Ordinary, Boring Day

By: True Love Lives Forever

Summary: While Peter and his team are waiting for Neal to show up for a conference room meeting, Neal is having a blast - taking a nap in a coffin, taking a bath in the Hudson River, and getting some ventilation modifications in his clothing thanks to bullets.

Setting: Doesn't really matter, but I was thinking somewhere in season 2.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

~White Collar~

Peter was having a nice Thursday afternoon. The weather has been beautiful in the last week and the weekend was supposed to be great as well. It seemed like his team should be able to wrap up their current case nicely by Friday afternoon and he was planning to use this opportunity to finally take the weekend off and enjoy it with El at a picnic or something like that where it would only be just the two of them.

His lunch has just ended and he was getting ready to go into the conference room. They'd have their meeting, briefing everyone on the current status of their case and go through their plan of a takedown, followed by the said takedown which involves of a team of three art thieves that decided stealing was not quite enough and that they needed to injure people at the museums in the process if that's what it took to get their goods. It was obvious that they were not smart enough to be pulling the strings on the four heists they've done, which led to the conclusion that they had a boss, a mastermind behind the scenes. But Peter did not doubt that once the thieves were in custody, with more than enough evidence already collected against them to satisfy the prosecutor, that they would sing like a canary and would be falling over each other to give up their boss for a smaller sentence.

You have got to love plea bargaining. Well… sometimes, anyway.

Closing this case would certainly be a great win for his White Collar Division and would finally take those criminals off the streets. It was situations like these that made Peter appreciate Neal's abhorrence of violence throughout his past crimes and his brilliant mind which kept helping solve their cases faster and more efficiently, his out of the box ideas discovering leads that a roomful of Harvard graduates sometimes wouldn't be able to come up with if their life depended on it.

Their conference was planned for 1pm, and everyone working this current case knew about it since last evening. Peter knew that often people, many agents included were sluggish after eating and would more or less drag themselves for any meeting they might have, but that just made him love his team even more because he knew they weren't like that. Everyone was well organized and always on time.

As Peter walked into the room himself, his hands full of enough files for everyone on his team (that luckily he didn't have to compile himself since that is what interns and probies are for), he quickly did a head count.

Everyone was already inside. Jones and Diana set on either side of the long table. Blake and Davidson were there, along with a couple of their interns that would be doing a lot of research during their internship at the FBI, he was sure

Everyone was there.

Except for Neal, that is.

Glancing at his watch, Peter noticed that it was already 5 minutes after 1pm.

Neal normally was never late. But then again, 5 minutes was not reason enough to worry yet, especially after lunch and the traffic that time of day always creates. Besides, Neal has proven himself over his time spent at the FBI that he can be trusted. Mostly. As long as it doesn't touch Kate.

Besides, Peter did send Neal to gather some more information to see if he could find any intel from his underground sources on who might be the mastermind behind the heists. And that type of intelligence gathering could take some time, that's for sure, and he could have lost track of time.

So really, there was no reason for Peter to worry. None at all. Even if Neal was always punctual and has never been late without a really good excuse – a "good excuse" usually meaning trouble.

So nope, Peter wasn't worried.

Nor did he give in to the funny feeling he had in the pit of his stomach since this morning which he blamed on the food. Or at least tried to.

As Peter started passing out files for each agent/intern, he was slightly surprised when Hughes popped in and addressed everyone, telling them that Angela Mitchells was going to pop in to check how their division was doing – the usual, lovely, bureaucratic check-ups they had to put up with that, if they were lucky, they might have a few hours of notice on.

"Where's Caffrey?" Before Peter could think of how to answer that, Hughes ploughed on, "Just tell him to behave, for God's sake. And Mitchells might want to speak with him from the little I've heard, so he better show up soon. I'll be in my office, waiting for our company."

Looking at the watch again, Peter saw that it was already 1:15 pm. Everyone in the room was seated. A new intern, Joshua Jennings, started looking through the file already while Jones and Diana apparently just returned back to the room from getting their excuse of a coffee from their lunch break area.

The barely heard "ping" noise from the opening elevators caused all the agents to briefly glance in that direction, enough to notice the infamously annoying fedora that appeared at the entrance to their unit heading their way, before returning their attention to the senior agent, sensing that that meeting was truly going to start soon.

Internally sighing with relief, Peter picked up his file, opening it, and started addressing the group. "Ok everyone. Now that our 'buyer' is finally arriving, late but still on time for the sting we already planned for 3pm, let's quickly debrief. To save everyone the trouble of having to read through all that information that I just passed around, let's just fill in the highlights quickly on what each of us found since yesterday and then we can go over the details of the takedown."

Without taking his head out of the file he was quickly scanning himself, which he hasn't quite read the updates on since the interns copied the new information and put the files together, he heard Neal walk in the room. "You're late."

"Sorry. Killer traffic."

Peter took a look at his consultant and froze.

Nor was he the only one since everyone else in the room was speechless also and focused their attention solely on one person that just made his appearance known.

Neal, as if not noticing or not caring about the attention, simply started taking off his suit jacket, squirming around in his efforts, and eventually hung it on the back of the chair he had long time ago labeled as his, being on the edge of the table and to the right of the standing Peter who currently forgot about his "leader" mode and turned to staring and confused mode that didn't suit his status.

Something was really wrong here.

As Neal's jacket made a funny "plop" sound on the chair, Neal moved on to taking off his fedora that he normally left at his desk upon entrance and placed it in front of his chair on the table before taking a seat himself.

"Did I miss anything?"

Peter opened his mouth. Closed it. Then tried the whole process again, not knowing what to think, let along say.

Apparently, everyone around the table felt the same way. They just sat there, unmoving, barely blinking their eyes.

Finally, having more experience with the unexpected from his years of service, the senior agent found his tongue and took control of his motor skills again, unlike the rest of the agents that still seemed to be struggling.

"What happened to you?" He slowly outlined Neal's silhouette with a ragged motion of his hand, as if for emphasis.

Was it just his imagination, or did his voice sound a lot more high pitched than normal just now?

Diana's voice rang out in the room seconds after Peter's, "Are you OK?"

"Why wouldn't I be OK?" Neal's face expressed nothing but calmness and curiosity, as if he was out of the loop on something going on at the table when Peter felt it was more the other way around.

"Oh, I don't know Neal." Peter's concern was oozing from him in spades despite his sarcastic tone as he continued to take in the man in front of him with his eyes. "It might be the fact that your normally perfect tie isn't even out of place by a centimeter while now-"

"So you finally admit my ties are perfect?" That smirk. How can Neal smirk at him now when he looks like that?

Sometimes Peter wished he could kill Neal just to wipe that smirk off his face. The one that constantly said "gotcha, partner."

But then again, considering his worry for the ex-con that was currently invading his mind and body, Peter couldn't actually see himself killing Neal. He could joke about it as well as about sending him back to prison. But he could never truly consider doing it, let alone act on it.

Although that doesn't appear to be a problem for someone else, if Neal's state of appearance was anything to go by.

"Neal! Focus! Your normally impeccable suit is covered in mud basically from head to toe. There are multiple scratches and tears all over your clothing, as if you've decided to push yourself through a human sized shredder. And you're wet! Your suit that looked light gray this morning now looks extra muddy and wet. What the hell happened?" Peter's voice kept rising with each syllable, arms moving around to help articulate his point as he pointed out areas where he was covered in mud… and which now occupied his chair as well, but that was a story for a different day.

How could this day go so horribly wrong? How can Neal have possibly gotten himself into this much trouble when he was only supposed to gather some information from his own sources?

Neal's voice brought Peter out of his musings. It would have been truly comical if it wasn't so serious, but Neal acted as if he was for the first time realizing that his professional look has gone down the drain.

"Well, since you so nicely asked, Peter, I'll give you the highlights of the average, boring day I've had today. After leaving this conference room after our chat, I followed your 'orders' and went to look for information on the mastermind behind the thefts. I followed some leads after I got a few tipoffs. I was able to confirm the identity of said culprit, but one of his goons noticed me snooping around without identifying me – so my cover is still good, I think. But that meant that my little reconnaissance mission turned into a little cat and mouse game, followed by me taking a little nap."

"You took a nap?" Peter was bewildered. He hardly processed the information Neal already told him. Did Neal say he got caught and then took a nap?

"Peter, don't interrupt. You asked, I'm answering. By the way, did you know that coffins are a great place for hiding and resting? Well, at least until you are being moved 6 feet under at a cemetery in that coffin and realize there is already another occupant there. Anyhow, after my nap in a coffin that was followed by crashing a funeral in order to escape it, my tail was back and I thought it might be a really great time to take a nice shower. But then, why not just take a lovely bathe and a swim while I was at it? So, I decided to take that fantastic opportunity while I had the chance… in the Hudson River."

Staring at Neal in a daze, Peter slowly picked up the black fedora that was only a few feet from him at the table, having caught his attention a while back. "Dare I ask what happened to this?" Peter poked his finger through a bullet-sized hole on one side of the hat that had a matching hole on the other side at a downwards trajectory, which currently faced the rest of the sitting agents in the room for them to see as well. It seemed that none of them have moved or uttered a word for quite a while, having forgotten their files on the table and trying to see if Neal was telling the truth or pulling a prank on all of them.

"Oh. You mean these lovely ventilation holes in my fedora with the matching ones in the suit?" As if to emphasize his point, Neal picked up his jacket that was hanging on the chair and stretched the material out to show another four bullet holes to Peter's horror, which Neal must have noticed, based on his hastened response.

"Sadly, I wasn't wearing it at the time of those modifications, but I just couldn't leave it behind. Those modifications are great for this sunny and warm weather. They help your temperature to stay at least a little bit cooler in the normally too hot and sweaty professional suits. I highly recommend them. I even have some guys who can help make them for you, if you're interested."

Before anything further could be said, they heard a clearing of a throat, Hughes standing with a woman in her late forties in the doorway. "Agents, Agent Burke, Caffrey, please meet Angela Mitchells. She's here to do a quick inspection in our department. It seems that she's particularly interested in speaking to you two as part of research on…" As his eyes moved from Peter and fell on the ex-con, the rest of the sentence seemed to leave his mouth with a lot of strained effort, or just a simple exhalation, "… a new rehabilitation program."

Neal, always being quick on his feet, placed his ventilated suit jacket back onto the chair and outstretched his hand to Michells, throwing in his charming smile casually into the greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Neal."

Dumbly and in apparent shock, the woman complied and shook his head.

Glancing at Hughes, she snapped out of it – eventually. "What was that you were saying? Something about high standards and professionalism?"

Hughes has never looked as flabbergasted as he did during that moment. Dumbfounded and speechless, that seemed to describe him pretty well under these circumstances.

But Neal came to the rescue as usual, now that he was out of his other situation, and could actually help others in need. "Please pardon my appearance. I was forced to take an unusual route floating through the Hudson. And would you mind postponing that conversation a little bit? I should really go change and take a shower."

"That might be a good idea." Hughes must have retrieved his tongue, Neal thought, as he grabbed the suit jacket, twirled his bullet-ventilated fedora back onto his head, and made his way towards the door, which Hughes and Mitchells quickly moved away from, leaving the conference room, and saving themselves from the goo still spread throughout Neal in high dosage.

"Peter, I take there haven't been any major developments, so I'll be at the warehouse posing as a buyer as planned by 3pm and we can get done with this case."

Peter's phone decided to take that moment to ring. "Whoops. Almost forgot, that's probably the Marshalls. I might have gotten outside of my range once or twice. Sorry." And with that, Neal made his way downstairs and to the elevators, with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

But it had been a necessary evil, Neal thought. Not only was he late for the meeting, meaning that Peter would worry and the operation would be questioned, but he knew it was probably a matter of minutes until the Marshalls started chasing him, and with his cell phone being drunk from Hudson, going back to Peter seemed like the best option.

As Peter watched Neal disappear, Peter found out that the young man had been right; the phone call did come from the Marshalls. He briefly nodded as Mitchells mumbled something about coming back tomorrow morning, and with her, Hughes also left but not before throwing Peter a look he wished never to have seen coming from any boss. It seemed to say "this is not over" among a million other threats.

Glancing at the agents and interns at the table, Peter quickly confirmed that there was no earth-shattering new information on this case and told everyone to glance at the information in the files. But since the main part of the meeting was supposed to be about reminding everyone the plan of the undercover operation, particularly with the agents that would be going with him for the operation, it was sort of pointless with Neal being gone since the arrests would depend on his actions. But he could talk to Jones and Diana later, and Neal wasn't exactly new to these undercover missions, so Peter simply dismissed everyone and returned to his phone call.

It took some time to explain and clear up the whole mess with the Marshalls, partly because he still didn't know the details of what had happened himself.

But he sure would find out. And soon. He promised himself that.

He will do that right after this undercover operation was and the thieves, who supposedly still don't know anything about Neal, were arrested and behind bars, trying to get a better deal for themselves.

He'll find out how Neal managed to gather information they needed for this case by identifying this boss, got himself into a coffin, crashed a funeral, took a swim in the Hudson River, got shot at and still appeared to be in one piece – and all of it in about 4 miserable hours.

Sometimes Peter couldn't figure out if Neal was the luckiest man on the planet or the cursed one.

~White Collar~

I think I'll probably write another chapter with Neal's point of view and some details about what happened, if you guys are interested. Please REVIEW!