#so smart so handsome SO good at his job of sitting on the printer whenever it makes noises

[oysters-aint-for-me]

BJ the businessbaby

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Are You Jealous?

Summary: Neal likes to tease you about being jealous when he flirts with marks, but he doesn’t handle it so well when your roles are reversed.

Words: 3,106

            There was a general agreement within the office that you must be the most chill girlfriend in the entire world. You didn’t flash PDA and favoritism around, but it was no secret that you were dating Neal. It was also no secret that Neal was a total ladies’ man who often used his good looks and flawless charms to woo suspects and witnesses into giving him what he wanted.

            You disagreed; you were not the most chill girlfriend in the entire world. You did care when Neal let another woman throw herself at him. It did bother you when his cover had slipped a little too far and you found yourself listening in the van to the sounds of quiet kissing, knowing that your boyfriend’s lips were on someone else. However, you wouldn’t go as far as to say you were jealous – just a little upset.

            Jealousy was associated with having one’s relationship threatened, and you honestly weren’t threatened by the girls that were lucky enough to get on Neal’s arm for any length of time. Yes, they were beautiful; yes, more often than not, they were also intelligent. Neal never let you feel like you had anything to worry about. He always felt bad when he had to get too close to anyone else, and he always made up for the twisting feeling in your gut whenever you heard or saw him treating someone else the way he treated you. They may have had his attention, but you were the one with his loyalty. Outside of work, Neal never strayed. He was sweet, devoted, and although sometimes infuriating, he was sensitive and caring. You knew him better than the other women ever would, and that was why you were able to keep your calm and objectivity at work.

            When you heard the take-down phrase, a team mobilized and went into action, surrounding the office of the archaeology professor. After loudly announcing that you were with the federal bureau, you entered without waiting for permission. Neal and your suspect were both behind the desk, Neal sitting in the woman’s chair, while her petite body was in his lap.

            “Thanks to your recorded confession,” you stated blithely, stepping back and motioning for Diana to go on and get the bad guy. “It’ll be hard to get out of a conviction when your own voice is admitting to planting the evidence.”

            Regardless of how secure you felt, your favorite part was always finishing the case. It was best when you got to arrest the woman Neal had been flirting with.

            “I see you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Jones remarked, looking at the alcohol out on the cleared-off desk. The professor was escorted out in handcuffs, demanding a lawyer almost hysterically. She’d invited Neal in like a sort of date and it had taken almost forty minutes for her to say something sufficiently incriminating. “I never get to have this much fun on the clock.”

            “That’s a good thing,” Peter said sternly, giving Jones a look lest he start trying. “I can’t handle two Neals. One is bad enough.”

            Neal stood up, straightening his tie. His hair looked like hands had been run through it, and he had the stains of lipstick on his mouth. You raised a single eyebrow and picked up a box of Kleenex from the shelf beside the printer and tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand. You subtly raised your hand to your mouth and he hastily rubbed the makeup off.

            “Didn’t you get to pretend to arrest Neal and Mozzie last month?” You asked Jones, joining in on the camaraderie casually while Neal got rid of the signs someone else might’ve been furious to see. He combed his hands through his hair. “And I thought you got to pretend to be a mobster last-“

            “Alright, alright,” Jones held up a hand to stop you while he chuckled. “Point made. The job could be worse.”

            “Let me do the fake arresting next time,” Peter suggested eagerly. “Let’s make it four-and-zero, Burke’s favor.”

            Neal threw out the Kleenex. “That’s not fair,” he complained. “I have more than zero, Peter. You’re forgetting all the times you came close to catching me, but I got away.”

            Peter made a face at him. “We’re at three-and-zero,” he insisted mulishly.

            Neal had missed part of his hair. There wasn’t a mirror for him to check in inside the archaeology office. You reached up and ran your fingers through, taking comfort in that you had the liberty to do so. While he leaned towards you compliantly, Peter made a mocking kissy face and tried to pretend he hadn’t been when you glanced at him.

            “Don’t you have something to be commemorating with El?” You asked archly, watching with hidden delight as Peter’s eyes widened and he panicked, thinking he’d forgotten something. He hadn’t actually forgotten anything, but you learned that if he got too annoying, you could use that card and watch him freak out. He was beginning to catch on, but he was still more scared of forgetting an anniversary than he was of looking silly.

            Jones shook his head at you, but there was admiration in his eyes. “I still wish I’d thought of that first,” he stated enviously as Peter left, checking his phone anxiously. “I’ll give you two a minute. The van misses you already, Neal.”

            As he departed, Neal made a disgusted expression. He hated the van. You glared slightly at the liquor on the desk and resigned yourself to staying out of the interrogation room. This was one of the worse scenes you’d had the pleasure of interrupting.

            The blue-eyed man saw your irritation and next thing you knew, he was holding one of your hands within both of his. “Are you jealous?” He teased.

            The first time he had asked, you’d promised that you weren’t and reminded him that you trusted him. Since then, you had come to understand that Neal asked because he enjoyed having that reaffirmed. It was your prerogative not to reward his behaviors while he was undercover, so instead of reacting or saying anything you knew he wanted to hear, you rolled your eyes.

             You were smart and attractive and you had a sense of humor, but the fact was that you weren’t as sociable as Neal was, so he was approached more than you were. He gently rebuffed them when he wasn’t working, and he encouraged it when he was undercover so that he would have the emotional upper hand. You were used to sitting back and staying out of the way when it happened. Whether it was a thirty-year-old professor, a sixteen-year-old with a crush on her supposed substitute teacher, or a gorgeous blonde that bumped into you on the street, you were used to keeping your ego and your emotions out of the equation.

            It was rare that Neal had an undercover backup with him, but it happened sometimes. On a few occasions, it had been Mozzie. Moz had the background of another conman, so he pulled it off more convincingly than any federal agent could. Other times, it had been Jones, because Neal needed a strong, intimidating muscle man character. Peter liked playing the manipulated (or manipulative) cop, but would also sometimes be the competition. If the situation called for a woman, Diana was the first choice because it avoided a conflict of interest.

        ��   The choice was taken out of the bureau’s hands when Diana was struck with a bad strain of the flu. Christie had to call in sick on Diana’s behalf – that was how bad it was. You were in too far to pull back on your plan, so you had to substitute for her.

            Neal was not thrilled with having you in the same room as a man who carried two guns at once, but he didn’t get much of a say when, for the time being, he was someone else who wasn’t supposed to care. You had a small Glock in a hidden compartment in your briefcase, but you were supposed to avoid using it if there was any alternative.

            “Look,” you said to Kirsch, your suspect, diplomatically. “There’s no need for this to get nasty. We’re all civilized, aren’t we?” You raised your eyebrows expectantly, staring at him like an annoyed schoolteacher through non-prescription glasses. Your hair was up in a bun so tight that it was starting to give you a headache, and you couldn’t wait to get out of your heels. “I would much rather have the company of gentlemen than Neanderthals.”

            Kirsch was a handsome-looking guy. If you met him on the street, you wouldn’t have thought anything other than ooh, cute if it weren’t for the prison tattoo on the left side of his neck. He was an example of what might’ve happened if Adler had been caught before fleeing the country all those years ago; after serving his prison sentence (which was notably longer than Neal’s), he got right back into the thick of the New York criminal scene. He was an important guy to arrest because Neal’s street sources (read: Mozzie) suggested Kirsch was looking into ways to snatch the carpet out from underneath Manhattan Mutual, a chain of banks throughout the greater Manhattan area.

             “Forget Nick,” you said soothingly, gesturing carelessly to Neal, who sent you a slightly offended look to stay in character. “Let’s make our deals, solve our differences. Maybe then we can get into less... volatile… subjects… maybe over Chardonnay.”

            You knew you were taking a risk, but you also knew that you were one inflammatory gesture away from having a gun out and cocked, so it was a risk you were prepared to make. Kirsch had received word that “Nick” had been seen in Federal Plaza, and it had made him very upset. He was too suspicious and cynical for Neal to calm him down, but you hoped that your unthreatening stature would make him less likely to shoot you… and you’d seen from Neal various times that people were a lot more compliant when they thought there was a chance of business mixing with pleasure.

            Sure enough, Kirsch’s shoulders relaxed. He moved closer to you. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” he said lightly, supposedly teasing. “I wouldn’t want to waste a good drink.”

            You bit your lip appealingly and met his eyes intently. “I wouldn’t want to waste a good night,” you responded meaningfully.

            Kirsch looked over at Neal again and smirked like he’d won something. One of his arms came up around your shoulders and you reminded yourself again that your name was Nicole and you actually wanted to stay for a date with this man. (It didn’t really work.)

            “Let’s go to my office,” he invited, beginning to lead you out. As an afterthought, he checked over his shoulder uncaringly. “Oh, Nick, there are coolers in the fridge and ESPN on cable. Make yourself comfortable; I’m sure your assistant and I can come to a very profitable agreement for all of us.”

            You didn’t have everything you needed to arrest Kirsch just yet, but you left his office feeling both flattered and excited. Flattered, because he flirted with you in a respectful yet clearly impassioned manner, and excited, because if things continued like this, then you would have everything you needed for a solid case in just a couple more meetings like that.

            You were rightfully proud of yourself for working your mark so well, and you bragged to Peter and Jones as soon as you were back at the office. You sat on the edge of Jones’ desk, slipped your stilettos off, let down your hair, and took off your glasses – Nicole was gone for the time being, and it was incredibly satisfying to stop pretending to be someone you weren’t.

            After several minutes of discussion and more serious consideration of possible angles to go at, Jones got a concerned, sympathetic look on his face as he watched someone behind you. You twisted your neck to look down the bullpen and saw that he was watching Neal, who was back at his desk, more subdued than normal.

            “Do you think he’s okay?” You asked quietly. Neal was used to being in danger, and there had been no guns this time. You didn’t really know what could’ve upset him. All things considered, this operation had gone exceedingly well.

            “Well…” Jones put his hands up. “I don’t want to comment on what’s not my business, but he did just have to see his special someone get cozy with someone else. I don’t think I’d be too ecstatic.”

            You frowned. You handled exactly that all the time. This was the third occasion you’d ever flirted undercover, and only the first since you’d hit it off with the conman. In comparison, you’d listened to and seen Neal in various non-platonic scenarios dozens of times.

            “But he knows I’m with him,” you pointed out, suddenly worried that maybe that wasn’t as clear to Neal as it was to you. “I’ve stayed by him through all the other women he’s hit on. You’d think he’d figure out by now that flirting on a case doesn’t matter to me.”

            Your friend hesitated. Jones was hesitant to talk about your relationship with Neal. He was of the opinion that it wasn’t a great idea to date a conman, even one that worked for the FBI. He wanted to be a supportive friend, so he tried to avoid situations where he might be prompted to say something that showed his reservations.

            “That’s always him flirting with someone else, though. He knows he loves you.” Jones reasoned out. “It’s harder to be sure what another person is feeling. And it’s different when it’s the one you love showing their attentions elsewhere. It’s easy to suddenly not be so sure.” He pointed across the room with the pen he was holding. “Does that look like a confident, secure man to you?”

            You looked over your shoulder again. Neal’s shoulders were slumped and you could tell his focus was elsewhere; his pen was moving across paper, but you knew what it looked like when he was working, and he was definitely not working. He looked beaten down and tired.

            “But it’s Neal,” you stressed. You hated to think that he looked that way because of you. Besides, Neal was beautiful and clever and funny and kind. He was pretty much perfect (when you weren’t annoyed, that is). You didn’t know what he had to be insecure about.

            Jones shrugged. “Neal’s not perfect. It’s something he likes to hide, but he’s not bulletproof.”

            Jones was absolutely right that Neal liked to hide when he was vulnerable, so you waited until it was time to go home and then offered to go back to June’s with him. He plastered on a bright smile and kissed you softly on your lips before making sure Peter knew he was leaving. Now that it had been pointed out to you, you could see the difference in his attitude. You could even feel the difference in the way he kissed you… a little more tentative than usual, reserved. It felt sincere, but not intimate.

            You waited until you had pulled up in the driveway at Riverside Drive before you turned off the car and looked to your passenger. “Hey,” you said softly, prompting him to look at you curiously. You reached for his hand and threaded your fingers between his. “Are you jealous?”

            He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” Neal squeezed your hand and looked away from you, embarrassed. “Very.” You kept holding his hand. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. You just stayed seated, right where you were, making no motion to get out of the car. Finally, he asked, in a voice so quiet you thought you could’ve missed it, “Did you kiss him?”

            “No,” you replied truthfully. Had the situation called for it, you probably would’ve. In the spirit of being honest, you said as much. Neal flinched and tried to pull away; you tightened your grip on his hand and didn’t let him run. “He had guns. He was getting mad. I love you, Neal; I’m sorry it upsets you to hear, but I’d rather kiss someone else than risk you being hurt.” You took your seatbelt off so that you could lean across the divide and lay your cheek on his shoulder. “I didn’t want to make you jealous. I don’t want you to feel like there’s anything to be jealous of.”

            “How do you do that all the time?” He asked sorrowfully. “If I’ve been making you feel this, all this time…”

            “I know that you love me,” you answered simply. “I know that no matter what happens with the case or the suspect, you’re going to come home with me.” You paused, let the silence fill the car, and gave him a moment to understand. “You know I love you, right? You know I’m going to come home with you?”

            He sighed. “I guess I do. I don’t believe you’d cheat on me. There are so many other people that might be better for you. I guess seeing you with him just reminded me that you might meet someone you like more than me. Maybe someone more attractive or without an anklet.”

            “I knew what I was getting into with the anklet, and it’s not up to you to decide whether or not anyone deserves me. That’s my choice to make, and I think I’ve made it clear that I think you do.” You pondered for a second over how to address his other insecurities. It surprised you that Neal was insecure, and at the same time, you were amazed that you’d somehow thought he was immune to self-doubt. “You’re the most beautiful man in the world to me – but more importantly, you’re everything I want, including your flaws. I like that you’re a control freak with your art supplies,” you mentioned nonchalantly, making him laugh nervously as he remembered that incident.

            You picked your head up and kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to sulk when you’re jealous or pretend that you’re happy when you’re not. It’s totally normal to be insecure. It’s okay. I promise I’ll be here to reassure you.”

A/N: Jealousy’s expressed lots of different ways, so since I have a prompt on my list that specifies aggressive jealousy, I chose to use sulky jealousy here. Kudos to anyone who caught the reference to 3x12, “Upper West Side Story.”

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