[fic] doctor who/white collar - team bonding - pg - diana/christie, canton/oc
Title: Team Bonding
Fandom: Doctor Who/White Collar
Characters: Canton, David, Diana, Christie
Length: ~2000
Summary: Canton and David are stuck in New York in 2011 while two versions of the Doctor cross paths. They make some friends.
Notes: For such_heights on the occasion of her birthday! I met Amy at a con a little over a year ago, and who knew I had a such_heights-shaped hole in my heart until then? HAPPY BIRTHDAY! This takes place in the same universe as my Peter Burke is the Doctor fic and also as my other Canton fics. Thanks to neurotictealeaf for the beta and mcwonthelottery for reading bits of it over at various points in the process. Also, she gets full credit for the idea. ♥
***
"So you're friends with Peter and Elizabeth, then?"
Canton looked up from his drink. The pretty young agent that the Doctor--that the other Doctor--that Peter Burke had quickly introduced as Diana Barrigan was standing next to his table. She was using the same half smile, half calculating stare that Canton found himself frequently flashing at his former co-workers.
He liked her already.
"Something like that," he said. "We have been friends. Or we will be friends." He figured the bar was loud enough to cover, so he added, "Time travel," and shrugged.
"Right," Barrigan said. She frowned and took a seat across from him. "I'm still not entirely following that part, but Peter's never let me down. Or whatever his name is."
"Go with Peter," Canton advised her. "It's easier when there aren't two of everyone with the same name and the same face running around. Believe me, that's a trip. You're lucky that your Doc--Peter--looks different than ours."
Barrigan rubbed her forehead with a knuckle but, on the whole, was taking this conversation a lot better than he would have guessed. The Bureau had come a long way in 42 years.
"Another Scotch," David said, returning to the table and placing the drink in front of Canton. "And a water for me, because one of us should have a clear head if we're going to figure this thing out."
Canton slid down the booth, making room for David, and rolling his eyes.
"We don't need to figure it out," Canton said. "Amy said--"
"Amy said this Doctor needs to do something with his version of the TARDIS in order for ours to stabilize long enough to anchor itself here and stop fading in and out of the time vortex, hopefully long enough for the three of us to get inside," David said. He could roll his eyes to just as great effect as Canton, and did so frequently. "But when has the Doctor's plan ever gone exactly as predicted? Especially when there are two of them."
"Point," Canton said, but it didn't stop him from raising his glass. "Diana Barrigan, right?" he asked, and Barrigan nodded. "Right. Special Agent Diana Barrigan. Dr. David Bishop. Agent Barrigan works with the Doctor--erm, sorry, with Peter Burke here in New York in 2011. David and I have been traveling with my version of the Doctor--Peter--and the Ponds for the past few months."
"And you're originally from 1969," Barrigan said.
"Yes," said David.
"And, speaking of, I've finally taken you to New York," Canton said. "I'm sure it's a lot more impressive in 2011 than it was in 1969. Now you can stop bugging me about it."
"I wasn't bugging you," David said. "I wasn't looking for a vacation, I was looking for--I don't know what I was looking for."
David sighed and looked into his water. Canton sighed as well and offered Barrigan a half shrug. David wasn't entirely pleased with their impromptu pit stop. He was afraid they'd be stuck forever. Canton wasn't entirely convinced that would be a bad thing, but, more importantly, with two TARDISes within five miles of each other, he had a feeling they'd get home one way or another.
"It must be tough," Barrigan said. "In 1969, I mean. It's hard enough being gay and in law enforcement in 2011, and I work for Peter. I don't know how you managed back then."
Canton raised his eyebrows. Beside him, David looked up again. So that's what the Doc--Peter had meant when he said they'd have a lot to talk about. He wondered how she knew--if it was the obviously tired argument, if they were sitting closer than they should have been, if he'd been looking at David with that expression that Sally always told him to keep behind closed doors. Maybe all of the traveling, most of it to places where no one cared about the relationship between two human men, was making them sloppy. Maybe it was just a reasonable conclusion to jump to in 2011. Maybe they were always like this, but in 1969 it was unthinkable, so no one called them on it.
"I... didn't," Canton said. "Got myself kicked out."
"That sucks," Barrigan said. "Sorry."
"No big loss," Canton lied. "I didn't like most of the people I was working with, anyway, and I'm sure they weren't sad to see me go."
"Still," Barrigan said, "I know what it's like when you love the work, even if you hate the people, and you have to make a decision." She twisted the ring on her left hand and Canton paused to put all the pieces together. Barrigan wore a ring on her left ring finger and had just told them she was a homosexual. She implied that it was public knowledge.
"Are you... married?" Canton asked as casually as he could.
"Yeah," Barrigan replied, almost shyly. "Not here, not yet. But in DC before we moved back here."
"You got married in the District?" Canton asked flatly. That cinched it. This girl was essentially living Canton's perfect life.
Well, except for the part where she didn't get to travel time and space on a regular basis, but the Doctor was her boss. It was only a matter of time, really.
He should have been jealous, but he was surprised to find that he was mostly...relieved. Happy that things were going to change one day. Glad that this girl got to take advantage of it.
And, okay, a little jealous.
"Hey, you guys want to get out of here?" she asked, looking back and forth between them.
"The Doctor told us to stay put," David said.
"Well, Peter told me to look out for you," she said. "And since they're the same person, I think we can get away to moving the party away from the screaming Mets fans. Besides, I've got better Scotch at my place."
"Well, then," Canton said. "Who are we to argue? Lead the way, Agent Barrigan."
"Please, call me Diana," she said.
"Then lead on, Diana," Canton said with a grin.
***
Diana's apartment was a fairly decent size and fairly quiet. More importantly, it was comfortable and warm and, as promised, did not contain a gaggle of over-enthusiastic baseball fans. What it did contain was two languid, comfortably drunk FBI agents and two slightly more sober doctors.
Canton was sprawled on the couch, his feet in David's lap as he chatted with Diana about some FBI minutiae. He was gesturing about something in the way he only did when he was relaxed and happy and keenly focused. It reminded David of the night they met.
He squeezed Canton's calf and glanced around the apartment. It was nicely decorated, with photos of Diana and Christie framed on shelves and wedged into the corner of the mirror. There was art on the walls, but also sweatshirts hanging off the arm of the sofa, empty mugs on every flat surface, and shoes under the coffee table.
Christie appeared from the kitchen, holding two bottles of beer. About an hour ago, Diana had taken the Scotch hostage and she and Canton were passing it back and forth as they exchanged increasingly more unlikely case stories.
"Did Diana really have to pose as a prostitute who picked up Neal?" David asked, accepting the bottle Christie offered him.
"She did," Christie said, using the edge of her shirt to twist the top off her bottle. "That was a fun night, believe me." She smirked and kicked her shoes off under the coffee table, resting her feet on the edge of it. "I don't even ask about half the things she gets up to. I don't think I'd ever sleep if I knew how much danger she put herself in every day."
"I understand," David said. "When Canton first met--" They'd been as mum about the circumstances of their visit as possible, but David could tell Christie knew there was more to the story than they were telling. She seemed to accept that it was just another aspect of Diana's job that she couldn't be a part of. David knew how that felt. "When Canton first met Peter," he began again, "he was on this case... he couldn't tell me anything about it, of course, and it went on for three months. Sometimes he wasn't home for days at a time, and when he did get home...." It was months and months ago, now, but he remembered the loneliness, the concern, the silence. He remembered nights when Canton would stumble home just moments before the sun came up, sluggish and moody and guarded. It was three months of living with a stranger, no matter how patient David was, no matter how hard he tried to get Canton to open up.
"He didn't say anything," Christie said. "He didn't want to talk about it, so he bundled it all up inside until it made him so miserable you were afraid to touch him."
David nodded and took a long drink of his beer, stroking Canton's ankle with his thumb. It was difficult to swallow. He'd never had someone to share this with before, the fear and confusion he felt every time Canton came home late. He didn't know anyone else who understood the strained conversation he carried himself whenever Canton was on a case that was eating him up, but he couldn't discuss.
"It's... difficult," he said. "And no one understands."
"Yeah," Christie said. "I mean, I've met Peter's wife, Elizabeth, a few times, but she's really more Diana's friend if anything and I don't know that I would feel comfortable just calling her up to talk when things got tense around here. None of my friends at the hospital get it. They just think it's great that she has an erratic schedule, too. Their biggest complaint is that their wives and husbands don't understand the weird hours and the emergencies."
"They don't get that weird hours and emergencies are just as upsetting from this side of the table," David agreed.
They smiled at each other. Something heavy lifted off of David's chest and was replaced by the bittersweet knowledge that he'd just discovered a deep kinship with a woman he'd probably never get a chance to see again.
At the other end of the couch, Canton was laughing as Diana told a story.
"And then, and then," she said, "Peter comes out of the dust. And he's covered in paint and we're just staring at him. And then Caffrey comes out behind him and he's just got--"
"A smudge on the cheek!" Canton laughed. He passed the Scotch to Diana and nearly dropped it as he shook with laughter.
"Right!" Diana crowed, accepting the bottle. "And then he reaches into the boss' pocket and pulls out the handkerchief he'd taken and wipes it away and then puts it back!"
They were both curled up in their laughter, hiccuping and crying and Christie shared another look with David, this one fondly exasperated. David knew that expression well. He wore it often enough.
"You okay over there, baby?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Diana, sprawled over an armchair and clutching the bottle to her chest.
"I'm fine," she said, once she caught her breath, a giggle escaping despite her best efforts. "Trading war stories."
"I haven't even told her about that robbery with Harry Earley," Canton said to David. There were still tears of laughter on his cheeks.
"Us, too," Christie said. "Make sure you drink about a gallon of water before bed if you want to be any use to Peter tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am," Diana said. She gave Christie a sloppy salute and then leaned up and over to kiss her on the cheek, pulling back with a sappy smile. David glanced over at Canton, who was staring at him in much the same way.
"Good trip?" Canton asked.
"Better than I thought it would be," David admitted. "But you still owe me a proper New York vacation."
Canton rolled his eyes and slumped back into the couch.
"I'm thinking a few months from now," David continued. "If the Doctor doesn't mind." That got Canton's attention. David just smirked and turned to Christie. "What's your schedule look like in October?"
"We can make room," Christie assured him.
The Doctor was going to owe them for this, after all. David was planning on making the most of it.
Fandom: Doctor Who/White Collar
Characters: Canton, David, Diana, Christie
Length: ~2000
Summary: Canton and David are stuck in New York in 2011 while two versions of the Doctor cross paths. They make some friends.
Notes: For such_heights on the occasion of her birthday! I met Amy at a con a little over a year ago, and who knew I had a such_heights-shaped hole in my heart until then? HAPPY BIRTHDAY! This takes place in the same universe as my Peter Burke is the Doctor fic and also as my other Canton fics. Thanks to neurotictealeaf for the beta and mcwonthelottery for reading bits of it over at various points in the process. Also, she gets full credit for the idea. ♥
***
"So you're friends with Peter and Elizabeth, then?"
Canton looked up from his drink. The pretty young agent that the Doctor--that the other Doctor--that Peter Burke had quickly introduced as Diana Barrigan was standing next to his table. She was using the same half smile, half calculating stare that Canton found himself frequently flashing at his former co-workers.
He liked her already.
"Something like that," he said. "We have been friends. Or we will be friends." He figured the bar was loud enough to cover, so he added, "Time travel," and shrugged.
"Right," Barrigan said. She frowned and took a seat across from him. "I'm still not entirely following that part, but Peter's never let me down. Or whatever his name is."
"Go with Peter," Canton advised her. "It's easier when there aren't two of everyone with the same name and the same face running around. Believe me, that's a trip. You're lucky that your Doc--Peter--looks different than ours."
Barrigan rubbed her forehead with a knuckle but, on the whole, was taking this conversation a lot better than he would have guessed. The Bureau had come a long way in 42 years.
"Another Scotch," David said, returning to the table and placing the drink in front of Canton. "And a water for me, because one of us should have a clear head if we're going to figure this thing out."
Canton slid down the booth, making room for David, and rolling his eyes.
"We don't need to figure it out," Canton said. "Amy said--"
"Amy said this Doctor needs to do something with his version of the TARDIS in order for ours to stabilize long enough to anchor itself here and stop fading in and out of the time vortex, hopefully long enough for the three of us to get inside," David said. He could roll his eyes to just as great effect as Canton, and did so frequently. "But when has the Doctor's plan ever gone exactly as predicted? Especially when there are two of them."
"Point," Canton said, but it didn't stop him from raising his glass. "Diana Barrigan, right?" he asked, and Barrigan nodded. "Right. Special Agent Diana Barrigan. Dr. David Bishop. Agent Barrigan works with the Doctor--erm, sorry, with Peter Burke here in New York in 2011. David and I have been traveling with my version of the Doctor--Peter--and the Ponds for the past few months."
"And you're originally from 1969," Barrigan said.
"Yes," said David.
"And, speaking of, I've finally taken you to New York," Canton said. "I'm sure it's a lot more impressive in 2011 than it was in 1969. Now you can stop bugging me about it."
"I wasn't bugging you," David said. "I wasn't looking for a vacation, I was looking for--I don't know what I was looking for."
David sighed and looked into his water. Canton sighed as well and offered Barrigan a half shrug. David wasn't entirely pleased with their impromptu pit stop. He was afraid they'd be stuck forever. Canton wasn't entirely convinced that would be a bad thing, but, more importantly, with two TARDISes within five miles of each other, he had a feeling they'd get home one way or another.
"It must be tough," Barrigan said. "In 1969, I mean. It's hard enough being gay and in law enforcement in 2011, and I work for Peter. I don't know how you managed back then."
Canton raised his eyebrows. Beside him, David looked up again. So that's what the Doc--Peter had meant when he said they'd have a lot to talk about. He wondered how she knew--if it was the obviously tired argument, if they were sitting closer than they should have been, if he'd been looking at David with that expression that Sally always told him to keep behind closed doors. Maybe all of the traveling, most of it to places where no one cared about the relationship between two human men, was making them sloppy. Maybe it was just a reasonable conclusion to jump to in 2011. Maybe they were always like this, but in 1969 it was unthinkable, so no one called them on it.
"I... didn't," Canton said. "Got myself kicked out."
"That sucks," Barrigan said. "Sorry."
"No big loss," Canton lied. "I didn't like most of the people I was working with, anyway, and I'm sure they weren't sad to see me go."
"Still," Barrigan said, "I know what it's like when you love the work, even if you hate the people, and you have to make a decision." She twisted the ring on her left hand and Canton paused to put all the pieces together. Barrigan wore a ring on her left ring finger and had just told them she was a homosexual. She implied that it was public knowledge.
"Are you... married?" Canton asked as casually as he could.
"Yeah," Barrigan replied, almost shyly. "Not here, not yet. But in DC before we moved back here."
"You got married in the District?" Canton asked flatly. That cinched it. This girl was essentially living Canton's perfect life.
Well, except for the part where she didn't get to travel time and space on a regular basis, but the Doctor was her boss. It was only a matter of time, really.
He should have been jealous, but he was surprised to find that he was mostly...relieved. Happy that things were going to change one day. Glad that this girl got to take advantage of it.
And, okay, a little jealous.
"Hey, you guys want to get out of here?" she asked, looking back and forth between them.
"The Doctor told us to stay put," David said.
"Well, Peter told me to look out for you," she said. "And since they're the same person, I think we can get away to moving the party away from the screaming Mets fans. Besides, I've got better Scotch at my place."
"Well, then," Canton said. "Who are we to argue? Lead the way, Agent Barrigan."
"Please, call me Diana," she said.
"Then lead on, Diana," Canton said with a grin.
***
Diana's apartment was a fairly decent size and fairly quiet. More importantly, it was comfortable and warm and, as promised, did not contain a gaggle of over-enthusiastic baseball fans. What it did contain was two languid, comfortably drunk FBI agents and two slightly more sober doctors.
Canton was sprawled on the couch, his feet in David's lap as he chatted with Diana about some FBI minutiae. He was gesturing about something in the way he only did when he was relaxed and happy and keenly focused. It reminded David of the night they met.
He squeezed Canton's calf and glanced around the apartment. It was nicely decorated, with photos of Diana and Christie framed on shelves and wedged into the corner of the mirror. There was art on the walls, but also sweatshirts hanging off the arm of the sofa, empty mugs on every flat surface, and shoes under the coffee table.
Christie appeared from the kitchen, holding two bottles of beer. About an hour ago, Diana had taken the Scotch hostage and she and Canton were passing it back and forth as they exchanged increasingly more unlikely case stories.
"Did Diana really have to pose as a prostitute who picked up Neal?" David asked, accepting the bottle Christie offered him.
"She did," Christie said, using the edge of her shirt to twist the top off her bottle. "That was a fun night, believe me." She smirked and kicked her shoes off under the coffee table, resting her feet on the edge of it. "I don't even ask about half the things she gets up to. I don't think I'd ever sleep if I knew how much danger she put herself in every day."
"I understand," David said. "When Canton first met--" They'd been as mum about the circumstances of their visit as possible, but David could tell Christie knew there was more to the story than they were telling. She seemed to accept that it was just another aspect of Diana's job that she couldn't be a part of. David knew how that felt. "When Canton first met Peter," he began again, "he was on this case... he couldn't tell me anything about it, of course, and it went on for three months. Sometimes he wasn't home for days at a time, and when he did get home...." It was months and months ago, now, but he remembered the loneliness, the concern, the silence. He remembered nights when Canton would stumble home just moments before the sun came up, sluggish and moody and guarded. It was three months of living with a stranger, no matter how patient David was, no matter how hard he tried to get Canton to open up.
"He didn't say anything," Christie said. "He didn't want to talk about it, so he bundled it all up inside until it made him so miserable you were afraid to touch him."
David nodded and took a long drink of his beer, stroking Canton's ankle with his thumb. It was difficult to swallow. He'd never had someone to share this with before, the fear and confusion he felt every time Canton came home late. He didn't know anyone else who understood the strained conversation he carried himself whenever Canton was on a case that was eating him up, but he couldn't discuss.
"It's... difficult," he said. "And no one understands."
"Yeah," Christie said. "I mean, I've met Peter's wife, Elizabeth, a few times, but she's really more Diana's friend if anything and I don't know that I would feel comfortable just calling her up to talk when things got tense around here. None of my friends at the hospital get it. They just think it's great that she has an erratic schedule, too. Their biggest complaint is that their wives and husbands don't understand the weird hours and the emergencies."
"They don't get that weird hours and emergencies are just as upsetting from this side of the table," David agreed.
They smiled at each other. Something heavy lifted off of David's chest and was replaced by the bittersweet knowledge that he'd just discovered a deep kinship with a woman he'd probably never get a chance to see again.
At the other end of the couch, Canton was laughing as Diana told a story.
"And then, and then," she said, "Peter comes out of the dust. And he's covered in paint and we're just staring at him. And then Caffrey comes out behind him and he's just got--"
"A smudge on the cheek!" Canton laughed. He passed the Scotch to Diana and nearly dropped it as he shook with laughter.
"Right!" Diana crowed, accepting the bottle. "And then he reaches into the boss' pocket and pulls out the handkerchief he'd taken and wipes it away and then puts it back!"
They were both curled up in their laughter, hiccuping and crying and Christie shared another look with David, this one fondly exasperated. David knew that expression well. He wore it often enough.
"You okay over there, baby?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Diana, sprawled over an armchair and clutching the bottle to her chest.
"I'm fine," she said, once she caught her breath, a giggle escaping despite her best efforts. "Trading war stories."
"I haven't even told her about that robbery with Harry Earley," Canton said to David. There were still tears of laughter on his cheeks.
"Us, too," Christie said. "Make sure you drink about a gallon of water before bed if you want to be any use to Peter tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am," Diana said. She gave Christie a sloppy salute and then leaned up and over to kiss her on the cheek, pulling back with a sappy smile. David glanced over at Canton, who was staring at him in much the same way.
"Good trip?" Canton asked.
"Better than I thought it would be," David admitted. "But you still owe me a proper New York vacation."
Canton rolled his eyes and slumped back into the couch.
"I'm thinking a few months from now," David continued. "If the Doctor doesn't mind." That got Canton's attention. David just smirked and turned to Christie. "What's your schedule look like in October?"
"We can make room," Christie assured him.
The Doctor was going to owe them for this, after all. David was planning on making the most of it.