Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

A/N: As always, thanks to ritt for letting me bounce this idea off of her.

"Well, well, well," Special Agent Don Eppes spoke as he circled his two suspects and moved to stand across the table from them. He gestured at the evidence laid out between them and raised an eyebrow. "What do we have here?"

The older suspect seemed to understand that keeping a cool demeanor and remaining quiet was the way to go, but the younger suspect fidgeted in his seat. "Nothing," he replied hesitantly.

"Nothing?" Don asked in disbelief. He held up a bag containing a fine, white powder. "You call this nothing?"

The younger man's eyes darted to his companion who just shook his head, indicating he should remain silent.

Don watched the interaction between the two suspects and quickly held up a second bag containing a white, crystalline substance. "I suppose this is nothing, too?" he demanded.

"It's, uh..." the younger man trailed off as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Yes?" Don prompted impatiently. "If you've got an explanation, now is the time to tell me."

The older suspect rolled his eyes at the agent's tone but refrained from speaking.

"What?" Don turned on him. "You thought you could slip this past a Federal Agent?"

"It's not what it looks like," the dark haired young man insisted.

"It's not?" Don questioned as he leaned over the table and locked eyes with the nervous man. "Then what exactly is it? What are you doing with these substances?"

"Be strong," the older suspect encouraged. "Don't tell him."

The younger suspect, having run the evidence through his head and concluding that the Fed didn't have anything concrete, turned his defiant gaze on the agent and gave him a cocky smile. "You don't have anything solid on us," he challenged. "So I see no reason for us to sit here-"

"Sit!" Don commanded as the younger man was rising from the chair. "I do have two more pieces of evidence that I think you'll find interesting."

The younger man gulped and sank back into the chair, clasping his hands together as he avoided the agent's eyes. His accomplice idly drummed his fingers on the table.

Don produced a plastic bag and held it over the table, smiling as the two objects inside landed on the table with a loud thump. The dark haired suspect licked his lips nervously. "Yeah," Don stated triumphantly. "Thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"

The older man reached out and picked up the two objects, shaking his head in amusement. "I can't believe you bought these," he said to his accomplice.

"I thought it would be funny," he protested weakly, as he made himself look away from the two objects that had just sealed his fate.

"Funny?" Don growled. "I'm a thirty-seven year old man, for crying out loud!"

"That's why I got a three and a seven," the younger man replied as he gestured at the two candles in his accomplice's hands.

Don sighed as he stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath before moving to stand between his two suspects. "Look," he spoke gently. "I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate it, but I said no."

"But you never let us make you a birthday cake!" the dark haired man protested.

"I don't like to be fussed over, Charlie." Don said as he patted the younger man's shoulder. "You know that."

"That's what I told him," the accomplice said.

"Really, Dad?" Don asked with a skeptical look, although he was fighting back a smile as he spoke. Every year since he'd moved back to Los Angeles, his father and brother had tried to surprise him with a cake on his birthday, and every year he'd caught them. By now it had become a family tradition and, as much as Don hated to admit it, he enjoyed the attention tremendously. "Guess whose card was used to pay for all of this stuff?"

"I think I'll plead the fifth now," Alan replied.

"Are we free to go?" Charlie sighed in defeat.

"Yes," Don grinned. "But I'll be confiscating this stuff until after my birthday. Then you can have it back."

"Spoilsport," Charlie muttered with a grin as he left the dining room, already planning his strategy for next year.

The End