White Collar: Fanfic: The Bet

Title: The Bet
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Length: 460
Summary: Neal discovers he's lost a bet




Neal was at his desk in the FBI bullpen, working on very boring audit forms, when a shadow appeared on his desk. He looked up to see two FBI agents - Jones and Diana - standing, glowering, above him.

He gave them a quick smile. "Hi, guys."

"The Mets won last night," Jones said, not amused.

Neal didn't see the game, and had yet to see how this had to do with him. "Okay..."

"So you owe me five bucks," Jones continued, in explanation.

Neal frowned. "Five bucks for what?"

"Remember that bet we made?"

Neal could now start to see where this was going. "Not really..."

Diana snorted. "I told you he's gonna weasel out of it."

Neal flashed a brighter smile this time. "I'm not weaseling out of anything... I just don't remember making a bet."

"Last week?" Jones tried. "You said the Mets were not gonna make it."

"I did say that," Neal acknowledged.

"And that's when I bet you five dollars they would."

Diana tapped Jones arm. "You're wasting your breath. He's not gonna pay."

"Hey, what's going on?" Peter passed by.

Before Neal had a chance to say anything, Diana filled him in, "Caffrey is trying to weasel out of his bets."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Peter laughed, before he moved off.

"Okay, okay." Neal fished for his wallet. He then took out one crisp, five-dollar bill. "There you go."

Jones took the bill and held it up to the light. "Is this stolen, Caffrey?"

"Not at all," Neal protested. As if he would say if it was.

The FBI agent pocketed the bill, and then a smile spread over his face as he turned to Diana. "Told you I can out-con a con."

Neal glanced between them. "What?"

Diana was kind enough to explain. "You've been had, Caffrey."

"Had?"

"Yeah... had. How does it feel, being on the other side?"

Neal sighed, theatrically, pretending to get back to work. "Enjoy your five bucks."

It took him a moment to realize that the two agents hadn't moved. He looked up. "Anything else?"

"We also had a bet that you couldn't be conned," Jones said.

Neal actually remembered that one. With another long sigh, he once again took out his wallet, this time depositing a hundred-dollar bill on the desk.

"What about the rest of it?" Jones asked, as he pocketed the money.

"I'll owe you."

The two agents returned to their places, practically giggling, and Neal returned to his audit forms. But he could barely see the figures in front of him. His mind was already racing. This required payback. It was going to be tricky, and it would have to be something the FBI won't be able to prosecute him for, but payback there will be.