A/N: This chapter is sorta for Rainchecker, who asked on the last batch of shorts for a story with Peter and Neal both drugged. I hope it's alright.

"Okay, Peter, now we need to be quiet," Neal said, trying to keep the FBI agent upright while also staying standing himself. Neither of them had expected to be drugged at the seemingly innocent "meeting" and end up sneaking away. Neal had just ended up chloroformed (he hoped), but Peter seemed to also have been given something else.

"'kay," Peter slurred. They continued down the back stairs and Neal stopped them, looking around for guards and trying to ignore his lingering headache.

"I think we can make it to the door," Neal said thoughtfully. He took Peter's arm and supported him toward it. He tried it but it was locked. Which, really, who locked their doors from the outside? It didn't make any sense. Unless there were locks on both sides. That also didn't make sense. But in any case, the door was locked. Neal set Peter on the ground and made a shhing motion.

"Hopefully I can open it," he muttered. Neal reached into Peter's pocket and pulled out the tools. He was surprised they'd taken both cell phones but not the lock-picking tools. Nothing really made sense today. Oh well. He selected what he hoped would be the right one and moved to the lock.

"You didn't ask first," Peter said accusingly.

"You do want to get out of here, right?" Neal said with a raised eyebrow. Peter shrugged.

"Good point..." his words trailed off and he stared into space with an absent smile. Neal blinked several times to clear the fog that settled on his vision and started working on it. All was silent as he finally got it to click and hoisted Peter up.

"Looks like we're good to go," Neal said. They made it into the cold, quiet night air. "I hope I can remember where we parked."

"Over there," Peter said with a triumphant smile. Neal gave him a slightly surprised look and went in that direction.

"Nice job," he said as they found the Taurus.

"You're really smart, y'know?" Peter said with a lopsided grin.

"Uh... thank you?" Neal replied with a puzzled look. That had come out of nowhere. He looked the Agent over. Peter was definitely more drugged than Neal, the ex-con had realized that earlier. But maybe even more than Neal had originally thought. Peter didn't normally go around dispensing compliments like that. Except to Elizabeth, of course. But that was normal, since they were married and all.

"Yeah," Peter continued with a sage nod. "Your brain must be, like, elephant-sized."

"Elephant-sized." Neal gave him a blank look. "Uh huh." He got Peter into the passenger seat.

"Hey! My car!" Peter said, reaching to move over.

"Not happening," Neal told him firmly. "Unless you want us to both die." Peter leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Fine," he said sulkily. Neal got in and started driving very carefully and after a minute Peter looked over, suddenly curious and much happier.

"How do you get an elephant-sized brain anyway?" He inquired.

Neal sighed. He didn't want to try and reason with the agent right now. So he smiled patiently. "You eat lots of vegetables and go to bed on time."

"Really?" Peter frowned. "Hm. Weird."

"Yep," Neal agreed, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Do you think I could start now?" Peter asked after a moment, looking very enthusiastic.

"Sure, Peter. That sounds like a great idea." In his current state Peter totally missed the sarcasm. The agent grinned.

"I know!" He said.

"Good luck with that," Neal muttered. Peter just kept grinning.