Neal breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped into the back stairwell at the end of the day. Despite his fears, it had been a quiet day, filled with paperwork, and more paperwork, and even more paperwork. Boring as all get-out, but he'd been worried that something might happen.
Of course, Peter was the only one who would have known, and there was really no reason for Peter to have said anything. And since the agent had left early, without much explanation, there was no one left to say anything.
Good. He'd escaped unscathed – again – and no one else was any the wiser.
The back alley wasn't exactly classy, but it was a little bit closer to where he could usually catch a cab. And since it was pouring out, shaving a little outdoor time off seemed like a good idea.
He pulled his collar up as he reached the door, adjusted his hat to ward off the worst of the downpour, and stepped out into the elements. Head down, he edged to one side of the alley, skirting a rather non-descript van almost blocking the way.
Strange, there wasn't usually any vehicle traffic back here, except for deliveries. And it was late in the day…
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the people closing in on him. Something went over his head, blocking his vision. Strong arms locked around his, pinning his arms to his sides, pulling them behind him. Muffled voices, no real words that he could make out. Then he felt the steel around his wrists, heard the handcuffs snapping shut. Then he was being pulled, toward that van.
There was never anyone in this alley when he used it. That was usually fine… but now it meant that there was no one to hear his cry for help…
He wound up in the back of the van, pushed in somewhat more gently than he would have expected, but a captive nonetheless. He struggled for balance as the van started forward.
Neal leaned back against the side panel of the van, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. Was this related to one his FBI cases, or something from his deeper past finally catching up? Oh, there were so many possibilities.
Survival instincts kicked in, and he started working his hands carefully along the floor, searching for anything he could use to pick the cuffs.
They didn't drive far before he felt the van stop. The motor died, so this was not just another red light.
Damn, they probably hadn't gone far enough to trigger the proximity alarm in his tracker…
The door slid open and Neal felt hands reaching for him, pulling him out. With his eyes covered, hands cuffed, and obviously outnumbered, he put up only a token resistance. No sense wearing himself out, or inviting a beating, now – play along, and there might be a better opportunity to escape later.
A door opened, and he was pushed through. He could hear more footsteps, people scrambling.
How many people were involved in this kidnapping? It sounded like everyone he might ever have ticked off was there…
The smell of alcohol and – food? They'd brought him to a restaurant to hold him?
More hands on him, muffled voices, and then… the cuffs were coming off? Neal tensed, wondering if this was the time. There were obviously a lot more of them than there were of him, but they hadn't come that far from the door. If he got the hood off, maybe there was a chance to get out.
He felt the hood being pulled, and he was ready to move…
"SURPRISE!"
Well, he was definitely not ready for this.
As his eyes adjusted to the dusky interior, faces came into focus. Jones and Cruz were standing near him, smiling. A couple of the other junior agents he recognized were there too. And… was that Hughes standing off to one side, laughing? That looked like June and Cindy, her granddaughter, over there. And…
"Happy Birthday, Neal."
"Elizabeth?"
She brushed a kiss on his cheek and pressed a glass of champagne into his hands. He drained it, not even caring what poor social form that might be.
"Got you, huh?"
"Peter? What…"
"I figured you'd be expecting something at the office. Right?"
"Fearing, more like," Neal admitted.
Peter looked confused. "Feared?"
Neal shrugged. "I figured no one would want to show up. Awkward, right?" He looked around again at everyone milling in the room. "Did you order them here?" he asked, his voice tentative.
"Order?" Peter smiled shaking his head. "I think a lot more people appreciate your efforts than you think."
Elizabeth had snagged another glass of champagne and she exchanged it for the empty container in his hands. "There's stronger stuff over at the bar," she suggested, smiling. "Looks like you might need it."
Neal found he was breathing almost normally again and, to his credit, his hands weren't even shaking as he took a more civilized sip of the bubbly. "You did all this?" he asked, finally actually seeing the birthday decorations, and the buffet set out along one side of the room.
"Best booking I've had all year," Elizabeth replied. "We've got your favorites."
Neal's expression brightened. "Your meatloaf?"
"And her garlic mashed potatoes," Peter replied.
Neal started to smile, but then paused, looking around him at the nearby agents. "You kidnapped me!"
Cruz had the grace to look a bit embarrassed, but Jones just grinned. "Are you pressing charges?"
Neal took a deep breath, taking in the aromas of the food. He saw all of the people there, studying him expectantly, waiting to celebrate with him. He felt warm, despite the fact that he was soaked from the rain. And he felt… accepted. There was only one thing he could do – he laughed. "I guess I'll let it pass this time."
Jones returned the laugh and took Neal's arm. "In that case, I'll buy you a drink."
Neal let himself be led through the crowd, accepting birthday wishes and smiles as he went. Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all…
A/N: Happy Birthday to Matt Bomer, our favorite con man!