retirement bash,” Neal retorted impatiently as he affixed a cuff-link to Peter's reluctantly proffered wrist. "Pearson Hardman soirees are some of the ritziest in the city, and on the rare occasions that Harvey Specter throws one, no one can talk about anything else for at least a week. Honestly, I don't even think the doorman would let you in dressing how you normally do."
"Well, I'm sure that I could persuade him of my fashion sense by displaying an appropriate accessory," Peter said sarcastically, holding up his badge.
"It does go with everything,” Neal admitted with a mischievous smile as he tugged Peter’s jacket into place. “There, all finished. Now, was that really so bad?”
“I’ll let you know at the end of the night,” Peter said, turning to glance at his reflection in the full-length mirror before turning back to Neal. “All right,” he said, letting out a slightly nervous exhale, “be honest with me - how do I look?”
“Perfect,” Neal said quietly, sending Peter a taut little smile as he gave the jacket one more brush down. “You look perfect.”
Peter was puzzled by the aura of melancholy he could swear was lurking beneath his partner’s normally insouciant demeanor, but before he could ponder it further, there was a knock at the door.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came a pleasant female voice, which Peter recognized as June’s even before they both turned to look toward where she was standing in the doorway. “Oh, don’t you boys look so handsome!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly.
Neal’s grin returned as he strolled over to give June a quick peck on the cheek. “You sure you don’t want to come, June? Harvey said we could bring guests.”
“That is so sweet of you, Neal, dear,” she said, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze, “But I think I’d just be in the way, don’t you?” She shot Neal a little wink.
Peter was just about to ask exactly what she thought she would be getting in the way of when she went on, “Actually, I just came up to tell you boys that your ride is here.”
“Our ride?” Neal and Peter asked in near perfect unison, exchanging a pair of confused glances.
“It’s out front,” she called over her shoulder, turning to leave. “And I would hurry up if I were you - there are a pair of lovely ladies inside who probably don’t want to be kept waiting.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the party and this evening is already something out of Alice in Wonderland!” Peter exclaimed despairingly, once June was out of earshot. “Can’t we just stay here and watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”
“First of all, I always pick,” Neal retorted with a sly grin, “I just sometimes let you think that you do.”
Peter opened his mouth to argue against this claim, but Neal went on smoothly, “And second of all, we promised Harvey that we would be there, and you and I both know you are not the type of man who breaks promises.”
Neal knew he had him there. “Fine,” Peter grumbled, shuffling toward the door, “but I am making no further promises this evening, I’ll tell you that.”
“Deal,” Neal said with a smile, following him out into the hallway.
“Oh, and Neal?” Peter added a bit hesitantly as they both wound their way down the stairs.
“Yeah, Peter?” Neal turned his head to look inquiringly at his partner.
“Not that your ego needs any further bolstering but you...um...you look....good, too,” Peter said, surprised at the slight flush he could feel creeping into his cheeks.
“Well, thank you, Peter,” Neal said, sounding equally pleased and surprised. “I shall be filing that away for future use.”
“Yes, I thought you might be,” Peter deadpanned, but he couldn’t help smiling the second Neal had turned away to finish his descent down the stairs.
Each was so engrossed with winning their unofficial bantering contest that it took them a full ten seconds after leaving June’s front door to register the sumptuous stretch limo parked innocuously by the curb in front of the townhouse.
“What the -?” Peter exclaimed, his hand reaching instinctively for where his gun would otherwise have been.
“Easy, Butch,” Neal said, laying his hand on top of Peter’s. “I’m thinking this is just Harvey showing off.”
Peter raised his eyes to the heavens, silently asking what could have possessed him into agreeing to attend what would surely be a complete fiasco, and reluctantly followed Neal down to the limo. To his surprise, the door swung open from the inside, and a slightly tipsy female voice called out, “Party’s in here, boys!”
“Diana?” Peter asked incredulously as he slid beside his partner onto the black leather seat opposite her.
“Your friend Harvey sure knows how to show a girl a good time,” Diana said happily, gesturing emphatically with her champagne flute.
“And...in the interests of saving the limo’s upholstery from permanent injury, I think that’s quite enough of that,” Christie said firmly, grabbing the slender glass from her girlfriend’s hand and placing it gently on furthest flat surface possible.
“May I say that you ladies are twin visions of loveliness this evening?” Neal said gallantly, causing Peter to roll his eyes and mouth “show-off” at him.
"Well, thank you, Neal, that's very sweet," Christie said with a smile.
"Keep your purse close, Christie," Diana whispered loudly, eyeing Neal suspiciously. "Whenever he's being charming, it's usually not long before something in the vicinity goes missing."
"Why Agent Barrigan, you wound me!" Neal exclaimed, expending a lot of effort on looking maligned. “I would never thinking of stealing from a lady as gracious as your girlfriend. Peter, on the other hand...” Neal’s insulted expression shifted instantaneously to one of amused glee as he casually withdrew a battered leather wallet from inside his tuxedo jacket.
Peter’s eyes widened as he fruitlessly felt inside his jacket for where the wallet should have been and demanded, “When did you take that?”
Neal shrugged, still grinning impishly. “When I was brushing down your jacket. You really do make it a bit too easy sometimes.”
“Remind me why I asked you to come with me to this thing?” Peter asked a bit grumpily as he snatched the wallet from Neal’s hand and returned it to its rightful place inside his jacket.
“Because you are only marginally better at small talk than you are at flirting, and we all know how badly that always goes,” Neal said, shooting him a pointed look. Diana nodded fervently in agreement, while Christie gave Peter a small, apologetic smile.
“I think parties are always much more fun when you have someone you love being around to go with,” Christie mused thoughtfully. "That way, even if every other person there is a total boor, you're still in wonderful company."
Diana reached over to grasp Christie’s hand, and the look that passed between them was filled with such genuine affection that it caused a strange stirring in Peter’s chest that he was in no hurry to label.
He began to say something to Neal, but when he turned, his partner was gazing out the window, staring out at the passing city lights with uncharacteristic intensity.
Any effort Peter might have made to ascertain the source of his partner’s malaise was cut off when the barrier between the front and back seats lowered, and a cheerful, accented voice called out, “Hello!”
A universal reply of “Hello” sounded back to him, its component voices, Peter noted, ranging in enthusiasm from very - an alcohol-fueled Diana - to polite - a still uncharacteristically withdrawn Neal.
“Let’s get this party started!” the driver announced happily, turning on some upbeat, pulsating music. “I borrowed this CD from a young friend of mine. He calls it his “Get Psyched Mix.” You must tell me if it lives up to the name!”
“I love this song!” Diana shouted after a minute, beginning to dance as enthusiastically as she could while still remaining in her seat.
“What?” Peter yelled back, raising a hand to his ear to indicate he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“I said,” Diana, still dancing, shouted impatiently at an even louder volume, “that I love this song!”
Peter rolled his eyes and turned the music down to half volume, much to the dismay of a now-pouting Diana, to inquire of the driver, “Sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“I am Ranjit!” the driver called back. “My cousin Ray has been Mr. Specter’s driver for eight years now, and he usually requests my services when he has some extra special party guests.”
“Pleasure to meet you Ranjit,” Neal contributed, with, Peter was relieved to see, a smile once again on his face.
“And it is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caffrey,” Ranjit replied, turning and adding with a wink, “or should I say Mr. Bonds?”
“Look at that, Peter, I’m famous,” Neal said with a triumphant grin.
“Oh, yes!” Ranjit exclaimed eagerly, “I have read of your adventures in the newspapers many times. Such thrilling capers!”
“Yes, and did it happen to mention who managed to outsmart him and put an end to all those thrilling capers?” Peter interjected with a pointed look at Neal.
“I cannot recall,” Ranjit said off-handedly. “I remember thinking it seemed a pity, putting an end to the work of such an artist.”
Peter prevented an obviously thrilled Neal from contributing anything further to the discussion by adding sarcastically, “And a pity that this artist’s work got him three to five in prison.”
“Still, now you’re out of the big house and back on the streets again, Mr. Caffrey,” Ranjit went on, undeterred. “You belong to all the beautiful ladies of New York once more, eh?”
“Actually, for the past few years, he’s belonged exclusively to me,” Peter corrected, a tad more possessively than he’d meant to. He reddened when he saw the way Neal was looking at him and mumbled, “You know I didn’t mean it like that...”
“Oh, of course!” Ranjit said slowly, “Forgive me, I understand perfectly now. And may I say that after years of having to put up with ill-mannered businessmen, constantly jabbering away on their cellular phones, that it is a privilege to be able to drive two such handsome couples?”
Diana snorted into her hand at this and was elbowed in the ribs by Christie, who appeared to be suppressing a laugh of her own.
“One,” Peter corrected through gritted teeth, wondering despondently why this just kept happening to them.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Ranjit exclaimed. “The egg, is it ever on my face! Forgive me - I can never tell with you young ladies today.”
The laugh which Diana had been valiantly suppressing burst forth violently at this second declaration. Christie was helpless in the face of such overpowering amusement not to join in, and soon they were both doubled over in giggles, clutching one another for support. Even Neal couldn’t help but chuckle at the put-upon look on Peter’s face, although the laughter did not quite reach his eyes.
Before Peter could decide whether he wanted to brave a second attempt at correcting Ranjit’s assumption, the driver had stopped the car and called out, “Here we are - it is time to party!”, seemingly unaware of his mistake or the mirth it had stirred in some of the company.
After the four of them had murmured their thanks to Ranjit and extracted themselves from the cab - some with more difficulty than others - the little group made their way into the lobby of Harvey’s luxury apartment building.
“Is she going to be okay?” Peter asked Christie, glancing a bit doubtfully at where Diana was hanging on Christie’s shoulder and whispering something gleefully in her ear.
“You two go on up,” Christie said with a laugh, “A glass of water and a few minutes in the ladies room and she’ll be ready for action.”
Diana mumbled something about being very ready for action indeed as Christie maneuvered her toward the door to the restroom, throwing Neal and Peter an apologetic, but reassuring glance as they both continued inside.
Once the restroom door swung shut, however, all traces of Diana’s supposed intoxication melted instantaneously away. After extricating herself from her girlfriend, smoothing out her dress, and refreshing her lipstick, Diana raised a hand to her ear and murmured in a low voice, “Connery, come in Connery, can you hear me?”
She waited a few seconds, then went on, “Newman and Redford are headed up now. Everything went as planned in the limo - now it’s your turn.”
Another few seconds, a small smile. “I’ll tell her. See you in a few.”
Diana lowered her hand from her ear and turned to tell her girlfriend, “Harvey says thanks again for helping.”
“Well, he’s very welcome,” Christie said warmly. “I’m happy to do my part to help the course of true love run smooth.”
“Yes, well, how smooth it’s running remains to be seen,” Diana said dryly, “But no one can say we didn’t try.”
“Speaking of trying, shouldn’t we get up there? Neal and Peter will be wondering where we are.”
“Believe me, with what’s waiting for them up there, they will have forgotten entirely about us within the space of five minutes,” Diana assured her. “Besides, with all the rushing around tonight, I never got a chance to tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress.”
“Neal said I was a vision of loveliness,” Christie said with false smugness, “I think gorgeous might be a step down.”
“Well, then,” Diana said with a mischievous grin, taking a few steps toward her girlfriend, “If telling isn’t enough, I guess I’m going to have to show you.”
If the two security guards in the lobby thought the two well-dressed women in Mr. Specter’s party spent a disproportionate amount of time in that bathroom - and looked distinctly more rumpled when they came out than when they went in - well, they were far too well trained to say anything about it.
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As he and Neal ascended toward Harvey’s penthouse in a stylish, if slightly terrifying glass elevator, Peter began to rummage frantically in his tuxedo jacket.
“What are you looking for now, Peter?” Neal asked, glancing at his partner with amusement.
“My phone,” Peter said absently, finally pulling it out with an exclamation of triumph. “I want to make sure it’s on in case someone from the office calls with an emergency.”
“Give me that,” Neal said firmly as he snatched the phone from Peter’s hand before Peter could stop him, adding over the other man’s protests, “You can have it back at the end of the night. Are you really that desperate not to go to this party?”
Peter said nothing, but purposefully diverted his gaze from Neal’s, exhibiting an intense, unprecedented interest in his shoes.
“God, you really are nervous, aren’t you?” Neal asked, realization dawning on him.
“Of course not,” Peter, letting out an unconvincing laugh. “I get guns pointed at me on a daily basis, Neal, why on earth would I be scared of making small talk with a bunch of entitled lawyers in tuxedos?”
“You know how to handle guns,” Neal observed, “But cocktail party conversation? Definitely outside your comfort zone.”
Peter crossed his arms defensively, and Neal pivoted so they were facing one another before saying, “Look, you’re going to be great, okay? It’s just a party.”
“Easy for you to say,” Peter muttered, “I don’t think I’ve met a person yet you haven’t managed to charm in under five minutes.”
“Then it stands to reason that you’ll be just fine if you stick with me, then, doesn’t it?” Neal said rationally. It was at this moment that the elevator doors opened with a subdued ding, and Neal took the opportunity to slip his arm through Peter’s and half lead, half drag him toward Harvey’s door.
“Cheer up - it can’t be as bad as you’re thinking it will be,” Neal said reassuringly, rapping twice on the door.
After a few seconds, it was opened by the host himself, his face wreathed in a devilish smile. “Hello boys,” he said wickedly, “Welcome to the inferno.”
Neal instinctively tightened his grip on Peter’s arm enough to foil what he foresaw as an inevitable escape attempt, and, with a pointed look at his partner, tugged him inside.
Chapter Title: The Way You Look Tonight
Fandom: Suits/White Collar Crossover
Pairing: Harvey/Mike, Peter/Neal, Diana/Christie
Wordcount: 3000 for this chapter, 18,500 total
Rating: T
Fic Summary: Harvey visits his good friend Peter at work, takes one look at Neal, and decides he wants one; that afternoon he hires Mike Ross. But when Mike ends up being more than a fling and tells Harvey he wants Peter and Neal to be as happy as they are, Harvey Specter somehow finds himself in the position of matchmaker at the world's craziest crossover dinner party.
Chapter Summary: The night of Harvey's party has finally arrived - Peter and Neal go on a very eventful ride with Diana, Christie, and a special guest appearance by New York's most dedicated limo driver.
One week later.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again," Harvey said, glancing around his newly decorated apartment with something akin to despair.
"Because you can't say no to me," Mike said with a grin.
Harvey seemed about to argue, but one look at the gigantic ice sculpture atop his dining room table caused him to deadpan instead, "So it would seem."
"And," Mike added, stepping forward to place his palms on Harvey's chest, "because underneath that perfectly tailored tuxedo jacket beats the heart of a man who actually cares about his friends and wants them to be happy."
"Oh, so you've got me all figured out, have you?" Harvey asked, cocking his head doubtfully to one side.
"I'm sorry to say that you are far less mysterious than you think you are," Mike retorted with a bright flash of a smile.
"Okay then,” Harvey challenged, crossing his arms, “What am I thinking right now?”
Mike looked him over appraisingly for just a second before leaning in to whisper, “You’re thinking that with the way that I look in this tuxedo you made me buy, you’re going to have an awfully hard time keeping up the fiction that we aren’t sleeping together.”
When Mike pulled back, he could see Harvey’s eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. “And you,” Harvey murmured, grabbing Mike’s hips and pulling them against his own, “are thinking that since I will be forced to keep my hands off you during the party, I would be a fool not to take advantage of the time we have now.”
“Harvey, you never told me you were psychic,” Mike exclaimed in mock amazement as he moved his hands around to the small of Harvey’s back. “But we only have fifteen minutes before the guests arrive.”
The grin which Harvey gave him was positively shark-like. “Then it’s a good thing,” he whispered, “they don’t just call me New York’s best closer for my legal abilities, isn’t it?”
One hour later, in a townhouse across town...
“I don’t see why I can’t just wear my normal work outfit,” Peter objected, as Neal wound the purple silk tie around his neck. “It's a suit!”
“First of all, that is seriously debatable,” Neal said with a small shudder. "Second, this is not the sort of event where a bordering-on-threadbare pants and jacket set from a place called Sal's Suit Barn is going to cut it."
"I'll have you know that I've worn this suit to many an office party and never gotten any complaints,” Peter objected a bit petulantly.
“Peter, this isn’t Norm the Mail Guy’s retirement bash,” Neal retorted impatiently as he affixed a cuff-link to Peter's reluctantly proffered wrist. "Pearson Hardman soirees are some of the ritziest in the city, and on the rare occasions that Harvey Specter throws one, no one can talk about anything else for at least a week. Honestly, I don't even think the doorman would let you in dressing how you normally do."
"Well, I'm sure that I could persuade him of my fashion sense by displaying an appropriate accessory," Peter said sarcastically, holding up his badge.
"It does go with everything,” Neal admitted with a mischievous smile as he tugged Peter’s jacket into place. “There, all finished. Now, was that really so bad?”
“I’ll let you know at the end of the night,” Peter said, turning to glance at his reflection in the full-length mirror before turning back to Neal. “All right,” he said, letting out a slightly nervous exhale, “be honest with me - how do I look?”
“Perfect,” Neal said quietly, sending Peter a taut little smile as he gave the jacket one more brush down. “You look perfect.”
Peter was puzzled by the aura of melancholy he could swear was lurking beneath his partner’s normally insouciant demeanor, but before he could ponder it further, there was a knock at the door.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came a pleasant female voice, which Peter recognized as June’s even before they both turned to look toward where she was standing in the doorway. “Oh, don’t you boys look so handsome!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly.
Neal’s grin returned as he strolled over to give June a quick peck on the cheek. “You sure you don’t want to come, June? Harvey said we could bring guests.”
“That is so sweet of you, Neal, dear,” she said, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze, “But I think I’d just be in the way, don’t you?” She shot Neal a little wink.
Peter was just about to ask exactly what she thought she would be getting in the way of when she went on, “Actually, I just came up to tell you boys that your ride is here.”
“Our ride?” Neal and Peter asked in near perfect unison, exchanging a pair of confused glances.
“It’s out front,” she called over her shoulder, turning to leave. “And I would hurry up if I were you - there are a pair of lovely ladies inside who probably don’t want to be kept waiting.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the party and this evening is already something out of Alice in Wonderland!” Peter exclaimed despairingly, once June was out of earshot. “Can’t we just stay here and watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”
“First of all, I always pick,” Neal retorted with a sly grin, “I just sometimes let you think that you do.”
Peter opened his mouth to argue against this claim, but Neal went on smoothly, “And second of all, we promised Harvey that we would be there, and you and I both know you are not the type of man who breaks promises.”
Neal knew he had him there. “Fine,” Peter grumbled, shuffling toward the door, “but I am making no further promises this evening, I’ll tell you that.”
“Deal,” Neal said with a smile, following him out into the hallway.
“Oh, and Neal?” Peter added a bit hesitantly as they both wound their way down the stairs.
“Yeah, Peter?” Neal turned his head to look inquiringly at his partner.
“Not that your ego needs any further bolstering but you...um...you look....good, too,” Peter said, surprised at the slight flush he could feel creeping into his cheeks.
“Well, thank you, Peter,” Neal said, sounding equally pleased and surprised. “I shall be filing that away for future use.”
“Yes, I thought you might be,” Peter deadpanned, but he couldn’t help smiling the second Neal had turned away to finish his descent down the stairs.
Each was so engrossed with winning their unofficial bantering contest that it took them a full ten seconds after leaving June’s front door to register the sumptuous stretch limo parked innocuously by the curb in front of the townhouse.
“What the -?” Peter exclaimed, his hand reaching instinctively for where his gun would otherwise have been.
“Easy, Butch,” Neal said, laying his hand on top of Peter’s. “I’m thinking this is just Harvey showing off.”
Peter raised his eyes to the heavens, silently asking what could have possessed him into agreeing to attend what would surely be a complete fiasco, and reluctantly followed Neal down to the limo. To his surprise, the door swung open from the inside, and a slightly tipsy female voice called out, “Party’s in here, boys!”
“Diana?” Peter asked incredulously as he slid beside his partner onto the black leather seat opposite her.
“Your friend Harvey sure knows how to show a girl a good time,” Diana said happily, gesturing emphatically with her champagne flute.
“And...in the interests of saving the limo’s upholstery from permanent injury, I think that’s quite enough of that,” Christie said firmly, grabbing the slender glass from her girlfriend’s hand and placing it gently on furthest flat surface possible.
“May I say that you ladies are twin visions of loveliness this evening?” Neal said gallantly, causing Peter to roll his eyes and mouth “show-off” at him.
"Well, thank you, Neal, that's very sweet," Christie said with a smile.
"Keep your purse close, Christie," Diana whispered loudly, eyeing Neal suspiciously. "Whenever he's being charming, it's usually not long before something in the vicinity goes missing."
"Why Agent Barrigan, you wound me!" Neal exclaimed, expending a lot of effort on looking maligned. “I would never thinking of stealing from a lady as gracious as your girlfriend. Peter, on the other hand...” Neal’s insulted expression shifted instantaneously to one of amused glee as he casually withdrew a battered leather wallet from inside his tuxedo jacket.
Peter’s eyes widened as he fruitlessly felt inside his jacket for where the wallet should have been and demanded, “When did you take that?”
Neal shrugged, still grinning impishly. “When I was brushing down your jacket. You really do make it a bit too easy sometimes.”
“Remind me why I asked you to come with me to this thing?” Peter asked a bit grumpily as he snatched the wallet from Neal’s hand and returned it to its rightful place inside his jacket.
“Because you are only marginally better at small talk than you are at flirting, and we all know how badly that always goes,” Neal said, shooting him a pointed look. Diana nodded fervently in agreement, while Christie gave Peter a small, apologetic smile.
“I think parties are always much more fun when you have someone you love being around to go with,” Christie mused thoughtfully. "That way, even if every other person there is a total boor, you're still in wonderful company."
Diana reached over to grasp Christie’s hand, and the look that passed between them was filled with such genuine affection that it caused a strange stirring in Peter’s chest that he was in no hurry to label.
He began to say something to Neal, but when he turned, his partner was gazing out the window, staring out at the passing city lights with uncharacteristic intensity.
Any effort Peter might have made to ascertain the source of his partner’s malaise was cut off when the barrier between the front and back seats lowered, and a cheerful, accented voice called out, “Hello!”
A universal reply of “Hello” sounded back to him, its component voices, Peter noted, ranging in enthusiasm from very - an alcohol-fueled Diana - to polite - a still uncharacteristically withdrawn Neal.
“Let’s get this party started!” the driver announced happily, turning on some upbeat, pulsating music. “I borrowed this CD from a young friend of mine. He calls it his “Get Psyched Mix.” You must tell me if it lives up to the name!”
“I love this song!” Diana shouted after a minute, beginning to dance as enthusiastically as she could while still remaining in her seat.
“What?” Peter yelled back, raising a hand to his ear to indicate he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“I said,” Diana, still dancing, shouted impatiently at an even louder volume, “that I love this song!”
Peter rolled his eyes and turned the music down to half volume, much to the dismay of a now-pouting Diana, to inquire of the driver, “Sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“I am Ranjit!” the driver called back. “My cousin Ray has been Mr. Specter’s driver for eight years now, and he usually requests my services when he has some extra special party guests.”
“Pleasure to meet you Ranjit,” Neal contributed, with, Peter was relieved to see, a smile once again on his face.
“And it is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caffrey,” Ranjit replied, turning and adding with a wink, “or should I say Mr. Bonds?”
“Look at that, Peter, I’m famous,” Neal said with a triumphant grin.
“Oh, yes!” Ranjit exclaimed eagerly, “I have read of your adventures in the newspapers many times. Such thrilling capers!”
“Yes, and did it happen to mention who managed to outsmart him and put an end to all those thrilling capers?” Peter interjected with a pointed look at Neal.
“I cannot recall,” Ranjit said off-handedly. “I remember thinking it seemed a pity, putting an end to the work of such an artist.”
Peter prevented an obviously thrilled Neal from contributing anything further to the discussion by adding sarcastically, “And a pity that this artist’s work got him three to five in prison.”
“Still, now you’re out of the big house and back on the streets again, Mr. Caffrey,” Ranjit went on, undeterred. “You belong to all the beautiful ladies of New York once more, eh?”
“Actually, for the past few years, he’s belonged exclusively to me,” Peter corrected, a tad more possessively than he’d meant to. He reddened when he saw the way Neal was looking at him and mumbled, “You know I didn’t mean it like that...”
“Oh, of course!” Ranjit said slowly, “Forgive me, I understand perfectly now. And may I say that after years of having to put up with ill-mannered businessmen, constantly jabbering away on their cellular phones, that it is a privilege to be able to drive two such handsome couples?”
Diana snorted into her hand at this and was elbowed in the ribs by Christie, who appeared to be suppressing a laugh of her own.
“One,” Peter corrected through gritted teeth, wondering despondently why this just kept happening to them.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Ranjit exclaimed. “The egg, is it ever on my face! Forgive me - I can never tell with you young ladies today.”
The laugh which Diana had been valiantly suppressing burst forth violently at this second declaration. Christie was helpless in the face of such overpowering amusement not to join in, and soon they were both doubled over in giggles, clutching one another for support. Even Neal couldn’t help but chuckle at the put-upon look on Peter’s face, although the laughter did not quite reach his eyes.
Before Peter could decide whether he wanted to brave a second attempt at correcting Ranjit’s assumption, the driver had stopped the car and called out, “Here we are - it is time to party!”, seemingly unaware of his mistake or the mirth it had stirred in some of the company.
After the four of them had murmured their thanks to Ranjit and extracted themselves from the cab - some with more difficulty than others - the little group made their way into the lobby of Harvey’s luxury apartment building.
“Is she going to be okay?” Peter asked Christie, glancing a bit doubtfully at where Diana was hanging on Christie’s shoulder and whispering something gleefully in her ear.
“You two go on up,” Christie said with a laugh, “A glass of water and a few minutes in the ladies room and she’ll be ready for action.”
Diana mumbled something about being very ready for action indeed as Christie maneuvered her toward the door to the restroom, throwing Neal and Peter an apologetic, but reassuring glance as they both continued inside.
Once the restroom door swung shut, however, all traces of Diana’s supposed intoxication melted instantaneously away. After extricating herself from her girlfriend, smoothing out her dress, and refreshing her lipstick, Diana raised a hand to her ear and murmured in a low voice, “Connery, come in Connery, can you hear me?”
She waited a few seconds, then went on, “Newman and Redford are headed up now. Everything went as planned in the limo - now it’s your turn.”
Another few seconds, a small smile. “I’ll tell her. See you in a few.”
Diana lowered her hand from her ear and turned to tell her girlfriend, “Harvey says thanks again for helping.”
“Well, he’s very welcome,” Christie said warmly. “I’m happy to do my part to help the course of true love run smooth.”
“Yes, well, how smooth it’s running remains to be seen,” Diana said dryly, “But no one can say we didn’t try.”
“Speaking of trying, shouldn’t we get up there? Neal and Peter will be wondering where we are.”
“Believe me, with what’s waiting for them up there, they will have forgotten entirely about us within the space of five minutes,” Diana assured her. “Besides, with all the rushing around tonight, I never got a chance to tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress.”
“Neal said I was a vision of loveliness,” Christie said with false smugness, “I think gorgeous might be a step down.”
“Well, then,” Diana said with a mischievous grin, taking a few steps toward her girlfriend, “If telling isn’t enough, I guess I’m going to have to show you.”
If the two security guards in the lobby thought the two well-dressed women in Mr. Specter’s party spent a disproportionate amount of time in that bathroom - and looked distinctly more rumpled when they came out than when they went in - well, they were far too well trained to say anything about it.
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As he and Neal ascended toward Harvey’s penthouse in a stylish, if slightly terrifying glass elevator, Peter began to rummage frantically in his tuxedo jacket.
“What are you looking for now, Peter?” Neal asked, glancing at his partner with amusement.
“My phone,” Peter said absently, finally pulling it out with an exclamation of triumph. “I want to make sure it’s on in case someone from the office calls with an emergency.”
“Give me that,” Neal said firmly as he snatched the phone from Peter’s hand before Peter could stop him, adding over the other man’s protests, “You can have it back at the end of the night. Are you really that desperate not to go to this party?”
Peter said nothing, but purposefully diverted his gaze from Neal’s, exhibiting an intense, unprecedented interest in his shoes.
“God, you really are nervous, aren’t you?” Neal asked, realization dawning on him.
“Of course not,” Peter, letting out an unconvincing laugh. “I get guns pointed at me on a daily basis, Neal, why on earth would I be scared of making small talk with a bunch of entitled lawyers in tuxedos?”
“You know how to handle guns,” Neal observed, “But cocktail party conversation? Definitely outside your comfort zone.”
Peter crossed his arms defensively, and Neal pivoted so they were facing one another before saying, “Look, you’re going to be great, okay? It’s just a party.”
“Easy for you to say,” Peter muttered, “I don’t think I’ve met a person yet you haven’t managed to charm in under five minutes.”
“Then it stands to reason that you’ll be just fine if you stick with me, then, doesn’t it?” Neal said rationally. It was at this moment that the elevator doors opened with a subdued ding, and Neal took the opportunity to slip his arm through Peter’s and half lead, half drag him toward Harvey’s door.
“Cheer up - it can’t be as bad as you’re thinking it will be,” Neal said reassuringly, rapping twice on the door.
After a few seconds, it was opened by the host himself, his face wreathed in a devilish smile. “Hello boys,” he said wickedly, “Welcome to the inferno.”
Neal instinctively tightened his grip on Peter’s arm enough to foil what he foresaw as an inevitable escape attempt, and, with a pointed look at his partner, tugged him inside.