Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar, I just like to play with it. I make no money off it.

This one has been sitting half finished for awhile. Our favorite guys fall out often enough I though I'd put one out there based on it...

Neal collapsed on his bed with a groan. It had been one of those days he'd be relieved to forget. The deal had gone wrong, the suspect got away and Peter and he had argued.

Peter had said things about how he'd end up back in prison if he didn't wise up. He's growled about Peter blaming him for things beyond his control and that if it bothered to him to work with a guy with a past than why keep him?
He was cleaned up, exhausted ready for the comfort of the bed and sleep. Yet hours later he tossed and turned. Finally he got up, pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants and started painting. He quit that when he realized he was making a mess and it wasn't coming out right. He dropped his supplies in frustration, sitting on the chair and knocking and bottle off the table with a thunk. He was too distracted. He rose again and paced. He was stunned, then winced at the knock on the door. He cracked it open, to see June's worried face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be noisy."

She smiled. "May I come in?"

It was her house. Neal motioned her in the door and followed her to the table. She was dressed in a nice robe, which she gathered around herself. "I just couldn't sleep. Can I get you anything."

"So I gathered. You looked very agitated when you came home. And no, thank you." She studied him softly. "Friends do fight you know. The people you can hurt most are the ones you love. A stranger wouldn't care so much."

Neal's eyes widened. His mouth opened but he hesitated. "Who do you think I fought with?"

"Peter. There aren't many that I know of that would keep you awake this late."

"It's so stupid." Neal sat with a groan. "I do trust him. I know he trusts me...and yet..."

"And yet you don't quite. You fight. You blame each other and accuse. It's not just because your so different."

"It's not?"

"No. Think Byron and I never fought? Or that I never disagreed with his friends? But in the end, words that hurt...well, we didn't mean it at least not the way it came out. And we both knew that too. It's part of caring about someone."

Neal looked at her, hand on his chin. "Some conman I am. Can't even con my landlady..." His voice was rueful.

She smiled. "You wouldn't want to and you know it. You need people who know you better than that."

"He risked his career to bring me back. He's been threatened by my enemies." Neal stroked the table, rubbing at a paint streak. He'd gotten it on his t-shirt and it rubbed off on the table when he'd leaned forward.

"What did he blame you for?"

Neal flushed, thinking back to the fight.

"You'd have gotten him if you weren't ogling that antique jewelery."

"I wasn't ogling, I was admiring."

"When you were undercover! Where is it?"

Neal handed it over. "I was just looking at it. I'm trying to place it. It's...unusual..." He continued to ponder.

"It's evidence."

"I wasn't going to keep it!"

Peter stared at him. "Weren't you?"

Neal slid his eyes half shut. He had considered it. It was a small piece, a rearing horse with gemstone eyes in silver and gold. But he really had not decided to keep it. In fact, he'd merely been admiring it and let himself get distracted. In that moment, his target had pulled a switch on him. He'd switched the stolen jewels Neal had authenticated and purchased for fakes. They man was already out on bail and would probably be long gone before they could prove anything.

Neal didn't say anything bu this eyes shifted away, lips tight. Peter didn't know any of that, he'd only suspected. Neal had still been holding the piece when they'd burst in. He'd almost forgotten about it in the shock of the moment when he'd realized the gems they were collecting were not the ones he'd identified. And the originals were nowhere in sight. They'd turned the place upside down looking and found nothing.

Neal sighed. "I might've...let myself get distracted." He allowed. "But I was surprised at his reaction."

June studied him thoughtfully. "I've known a lot of parole officers and authority figures, Neal. I know Peter is one of the good ones. The best I've known, in fact."

Neal nodded slightly.

"But even they have a bad day. And it might have nothing to do with you."

Neal looked up startled, thinking. He'd not seen anything off about Peter today, but...he thought back trying to remember. He'd been late, car trouble, he said, and Satchmo had been hurt somehow. Elizabeth had cancelled lunch with him. He'd been working on paperwork all day as far as Neal could tell, up until the operation started at seven in the evening.

"I don't remember noticing anything big..." He said slowly.

"It doesn't have to be big. A lot of smalls add up to big. And are you mad at him or yourself?"

Neal just looked at her.

She stood, squeezing hs shoulder gently. "I don't need to know. I just think you do. And there is an old Proverb about not letting the sun go down on anger. Maybe whoever wrote that knew just how hard to sleep it is like that. I wouldn't be surprised if Peter was awake right now too."