I own nothing. If I did, there would be a lot more 'aww' worthy moments between Neal and Peter.


"There was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city- alright, what don't you understand about it?! It can't get any clearer!" Neal shouted in frustration, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasize his point.

"There is nothing clear about it!" Peter smacked the desk with the flat of his hand after every word, as though – by doing so – he could drive his point in to Neal more clearly. "It doesn't make any sense – and if he wrote that, then why didn't he become a writer instead of a painter?"

Neal seemed to swell with indignation. "Painter!? PAINTER! He was an artist, Peter! Not a painter!"

"It's the same thing!" Peter shot back.

Neal gaped at him. "The same thing? Are you a complete buffoon!?"

Peter couldn't hold back his laughter anymore – but Neal seemed oblivious to the chortles of mirth coming from his partner.

"A painter only paints! Edvard Munch was an ARTIST! He used oils and pastels and- and…"

"The painting doesn't make any sense, Neal!" Peter interrupted, his laughter quieting somewhat. "I don't understand what the big deal is about The Shrieker-"

"It is called-" Neal said through gritted teeth. "The Scream."

Peter waved Neal's correction with a shake of his hand. "It looks like something a kid would draw."

Neal looked flabbergasted. "A kid – a kid! You are comparing Edvard Munch's The Scream to a children's doodle!?"

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds – with Neal breathing heavily and Peter's lips twisted in an amused smile – and then they were both laughing.


*buries head in shame* I found this hidden in the deep dark depths of my hard drive and since I had nothing else to post - I decided to put this up. They are so horribly out of character... *bangs head against desk in frustration* Agh! I - need - to - stop - being - so - hypercritical - of - my - writing! *sighs* Oh well.

Pleae review.