NCIS: LA/White Collar, G Callen/Neal Caffrey - "AKA."
I found today's prompt to be most intriguing. from thefannishwaldo: NCIS: LA/White Collar, G Callen/Neal Caffrey, sometimes it's just so much *easier* to be someone else. set after "WC" ep 1x04 - "Flip of the Coin," but there is nothing particularly spoilery here.
AKA
"Answer a question for me: If a guy walks into a hotel bar, sits down next to you and says, 'hey, don't I know you from somewhere?' would you just assume that he was hitting on you?"
"Look, buddy, I'm really flattered, but - " Neal started, then stopped when he saw who was sitting next to him at said bar.
"So I'm guessing that was a yes," G grinned, signalling for the bartender and ordering a drink for himself and a refill for Neal. When the guy had gone to get their drinks, he leaned towards Neal and asked, "Come here often?"
"More often than you, I'd say," Neal said, flashing a grin at the cheesy line. "Aren't you on the wrong coast?"
"Don't tell anyone," G said, conspiratorially, "but they let me off the leash, every once in a while."
"Must be nice," Neal smiled into his glass. "So what brings you to New York, business or pleasure?"
"Mostly business, but you never know," G said. He tipped the bartender when he brought the drinks, and took a sip. "I'm always up for whatever crosses my path."
"So I remember."
"What about you? I hope that pretty girl I just scared away wasn't an important part of your day?"
"Purely opportunistic," Neal shook his head, glancing over his shoulder, to where the girl he'd been asking the time had been replaced by a burly businessman pounding scotch like his life depended on it. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Lucky guy," G said.
"How'd you know it's a guy?"
"Call it instinct," G said. "So, tell me something - what do you hear about the world of Middle Eastern antiquities?"
"Very little," Neal said, not missing a beat. "Why, are you in the market?"
"You know me. I'm always open for an opportunity."
"Yeah, I remember that too," Neal nodded. "Wish I could help you out."
"Oh, well," G said. "You win some, you lose some." He reached for his wallet and pulled out a random slip of paper, asked the bartender for a pen, and wrote a phone number on it. "Here," he said, sliding the paper along the bar to Neal. "Just in case you hear something in the next few days. Give me a call."
"Sure," Neal said, picking it up. "My hearing's pretty bad these days, but you never know." He folded up the paper and slid it into his breast pocket.
"Another?" G asked, draining his glass.
"Actually - " Neal was looking over G's shoulder, towards the entrance to the bar. "Peter," he said, overly enthusiastic, throwing the G-man a pointed look. "Meet my friend. Tony Zito, this is Peter Burke."
"Mr. Burke," G held out his hand. "Pleasure."
"Please, call me Peter," Peter shook with him. "Any friend of - "
"Peter," Neal interrupted him, "we should probably get going, right? We have that meeting."
"I don't want to keep you," G said. He signalled the bartender again, indicating he wanted another drink.
"It was good to see you, Tony," Neal said, "enjoy your stay in New York."
"You too, Nick," G said. "Peter."
Neal pulled Peter away before he had a chance to say anything else. "That guy was a friend of Nick Halden?" Peter asked, when they were out of earshot. "Is this someone I should be having Jones check out?"
"Could I stop you?" Neal asked him, surprised. "You're not going to find a lot. He's one of you."
"He's a Fed?" Peter asked, shocked.
"Of some kind. I don't know that he's your acronym _specifically_, but he's definitely one of them."
"Huh," Peter said. "Do I want to know how you met?"
"It's a pretty boring story," Neal said. "It was this three-day party on this yacht full of Eastern European businessmen. And supermodels. And I think someone brought a cheetah."
"I'm assuming that you weren't interested in the supermodels or the cheetah," Peter said, dryly.
"I'm not _uninterested_ in supermodels," Neal said, with a slightly defensive shrug. "Although that might not have been my _primary_ reason for being there," he allowed.
Peter shook his head, although he was smiling. "Uhhuh. And you know he's a Fed because - "
"Let's just say he got me out of a tight spot, once. Technically, I wasn't doing anything specifically illegal, considering that we were more than five miles offshore at the time."
"Right," Peter said.
Neal just grinned. "Isn't that our guy?" he asked, of a man standing across from them in the hotel lobby, thankful when Peter was distracted back to their own case, and away from his 'old friend' at the bar.
AKA
"Answer a question for me: If a guy walks into a hotel bar, sits down next to you and says, 'hey, don't I know you from somewhere?' would you just assume that he was hitting on you?"
"Look, buddy, I'm really flattered, but - " Neal started, then stopped when he saw who was sitting next to him at said bar.
"So I'm guessing that was a yes," G grinned, signalling for the bartender and ordering a drink for himself and a refill for Neal. When the guy had gone to get their drinks, he leaned towards Neal and asked, "Come here often?"
"More often than you, I'd say," Neal said, flashing a grin at the cheesy line. "Aren't you on the wrong coast?"
"Don't tell anyone," G said, conspiratorially, "but they let me off the leash, every once in a while."
"Must be nice," Neal smiled into his glass. "So what brings you to New York, business or pleasure?"
"Mostly business, but you never know," G said. He tipped the bartender when he brought the drinks, and took a sip. "I'm always up for whatever crosses my path."
"So I remember."
"What about you? I hope that pretty girl I just scared away wasn't an important part of your day?"
"Purely opportunistic," Neal shook his head, glancing over his shoulder, to where the girl he'd been asking the time had been replaced by a burly businessman pounding scotch like his life depended on it. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Lucky guy," G said.
"How'd you know it's a guy?"
"Call it instinct," G said. "So, tell me something - what do you hear about the world of Middle Eastern antiquities?"
"Very little," Neal said, not missing a beat. "Why, are you in the market?"
"You know me. I'm always open for an opportunity."
"Yeah, I remember that too," Neal nodded. "Wish I could help you out."
"Oh, well," G said. "You win some, you lose some." He reached for his wallet and pulled out a random slip of paper, asked the bartender for a pen, and wrote a phone number on it. "Here," he said, sliding the paper along the bar to Neal. "Just in case you hear something in the next few days. Give me a call."
"Sure," Neal said, picking it up. "My hearing's pretty bad these days, but you never know." He folded up the paper and slid it into his breast pocket.
"Another?" G asked, draining his glass.
"Actually - " Neal was looking over G's shoulder, towards the entrance to the bar. "Peter," he said, overly enthusiastic, throwing the G-man a pointed look. "Meet my friend. Tony Zito, this is Peter Burke."
"Mr. Burke," G held out his hand. "Pleasure."
"Please, call me Peter," Peter shook with him. "Any friend of - "
"Peter," Neal interrupted him, "we should probably get going, right? We have that meeting."
"I don't want to keep you," G said. He signalled the bartender again, indicating he wanted another drink.
"It was good to see you, Tony," Neal said, "enjoy your stay in New York."
"You too, Nick," G said. "Peter."
Neal pulled Peter away before he had a chance to say anything else. "That guy was a friend of Nick Halden?" Peter asked, when they were out of earshot. "Is this someone I should be having Jones check out?"
"Could I stop you?" Neal asked him, surprised. "You're not going to find a lot. He's one of you."
"He's a Fed?" Peter asked, shocked.
"Of some kind. I don't know that he's your acronym _specifically_, but he's definitely one of them."
"Huh," Peter said. "Do I want to know how you met?"
"It's a pretty boring story," Neal said. "It was this three-day party on this yacht full of Eastern European businessmen. And supermodels. And I think someone brought a cheetah."
"I'm assuming that you weren't interested in the supermodels or the cheetah," Peter said, dryly.
"I'm not _uninterested_ in supermodels," Neal said, with a slightly defensive shrug. "Although that might not have been my _primary_ reason for being there," he allowed.
Peter shook his head, although he was smiling. "Uhhuh. And you know he's a Fed because - "
"Let's just say he got me out of a tight spot, once. Technically, I wasn't doing anything specifically illegal, considering that we were more than five miles offshore at the time."
"Right," Peter said.
Neal just grinned. "Isn't that our guy?" he asked, of a man standing across from them in the hotel lobby, thankful when Peter was distracted back to their own case, and away from his 'old friend' at the bar.