a/n: TIME WARP! I'm back, everyone! Yes, I realize it has indeed been a year, and I realize this whole concept has gone to heck because of it, but this year it will meet it's end! Mwahahaha. And yes, I also realize there is another White Collar Advent Calender. But that's okay, because we're the original and we're awesome! Anyway, I'm keeping with the original time line (a.k.a Kate and Mozzie aren't dead), and I apologize that any underlying story I had going has been lost in translation. Plus, I'm a bit rusty. Haven't written in forever. Not to mention, WC has been on break for months. Who's the main character again?

p.s. I got more pie ;D

The first thing Peter did when he entered the office was reach for the infamous calender. It was now the 14th day of December and Peter couldn't begin to image what else Neal had thought up. As soon as things had gotten as weird as possible the next box contained an even stranger odyssey. Nonetheless, Peter tore the small cardboard flap to reveal the next installment of insane-holiday-mini-gifts Neal edition.

Great, more tickets to boring art shows. The sports-minded FBI agent grumbled as he unfurled a wad of papers from the calender. Tempted to simply shred the useless 'garbage' in the cool new, industrial-sized shredder when a few large, sparkly letters caught his eye:

We present to you this holiday season THE NUTCRACKER musical.

Coincidentally, everyone's favorite ex-convict walked in just then. With a little nod, he commented "Best one around. I see it every year. Except when I was in jail. Apparently Broadway doesn't encompass correctional facilities. Too bad, I really feel as though that place could have used a bit more art. You know?"

"Stop right there, partner" Peter glared. "I'm not going." Neal was stunned. "What? Basketball's on. Now that I could watch every year."

Caffrey looked wounded. "Peter. I honestly have no idea how I manage to work with you."

"That should be my line."

Deflated, Neal flopped into the chair across from Peter's desk looking depressed. Suddenly, a smile spread across his face. "I bet Elizabeth would appreciate the art of dancing sugar plums."

With a stern look Peter shot that whole idea down. Apparently there was some HUGE sale at the mall, like black-friday huge if black-friday was on steroids, that El just couldn't miss.

Neal sighed and begrudgingly grabbed his copy of the case file. Dragging his feet all the way to his desk on the lower-level.

-HOURS-LATER-

"You mean he just said no? ... Basketball! Who wants to watch a bunch of freakishly tall giants run around like ants on fire throwing a ball through some flimsy hoop? ... Not even for sugar plums? Wow. That's an iron-clad will. Maybe he should be a spy. No one could ever flip him, and-"

"Mozzie?"

"Yeah?"

"I get it."

"I'm just saying th-"

"I know."

"..."

"..."

"Hey, this is about the edge of your radius right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Small-talk."

"..."

"..."

"No offense, Moz, I love ya, but it's kind of weird going to see the Nutcracker with another man."

"You know, saying no offense doesn't make it any less offensive."

"Don't tell me you don't wish Elizabeth was here."

"I can neither affirm nor deny-"

"Wait. Do you hear that?"

"Dude, we're in the middle of New York. Yes, I hear it. Care to enlighten me as to what exactly I'm hearing."

"Sirens."

-A-FEW-MORE-HOURS-LATER-

"Caffrey." Some unknown agent spoke with a harsh tone, clearly one of those still of the impression Neal should not have been released, leash or no. Neal himself sat mildly-peeved at a desk, hands resting cuffed in front of him. Mozzie had last been seen when they had entered the station, cuffed and dragged like wet dogs through the doors.

"I swear. I was just going to a play, that's all. Call Agent Peter Burke if you don't believe me."

Agent-X remained standing. Suddenly turning around, spitting out words in Neal's intensely-annoyed face. "We already did. He isn't answering-"

"He's at the basketball-"

"Shut up!"

The extremely-ticked ex-con immediately shut his mouth, awaiting the next move and praying they could at least make it for the final act.

-MEANWHILE-

Burke jumped up quickly, screaming and cheering for his favorite team who'd just taken an amazing shot to tie the game. After the excitement he turned to Jones. "I feel like I'm missing something. You know?"

"Nah, don't worry about. It'll probably solve itself."

"Yeah, you're right."

-EVEN-MORE-HOURS-LATER(next day, actually)-

Neal trudged into the office a few hours late. His hair was a mess and large bags hung under his eyes. It was clear his clothes had not yet seen the wash. He stumbled straight to Peter's desk.

With a sudden moment of realization and a tiny smirk, the agent asked "So, how 'bout those sugar plums?"

Neal glared daggers. "I hate you."

"And a happy New Year."