Same disclaimer applies.
#7 is supposed to be set within this year, thus Valentine's Day is on a Sunday. Also, #10 is set shortly after Free Fall but before Hard Sell and #8 is pre-series.
Apologies if anyone seems OoC at any point (such as #9, lol).
.:::.
6. Rain
He sighs and tips his head back to stare at the skylights, a small smile playing over his face as he watches the raindrops patter against the glass. Listening to the steady rhythm, he decides that it's very relaxing, in a rather Zen fashion. In the rain-washed silence of his apartment, it would be very easy to forget the outside world, to hide himself in this comfortable nook for the day and just be. No obligations. No cons. No heartbreak. No mysteries.
Suddenly, the dreary lighting gets to him, is no longer relaxing but vaguely sinister. The silence is as unnerving as a riot and he feels his heart rate shoot through the roof as he jumps to his feet and snatches open the door, barely pausing to grab his cell phone. Managing to calmly make it down the stairs, he heads out the front door and breaks into a jog, relishing the feel of the rain on his skin and the spring chill through his sodden clothes.
Minutes later, he collapses on a bench in the park, sheltered under the same gazebo June loves so much. Here, with the fresh smell of rain-wet grass and the soft sizzle of water on tree leaves, he can finally relax. He lets himself go boneless on the bench, immersing himself in the sounds and smells of the rain-soaked city, until even the slight weight of the tracker on his ankle disappears.
.:::.
7. Chocolate
She's pretty sure she's never been this excited for Valentine's Day. Not even for that first one with Peter, the first year she got diamonds for the holiday. This year, though, she started counting down in January, with all the eagerness of a child waiting for Christmas.
The confusion in Peter's eyes makes her giggle each time she mentions the holiday. It's obvious he's lost; he probably doesn't even realize what Sunday is. She knows he'll probably rush out that day and return with an armful of roses and some semi-expensive gift to make up for his forgetfulness, but even that isn't the root of her excitement.
No, the more she thinks about Valentine's Day, the stronger her craving grows and the more excited she gets. Because this year, Neal Caffrey promised her the best chocolate in the city and she can't wait to see what he comes up with.
The suspense is killing her and she's loving every second of it.
.:::.
8. Happiness
She sees it every time she visits, that eager spark that lights his luminous eyes when she comes into view. The look on his face always changes from resigned to hungry when his eyes glow like that, a look reminiscent of their early days, when they couldn't get enough of each other. She places her hand on the partition in their customary greeting and he presses his against hers on the other side, his fingertips going white and flat as he tries to touch her through the glass.
They talk for a while, though it's more a case of her rambling about her life and Mozzie while he listens, rapt, hanging on her every word. She's pretty sure she could recite the phone book and he wouldn't care, so long as she was there and speaking to him. She wonders, though, if he's noticed how her visits are getting shorter, how she can't quite meet his eyes as he stares at her. She knows he lives for her visits, but she really can't be sure if he notices the little things like that. Being in prison has blunted some of his skills, or maybe it's just the lack of her. As she ends this visit -- five minutes earlier than last time -- she realizes that he hasn't noticed those things.
In his happiness to see her, he hasn't seen how sick it makes her, seeing him caged like this, hungry just for the sight of her face.
She runs through the doors, into the bright, clean, open sunlight outside.
.:::.
9. Telephone
"Hello?" Hesitant, questioning.
"Hi, Peter!"
"Neal, where are you? You were supposed to check in an hour ago!" Barely contained anger, tinged with a hint of worry.
"Oh, Peter, I'm fine. Really. These guys are so nice and, I mean, Ralph promised me he didn't do anything, so I'm right and you're wrong. I told you it was--"
"Peter Burke?" The unfamiliar voice shoots a spike of adrenaline through him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you need to come pick up your friend. He's, uh, well-- He said they didn't get him, but there was a bar fight earlier and I think one of them broke a bottle over his head when he helped break it up. I mean, he'd had a glass of wine or two before, and I can't be sure, but--"
"I'll be there in ten minutes. Keep him there, please." He rolls his eyes as he hears Neal singing as he hangs up. "Jones--"
"Keep an eye out, you're going to get Caffrey. I gotcha, boss."
He grumbles to himself when he catches the suppressed smile on his second's face as he climbs out of the van. Only Neal.
.:::.
10. Ears
"How would you have done it?" Peter asks and is surprised by the discomfort on Caffrey's face. "What?"
The con man glances over his shoulder, examining the empty bull pen before looking carefully through the glass walls on either side of the room. As he settles back into his chair, the look on his face hasn't dissipated at all and Peter's seriously starting to wonder about the man.
"Something wrong?" he questions dryly as he watches Neal continue to debate with himself. Blue eyes settle on his face and he gets the feeling he's being judged and he suddenly hopes he passes muster; he's not seen the con this hesitant about giving his opinion since they first started working together. Quirking one eyebrow, he's rewarded with a reluctant sigh as Neal finally decides to answer.
"I'd've had someone helping, someone who could knock out the cameras and watch for passersby while I was inside. It would take weeks of research, on the security system, the layout of the building and the sculpture's location. And a piece that old would require special transportation and storage later, to keep it from being damaged." Neal leans close to the desk as he explains, his voice low and secretive, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks through the heist. Peter smirks slightly at all of the deliberation to reveal such simple information.
"There. Was that so hard?" he teases, glancing down at the file in his hands as he processes what he was told.
"The walls have ears," he hears Neal mutter under his breath, and he looks up to see the con man drumming his fingers on his knee as he continues to study the walls of Peter's office, a perturbed expression on his face.
Suddenly, the need for caution isn't so funny anymore.