Eames is the only character from Inception in this fic. I still consider it a crossover though. It takes place before S03E05: Veiled Threat. Longer AN at the end.

It was a Tuesday. Tuesdays weren't particularly hot days for white collar crime. One time Peter got curious about that and did a survey. Turns out Thursdays had the highest average white collar crimes. But this day was Tuesday: Peter had a few more moments to spare so he picked up a few doughnuts and headed over to Neal's early. On days like today Peter liked the idea of going back before Kate died. Back when Neal and Peter and any member of Junes family that was in the house would share amazing coffee on June's terrace.

Peter vaulted up the steps to the conman's apartment. The door was ajar. Peter frowned at the door-jam, hand hovering by his gun. He gently – quietly – pressed into the room. He could hear soft voices drifting in from the terrace. Peter heard June and Neal and a strange voice. English for sure, maybe London? Peter never was very good at placing accents and the ones that came out of the British Isles were far too varied to keep track of. June was there, he couldn't be too dangerous. At least, Peter hoped the stranger wasn't.

He moved farther into the room straining to hear the conversation. June was talking, "… You know, Mr. Eames, Neal is definitely the man you want for this job." Before Peter could hear anymore the newly dubbed Mr. Eames cut her off.

"I'm sorry, love, Neal seems to have another guest in his kitchen." There was a scraping sound and Neal appeared from behind the curtain. He didn't say anything just motioned for Peter to come out before he disappeared onto the Terrace. Peter followed.

The sight that greeted him was June sitting casually with a mug of coffee in her hand and a scone on the table before her. Between June and the reseated Neal was the stranger, Mr. Eames. He was lounging back in his chair, just a little bit farther and it would be up on two legs. He wore a well-worn white blazer over a coral paisley shirt (who even knew they made shirts like that!), faded blue jeans with a hole in the right knee were stretched over his loosely crossed legs. His hair was combed back but in a casual way, not an overly greasy way that was common for two-bit criminals. There was a steaming cup of something pale (probably tea) on the table before him. Neal was siting like he always was: casual, but still poised. He also had coffee. There was also a strange little plastic banana beside Neal's cup.

"Oh, Peter," June called out, "Please sit. Mr. Eames here was just asking Neal for some help on a project he's been working on." Peter didn't trust anyone in Neal's life. He trusted those seeking help even less.

"Not to worry, Peter," Mr. Eames said, Peter's name rolling off his tongue smoothly, "Not a single thing I do is illegal in any country on earth. It might be considered amoral but it isn't illegal," there was a pregnant pause before he continued, "yet." There was a grin plastered across Mr. Eames' cheeks. He was showing far too many teeth for Peter's comfort.

"Peter, this is Eames. We go way back. He's never been arrested and has never been a suspect in any crimes – let alone white collar!" Neal began, "Eames this is Peter: my suspicious FBI handler. Peter is the man who caught me-"

"Twice."

Neal glared at Peter over his coffee, "Twice." His eyes flicked from Peter to Eames, "You should know that now that he's seen you he'll run a background check." Eames nodded as if that was sensible.

"He won't find much: he's only got one name mate." Eames's eyes flickered between Peter and Neal a few times before he sighed. "Why don't you join us, Agent Burk? We are all just drinking our mornings away." He indicated the fourth and final chair across from himself. It was only then that Peter noticed a fourth cup upturned on a saucer waiting to be used.

"You were expecting me." It's not really a statement; it also didn't escape Peter's notice that Eames knew his last name.

"Come on Peter! It's Tuesday. You always try to stop by on Tuesdays." Neal grinned as he poured coffee from the craft into Peter's cup. "What did you bring today?" he snagged the doughnut-filled paper bag to peer inside, "Awe you shouldn't have, how'd you know Eames was craving doughnuts?" He tossed the bag to Eames who gleefully pulled out an old fashion glazed. The man devoured half of it while Peter was adding cream and sugar to his coffee.

"So if you weren't discussing anything illegal. Please continue." Peter said carefully watching both Eames and Neal as he sipped his (really good) coffee. Neal twitched towards the plastic banana before he caught himself; Eames, however, only took a bite out of his doughnut between grinning teeth. "It wouldn't have anything to do with Mozzie's alter-ego, would it?" That got a reaction. Not one Peter was expecting, but a reaction.

"Mozzie! You're still dealing with that weirdo?" Eames gwaffed. He seemed genuinely surprised to hear the name. "We didn't think that the squirrelly little man would stick around after," he cut himself off and glanced at Neal, "After everything that happened." He trailed off lamely before he chuckled to himself again.

"Neal..?" Peter tried leading but he glanced at his table mates and decided to drop it, "We'll talk about this later." He left no room for argument. "What are you here for Mr. Eames?"

"My, my, you're rather direct aren't you?" Eames asked rhetorically. "Arthur would just love you, I must introduce you to him some time.

"If you must know I am in the country for work, and a child's birthday party, but I've run into a spot of trouble in the shape of a painter. My contacts suggested Neal here to help me out and then you came in." Eames intoned taking a long pull from his (tea?) still smiling. Peter had half a mind to smack the smile off his face. Before he got too riled up though Neal cut in.

"Him and Arthur? Peter would hate that: Peter distrusts anyone who dresses more nicely than he does." Neal's unrepentant grin was enough to get Peter to playfully swat in his direction. "We never did get as far as what you need to reproduce…" The conman led.

"Pablo Picasso." Came Eames' two word response. Peter didn't know what that meant, neither did June if Peter had to guess, but Neal did.

"Sure I can help you out getting to know the artist and his work. Why do you need Picasso? I thought you Forged living people." Neal frowned. Peter picked up on the odd inflection when he said Forged. As if the word had a different meaning when applied to Eames as when applied to Neal.

"Normally you'd be right but according to my Point Man this guy has a real," he scrunched up his nose, "Thing for Pablo. He thinks we can get more out of him if Picasso makes an appearance." The way he gestured led Peter to believe that Eames disagreed with the Point Man.

"You're not working with Arthur on this? I thought after the Fischer job you two were practically inseparable." Neal clearly knew a fair amount about this 'Not-Illegal-Yet' profession Eames was in.

"Nah that old kill joy got roped into helping out with that party I mentioned. I'm working on something for Yusuf. You remember him right? Chemist out of Mombasa. He needs some sort of chemical code from some student at NYU." Peter couldn't decide if Eames was being intentionally evasive or if he really didn't know much more than that.

"Anyway the architect he got – not a Cobb, that's for sure – thinks that a slightly more whimsical design will work best." Eames looked put out but Neal looked like he was trying to supress a giggle.

"You know this is going to go south for your team, right? The more whimsy the more likely your mark will remember in the morning."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on: the two of you aren't seriously discussing drugging some college Co-ed in front of a FBI agent?" Peter asked incredulously, half rising from his seat – half finished coffee still in hand (it was really good coffee). He couldn't believe how crass Neal was being, "You do know that's illegal, right?"

"Relax, darling, it ain't illegal. And it ain't drugs." Eames raised his hand in a calming gesture. Neal and June grinned into their coffees. "I'm much smarter than to try something so brazen. I can't speak of Neal but I would have a very irate almost-six-year-old and her dad to deal with if I went and got myself arrested for talking." He seemed to realize something, his eyes went wide and his hand flew up to his breast pocket. Peter's hand (not the one with the coffee) tracked his movements grasping for his gun. "whoa there big guy, I'm reaching for my wallet." He was. He pulled out a pair of small photos. The edges weren't quite straight Peter had to guess that Eames had cut them out of larger pictures.

"Here's the little princess. Cobb sent this to me a few months ago, and here's her bratty brother," He passed the pictures to Neal, who cooed. He actually cooed.

"You've got to forgive him, he's only three. I'm willing to bet even you were a brat at that age." Neal replied. He passed the photos on to June, Peter snuck a look at the two blond grinning children both attached to a man who had been removed from the image. The little boy had his arms and legs cut off but a strong arm supported his back: he was being held up. The little girl's hand reached up, out of the crooked frame as she beamed up at the camera.

"I was a perfect, charming English gentleman thank you very much." Eames replied hotly before the pair of them burst out laughing.

June spoke for the first time since Peter sat down, "These two are adorable Mr. Eames, before you leave I'll have to show you my grandchildren. Now, are you their uncle?"

Eames smiled, "After a manner. The poor motherless blighters needed a few more family members so we adopted their father." Peter couldn't deny the affection in Eames' voice and face, "There are five of us and their dad. We try to keep at least one of the uncles and aunts in the country at all times."

Neal frowned for a moment, "I thought that team was called the Fischer Five."

"Nah mate, it took six of us. Luckily our employer wanted in on the action." Eames glanced at his watch, "Sorry Neal, June, Peter: duty calls. I'll ring you later about Pablo, Neal." Eames downed the rest of his drink and stole a doughnut as Neal led him off the terrace. Peter rose as well as Neal re-emerged from the apartment.

"We should get going too, Neal. We have an exciting property fraud scam to figure out." He mirrored Eames by draining his cup. Peter wasn't as smooth though: he chocked a little. Clearing his throat and biding June farewell Peter watched as Neal grabbed his jacket and tucked a deck of cards into his inner breast pocket.

The last thing Peter thought of as the two excited June's home was a cross list to have Jones look into: Eames, Arthur, Cobb (probably more than one), Yusef, and both the Fischer Five and six.

AN:

let me know what you think. My head cannon is that Eames directly and the others indirectly know Neal. Neal tried his hand at Forging some time before Inception took place. Eames is also Handsome Bob from RocknRolla Bob tried to creap into this story but, besides Eames saying 'mate' once or twice I think I kept him out.