Week One of NaNoWriMo over! Today's chapter summary: Neal trying to convince Peter to kiss him while they're undercover.

For once, everything on a case went right. To be fair, it was only the beginning, but still, nothing had gone wrong yet. The first meeting with the suspect hadn't tipped him off that anything was going wrong. There wasn't any indication that this was anything bigger than it should be. Everything was going right!

Except, of course, nothing ever went entirely right for the White Collar Crime Unit.

Neal and Peter, who had ended up carrying out the first meeting, were walking back to the federal building. For once, the suspect was close and didn't require a drive through New York City traffic. So, the two were walking through crowded sidewalks and past tourists dedicated to blocking the way and talking about their findings.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Peter," Neal said, pretending to be exhausted. "There isn't anything interesting here."

"Really? Nothing interesting?" Peter's eyebrow was raised.

"Nothing. I think, for once, this might be a white-collar case that doesn't end in a shootout."

"Not every white-collar criminal is you, Neal."

"Most aren't good with guns! Most don't like violence!"

"Sure."

Neal rolled his eyes before lapsing back into a comfortable silence. The only other conversation topic available was small talk, and the situation seemed a little bit heavy for small talk. Neal's eyes, unable to focus on one spot for long, started darting to the windows of shops they passed. There was some quite nice jewelry that (in another time, of course) Neal would've liked to get his hands on. Peter followed his eyes before looking back at Neal.

"No."

"I wasn't going to say anything!"

A flash of motion in the window caught Neal's eye. Keeping a thin veneer of casualness, he tried to watch whoever it was more closely than he was. The man following them looked unfortunately average. Average height, average skin tone, average hair color, average attire, average everything. He was almost exceptional for how average he was. Neal tried to keep an eye on him. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of people on the street. There was no way this one man was following them. Plenty of people take the same route. Neal's heart started pounding. Years of constantly watching over your shoulder gives you a sense for when you're being followed, and that sense was in overdrive.

They were being followed. There was no reason to believe that they were being followed, no evidence. But Neal knew, instinctively, that this man was following them. Sure, Caffrey instinct was no match for the Burke gut, but Neal knew they were being followed with terrifying certainty. There was no other explanation. Neal's danger sense had never pinged without a good reason. Therefore, there had to be a good reason it was going off.

"Peter," Neal muttered under his breath.

"Neal," Peter responded, matching his tone.

"We're being followed."

Peter considered this information for a second. Neal usually had a good sense of being followed. He wasn't often wrong. Peter, however, didn't believe that they were being followed. Who could want to follow them? Why would someone be following them? There was no reason for their suspect to believe they were doing anything more than investigating a standard art theft. There would be no reason for their suspect to send someone to follow them. Peter didn't feel anything wrong. And, clearly, the Burke gut had to be better than any magic Caffrey sense that might exist.

"You're paranoid," was Peter's final conclusion in a completely normal tone. At least he managed to play it off as a joke, Neal thought.

"I am not!" he responded, matching Peter's tone. "And besides, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get us."

Wait, I remember that from somewhere... "You stole that from Catch-22."

Neal dramatically laid a hand across his chest, like a woman might hold her pearls in a 1930s drama. "I read."

"Sure you do." Peter playfully hit Neal's arm. Neal jokingly rubbed the spot as if Peter had hurt him. "Where'd all those brains from reading go?"

Neal shrugged and laughed the insult off. "You think I read anything useful? The last time I read something useful was high school."

Peter laughed. They both knew Neal hadn't graduated high school. Peter would be surprised if he ever went. Peter caught a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye. Now the Burke gut was active. There was something out of the ordinary. Someone was following them. The Caffrey sense was right. Someone was after them for some reason that they had no way of knowing.

"You're right," Peter joked. Come on, Neal.

"I always am," Neal replied smoothly.

He didn't get it. "No, I mean-"

Neal cut him off. "I know what you mean." Oh, thank God, Peter thought. What the hell do I do now? was what Neal's mind went to.

Plan. Neal needed a plan. He wasn't entirely sure how he became the 'plan guy,' but it was the lot he had drawn. What would work? They couldn't start running. That would attract attention, tip their tail off, and it was just impossible to run. The street was too crowded. Unfortunately, running was just about Neal's only plan. It had always worked in the past. Think, Neal, think. What did you do if you couldn't run? The roofs weren't an option. It was broad daylight, too obvious. Going through a building, also not an option. Their tail seemed especially tenacious; that probably wouldn't even slow him down. Well, only one plan left.

"Any genius ideas, Neal?" Peter snapped. He meant to sound like he was joking, but the stress of the situation and Neal's uncomfortable silence were getting to him.

Neal, compulsive liar that he was, laughed the situation off. "Yeah, of course."

Then, abruptly, he grabbed Peter's lapel in one hand and dragged the older man into an alleyway and shoved his back against a wall.

"Neal, what the-"

Neal leaned over Peter, lips brushing against his ear. "I have an idea to get him off our track," he murmured quickly.

"What's this idea?" Peter whispered back. It has to make more sense than how this looks.

"Insane."

That's reassuring. "How insane."

And then Neal said something he never expected to say to a member of the federal government. "I trust you. Do you trust me?" That's less reassuring. Peter stammered incoherently. "Do you trust me."

A few seconds more of stammering. And then "Yes?"

"Good."

Seriously, Peter was getting more out of his depth by the second. He wasn't entirely sure what Neal was doing, but the odds of it being criminal seemed to be going down. Neal put his hands over Peter's shoulders on the wall, leaning down. Peter had approximately two seconds to wonder what the hell Neal was doing before his lips were swept into a kiss. It wasn't passionate, more perfunctory, a way to hide their faces more than anything else. That did not, however, minimize the fact that Neal Caffrey's genius plan was to kiss him. The man was an honest-to-God genius and this was what he came up with.

The man who had been tailing them caught up and ducked into the same alley. In a fit of 'genius inspiration,' Neal broke off the kiss and whirled on the man. If Peter didn't know better, he'd say that Neal was furious. He was glaring daggers at this man, seemingly ready to stab him or beat him to death if Neal was at all inclined to violence.

"Excuse me?" he snapped. "You got a problem?"

The man quickly made his excuses and nearly ran out of the alleyway, running into a few tourists on the way. Well, that certainly got rid of him, Peter thought before turning to Neal. Neal was brushing dust off of his hands, trying not to mar his black jacket.

"Sorry about that," he offered without meeting Peter's eyes.

Peter just shook his head. "That was a terrible plan." Peter's voice was flat and emotionless. If Neal had to guess, he was still figuring out what Neal had thought was a good idea.

"I was under pressure!" he almost shouted, actually meeting Peter's eyes again. "Give me a break!"

"And that was the first thing that came to mind?"

Neal went bright red before he started mumbling. "Um...yeah? It works better when it's a man and a woman."

"Why was that the first thing that came to mind?" Peter wasn't entirely sure he actually wanted to hear the answer, but it was worth a shot.

"You live in New York City. Would that be the weirdest thing you've seen all week?"

Peter took a few moments to think that over. Two men kissing in an alley would be...no. It wouldn't even be close to weird. A large city tended to warp your perceptions of normal. Then again, so did working with an allegedly reformed conman. He had to acknowledge Neal had a point.

Neal, seeing this realization, continued. "See? That guy's not going to remember anything-chances are he won't even remember what we look like-and we're out scot-free."

"How many times have you done this?"

"A few."

Peter rolled his eyes at the young man. Remind me how he evaded us for so long? "Fine. You're the one explaining this to my wife."

Peter went to leave and started walking back down the street. Neal stood frozen for a few seconds as the full implication of Peter's words worked its way through his skull. Oh. Oh no. And then he was rushing after Peter, pushing his way through tour groups and businesspeople trying to go the other way.

"She doesn't need to know!"

By the time the two arrived in the White Collar offices again, Neal was still spouting apologies, excuses, and defenses while Peter determinedly ignored him. El was going to hear about this. And, knowing El, she'd tease both of them relentlessly. It was Neal's fault.

We've made it to the end of Week One! I hope you've enjoyed my contributions so far, and please review if you especially liked it. To those participating in NaNoWriMo in any way: you've finished the first week! Almost a quarter of the way through! You can do this; I'm sure your novel is great!