AN: Earlier today, I opened Google to look up a random something for a current WIP and today's doodle informed me it's the anniversary of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Somehow that seemed like a date Neal would like to celebrate.
A Great Day for Art
Cheride
"Good morning, Peter!" Neal Caffrey slipped into the passenger seat wearing a bright smile and bearing a travel mug of coffee, which he handed over to the driver. "I brought you a gift."
Peter Burke accepted the mug and took a long drink before steering the car toward Federal Plaza. "Thank you. What do you want?"
Neal looked hurt, but then gestured through the windshield toward the bright sunshine. "Peter. Look at this beautiful spring morning. It's going to be a great day. Can't I bring you a cup of coffee just because I know you like it?"
"You can. You don't." He took another drink as he pulled to a stop at a red light, then turned a warning look on his consultant. "Whatever it is, you should ask before I run out of coffee."
"Okay, grumpy. Today is the 140th anniversary of the Met. June has an extra ticket to the celebration event tonight, and she invited me along. Do you think I could duck out of work a couple hours early this afternoon?"
"Let me make sure I have this right: You want to leave work early, to go to a birthday party, for a museum?" Peter put about a hundred additional unsaid words into his tone.
"I can see why you have such a fantastic close rate—mind like a steel trap."
"That's the way you ask for a favor?" Peter asked with a glare.
Neal grinned. "Come on, Peter, you know we don't have anything going on today; don't make this so difficult. I'd think you'd be glad for a chance to get me out of your hair for a few extra hours."
"You make a compelling point there. But why do you need the extra time? Can't you just go right after work?"
"Like this?" Neal was aghast as he gestured at his vintage suit.
"What? That's a Devore, right? Isn't that what you're always saying? And look at you—silk shirt, fancy pocket square, a hat."
"Peter, the event is black tie."
Peter didn't address the sartorial situation and lapsed into silence as he continued driving; Neal couldn't understand why this was such a big deal.
"I never complain when we have to work late, you know, or if you need me on a weekend. Even though I'm pretty sure my work release clearly spells out the number of hours I'm required to work."
Peter ignored that, too. "Didn't you and El just visit the Met a month ago?"
Neal rolled his eyes. "Yes, but that's like saying, 'didn't you just watch a baseball game a month ago?' No two visits are ever the same. Besides, they're going to be showing some of the earliest pieces of their collection, things that aren't normally on view." He smiled wistfully. "One of the works they'll be exhibiting is van Dyck's Saint Rosalie Interceding for the Plague-stricken of Palermo. Have you ever seen it, Peter? It's amazing he could create such beauty during such an awful time. Van Dyck painted it while the town was quarantined during an outbreak of bubonic plague. Can you imagine?"
"That's fascinating," Peter replied, not quite smiling in return. "But what if I'm not thrilled with the idea of you being at an after-hours event at one of the most important art museums in the world? Especially if they're displaying rare pieces that are generally kept elsewhere safely under lock and key."
That stopped Neal for a second, but then he gathered himself and answered smoothly. "I'm not trying to be difficult either, Peter, but I'm not really asking your permission to go, only to leave work early."
Peter arched an eyebrow and turned a dangerous expression toward the passenger seat, leaving his eyes locked with Neal's until the car suddenly blared out a collision warning and roughly applied the brakes, all before Peter even realized there was a problem.
"There are easier ways to make your point than killing me!" Neal cried as he gripped the grab handle tightly. But Peter just kept driving—and glaring—so he sucked in a breath and continued his conversation as Peter turned the corner and then drove into the parking garage.
"Anyway, what I was trying to say is that the Met is inside my radius and the event is after the workday, so even if you don't let me leave early, you can't really stop me from attending."
The glare quickly got a lot darker and Neal backpedaled just as fast.
"Okay, I mean, obviously, you could stop me if you really wanted to, of course. But why would you want to?" Neal put on his best supplicating face. "I hope you don't."
Peter was still silent as he circled the ramps, looking for an empty space.
"You don't want to stop me, right?" Neal went on. "You wouldn't be that cruel. Would you? Come on, Peter, what's going on? I didn't do anything wrong."
And, finally, as he pulled into a parking space and switched off the ignition, Peter chuckled. Eyes twinkling, he turned to look at his consultant. "Gotcha. You're too easy when you're not yet fully caffeinated."
Realization dawned and Neal's features scrunched up in annoyance. "You were just jerking my chain? Why? I brought you coffee!"
"I thought maybe we could avoid the daily argument over the radio," Peter said, laughing in earnest now. "Give us something else to talk about. Besides, it's not often I get to put one over on the master con artist Neal Caffrey."
Neal shook his head. "Alleged master con artist, Peter, alleged. Anyway, does this at least mean you're gonna let me leave early?"
"If I say no, will you bribe me with something special for lunch?"
"Peter . . ."
Laughing at the whine, Peter finally relented as they climbed from the car.
"Of course I'm going to let you go; just how heartless do you think I am? Besides, June doesn't just have an extra ticket, she has an entire table, and she's also invited me and Elizabeth to join her tonight. I figure we'll head out about two-thirty; that'll leave plenty of time to get gussied up, even for you."
"We're all going?" All the annoyance and petulance disappeared in the blink of an eye. "Peter! This is going to be so much fun! And you're going to love the van Dyck. Well, Elizabeth will love the Van Dyck; you'll at least love the meal." Neal led the way into the elevator, still gushing. "And the Japanese collection they have is traditional enough it will probably appeal even to you, plus it'll give me a chance to study their work more closely; I've never quite mastered painting on silk."
Neal laughed as Peter's eyebrows knitted together in reproach. "Not for any nefarious reason, I swear; I'd just like to learn the technique."
"I'm not sure you mastering another art form could ever not be nefarious," Peter grumbled.
"Don't be that way. I'll be on my best behavior tonight, promise."
The openness on the young features matched the sincerity of his words, but the merriment in his blue eyes eliminated every bit of allegation from the title of master con artist, and it had been a long time since those skills had fazed his handler.
"Of course you will," Peter agreed, "but I'm still going to enjoy being there just to make sure."
Neal's grin was unrepentant as he strutted out onto the twenty-first floor. "See? I told you it was going to be a great day."
~END~