Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar, I just have a vivid imagination. No profit here, just trying to endure the hiatus.

Neal's response to the revelation of Sam being James wasn't at all what Peter was expecting. Not that he had any real idea what to expect. Just that it wasn't this. Neal landed on his doorstep that weekend, blinking at him uncertainly. Behind him a curtain of gray rain lent the sky a look of perpetual dusk.

"How are you doing?" Peter ushered him in and took his damp jacket and hat.

Neal sighed. He sat down on the couch and looked around. "I don't know. How am I supposed to feel? He left us. He hasn't even tried to see us and only appears after Ellen dies. And then he pretends to be Sam and doesn't even try and introduce himself.

"Maybe he didn't think you'd believe him."

"Should I?"

"I don't know. You can believe the DNA, but what he's thinking I couldn't tell you."

Satchmo came up and Neal scratched his head.

"Are you sure the attack was real?" Peter cautiously asked.

"He was bloody enough. What, you don't think he was setting us up?"

"Why would Flynn know about evidence that only Ellen, Sam and James were supposed to know about?"

"Mm. I don't know. But it seemed like someone wanted to hurt him."

"But did he tell us the real reason why? And if you had a plan, why didn't he go along with it?" Peter was concerned.

Neal shrugged. "I don't know about the first bit. He said he went alone because he wanted to keep me from getting hurt."
Peter opened his mouth to protest, closed it and said, "Come to think of it, I guess blood will out though."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been known to change plans on the spur of the moment." Peter considered that not so long ago, Neal had said he was done with letting Peter into his private life. Now here he was spilling out his frustrations on the subject. He decided not to remind him.

Neal glanced away.

"He's at your place?"

"He shows up from time to time." Neal sounded uncertain. "Where's Elizabeth?"

"Out with girl friends."

"Ooh. Not going anywhere male friendly huh?"

"I didn't ask."

"You'd rather flake out in front of the TV with a beer."
"Yep." Peter studied him. "Care to join me?"

Neal looked at him uncertainly. "What are you watching?"

"Hadn't decided yet."

Peter handed him a drink and opened one himself. Then he sat down. The big dog wagged his tail, eagerly planting himself in front of two humans in hope of more petting.

"What are the options?"

Peter flipped on the TV. "No good games on."
Neal rolled his eyes. "How about movies?"

"Friday the Thirteenth..."

"Ah, no, not in the mood for horror."
"Me either." Peter agreed fervently.

"Aladdin...no."
"Why not?"

"It's a cartoon."
"So, some animation is for adults only."

"This isn't. Anyway I don't need to watch the Prince of Thieves, I hang out with one."

Neal smirked. "True. Wait, that was a compliment!"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes it was. You called me a prince. Anyway, you're right. Nothing you can learn from him that you can't learn from me."

Peter rolled his eyes. "How about the Untouchables?"
"Mmm. Kind of bloody."

"It's Elliot Ness!"

"I suppose I could close my eyes during the bloody parts."

"There's Ocean's Eleven." Neal pointed at the guide. "Which one is it?"

"Which one?"

"The old one with Sinatra or the new one with Clooney?"

"It's Clooney. Which do you prefer? And why am I asking a guy who dresses like the Rat Pack?"

"I assume that's a rhetorical question. Actually, I like them both."

"Tell you what. Let's watch Ocean and Untouchables. And we flip a coin for who goes first."

As it turned out, Ocean's Eleven was a romp, far more fun with the two of them than either would've had alone. Neal was pointing out ways they could've done it better and Peter was pointing out how he could've caught them.

"That's ridiculous. It would never work."

"I can see why you like this. He reminds me of you." Peter observed.

"Me?"

"You."

"How so?"

"Violate parole, con a bad guy and end up back in prison for a girl? Why does that sound familiar?"

"Can't imagine." Neal smiled faintly.

"Well, if I was there they wouldn't get away with this."
"Yes, they would. Especially if I was with them."
"No, you wouldn't"
"You ever run with a crew like that?"

"That would be telling." Neal said lounging back and twirling Peter's baseball between his hands. He smiled with a touch of nostalgia.

"Oh, Neal, come on."

"I will say I don't prefer large crews. The more people, the more things that can go wrong." Neal considered. "I did like working with Gordon Taylor though."

"I gathered." Peter snorted. The thought worried him a little. Part of Neal still felt the thrill of the heist. It wasn't enough to tell him no. They had to replace the thrill with something better or he'd always be tempted. Maybe he'd always be tempted anyway.

"I'm hungry."
"Deviled ham?"

Neal recoiled. "Tired of my company already?"

"Just kidding. How about pizza?"

"Definitely."

By the time the pizza showed up it was time for the next movie.

Neal cringed as the first explosion hit the screen. "Oops. Maybe we should've watched this first, rather than while we're eating."

"Cowboy up, it's not that bad." Peter was already munching his slice.

Satchmo whined, sitting smack in front of the two, and turning his gaze from one to the other beseechingly. Neal snuck him a piece of meat.

"Hey, you make him sick, you get to take care of him."

"Spoilsport. It's just a little piece."

Peter handed Satchmo another piece.

"Hey!" Neal gaped. "If I make him sick?"

"I gave him ham, you gave him pepperoni."

"What's the difference?"

"Spice. Gives him a belly ache."

"Oh. Can't you just give him a Tums?"

"No."

The good guys on screen charged into battle on horseback.

"Okay, I'll admit that's kind of impressive." Neal said. "The little guy with glasses finding his nerve, I mean."

"Everybody loves an underdog."

"Ironic. Back then the honest Feds were the underdog. Kind of crazy." Neal considered. "Then again...hindsight is twenty twenty. Who knows how many bad apples in badges float around still?"
"I'd prefer to say none, but given Fowler and Ellen's tape..." Peter let the thought trail off. It brought them too close to uncomfortable topics. He didn't care to dwell on their present problems either.

They fell silent again, and Peter took a moment to go to the kitchen and bring out dessert. Once again Satchmo eagerly wagged his tail for handouts.

"See now that's just lame." Neal said, eating the pie slice Peter had handed him. "Machine guns. No brains at all, just guns. Great catch though." He observed, referring to a cop catching a baby in a stroller, mid gun battle.

"He with the biggest gun wins. Or so they thought."

"Pathetic."

"Ness didn't win with bigger guns. He won by carefully selecting his crew and choosing his targets wisely. And not backing down in face of threats." Peter announced.
"And hiding his family." Neal said quietly. Was that what James had done? "He played smart and Capone was overconfident in his guns." He returned to the movie.

"Yep."

"Still. He did lose people."

"Yes." Peter looked saddened by that.

"It's just a movie, Peter."
"Based on reality."

"Mm. Yeah. I can think of a few we've encountered that would fit in well with Capone." Keller for one, Neal thought.

Neal's eyes slid half shut. Choose your friends carefully. You didn't get many friends on the run, at least for keeps. You pretty much had to assume everyone was looking out for their own self interest first. The gentleman thieves of Sinatra's error were almost extinct. His eyes lit on the 'prom' photo, the one Elizabeth had taken of him and Peter. It was right there in the living room. Glancing around, he found a few others. Elizabeth's parents? Peter's? Peter and Elizabeth together. It occurred to him how few he had. Living on the run, he hadn't dared keep much. He didn't have photos of his mother or even Ellen. He had a few of Kate, but some of those were from surveillance cams. Right now, the thought saddened him.

His eyes slid half shut. Satchmo rolled over on their feet and started napping. Peter started flipping through channels for another movie.

Neal considered going back to his apartment, but he didn't really want to. Not that he didn't want to go home exactly. He appreciated the fact that he had a home now, a real home. Normally he could go there and relax. He just wasn't sure about facing the complications. His father popping up unexpectedly, who he wanted to know so much but didn't know whether to plead with or yell at. Mozzie, with his conspiracy theories showing up and chiming in. Much as he didn't want a boring life, and did want answers, he did wish once in a while for a day off from all the complications. A day when he could just unwind.

For right now, he could relax. Peter, for a wonder, showed no sign of pressuring him. Hours later, Elizabeth came home, she found him asleep on the couch. Peter was sitting and half dozing, half watching a TV show. An empty pizza box lay on the table. Satchmo rose and licked her and she smiled and then frowned at the evidence of pizza crumbs on the dog's lips.

"Okay, who fed Satchmo pizza?" Elizabeth faced the couch.

Neal startled awake. Peter's eyes widened.

"He did!" They said simultaneously pointing at each other.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as both of you. If he gets sick, I'll know who to blame."

Neal smiled innocently. "I don't think I gave him anything to make him sick."

"You gave him pepperoni."

"I didn't have any reason to think it would make him sick. He sure doesn't think it'll make him sick."

Peter looked at him incredulously. "You don't think it'll get you in trouble to lie to people but it does!"

"Ouch." Neal winced and looked slightly hurt.

"He once ate Peter's handcuff keys." Elizabeth stated.

Neal stared wide eyed at Peter. "You left your keys where he could eat them?"

"Not on purpose!"

"And he did apologize."

Neal's eyes widened and Peter cringed. "You apologized to Satchmo?"

"Yes." Elizabeth replied.

Neal's mouth formed an 'O' and his eyes took on a mischievous sparkle. "I guess I better get home."

"He gets sick I'm calling you!" Peter called after him. Then he turned to stare at Elizabeth. "What did I do to make you mad?"

She smiled. "Mad?"

"Telling him I apologized to Satch? He's going to spread it everywhere."

"There is no shame in apologizing for a mistake." She said as she turned and headed up the stairs.

Peter stared after her, then at the front door. "It's the part that I apologized to a dog that's kind of hard to explain." He called after.

"If they don't understand the love of a pet, it's their loss!" She called back.

Peter sighed and turned back to the TV. Then he smiled. In spite of the mocking he was in for, he knew that it had been a very good day. Even if they didn't solve a crime or any mysteries, it was day of hanging out, relaxing and not finding any new trouble. And sometimes, that was enough to celebrate.