"Why are we watching this?"
Neal asked, forcing a hint of irritation into his voice. Mozzie sighed, as if he was ashamed of his friend's lack of knowledge in all things Tiles of Fire.
"It's a cult classic!"
Neal paused the movie as the main character drew the death tile to sounds of ominous music. June came in, bearing snacks and making some comment to Moz about her favorite sequel, but Neal wasn't really listening.
Neal had seen Tiles of Fire one, and two, and three, but Mozzie didn't need to know that. Neal had watched them all in college, one day when he and Chuck really should have been studying for their finals. Finding them in the back of a secondhand shop had led to one weekend where every single movie was watched consecutively, even the fifth, which was widely considered to be the worst, even by Tiles of Fire standards. Neal probably could have recited the badly dubbed scene along with Mozzie; "I believe it is your blood that will make me rich, farmer boy!"
But to do so would reveal his deepest secret. Not where he kept Washington's love letters (and yes, they were valuable, Mozzie). It wasn't the fact that he knew how to kill a man 104 different ways, and could withstand over 22 poisons. It wasn't even that his name was really Bryce Larkin, CIA superspy.
No, his secret, that no one in the FBI, no one in all of New York knew, was that Neal Caffrey was a nerd.
Not a geek, of course. But, even he had to admit to himself, he could definitely fit in at the Nerd Herd back home. But definitely not a geek.
He'd told Moz that he could appreciate the fact that an original Star Trek dome lunch box cost 600 bucks a pop. He'd had one, at some point, in fact.
"Now say, I'll be back."
"Thanks, Rain Man."
Okay, so his references weren't exactly sneaky, but he had the whole secret identity things under wraps.
"Don't get them wet, don't feed them after midnight, am I right?"
Mostly.
Chuck wasn't there to make that comment, but really, someone had to. He looked exactly like the guy. Neal imagined Peter in the tiny apartment, arching his eyebrow and pressing his lips together like he always did when he tried to Figure Neal Out. He continued playing, just hoping no one drew the death tile. It could get messy.
Still, Neal mused, sipping his expensive wine, safely back in his apartment after the day's exciting events. It wasn't all bad being a nerd.
As the credits for tiles of fire four rolled, Neal sighed in happiness at the next hour of terrible kung fu moves, fire effects that looked more like smoke bombs than actual explosions (he should know, he's been in several), and memories of vaguely pizza-smelling dorm rooms and Tron posters.
Yeah, he smiles, it's not bad being a nerd at all. If only his brilliant conning mind could get him off work tomorrow to watch the Classic Doctor Who marathon that was going to be playing all day.
