Let the agents have their guns. Neal has his grin and his words and his perpetual good mood, and that gets him in doors that even badges can't.
Another bust, another plus in the long, long ledger of Neal's twisted winding relationship with the people who caught him. Another win, another set of backslaps from the agents who actually like him, and another set of reluctant nods from the ones who don't.
It's not hard to fake it, on days like these. Where Neal takes someone down, someone violent and cold, who used to terrorize thiefs like Neal whenever they wanted something. It's not hard to turn his lips up into the smile that he makes his living off of, and it's not hard to make people feel like he's happy to be there.
Most people.
But when the rest of the team was getting ready to go out for drinks to celebrate, Peter called Neal into his office and gestured for him to sit. Peter stood in front of him, looming large, arms crossed. He was close to Neal, getting in his space, and Neal could smell his aftershave.
"We did good today, huh?" Neal said with a smile.
"Yes. You did great. So why aren't you happy?"
That was thing about Peter. He wasn't fooled by Neal's smile. It was, like most things about Peter, equal parts arousing and infuriating.
"Why would you think I'm not happy?"
"Neal," Peter frowned and leaned back a little, thigh muscles stretching out in front of him.
"I'm glad that guy's going away. I'm glad I helped," Neal said.
Peter nodded, waiting.
"I don't know what you're asking me, Peter."
"I think you do."
Neal was silent, stared straight ahead. Peter knew something. But not anything specific, Neal could tell.
"Whenever you get antsy, chaos ensues. So you need to let me know what's going on," Peter said, doing his best impression of gentle.
Neal shrugged.
"You know, you should be proud of the work you do here. I'm proud of you for it," Peter said, eyes boring into Neal. And Neal knows that Peter is opening himself up to Neal, more than Peter wants to. And he knows that beneath the paternal lecture is a decent man and a good friend who is completely terrified that he might have to throw Neal back where he found him.
But it's been three months since Neal admitted to himself that he was in love with Peter Burke, and three months since Neal admitted to himself that Peter would never love him back. And so Neal can't offer comfort and reassurance to Peter. It's unkind and it's ungrateful, but Neal spends every day three feet away from a man he can't have, and he doesn't have it in him to spare Peter's feelings about something as stupid as whether Neal is satisfied with his consultant's gig.
So Peter is proud of him. That's great, but it's not exactly the same as wanting to rip Neal's clothes off to fuck him on the desk. It's definitely not the same as staring at Neal all day, wanting desperately for Neal to return his affection, getting turned on like some stupid infatuated kid every time Peter touches his knee or praises his good ideas, or jacking off in his lonely bed to thoughts of him. In other words, it's definitely not what Neal feels for him.
So he smiles a big toothy smile that he knows Peter will se is fake. And he says, "I'm required to help. And everyone but you seems to think I help with a good, cheerful attitude. So maybe you should stop worrying about me and go spend some time with your oft-neglected wife."
Peter narrows his eyes at Neal, discerning something, and for a second, Neal wonders if Peter is about to figure something out.
Something that is better for everyone if it stays unspoken.
But finally, Peter nods and tells him he can join the rest of the team for drinks. Relieved, Neal grabs his coat from Peter's coatstand and heads out to the bullpen, where he greets his colleagues with a wide grin of triumph and a promise to buy the first round.
The team (not Peter) cheers, and Neal soaks it in, lets the approval linger on him, as if it's sweet. Truthfully, though, it doesn't taste like much.