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White Collar Halloween ficlet
Just a little Halloween-themed White Collar snippet. Gen, 1000 wds.
"No, Peter, I am not going to the office Halloween party in a striped jumpsuit with a ball and chain on my ankle."
"I thought it would be funny," Peter said, grinning.
"You would. Nope." Neal leaned back in his chair, tossing and catching the rubber band ball he'd appropriated. "I already have my costume picked out."
"Really? What is it?" When Neal didn't answer, Peter tried, "Dean Martin? Sinatra? I don't think you could pull off Sammy Davis ..."
"Nope, no Rat Pack, not even warm." Neal grinned smugly. "You won't guess it, but feel free to keep embarrassing yourself."
"Rembrandt? Van Gogh?"
"Not this year." Neal slipped a paperweight off his desk, adding it to the rubber band ball in a smooth juggling act.
"Circus clown?"
Neal caught both items, one in each hand, and gave Peter an exasperated look. "Now you're not even trying."
******
"You never did get Neal to tell you what his costume was, did you?" El asked as Peter gave her a hand out of the car. "Here, help me get my wings on."
"Nope." Peter got the gauzy wings out of the backseat and affixed them to the back of El's costume. "I suppose I'll find out soon enough. I may wish I hadn't. One thing I do know for sure, though -- you'll be the best-looking butterfly at the party."
"Hopefully it'll make up for the hassle of going through doors." El settled her antennae on her head, and gave one of them a playful toing! with her finger. She winked up at him. "You look very handsome yourself."
Peter adjusted his hat. "I feel a little silly. Are you sure --"
"Hon, the point of Halloween is to step out of your usual life and pretend to be someone else for a while. You've been attending these parties as Marshall Dillon, Wyatt Earp and variations thereof ever since we've been married. You could always pretend you're undercover." She stretched to peck his cheek. "And besides, I always did love a man in uniform."
"Well, since you put it that way ..." Peter glanced down at his airline-pilot costume, and then escorted her inside.
The volunteer decorating committee (headed by Jones this year) had given the White Collar office a suitably spooky makeover. While Elizabeth paused to get her antennae untangled from the crepe paper streamers over the door, Diana strolled up in a tuxedo. Her hair was side-parted and tied back, and she carried a plastic martini glass in one hand. "Bond," she said, "Jane Bond. Tried to get Jones to be my Bond Babe since Christie had to work, but he wouldn't go for it." She nodded across the room, where Jones was sweeping about in a floor-length vampire cloak with red velvet trim. "Where's Caffrey? I figured he'd be with you."
Peter shook his head. "Said he had some last-minute touches to add to his costume. June was going to drop him off on the way to a Halloween party at her daughter's." The elevator dinged. "Well, speak of the devil."
Neal looked ... fairly normal, actually. Suit. Tie. His hair was parted differently, and combed flat -- Peter stared at it, trying to figure out what Neal was trying to convey with that tiny difference. The suit was a different style than usual, the tie a bit too wide ...
There was a moment of absolute silence. Neal stopped and put his hands on his hips, and Diana, Jones, and half the rest of the office cracked up. Even Elizabeth was making little squeaky noises from behind her hands. Peter gave them all a baffled look. "Don't tell me this is going to be one of those jokes that only makes sense to the under-thirty crowd."
"Oh wait," Neal said, clearly basking in his moment. "I forgot the pièce de résistance." He reached into his pocket, took out a small object, and peeled a tab off the back. Peter realized with dawning a) understanding, and b) horror that it was a fake mustache. And when Neal slapped it onto his upper lip, Peter decided that he really was gonna have to strangle him this time.
"Neal!" they both barked at the same time, in exactly the same tone, and that completely undid the rest of the room.
"He's really got you down, boss," Diana managed through uncontrollable snickering.
"He does, honey," Elizabeth concurred.
Even Peter had to struggle to keep a grin off his face; no way he was giving Neal the satisfaction. "You're impersonating a federal agent."
"You're impersonating a pilot," Neal pointed out. "Unless those wings on your hat are real."
"Just wait until next year."
"What? You're coming as me?" Neal grinned brightly. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Peter."
"Oh, really?" Peter said, looking him up and down. "I'm thinking this looks more like mockery to me."
"Mockery, flattery, it's such a fine line ..."
Jones swooped in with impeccable diplomatic timing, and handed around drinks. Neal's brilliant I'm a con artist, trust me grin morphed into a sweeter, more genuine smile, and he clicked his glass against Peter's. "Butch and Sundance next year?"
Peter laughed. "No promises," he said, but returned Neal's smile with one of his own. "To next year."
El, Diana and Jones joined in with their glasses as well, and they drank.
"Though if next year's a partner theme," Peter added, winking at El and then favoring Neal with a trust me smile of his own, "I've always thought that I needed a Festus to go with my Marshall Dillon costume ..."
~
"No, Peter, I am not going to the office Halloween party in a striped jumpsuit with a ball and chain on my ankle."
"I thought it would be funny," Peter said, grinning.
"You would. Nope." Neal leaned back in his chair, tossing and catching the rubber band ball he'd appropriated. "I already have my costume picked out."
"Really? What is it?" When Neal didn't answer, Peter tried, "Dean Martin? Sinatra? I don't think you could pull off Sammy Davis ..."
"Nope, no Rat Pack, not even warm." Neal grinned smugly. "You won't guess it, but feel free to keep embarrassing yourself."
"Rembrandt? Van Gogh?"
"Not this year." Neal slipped a paperweight off his desk, adding it to the rubber band ball in a smooth juggling act.
"Circus clown?"
Neal caught both items, one in each hand, and gave Peter an exasperated look. "Now you're not even trying."
"You never did get Neal to tell you what his costume was, did you?" El asked as Peter gave her a hand out of the car. "Here, help me get my wings on."
"Nope." Peter got the gauzy wings out of the backseat and affixed them to the back of El's costume. "I suppose I'll find out soon enough. I may wish I hadn't. One thing I do know for sure, though -- you'll be the best-looking butterfly at the party."
"Hopefully it'll make up for the hassle of going through doors." El settled her antennae on her head, and gave one of them a playful toing! with her finger. She winked up at him. "You look very handsome yourself."
Peter adjusted his hat. "I feel a little silly. Are you sure --"
"Hon, the point of Halloween is to step out of your usual life and pretend to be someone else for a while. You've been attending these parties as Marshall Dillon, Wyatt Earp and variations thereof ever since we've been married. You could always pretend you're undercover." She stretched to peck his cheek. "And besides, I always did love a man in uniform."
"Well, since you put it that way ..." Peter glanced down at his airline-pilot costume, and then escorted her inside.
The volunteer decorating committee (headed by Jones this year) had given the White Collar office a suitably spooky makeover. While Elizabeth paused to get her antennae untangled from the crepe paper streamers over the door, Diana strolled up in a tuxedo. Her hair was side-parted and tied back, and she carried a plastic martini glass in one hand. "Bond," she said, "Jane Bond. Tried to get Jones to be my Bond Babe since Christie had to work, but he wouldn't go for it." She nodded across the room, where Jones was sweeping about in a floor-length vampire cloak with red velvet trim. "Where's Caffrey? I figured he'd be with you."
Peter shook his head. "Said he had some last-minute touches to add to his costume. June was going to drop him off on the way to a Halloween party at her daughter's." The elevator dinged. "Well, speak of the devil."
Neal looked ... fairly normal, actually. Suit. Tie. His hair was parted differently, and combed flat -- Peter stared at it, trying to figure out what Neal was trying to convey with that tiny difference. The suit was a different style than usual, the tie a bit too wide ...
There was a moment of absolute silence. Neal stopped and put his hands on his hips, and Diana, Jones, and half the rest of the office cracked up. Even Elizabeth was making little squeaky noises from behind her hands. Peter gave them all a baffled look. "Don't tell me this is going to be one of those jokes that only makes sense to the under-thirty crowd."
"Oh wait," Neal said, clearly basking in his moment. "I forgot the pièce de résistance." He reached into his pocket, took out a small object, and peeled a tab off the back. Peter realized with dawning a) understanding, and b) horror that it was a fake mustache. And when Neal slapped it onto his upper lip, Peter decided that he really was gonna have to strangle him this time.
"Neal!" they both barked at the same time, in exactly the same tone, and that completely undid the rest of the room.
"He's really got you down, boss," Diana managed through uncontrollable snickering.
"He does, honey," Elizabeth concurred.
Even Peter had to struggle to keep a grin off his face; no way he was giving Neal the satisfaction. "You're impersonating a federal agent."
"You're impersonating a pilot," Neal pointed out. "Unless those wings on your hat are real."
"Just wait until next year."
"What? You're coming as me?" Neal grinned brightly. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Peter."
"Oh, really?" Peter said, looking him up and down. "I'm thinking this looks more like mockery to me."
"Mockery, flattery, it's such a fine line ..."
Jones swooped in with impeccable diplomatic timing, and handed around drinks. Neal's brilliant I'm a con artist, trust me grin morphed into a sweeter, more genuine smile, and he clicked his glass against Peter's. "Butch and Sundance next year?"
Peter laughed. "No promises," he said, but returned Neal's smile with one of his own. "To next year."
El, Diana and Jones joined in with their glasses as well, and they drank.
"Though if next year's a partner theme," Peter added, winking at El and then favoring Neal with a trust me smile of his own, "I've always thought that I needed a Festus to go with my Marshall Dillon costume ..."
~
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(PEter, El, & Neal should totally do a trio costume the next year. Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur? Or Batman, Superman, and Wonderwoman (...okay, now I'm picturing Neal's expression when Peter suggests he shave his head and go as Lex Luthor...)
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Thank you very much for this! :)
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Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur
... given how things went down with that particular trio, I'm thinking Peter might have some problems with that idea. *g*
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One of the things I like about the show is that Peter's subordinates/co-workers have no problem teasing him, and he takes it well (despite the surface grouching), which says a lot about the kind of boss he is.
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Yes. He's a great boss. I think Neal often fails to appreciate what a fantastic deal he has landed.
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