Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar, Neal, or Peter. I just want to play with them for a little while. Then I promise to give them right back, just as soon as I'm done, or the lawyers show up.
"I can't believe he's making me come up and get him," Peter Burke grumbled as he walked up the stairs of June's mansion. It was almost 7:30 a.m. and he had sent Neal six texts saying that he had been told to report early for an impromptu progress meeting concerning their latest case. So Neal had to be ready early and waiting for him outside. Instead, the ex-con was late and not answering his phone.
He better not be up there in his bathrobe reading the paper," Burke muttered, as he reached the door to Neal's apartment. "Or I'm dragging him in as is."
Burke started to knock, but decided to use his key instead. Peter wondered if Neal had realized that Peter had a key to his apartment. "Well, he's about to find out," Peter said as he pushed open the door.
Walking in, Peter spotted the bundle of blankets and the pillow on the long couch. Hearing the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom, Peter figured that Mozzie had slept over. Peter looked out towards the terrace, but didn't spot the ex-con man having his morning coffee. Peter moved farther into the apartment until he could see the bed, and the lone occupant still curled up under the covers, black hair just peeking out.
"I can't believe he's still sleeping, when we've got a meeting to get to," he thought, stomping over to the bed. "Get up now, or I'm dragging you in your pajamas," he shouts as he reaches to shake Neal's shoulder. Too mad about being late, Peter never noticed that the shoulder was thinner than Neal's or that the hair peeking out from under the blankets was longer than his consultant's.
What Peter did notice was that on the night stand a small mirror was propped up, and as he shook Neal's shoulder, he realized that there was a face reflected in the mirror, and that the face was not Neal Cafferey's. Peter barely had time to think, "What-" before the bed's occupant grabbed his wrist and pulled.
Neal Cafferey rushed out of his bathroom, with one long towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands frantically drying his hair. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, but we can't have breakfast today," he said as he opened his closet. "I accidently put my phone on silent, and only just now got a bunch of messages from Peter about a meeting today, and I am really late."
Neal glanced over his shoulder at the bed's occupant as the girl straightened up the sheets and pillows. The small dark haired girl smiled up at him as she pulled the blankets back up from the end where they had fallen. Neal smiled back as he tilted his head to take in the puzzling scene before him. "Honey, why are you holding that gun?"
The girl glanced over to the other side of the bed, and Neal walked over to see what the 16-year old was staring at. And what he saw made him struggle not to laugh.
Peter was lying on his side, struggling to get out of his own handcuffs and spit out what looked to be his own tie, which was wrapped around his head as a makeshift gag. The cuffs had been put on so that each wrist was attached to the opposite ankle. Neal spotted Peter's empty holster, and realized that the gun belong to the FBI agent currently residing on his floor. Neal looked back at the girl. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Intruder." Then she laid back down, tucking the gun under her pillow.
Neal looked back Peter who was still trying to get the gag out. Neal said, "Peter, I see you've met my baby sister. She's really adorable, right?"
Peter only glared back at Neal.
"Now Peter," Neal said as he knelt down, "You have to admit, this is kind of funny. I mean you caught one Cafferey, and now a Cafferey has caught you."