White Collar: Date Night
Jan. 30th, 2010 12:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lotus0kidRating: PG
Word Count: 1,699
Summary: In which a shocking discovery is made, a hostess is successfully flirted with, a photo is taken, and good times and pizza are had by all.
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misura, my winning bidder on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti's charity auction. She wanted a prequel to The Best Policy, more specifically the visit to John's Pizzeria. Hope this works for you, hon!
Elizabeth was upstairs, camped out on the bed with her laptop and nearly dry toenails when she heard the front door open, admitting the brisk January wind and the familiar sounds of argument.
“- don’t expect me to believe that, right?”
“What can I say? I haven’t actually been in New York all that often. Certainly never lived here-”
“No, that’s- you know- that’s no excuse. None at all. El! Honey, are you upstairs?”
Elizabeth smiled, “Coming!” She climbed off the bed and headed downstairs. She spotted Neal helping Peter take off his coat, an expression on his face a lot more patient than Peter gave him credit for.
“El,” Peter said, “You have to hear this.”
“What? I’m all a-twitter.”
“Neal, Mister Worldly Ex-Con Artist Extraordinaire, has never been to John’s Pizzeria.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Give me an hour and he will.”
Neal smiled with a hint of exasperation, “El, you’ve got the Barker-Short meeting tonight. Would the both of you relax? I won’t slip into a coma and die for lack of going to John’s... trattoria?”
“Pizzeria,” Elizabeth corrected, “And you relax. I’ll reschedule. Alexis was crazy to book it on the weekend anyway- she knows those people.” She stepped backwards up the stairs, saying, “Okay, you two go walk Satch’, I’m going to clear my schedule and take a shower and we can get going, got it?”
“Got it,” said in unison, excitement and resignation harmonizing. Elizabeth shot them a grin and jogged upstairs, her own anticipation growing.
***
The entrance hallway to John’s Pizzeria was narrow and divided into two lanes for people to walk in and out of the restaurant. Elizabeth loved it- it reminded her of waiting in line for an amusement park ride. Especially when both sides held a running stream of people. It was a typical night at John’s- packed. Elizabeth, Peter, and Neal inched down the short hall and into the bar area, a brick-walled space with the bar itself on the right and the hostess’ station on the immediate left. As Peter began to valiantly fight his way through the crowd to put their name in, Elizabeth guided Neal to the bar.
“Are we getting a drink?” he asked, “Something tells me we’ll be waiting a while.”
“If you want, go ahead,” Elizabeth replied, “But I want to show you something first.” She pointed up above the bar, over an array of television sets broadcasting at least three separate sporting events, to a machine scrolling numbers in red- seventeen, forty-three, and twenty. “See that thing with the numbers?”
“Uh huh, what is that?”
“The hostess gives you a number, and you wait until it pops up there. That’s how you know your table is ready.”
Peter joined them with a prompt, “Keep an eye out for seventy.”
Neal gave him a small smile and nod. His eyes were flicking around the room, his hands went in his pockets as he rocked on his feet. Elizabeth smirked- he was bored already. “How about I get us some drinks?” she asked, mostly out of pity.
Neal made it through most of his beer before he cracked, “Seriously, Peter, give me two minutes, five maximum, and I can get the number seventy on that...” he gestured with his glass, “thing.”
Peter rolled his eyes, all set to play the stern one again, but then he glanced at Elizabeth, who cocked an eyebrow. “Five minutes, huh?”
“Maximum.” Neal’s own baby blues shone with challenge.
“I assume you want to put money on that.”
A bill appeared in Neal’s hand. Elizabeth refrained from applauding. “A fiver. You can time me.”
Peter fixed a serious look on him, “Okay, you can take a shot. But no funny stuff. We’re not stealing anyone’s table, no one’s getting led out in handcuffs, no violence will ensue.”
Neal met Peter’s look with one of offended disbelief, “Please, Peter, what do you take me for, an amateur? Excuse me.” He sailed off towards the hostess’ stand.
Elizabeth let her laughter bubble out. “You two are adorable.”
Peter’s ears flushed pink and he shifted under her attention, “Yeah, well, ah... What do you make of the odds here?”
“Not sure.” Elizabeth peered through the crowd that hid Neal almost entirely from view, managing to eventually spot the attractive young woman at the hostess’ stand. Her big gray eyes were darting from the unseen Neal back over to where Peter and Elizabeth stood. Or, more precisely, where Elizabeth stood. She blinked and turned back to the bar, mouth twisting until she sipped her chardonnay. “Um, I think the odds might be in your favor, honey.”
“Yeah? Nice.”
Five minutes and forty seconds later, Neal returned, his chagrined expression and surrendered five dollar bill saying everything he didn’t.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and said, “Could you boys excuse me? I’ll only be a minute.” Peter and Neal shuffled a little clear space for Elizabeth. As she passed, she murmured, “Time me.”
The hostess hastily tucked some curly amber fly-aways behind her ear as Elizabeth approached. The older woman laid a forearm on the stand, shot the hostess a crooked grin, and said, “Isn’t it awkward when gay guys try to flirt with women?” She nodded towards Neal, who had found the perfect place to pout by putting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s hand unconsciously ran up and down his arm. “I hope he didn’t bother you. He just gets antsy when he’s hungry.”
The hostess giggled, “No, no, it’s okay. He, uh, he seems nice.”
Elizabeth turned to face the hostess and treat her to a full beam, “I’m so glad you feel that way.” She let her gaze wander around the room as she sighed, “I just love this place.” Her eyes dropped back to the hostess, “So many gorgeous things to look at.”
The hostess’ giggle went slightly breathless this time. Her lashes fluttered rather nicely and she bit her lower lip. “Um... how long have you been waiting?”
“Feels like my whole life.”
“Well, uh, you know, there’s a party of eight here. We pushed some tables together, but... maybe we could take one out, until another one’s free?”
Elizabeth let her eyes light up with surprised pleasure, “No, you wouldn’t do that, just for us. Would you?”
“I... I could, if you wanted...”
“I couldn’t. What if you got in trouble? I’d never forgive myself.”
“It’s okay, I promise!” A delicate hand brushed Elizabeth’s arm, “It would be fine.”
Elizabeth’s hand dropped to cover the hostess’ as she leaned in and said, “Well, if you’re sure...”
“I’m sure.”
She pulled back, “Great! Thank you so, so much, this is so sweet of you. I won’t forget it.” She stepped away, “The number will be up there, right?”
“Oh- uh, yeah, yes. Right up there.” The hostess ran the back of her hand over pink cheeks.
“Okay, I’ll be watching.” Elizabeth winked, before slipping into the crowd and rejoining Peter and Neal. She knocked back the rest of her drink, and glanced up to see the number seventy scroll across the board. “Right, where’s my ten bucks?”
Peter’s grin went ear-to-ear, but Neal’s mouth dropped open in unpleasant surprise, “Hey, that was a gentlemen’s bet. I didn’t see you toss your hat in. And besides... you said a minute. That was at least two.”
“Quit your belly-aching,” Peter said, “It was masterfully done and you know it, so pay the lady and be grateful she didn’t bet dinner on it.” He passed his five dollars along with a soft kiss. “You’re amazing.”
“All in a day’s work,” Elizabeth replied.
“Don’t suppose I could get an interview where you work, huh?” Neal quipped. He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. Later that night she would find in her coat pocket the same five dollar bill Neal gave to Peter.
At last it was time to leave the bar. The trio walked under the brick arches that stood beyond the restaurant’s entrance and into the main dining area. A great domed ceiling rose above them, a massive mural of the New York skyline covered the back wall, and tables packed the hardwood floor. A staircase rose up on the right to connect with an upper level. Chefs stood inside two wraparound counters to the left and right, kneading dough and shoving it into waiting ovens behind them. The place buzzed with the conversation of patrons and waiters in black “John’s Pizzeria” T-shirts zipped around like hummingbirds.
“Whoa,” Neal breathed.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Peter replied.
They sat down at their hard-won table and ordered a large margherita pizza and a pitcher of Coke. Conversation flowed and Neal quickly shook off his stung pride. They were pondering how to divide the last two slices three ways when Peter’s cell phone rang.
Elizabeth frowned, “I thought you were going to turn that off when we were out and nothing big was happening.”
Peter shot her a pained smile, “I know, I know- sorry.” He turned sideways in his chair and held the phone to his ear. There was a brief, quiet conversation before Peter stiffened and turned to Neal. “Hold on,” he said into the phone before putting his hand over it, “We’ve got a new development in the Vitaly case.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, the sketch is being moved. Left a couple hours ago.”
Neal was silent a moment. “... So?”
“So... so...” Peter looked from Neal to Elizabeth and back.
“So we know the sketch has been moved. That’s good. Now how about you say goodbye to Jones and we finish this delicious pizza you dragged me out here to eat?”
Peter swallowed, he looked again to Elizabeth. “Please, honey?” she said with a smile.
“... Keep us informed, Jones. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He ended the call, and let the phone lie in his hand on the table.
“There, was that so hard?” Neal asked.
Elizabeth leaned over and planted a long, firm kiss on his cheek. She spotted a flash out of the corner of her eye. When she released Neal with a wet smack, she saw Peter holding up the phone with a happy grin.
“Hey,” Neal said, “Isn’t that my phone?”
P.S. For anyone who's interested, this is John's Pizzeria. Awesome place, for serious. Check out the photo gallery.
Word Count: 1,699
Summary: In which a shocking discovery is made, a hostess is successfully flirted with, a photo is taken, and good times and pizza are had by all.
A/N: For
misura, my winning bidder on help_haiti's charity auction. She wanted a prequel to The Best Policy, more specifically the visit to John's Pizzeria. Hope this works for you, hon!Elizabeth was upstairs, camped out on the bed with her laptop and nearly dry toenails when she heard the front door open, admitting the brisk January wind and the familiar sounds of argument.
“- don’t expect me to believe that, right?”
“What can I say? I haven’t actually been in New York all that often. Certainly never lived here-”
“No, that’s- you know- that’s no excuse. None at all. El! Honey, are you upstairs?”
Elizabeth smiled, “Coming!” She climbed off the bed and headed downstairs. She spotted Neal helping Peter take off his coat, an expression on his face a lot more patient than Peter gave him credit for.
“El,” Peter said, “You have to hear this.”
“What? I’m all a-twitter.”
“Neal, Mister Worldly Ex-Con Artist Extraordinaire, has never been to John’s Pizzeria.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Give me an hour and he will.”
Neal smiled with a hint of exasperation, “El, you’ve got the Barker-Short meeting tonight. Would the both of you relax? I won’t slip into a coma and die for lack of going to John’s... trattoria?”
“Pizzeria,” Elizabeth corrected, “And you relax. I’ll reschedule. Alexis was crazy to book it on the weekend anyway- she knows those people.” She stepped backwards up the stairs, saying, “Okay, you two go walk Satch’, I’m going to clear my schedule and take a shower and we can get going, got it?”
“Got it,” said in unison, excitement and resignation harmonizing. Elizabeth shot them a grin and jogged upstairs, her own anticipation growing.
***
The entrance hallway to John’s Pizzeria was narrow and divided into two lanes for people to walk in and out of the restaurant. Elizabeth loved it- it reminded her of waiting in line for an amusement park ride. Especially when both sides held a running stream of people. It was a typical night at John’s- packed. Elizabeth, Peter, and Neal inched down the short hall and into the bar area, a brick-walled space with the bar itself on the right and the hostess’ station on the immediate left. As Peter began to valiantly fight his way through the crowd to put their name in, Elizabeth guided Neal to the bar.
“Are we getting a drink?” he asked, “Something tells me we’ll be waiting a while.”
“If you want, go ahead,” Elizabeth replied, “But I want to show you something first.” She pointed up above the bar, over an array of television sets broadcasting at least three separate sporting events, to a machine scrolling numbers in red- seventeen, forty-three, and twenty. “See that thing with the numbers?”
“Uh huh, what is that?”
“The hostess gives you a number, and you wait until it pops up there. That’s how you know your table is ready.”
Peter joined them with a prompt, “Keep an eye out for seventy.”
Neal gave him a small smile and nod. His eyes were flicking around the room, his hands went in his pockets as he rocked on his feet. Elizabeth smirked- he was bored already. “How about I get us some drinks?” she asked, mostly out of pity.
Neal made it through most of his beer before he cracked, “Seriously, Peter, give me two minutes, five maximum, and I can get the number seventy on that...” he gestured with his glass, “thing.”
Peter rolled his eyes, all set to play the stern one again, but then he glanced at Elizabeth, who cocked an eyebrow. “Five minutes, huh?”
“Maximum.” Neal’s own baby blues shone with challenge.
“I assume you want to put money on that.”
A bill appeared in Neal’s hand. Elizabeth refrained from applauding. “A fiver. You can time me.”
Peter fixed a serious look on him, “Okay, you can take a shot. But no funny stuff. We’re not stealing anyone’s table, no one’s getting led out in handcuffs, no violence will ensue.”
Neal met Peter’s look with one of offended disbelief, “Please, Peter, what do you take me for, an amateur? Excuse me.” He sailed off towards the hostess’ stand.
Elizabeth let her laughter bubble out. “You two are adorable.”
Peter’s ears flushed pink and he shifted under her attention, “Yeah, well, ah... What do you make of the odds here?”
“Not sure.” Elizabeth peered through the crowd that hid Neal almost entirely from view, managing to eventually spot the attractive young woman at the hostess’ stand. Her big gray eyes were darting from the unseen Neal back over to where Peter and Elizabeth stood. Or, more precisely, where Elizabeth stood. She blinked and turned back to the bar, mouth twisting until she sipped her chardonnay. “Um, I think the odds might be in your favor, honey.”
“Yeah? Nice.”
Five minutes and forty seconds later, Neal returned, his chagrined expression and surrendered five dollar bill saying everything he didn’t.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and said, “Could you boys excuse me? I’ll only be a minute.” Peter and Neal shuffled a little clear space for Elizabeth. As she passed, she murmured, “Time me.”
The hostess hastily tucked some curly amber fly-aways behind her ear as Elizabeth approached. The older woman laid a forearm on the stand, shot the hostess a crooked grin, and said, “Isn’t it awkward when gay guys try to flirt with women?” She nodded towards Neal, who had found the perfect place to pout by putting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s hand unconsciously ran up and down his arm. “I hope he didn’t bother you. He just gets antsy when he’s hungry.”
The hostess giggled, “No, no, it’s okay. He, uh, he seems nice.”
Elizabeth turned to face the hostess and treat her to a full beam, “I’m so glad you feel that way.” She let her gaze wander around the room as she sighed, “I just love this place.” Her eyes dropped back to the hostess, “So many gorgeous things to look at.”
The hostess’ giggle went slightly breathless this time. Her lashes fluttered rather nicely and she bit her lower lip. “Um... how long have you been waiting?”
“Feels like my whole life.”
“Well, uh, you know, there’s a party of eight here. We pushed some tables together, but... maybe we could take one out, until another one’s free?”
Elizabeth let her eyes light up with surprised pleasure, “No, you wouldn’t do that, just for us. Would you?”
“I... I could, if you wanted...”
“I couldn’t. What if you got in trouble? I’d never forgive myself.”
“It’s okay, I promise!” A delicate hand brushed Elizabeth’s arm, “It would be fine.”
Elizabeth’s hand dropped to cover the hostess’ as she leaned in and said, “Well, if you’re sure...”
“I’m sure.”
She pulled back, “Great! Thank you so, so much, this is so sweet of you. I won’t forget it.” She stepped away, “The number will be up there, right?”
“Oh- uh, yeah, yes. Right up there.” The hostess ran the back of her hand over pink cheeks.
“Okay, I’ll be watching.” Elizabeth winked, before slipping into the crowd and rejoining Peter and Neal. She knocked back the rest of her drink, and glanced up to see the number seventy scroll across the board. “Right, where’s my ten bucks?”
Peter’s grin went ear-to-ear, but Neal’s mouth dropped open in unpleasant surprise, “Hey, that was a gentlemen’s bet. I didn’t see you toss your hat in. And besides... you said a minute. That was at least two.”
“Quit your belly-aching,” Peter said, “It was masterfully done and you know it, so pay the lady and be grateful she didn’t bet dinner on it.” He passed his five dollars along with a soft kiss. “You’re amazing.”
“All in a day’s work,” Elizabeth replied.
“Don’t suppose I could get an interview where you work, huh?” Neal quipped. He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. Later that night she would find in her coat pocket the same five dollar bill Neal gave to Peter.
At last it was time to leave the bar. The trio walked under the brick arches that stood beyond the restaurant’s entrance and into the main dining area. A great domed ceiling rose above them, a massive mural of the New York skyline covered the back wall, and tables packed the hardwood floor. A staircase rose up on the right to connect with an upper level. Chefs stood inside two wraparound counters to the left and right, kneading dough and shoving it into waiting ovens behind them. The place buzzed with the conversation of patrons and waiters in black “John’s Pizzeria” T-shirts zipped around like hummingbirds.
“Whoa,” Neal breathed.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Peter replied.
They sat down at their hard-won table and ordered a large margherita pizza and a pitcher of Coke. Conversation flowed and Neal quickly shook off his stung pride. They were pondering how to divide the last two slices three ways when Peter’s cell phone rang.
Elizabeth frowned, “I thought you were going to turn that off when we were out and nothing big was happening.”
Peter shot her a pained smile, “I know, I know- sorry.” He turned sideways in his chair and held the phone to his ear. There was a brief, quiet conversation before Peter stiffened and turned to Neal. “Hold on,” he said into the phone before putting his hand over it, “We’ve got a new development in the Vitaly case.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, the sketch is being moved. Left a couple hours ago.”
Neal was silent a moment. “... So?”
“So... so...” Peter looked from Neal to Elizabeth and back.
“So we know the sketch has been moved. That’s good. Now how about you say goodbye to Jones and we finish this delicious pizza you dragged me out here to eat?”
Peter swallowed, he looked again to Elizabeth. “Please, honey?” she said with a smile.
“... Keep us informed, Jones. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He ended the call, and let the phone lie in his hand on the table.
“There, was that so hard?” Neal asked.
Elizabeth leaned over and planted a long, firm kiss on his cheek. She spotted a flash out of the corner of her eye. When she released Neal with a wet smack, she saw Peter holding up the phone with a happy grin.
“Hey,” Neal said, “Isn’t that my phone?”
P.S. For anyone who's interested, this is John's Pizzeria. Awesome place, for serious. Check out the photo gallery.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-01-30 06:23 pm (UTC)And then, and then - Peter stealing Neal's phone to make The Picture. The second lovely surprise in this ficlet, because that's definitely another one I didn't see coming.
Thank you very much indeed for writing this. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 01:22 am (UTC)