A one-shot of random nothingness. Inspired by a discussion me and my friends had during lunch one day…

"So," the FBI inspector asked Hughes, "how is Caffery doing as an FBI consultant?"

"He helps us solve cases faster, if that's what you're asking," Hughes answered. He watched as she scribbled his answer down in her clipboard. God, he hated these inspections. Having the higher-ups checking up on the White Collar Crime Unit was always nerve-racking…and annoying. They always asked about every little detail, not that he wouldn't do the same in their place, but there were some things that you just wouldn't have to ask about if you were apart of the White Collar Crime Unit. Of course, once they made Caffery their consultant there have been even more inspections, but, honestly, Caffery was worth a little annoyance.

"That's not entirely what I meant," the FBI inspector said, "How is his relationship with Agent Burke?"

"They understand each other," Hughes said, not really answering her question. The Director noted her unsatisfied expression and sighed internally. The things he did to please the higher-ups… "They're working on a case right now if you want to observe them."

Her face lightened up considerably. "Lead the way." Hughes nodded as he led her towards Peter Burke's office, praying that Neal was behaving for once.

"Caffery has helped solve many cases," Hughes informed the inspector. She nodded absently. "Burke and Caffery always keep it professional when—" A voice floating through the open doorway cut Hughes off.

"So, you're saying that if you and me crashed on a deserted island and we were the only survivors, you'd eat me," Peter Burke said, dumbfounded. Hughes stopped talking. Oh no. The Director saw a look of surprise flicker over the inspector's face.

"Peter, you're making it sound worse than it is," Neal said. "I said I'd only eat you if there was no other possible way to get food."

"How is that any better?"

"Alright, Peter," Neal said exasperatedly, "hypothetically speaking, if it were just me and you on a deserted island and you were on the brink of starvation and there was no other way to get food. You're saying you wouldn't hypothetically eat me to stop your body from slowly decaying from lack of nutrients?"



"No, I actually don't make a habit out of eating my friends," Peter said.

Neal had a thoughtful expression on his face. "What if there was a guy in a wheelchair there to?"

Peter snorted. "Oh yes. Let's eat the handicapped person. Brilliant idea, Neal."

Neal gave Peter a look of wounded innocence which the federal agent promptly ignored. "Ok, first off, there is no need to be rude and second off, you didn't let me finish. I was going to suggest that we could eat the wheelchair guy's legs."

Peter stared at Neal. "You're joking."


"Eat the guy's—"

"Legs, yes."

"And how is that a better alternative? We would still be committing hypothetical cannibalism."

"Well, he wouldn't feel it.".

"Because he's paralyzed."


"…I suppose that's…somewhat better."

"See? I told you."

"No one likes a bragger," Peter scolded absentmindedly.

"But people like to brag," Neal said abruptly, looking down at the file in his hands thoughtfully.

"Especially criminals," Peter said, temporarily forgetting that Neal succeeded in forcing him to commit hypothetical cannibalism.

"Except he didn't sign the painting he forged."

"But that doesn't mean—"

"He didn't sign something else," Neal finished. A look of understanding passed between the conman and the federal agent.

"The yacht," Peter said in disbelief.

"The yacht," Neal agreed.

"Sounds like you two have everything worked out," Hughes said from the doorway. The Director watched in amusement as Neal and Peter both froze before slowly turning around to face Hughes.

Neal flashed Hughes and the FBI inspector a charming smile. "Hopefully."

"How long were you two standing there?" Peter asked in mild curiosity. Hughes bit back a grin as he saw his friend's ears turn a faint shade of pink.

"Long enough," Hughes answered. "Agent Smith wanted to observe you two in action."

Peter cleared his throat. "Well, I hoped we passed Agent Smith's inspection and we'd love to stay and chat, but we have to run." The Federal agent and convict both nodded their good-byes before beating a quick retreat to the elevator doors.

"So do you think they heard—" Neal began questioningly.

"Without a doubt," Peter answered.

Hughes turned to see Agent Smith busy scribbling notes in her clipboard. "So…what did you think?"

The Inspector looked up from her clipboard at him. "I think that Agent Burke and Mr. Caffery are good at going off each other to solve a crime and that their friendship could only help Caffery stay on the right side of the law. Also, that their professionalism is outstanding." Hughes flushed slightly. "All in all—they're good partners."

Hughes smiled for the first time all day. Finally, something was going right.

"Next, I was wondering if you could explain the White Collar Crime Unit's involvement in the Homicide Unit's case," Agent Smith said. Hughes groaned internally. Never celebrate too soon, he thought. I'm always forgetting. Hughes sighed as he began the long, tedious story of why exactly the White Collar Unit was solving a murder.

Not the best ending, but it was the only way I could think to end it.

There's a slight chance that I made Peter and/or Neal act a little OOC. If I did, my bad. Oh, and what's the case Peter and Neal are working on? A case that involves a forged painting and a yacht, of course. ;)

Hoped you liked it.