Peter had a call from Neal telling him to get to the 'auction hall' run by Gerald Jameson. He had asked the kid if he had found something, and the answer had been somewhat cryptic: he needed a fully-fledged federal agent on the spot.

When Peter walked through the door and found a party going in which included women dancing in swimsuits, he got an idea what was going on.

"Peter!" Neal walked towards him with arms stretched out. "Welcome to your bachelor party!"

"Can't believe you did this."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Peter's smile felt stiff and embarrassed.

"Not what I meant."

"Come on. Now we have the entire night to get into Jameson's office. The Harvard crew is all over the place for backup. This is business," the kid insisted, looking at one of the dancing woman sipping from a drink. "It is not pleasure."

Yeah, sure, and that drink is without alcohol, I'm sure, Peter thought. Then he saw Mozzie walking around.

"What is he doing here?" he asked.

"I love National Geographic," Mozzie answered himself. "'The Mating Habits of Midlevel Government Employees' Totally captivating. Well, I'm not on duty. I'm going to get a drink."

Peter could not help watching the dancing woman nearest him. The music was loud, it was a lot of people. Most things that he did not enjoy and never found any pleasure in collected in one single room.

"This anything like your first one?" his pet convict asked.

"No." He had never had one. He did not know if it was because he was considered too boring or if his friends respected his lack of interest in these kinds of things. Peter did not care. He was glad no one dragged him away to anything like this.

"Peter." Neal nodded to the door to the office where Jameson just left.

"All right, I'll distract. You get in the records room."

He walked over to Jameson, shook his hand, and thanked him for letting them have the party there.

"No problem. You pulled home a lot of money for us. Congratulations on the winning in life as well."

Peter watched over Jameson's shoulder how Neal and Mozzie slipped into the office. Was this really a good thing, that he used these loopholes and gray areas?

"Is the future Mrs. Williams on her bachelorette party?" Jameson asked.

"I have no idea."

Peter felt he had a hard time focusing with the music and all the people, but somehow he managed a coherent conversation. After what felt like ages where he just wanted to leave, his two criminals slipped out of the office.

He patted Jameson on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna get a drink."

"Good luck with everything, Mr. Williams."

Jameson disappeared in the crowd and Peter met Neal at the bar.

"Nothing," the kid said, frustrated. He was not as frustrated as Peter, though.

"Great. I don't know who's gonna kill me first; my wife or my fiancée."

There was just a second of silence.

"What if I told you there's a way to spook your lady into leading us straight to the money?"

"How?"

"Use what we got."

"Neal, what we've got are strobe lights, probies, women, and booze."

"Exactly. Have a probie grab a camera from the surveillance truck. We're taking shots." Before Peter had the time to do that, Jameson passed them and the kid saw the opportunity. "Mr. Jameson! Come on, join us for a drink."

"Oh, no. No, I really need to keep an eye on the space."

"Oh, come on," Neal insisted. "I owe you one."

"We owe you one," Peter corrected him, following the kid's lead. "Yes, none of us would be here if it wasn't for you."

"Well, if you put it that way, I guess one little drink wouldn't hurt."

"All right."

Neal got the shots, and Jameson grabbed a glass.

"Gentlemen, cheers."

"Cheers," both of them agreed, and while Jameson drank his in one quick swipe, Peter and the kid poured theirs on the floor.

"Delicious. Thank you. You guys have fun." Jameson tried to leave, but Neal did not let him.

"No, no, no, no. Hold on. Bartender, another round."

"No, no. No, really."

"Come on. I disagree. This is my best friend's bachelor party. Let's make it a night to remember."

Peter raised his glass, but he disapproved of making someone drink against his will. Jameson took his second shot and swept it. To their good fortune, he then took the initiative himself.

And by the fifth shot, Peter could get a probie to get a camera.

Peter waited along the street, listening to what happened when Diana walked up to Selena and knocked on her door. The van was not far away where Neal was listening too, as well as Jones at the other end of the street.

"What are you doing here?" they heard Selena say as she opened the door and saw Diana outside.

"Miss Thomas. What can you tell me about this man?"

"You're FBI?" Diana had probably flashed her badge.

"I was undercover at Mr. Jameson's last fundraiser. We believe he had illicit financial dealings prior to his death."

A photo of a passed-out, stoned drunk Jameson was convincing enough to serve as a photo of a dead Jameson, now shown to Selena.

"His death? What happened?"

"We're waiting on the toxicology report. I'm here because I need to question everyone affiliated with the society house's recent auction."

"I'm sorry. Um... This is a shock, but I don't know anything."

"Alright. Here is my card with my number in case you want to get in touch."

Diana left and the show from that channel was over.

"Looks like Diana got to her," Jones said over the radio. "She's heading towards the bank. She'll be clearing out the money any minute now."

"Good," Peter said and started walking towards the bank. "Give Jameson his wake-up call."

They had left the sleeping Jameson on the floor with his cell phone on high volume close by. He would receive a text telling him to get to his bank because there was an ongoing fraud.

"Peter, you're on standby," Jones said, telling him that Selena just left the bank with the money.

The agents followed, and when Jameson turned up, they closed ranks around them.

"Hey!" Selena yelled when her bag was yanked away.

"I got a ping from the bank," Jameson said. "Why did you drain our account?"

"Wait a minute. They told me you were dead."

"What? Who told you I was dead?"

"We did," Peter said, stepping forward.

"Wait a minute," Selena said, seeing several people moving towards them. "What's going on?"

Peter showed her his badge.

"You two are under arrest."

"Wait a minute. You're FBI, too?"

"Yeah, let's just say I'm the adventurous type."

"Speaking of, I think we were all a little adventurous last night," the kid said, joining the party. "Further incriminating evidence. Should we give him a little slide show here?"

"Yeah. Yeah," Peter nodded.

"Here's you on shot number eight, having a good time."

"Here's you on shot number twelve, having a great time," Peter continued. This is when you told us you had a big payday coming up."

"Great," Selena hissed and her partner. "Good job."

"And that's when you told me I should enjoy the honeymoon phase while I can. Oh, here's where you said you were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"Something about having to tie up loose ends in the morning," Neal said.

"They say that alcohol's a truth serum for some people."

"You are definitely one of them, my friend," the kid said. "And, in case you were wondering, we got it all on tape."

Jameson was cuffed and led away. And so was Selena.

"Peter. I actually thought we had something."

"It wasn't real."

"Not even our tango?"

Peter could not deny that the tango had been hot.

"You know, they say that breaking up is tough. For what it's worth, it wasn't me. It was you."

"Peter..."

She was led away.

"That's a shame. Would have been a nice wedding." Neal could not help himself. It was fun to teas Peter.

"Yeah," Peter agreed, not taking the bait. "Elizabeth ordered most of the arrangements already."

"I'm sure she did a great job. It's too bad we'll have to ship them all back."

Peter was silent.

"Or ship them somewhere else," he said at last. Neal looked at him, waiting for more. "You don't have a date with Sara tonight, have you?"

Was Peter trying to get him and Sara married? He knew Peter meant well but…

"Peter, me and Sara, we—"

"Neal, I'm asking if I can borrow your apartment without causing inconvenience for you. And I know from my last visit, that I have much to learn, so I'm asking if I can borrow your apartment with you in it."

"That sounds cryptic. But sure, Peter, you're my friend."

Peter waited in the kid's apartment. He had changed into a tuxedo, and with Neal's assistance, the room had turned as romantic as it would ever get.

He had sent Jones to pick El up with a somewhat stressed message that Peter needed help.

"Honey?" She stood in the doorway looking at the chandeliers and numerous string lights wrapped in chiffon.

"Hey, beautiful."

"What is this?"

"I'm sorry for what you went through on this one. So, to make it up to you, I'm giving you the wedding you always wanted. Small, simple. Just us." He got down on one knee and took her hand. He loved her so much. "Will you marry me again?"

"Yes." She looked at him with those eyes that got his heart to melt. "As many times as you ask."

He rose and kissed her. Then he took the white bridal bouquet that waited for her and gave it to her.

Neal had waited outside to give them privacy. Then the man he was waiting for arrived, dressed in an Asian-style golden-yellow shirt.

Neal stepped inside and saw Elizabeth with the big white bridal bouquet in her hands. He buttoned his suit jacket.

"Preacher's here."

"That was fast," Peter said.

"Sorry I'm late," said Mozzie, carrying a book Neal was pretty sure was a Buddhist book and not the Bible.

"Don't tell me he's been ordained."

"Twice," Neal said.

"Tax dodge?"

"Oh, yeah, like I pay taxes," Moz answered Peter's question before turning to Neal. "Will you bear witness?"

"Of course."

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of...Suit and Mrs. Suit once again."

Peter had told him what he wanted and that it was a wedding just for the two of them. Neal had asked if he should leave, but Peter had asked him to stay. Now he watched his handler and friend getting married to one of the most kind and brilliant women he had ever met. And they wanted him to be part of it. He felt joy and pride, as he was part of the family.