I am still relevantly new to the WC fandom, so I don't know if this idea has been used before. But anything goes, right? I don't own!

XXX

Lock and Key

XXX

Peter visits convicted criminal, Neal Caffrey, once in the three years and eight months (almost four) that he decides to stay put and play nice in jail.

And Neal's time in super max is a choice because the man isn't afraid to run, running is his first instinct like creating forgeries is second nature, and when he does, there is nothing that can contain him but a simple will, a hard press please. And it is exactly one week from the day he is locked behind bars that he gets a visitor.

The guard gives a tap at the white bars as Neal sits up, already recognizing the man by the sounds of his footsteps coming down the hall.

"Someone's here to see you, Caffrey."

"Well, aren't I popular?" He puts his book to the side and grins at the guard, knowing that this one doesn't mind the banter by the way he initiates the first word.

"Not your pretty clockwork girl, today huh?"

The door clicks open with a buzz.

"Nah, not today."

Neal Caffrey smiles as he swings his legs off of the narrow bed.

000

"Hm."

Neal steps into the threshold of the visiting room and pauses at the sight of the man.

Well, it isn't like he expects anyone else. Kate is his clockwork girl, once a week, nothing more, nothing less, he has made her promise him. And Mozzie, he just doesn't do visitations, the end.

He takes a seat in front of the federal agent and laces his hands together in front of his chest. He smiles that easy smile, because that's what Neal Caffrey does, but they both know it is much more than that. "Special Agent Peter Burke."

"Neal," and it is almost like the man doesn't want to correct himself, "Caffrey."

They sit in silence, Neal playing docile, Peter still deciding what he really wants. And it takes a minute but he finally forces himself to let it out.

"How're you doing?"

"Fine," and Neal really doesn't know whether this is all just a joke. "I'm in super max, Peter."

Peter ignores the faint amusement and focuses on the exasperation in his voice, like there is a chance that Peter hasn't realized what he has really done. He needs to sleep damnit, and it has only been a week (exactly one week but it isn't like he has been counting) and Neal has four more years. He stares hard at the conman like all the things that he has been looking for will suddenly surface.

And yes, he will admit, just this once that he is worried. There are no telltale signs of the obvious, but you don't come into prison looking like Neal Caffrey and expect to be fine.

"…Are you getting by?"

There is a second where Neal is genuinely puzzled but they are both painfully smart men. There are only so many defences you can hide behind before it is time for you to run again.

And before he leans in, Neal is pushing up his sleeves all the way to his elbows. There are none of the branding handprints Peter expects to see, there are no black and blue rings of bruises around his wrists. His lips aren't split and his eyes don't scream damage like some men he has seen walk back out from here.

"I'm still a conman, I've got my ways."

He doesn't tell him not to worry, he doesn't tell him that there will always be problems that even small cons don't fix. But this isn't about chastity, this is about breaking and being truly broken. This is also about none of those things.

000

"The orange doesn't do anything for me though. But they did give me charcoal and chalk to dabble around with." Neal raises a hand up at him and Peter can see the smears of black around the tips of his fingers, and finer white flecks etched into the skin.

"Not even a pencil?" Peter retorts, knowing a break when he sees it, and allows Neal to take the reins.

"They are picking up after you so well, have you been leaving them tips?"

There is a twinkle in his eyes, like everything will pass. Like the next four years will be a walk in the park, Peter opens his mouth but Neal always beats him to it.

"I can take care of myself."

And sometimes if he sinks down to his knees for a guard that bears the barest hint of resemblance to the FBI agent that caught him, Neal doesn't tell.

He loves Kate, still.

000

And Peter is just about to leave when he gives him that one final warning.

"Don't run."

"You think too highly of me."

But Neal is pulling a grin at the only agent who has ever caught on.

And yes, they both know there's a way out. (Because where there's a will, there's a way, and Neal takes that very close to the heart.) Peter stands up with something close to finality, but it's hard, nothing is ever really over, not when neither of them wants to let go.

"It isn't worth it."

Neal splays his palms against the table, watches him from beneath his lashes and Peter doesn't know what he can see, can't imagine what he wants to see.

"Goodbye, Peter Burke."

And this time, Neal has no ulterior motives, he only wants to memorize the man who has put him here. Catching every angle and line, not in retribution, but in awe. He wants to capture him the same way he has caught him.

Peter stops at the door and when he turns, Neal is still smiling, waving at him from his seat, and he sounds exactly like they both imagine him to be.

"The orange brings out the blue in your eyes, Neal."

Neal's wave falters in midair, and by then it is Peter's turn to grin. Something feral, something small, something to remind them both that he is the key to his lock, keeping him in place when he is ready to bolt.

000

The next day, the same guard comes by his cell, gives a tap at the bars and says.

"You've got some guardian angels lookin' out for you, Caffrey."

And then he hands him a roll of grey drawing paper, a couple of HB pencils, and a note that reads: Tired of all your forgeries, make me an original.

XXX Kuro

I just really really like Neal in the orange jumpsuit, okay.