Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Used to Play Pretend Chapter 1
"Neal, I am not talking to Hughes about it."
"But Peter! In order for me to accurately appraise the fake diamonds I have to make some myself or-"
"As if you haven't made some before," Peter cut in.
Neal put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Honestly, you hurt me. I was convicted of bond forgery."
"True, but you were suspected of-"
"Suspected is the key word here, Agent Burke."
Peter rolled his eyes, opening the doors to the White Collar Office and strolling into the bullpen. It was early, and only a few other agents were milling around. He hadn't held the glass door for Neal, who was trailing behind him, which resulted in it nearly slamming the con in the face. Neal managed to slip through at the last second, only due to his ever-present grace.
"That was childish," he chided, lengthening his strides so he was even with Peter.
The older man ignored the comment. "One second, you brag about your less-than-legal talents and the next, you claim you can only forge bonds."
Neal's face lit up in a bright smile. "What can I say? I'm a mystery."
Peter let out a short, derisive laugh. "That's one way to put it."
"I'll assume the other ways you're referring to are compliments."
"Yeah, sure they are." The pair made their way to Peter's office. Once there, Peter sat behind his desk, slapping Neal's feet back to the floor when he propped them up. "We're being reassigned from the diamonds case, anyway."
Neal's face lit up in the way it did when there was a new puzzle to solve. "Why? What kind of case is it? If it's the Louvre I'll go pack my bags-"
"Neal," Peter cut in. "Hughes reassigned us on this case because the prime suspect is Chris Jones, the notorious art thief. This is very different from our usual cases, though."
Neal looked intrigued. "I've heard of him. What's different about this guy?"
"A couple of things. First, we're going to be working with Missing Persons."
"That's great. FBI departments work so well together. Why them?"
"Well, part of this case is from twenty years ago. Apparently, a family was killed in a planned hit by Jones in the early 90's. The parents didn't survive, but their son's remains were never found," Peter explained, voice tight.
Neal frowned. In the White Collar Unit, they usually didn't have to deal with this brand of sick psycho. "Sounds like a real bastard, but why is this case ours?"
"It appears that the car may have been hit because the father was a dirty cop. May have helped Jones on a heist. This case, though, wasn't even considered a crime until about a week ago when new evidence came to light. Everyone thought it was an accident."
"Okay, so we're looking for the paintings that this dirty cop helped steal, and we may find the kid- well, not really kid anymore- who might have been abducted in the accident?"
"Exactly," Peter said, shuffling around the papers on his desk, looking for the files.
Neal nodded. "Piece of cake," he said sarcastically, but his brow was furrowed, already going over possible scenarios. Peter found the files a minute later, making a mental note to organize his desk, and handed one to Neal. The con took it absently, lost in thought, and flipped it open.
"I already told you the gist of it, but the file had specific- Neal?"
Neal's mouth was slightly agape, and his face was white as a sheet. He was looking at the file, but his gaze seemed unfocused and faraway, as if he wasn't really seeing it anymore.
"Neal?" Peter questioned again, unnerved by his partner's paleness and complete stillness. He got up from his desk slowly and placed a gentle hand on Neal shoulder, but the other man didn't react, or even move an inch. Peter shook Neal's shoulder gently and called his name a few more times.
He was about to call out for help when Neal suddenly jumped. He glanced around quickly until he saw the only other person in the room with him. "Peter," he said quietly and a little unsteadily.
"What's the matter, buddy?" Peter asked softly. He was never good at these emotional things, but it had started to come naturally with Neal for some reason. He pushed El's gushing words, calling him a 'father-figure', out of his mind.
Neal's eyes looked anguished for a moment, before something seemed to click in his mind. Peter could feel him shaking slightly through his grip on his shoulder, but suddenly Neal's face lit up in a smile. "Nothing's wrong. I'll just go see if Mozzie or anyone knows anything about Jones. I'll be back in the office later."
He sprang up, patted Peter on the shoulder, and walked, if not rushed, to the elevator. Peter hurried out of his office after him, but Neal was already slipping into the elevator before he could even make it down the stairs. Having an escape artist as a friend definitely had its downfalls. Peter sighed. Neal wasn't exaggerating before when he had called himself a mystery.
He walked back into his office and picked Neal's discarded file up off the floor. He contemplated following Neal to his apartment, but decided he should give the kid some time first. For whatever this was.
Peter read through the file's contents three times to see what might have upset Neal, but couldn't find anything.
All he could find was the tragic story of a boy named Danny Brooks.
i've changed Neal's backstory for my fic, so there aren't really any spoilers if you have not seen that in the show yet. And if you have, well, you might know a little more about what just happened. Idk. But thanks for reading! I'll continue if anyone's interested. Please leave your opinions! I promise the next chapter would be longer
ps. The title is from a song. Bonus points to anyone who knows them(: