This is a short missing scene of sorts set in 'Hard Sell'. I just thought the way Peter answered Neal's observation on having better coffee.
"...Why don't we meet at your place?"
"My place?"
"Yeah, it's a little late for the plain bureau walls, besides you have better coffee."
"Yeah, I do."
Peter snapped the phone shut, staring at the file still on the table in front of him. Well, yeah there was better coffee here but that was only because El made it. I was going to be one of the first to admit - I made lousy coffee. Oh, but the stuff El brewed, it was heavenly. It was if the Gods had descended and given their blessing to the aromatic beans. He looked up at the sound of Elizabeth coming down the stairs. He rose to meet her.
"Hey, hon sorry" He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. She snuggled her head into his chest. "Neal called."
"What's he doing out at this hour?" She mumbled sleepily into him.
"Well, he's on his way over to work on this case. I need to call Jones. Go on back to bed, I'll make sure we stay quiet." He placed a kiss on the top of her head.
She nodded and turned back up the stairs. He wanted to scream after her, beg her, fall to his knees - please come make some coffee! Be strong, you - Peter Burke, Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, the man who had caught Neal Caffrey, not just once but twice; surely you could make a pot of coffee. He shook his head as he turned towards the kitchen. Who was he kidding?
He slowly pushed the kitchen door open, maybe El wouldn't mind? No, I can't wake her up just to make some coffee. That's selfish, se deserved her sleep but maybe…
He looked at the coffee pot, it stared back at him like a Cyclopes. It's cruel and forbidding gaze sent a small shiver through him. He edged closer, fingers tentatively brushing the cold plastic handle. He gulped. Maybe if I promised her a trip to Hawaii? The Fiji Islands? Any place just… he sighed… I don't want to make a pot of coffee. El's coffee, he could taste the sweet beverage crossing his lips. He licked his lips.
He opened the cabinet. Filters, check. See you can do this. Okay, does El grind the beans or is there a can in the fridge? Grinding coffee beans at this hour would surely wake her, use the stuff in the fridge. He crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator , it gaped at him like a giant whale waiting to suck him in to it's dark belly. He shook his head to clear it, sheesh, what is wrong with you. He found the bag of coffee and quickly shut the door.
He headed towards the coffee maker, the kitchen door pushed open, El was pulling her robe around herself, face still fresh from sleep. He let out a grateful sigh. She looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, the anxiety rippling in the depths of his brown eyes, the small beads of perspiration on his brow.
A hand reaching forward, as if to save a drowning man, "Let me get that."