Samantha was grinning, staring at the pumpkin before her in childlike glee.

So was Neal, but we'll get to that later.

"Any idea what your carving?" El asked. June, unfortunately, couldn't be there, Mozzie was missing (he'd promised, but he never did specify a time) and Neal was hiding in the kitchen. So, really, there was only the need for three pumpkins out. That didn't seem to damper Sam's mood at all.

"Not a one!" She said cheerfully, and grabbed a marker off the coffee table.

Peter and Elizabeth looked at each other. Peter cocked one eyebrow, and El merely nodded in return. No one would ever be completely sure what that mental conversation had boiled down to. Still, Peter got up from his spot on the couch, walking in the direction of the kitchen.

Neal immediately popped in the doorway, his white t-shirt splattered in orange and a huge smile on his face. He was also blocking whatever view there may have been of the pumpkin.

"Yes?" The ex-con questioned, shifting to the left as Peter tried to see around him.

"Just wondering how long you planned on being holed up. I think the little guy is outside, but he won't come in unless he sees you in the window." He raised an eyebrow as Neal continued to block the pumpkin.

"Just put a note on the door that says set, all caps. That should work." Neal's smile got wider as Peter, slowly, walked off. The pumpkin awaited him.

When Peter walked back in the front room and stayed there (because he had just walked through the first time), he had a piece of paper in one hand and tape in another. El raised an eyebrow as her husband put it on the door.

"For Moz," and that was all the explanation she got. Almost as soon as the phrase was uttered, there was a knock on the door. Peter smiled smugly, opening the door for -who else?- Mozzie. The shorter man handed him back the paper.

"Neal told you?" He questioned. Peter nodded and shut the door.

Half an hour later, two pumpkins were carved, one was getting started and Neal still hadn't come out of hiding. Peter, who was getting mildly annoyed at the fact that there hadn't been a direct word from the consultant (he had a great singing voice, though) since Mozzie arrived. So he went into the kitchen, fully prepared to drag his friend out.

"…Strawberry avalanche, crash over me." Peter cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow the MP3 player at Neal's side. The younger man was crouched down on the floor, carefully carving out the pumpkin. It was incredibly detailed, though Peter couldn't tell what it was since Neal was blocking a good portion or it.

Peter, head still cocked slightly, tapped the con on the shoulder, making him jump, ear buds ripped out.

"Peter!" Neal exclaimed, surprised.

The eyebrow went higher. "I was wondering when you would come out of hiding."

A quiet sigh filled the silent air. "I'm almost done, okay? Just give me a minute." He pouted slightly. With all the experience Peter had reading looks, he could tell this one said "now please go" in the most childish way possible. The FBI agent nodded, leaving Neal to his pumpkin.

Another twenty minutes. The only pumpkin un-carved was June's, who still hadn't shown. Oh, and Neal was still hiding in the kitchen.

Until he popped his head into the room. "Can someone help me? This thing is still kind of heavy."

So Peter went in and helped him roll the giant pumpkin to the front porch. No one saw the carving while it was being moved.

Once it was stationary though…

It was complex. It was detailed.

It was their house.

Peter blinked, staring at the pumpkin in shock as Neal went in for, presumably, candles.

Of all the things he could have carved out of the giant pumpkin, Neal chose the Burke's place of residence.

It was kind of… sweet, really.

Neal came back out, several candles and a bow of matches in hand. "What? Don't like it?" He said, noting the agent's blank look. "I mean, it's kind of hard to do something justice from a pumpkin carving, but still…"

Peter blinked again, snapping out of his reverie. "No, no. Neal, this is," he paused. "A-amazing. One question though." Neal cocked his head to one side, setting the candles aside.

"What?"

"Why our house?"

The con shrugged.

"It was suppose to be home."