"Neal, since when do you fraternise with the enemy in your spare time?"
Neal paused in his perusal of the gallery's blueprints, looking up as Mozzie entered. "How did you–"
"I had to be sure you didn't tell your FBI buddy about me yesterday."
"You bugged me? Really?" Neal said with an exasperated sigh as he patted down his pockets. "Where?"
"Your right shoe."
"For God's sake," Neal muttered bending down to unlace his shoe as Mozzie sat down at the table opposite him. "And Peter's not my enemy; I haven't actually done anything he can prove."
"Since when is he 'Peter'? You're on a first-name basis, now? Neal, he is your enemy, and this dinner date you've arranged with him is gonna speed up the time it takes for him to figure out who you are."
"Number one," Neal said as he sat back up, folding his hands on the table. "It's not a dinner date; Peter's after Elizabeth and I set it up, so it's their dinner date. And number two: he won't figure it out. There's no reason for him to connect Nick Halden with Neal Caffrey."
"Number one," Mozzie snapped. "If it's a date between the Fed and Elizabeth then why are you going? And number two, how could he not put it together when you rob the same gallery as the one he's investigating?"
"By then we'll be long gone." Neal replied.
"Yeah, and the FBI will have a lot more info on you than they do now. We'd have to burn Nick Halden, for a start."
Neal didn't reply. Mozzie watched him for a few moments, rolling his eyes while his friend ignored him.
"It's too risky." he said quietly. "It'd be best to leave for a couple months and then come back to Kate's painting."
"No." Neal replied. "We're doing this now. So are you going to sit there and criticise everything or are you going to go over these plans with me?"
It was later that day when Neal arrived at the Italian restaurant. He was moments away from stepping inside when he happened to see Peter Burke sat in a parked car nearby, frowning down at something Neal couldn't see. He debated for a few moments before moving away from the restaurant and striding over, a small smile taking its place on his face.
He tapped on the window and grinned when Peter jumped. The agent looked up and relaxed when he saw him, and when Neal went on to point at the passenger seat, he nodded and unlocked the doors.
"Hey," Neal greeted as he slid into the car, delicately shifting an empty soda cup from the seat. Peter took it off him and shoved it behind them.
"Sorry." he said. "No one's been in my car for a while so there's been no reason to clean up."
"Aside from personal hygiene?" Neal muttered, tucking his feet away from the newspapers spread over the floor.
"It's not that bad." Peter responded, snatching the papers Neal had been avoiding and chucking them out of sight too. A couple of files were appointed to the back seat as well.
Neal pointed at them. "Working on the case?" he asked.
Peter hummed an affirmative. "It's pretty basic but we didn't get a very clear picture of the guy on the CCTV." he answered. "I've been reviewing all of the footage from every room of the gallery and so far it's given me zilch."
"Sounds riveting." Neal responded, looking out of the window at passer-by's.
"Well I'm glad it bores you, I shouldn't really be talking about it anyway."
Neal shrugged. "What am I gonna do with the information?" he asked, glancing back over to Peter. "You get anywhere with the sketch I gave you?"
"We had a few witnesses in today and yesterday, and aside from agreeing that your portrait looked like him, we've had no luck in actually getting an identity. Seems like no one spoke to him while he was there."
"What about the kid? Wasn't he paid to create a diversion?"
Peter sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah, but again, he didn't get a name. He was given $50 and he happily did it. He didn't know him, and he said that the guy didn't give him a reason why he had to do it, so it's back to square one." He shrugged and leaned his elbow on the window's edge, his head resting in his palm.
"Here's an idea," Neal began, but Peter held up his hand.
"No offence, but you can't be involved in this. You're a witness." he said, looking across to Neal with a serious expression.
"It's just a suggestion." Neal offered, and Peter shook his head in amusement.
"I don't care. I don't want to hear it."
"You're telling me that I'm a witness so I can't be involved, but we're sitting in your car waiting to have dinner in a restaurant just so you can hook up with another witness. How's that fair?" he retorted.
Peter was silent as he turned to look out the window, the back of his head the only view Neal was granted. Neal waited for a response, but when Peter crossed his arms, he began to grin.
"Are you sulking?" he asked.
"No," Peter replied gruffly. "I was thinking."
"About what?"
"About a way to get you to leave without being mean."
"You like insulting me, don't you?" Neal said, leaning against his window and looking at Peter with raised eyebrows. "Yesterday, you called me self-absorbed, now you're trying to get me out of a dinner that I arranged. What kind of an FBI agent are you?"
"One that's spotted our third companion." he replied. "Come on, out of the car."
Neal rolled his eyes but obeyed and as he was shutting the car door, he called to Peter's retreating back, "A mean one, was the right answer." He found himself grinning at their exchange and he quickly removed it as he walked over to Peter and Elizabeth, who were stood outside the restaurant.
He greeted Elizabeth and the three of them went inside. As they were escorted to a table, Neal watched as Peter leaned closer to talk to Elizabeth, a hand creeping to the small of her back. Neal ended up sat next to Elizabeth with Peter sat opposite her, and he wondered if he was going to be staring at the empty chair across from him all evening.
As they waited for their orders to arrive, Elizabeth leaned across to Peter. "Well, I'm liking this restaurant." she said.
We've barely sat down, Neal thought.
Peter smiled back at her. "Good." he replied. "Wait 'til the food arrives."
She responded with a smile of her own as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So how's the case going?"
"Slowly." Neal said before Peter could say anything. The FBI agent shot him a look.
"We're getting there." he added. "A new lead will pop up sooner or later."
"That's too bad." Elizabeth said, leaning back in her seat with a small frown. "Didn't you say it'd be wrapped up by now?"
Neal grinned at Peter around the waiter who was setting down their drinks. Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Yeah, well, a few obstacles came up that I wasn't counting on."
Elizabeth didn't look convinced. "I'm surprised you still came today. Surely the FBI has a thing about dating witnesses important to a case?" She crossed her arms.
Neal rested his face in his hands and waited for Peter's answer.
"Ye-es," The agent drew out the word slowly, looking down at the table. "But…" He looked across at Neal, as if he was going to help him out of this. Neal solemnly shook his head. He glanced at Elizabeth, who was waiting for Peter to finish with a raised eyebrow.
"The thing is," Peter started. "You're… smiling?" He was watching Elizabeth – who had cracked a small smile – with a wary expression. Neal grinned again behind his fingers. He liked watching Peter get flustered; the tips of his ears turned red and he began fiddling with the nearest thing: hence the fork held in a crushing grip.
"Don't look so panicked." Elizabeth said, letting her smile grow. She tilted her hear and gazed at him sympathetically. "For the record, I think it's cute."
He visibly relaxed and returned a shy smile.
"I think it's adorable." Neal added. Peter shot him an exasperated look.
Their food arrived soon after and the three of them dug in. Neal couldn't help watching Peter as he reacted to things Elizabeth said or did. He laughed a lot, and his eyes crinkled when he did and made him look younger. Sometimes he blushed at Elizabeth's comments, and his gaze would drop to the table and he'd start fiddling with the cutlery. His smile, though, belonged on a masterpiece, and Neal would happily look at in a gallery all day.
That sudden and unprompted thought had him staring down at his spaghetti for a minute.
It was as he was finishing his meal that Neal spoke again. "I do have a plan that would relieve Peter of his problem regarding you and the FBI." he said to Elizabeth, who raised an eyebrow to show she was listening. "But he doesn't want to hear it."
She glanced over to Peter. "You don't? Why?"
The agent glared at Neal for bringing it up. "Because I can't involve you in the case." he told her. "Something could go wrong and you might get hurt."
"Are you talking to me or Elizabeth? Because it's my idea."
Peter bit back a smile. "You're not getting involved, alright?"
"Alright, fine." Neal said, leaning back in his chair. He tapped Elizabeth's arm. "Wanna know what I'd do if I was an FBI agent?"
"Sure." Elizabeth said, turning to him with a smile and ignoring the frustrated noise Peter made.
"Well, using my skills as an artist – skills you happen to know about," He nodded to Elizabeth, who smiled brightly. "I'd forge the painting he made. Then, using a contact the FBI must have," He glanced at Peter, trying not to react to the fact that Peter seemed to be interested in what he was suggesting, "I'd take responsibility for the robbery and try to sell the piece."
"And then the robber would claim he has the original, but in order to do that he'd expose himself." Peter finished, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Exactly." Neal said triumphantly, unable to contain a smile of his own while Peter was looking at him.
"Are you gonna be mad if I claim that as my idea?" Peter asked.
"Why would I? Go for it." Neal said, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture with another bright smile.
"It's not a bad idea, Nick." Peter acknowledged, missing the smile that dropped from Neal's face. "But apart from this, you're not getting involved."
"Of course not." he replied softly, crossing his arms. "I'll get started on it now, if you like."
"Now?" Elizabeth repeated, frowning at him. "But we're still eating."
"Eh, I'm not feeling dessert." he said as he got to his feet, leaving some money on the table. "I'll leave you guys to it. Have fun."
He left then, trying to forget the bemused expression on Peter's face as he exited the restaurant.