I just wanted to write some interaction between Peter and Neal - so sorry about the practically non-existant plot.


"Caffrey spent the night at your house?" Jones looked amused – if surprised - at the sight of Neal sprawled out on the Burke's couch - his arms folded across his midriff and his legs bent at the knees. The position gave Neal a vague resemblance to an armadillo halfway curled up into a ball.

Peter shrugged, sipping from his mug of coffee. "We were working on a case late last night. Do you have the information I asked for?"

Jones handed Peter the cream colored folder. "Yup – the guy's name is Frank Ackerson. Although he's never been convicted of any crimes, he has been an alleged accomplice for quite a few thefts. There has never been enough evidence to put him away, though."

Peter flipped through the folder with interest. "Until now..." He mused, his lips pursed. He set his cup of coffee on the table and walked over to the couch, giving Neal a sharp tap on the head with the folder as he did so.

"Neal – wake up."

"Mmhmm…." Neal mumbled, twisting so his face was pressed against the sofa. Peter rolled his eyes and shook Neal's shoulder impatiently.

"Neal – come on. Time to wake up. We're working on a case – remember?"

Neal slapped Peter's hands away in half-hearted annoyance and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Peter…" He protested sleepily – his eyes closed tightly. "Can't you solve anything without my help anymore? I'm tired…"

Peter tugged on Neal's arm, pulling the conman to his feet. "Come on, Neal – I've already got the coffee made."

Neal made a small noise of languid consent and opened his eyes – blinking blearily.

"Morning, Caffrey." Jones said easily – his lips twitching. His eyes flickered from Neal's rumpled clothing – to Neal's hair, which strongly resembled a haystack – to the imprint on the side of Neal's face that matched the surface of the couch. "Sleep well?"

Neal looked startled at the sight of the FBI agent standing in the middle of the room, but he quickly recovered – beaming at Jones with his trademark grin. Jones found himself smiling back – fighting the urge to laugh as the conman ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. But to no avail. It still looked like a haystack – even more so than ever.

"Morning, Jones." Neal glanced at Peter. "I see that Peter has you working on a Saturday as well."

Jones shook his head and gestured to the folder in Peter's hands. "Nope." He popped the 'p' loudly. "I was just making a quick delivery and then I am done for the day."

Neal frowned. "Peter – remind me again why we are planning on working on a Saturday…"

Peter elbowed Neal lightly before heading towards the kitchen. "We've almost got this guy, Neal! Cowboy up."

Neal grimaced at the all-too-familiar phrase. "That coffee better be good." He grumbled, following Peter sluggishly to the kitchen.

Jones shook his head, smiling. Sometimes it was hard to remember that one of them was a federal agent and the other one was a convicted criminal…


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