11I don't own White Collar. Written for Jeff Eastin who does.
Jeff Eastin and Matt Nix (the creator of Burn Notice) are having a contest on Twitter of followers. Whoever got to a certain number first, could have a pineapple in the season premiere. Well, White Collar lost, unfortunately, and this idea popped into my mind. To Jeff Eastin, who has created one of the best shows on television. All mistakes are mine. I didn't use a beta, but if you find a mistake, please tell me and I'll fix it!
P.S. I don't know Neal Caffrey's favorite fruit. I guessed. =)
Neal strode into Peter's office, wearing a jaunty grin and clutching a plastic grocery bag. Peter dutifully ignored him, finishing the file in front of him. He had to debrief Neal eventually, but judging by the grin on the ex-con's face, he had had a far better night than Peter. Although, it wasn't hard to have had a better night than Peter had. He had been tracking down leads into the early hours of the morning, having only been able to join Elizabeth in bed two hours before he was expected to be back at work. He was brought out of his pity party by the grocery bag unceremoniously deposited right on top of the file he was trying to read. He kept his eyes on the offending bag a second longer before locking his eyes onto the sparkling eyes of Neal.
"What?" Peter somehow managed to convey exhaustion, irritation, and impatience in that one word.
Neal grinned, a cheeky, boyish grin that grated on Peter's last nerve. Slowly, he opened the shopping bag and produced a spiky, yellow fruit.
"What is that?" Peter narrowed his eyes at the fruit, trying to decide what on earth Neal was planning.
Neal frowned at the object. "It's a pineapple, Peter. Didn't you go to kindergarten?"
Peter sighed in irritation. "Let me rephrase the question. Why do you have an unpeeled pineapple in my office?"
Neal upped his grin to super-watt. "I'm so glad you asked Peter. Pineapples happen to be my favorite fruit. As to the unpeeled part, are you insinuating that having a peeled pineapple is acceptable?"
"I thought your favorite fruit were bananas." Peter brushed the now empty plastic bag off the file and tried fruitlessly to find where he left off. "That still doesn't answer my question as to why there is a pineapple in my office."
"Mo-Mr. Habersham got some at a vendor down the street from June's. Ten for five dollars." Neal leaned back into his chair, cradling the pineapple.
Peter just raised his eyebrows at Neal, indicating that wasn't a good enough reason to have one in the FBI building.
"I thought we could have it as a snack today. You know- a treat after all this white collar crime busting." Neal's grin remained in place.
Peter barked a short, cynical laugh. "Now who's flashing back to kindergarten? We don't have snack time at the bureau. And besides, you don't eat a pineapple with the spikes."
Neal produced a pocket knife, switching it open with a soft click. He looked at Peter, looking for all the world like a kid who's winning an argument and enjoying it. Peter glared hard at the knife, willing it and its owner to disappear until Peter could finish reading the file- or even until Peter had time to get a good night's sleep. Neal ignored Peter, skillfully beginning to slice the flesh off the pineapple.
Peter made a warning noise in the back of his throat, catching Neal's attention. "No carving fruit at my desk. The juice will get everywhere. Go to the kitchenette. Carve over the sink, or something; just don't do it in here."
Neal shrugged and swiped up the pineapple and the pocket knife, dutifully leaving Peter's office. Peter let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose while he scanned the file for where he left off.
Fifteen minutes later, Neal sauntered into Peter's office, holding out two paper plates filled with sections of pineapple. He placed one in front of Peter next to the file instead of on top of it. Even he wasn't stupid enough to push Peter when he didn't have his beauty sleep. The other he placed in front of the chair he claimed. He produced two plastic forks and two napkins, placing them on the proper sides of the desk. Then he looked up at Peter, a small, wary grin on his face, as he offered the fruit. Peter, who by now had taken some Excedrin and was feeling like he could possibly rejoin the land of the living, looked at the fruit, quirking a smile at Neal. This was all the permission Neal needed. He promptly popped a piece of the fruit in his mouth, waiting for Peter to do the same. Peter smiled to himself, spearing a piece and putting it in his mouth. The tangy juice reminded Peter of Neal himself; a total contradiction: sweet and sour at the same time. Neal smiled a genuine smile, pleased Peter was partaking in his snack. Neal was such a people pleaser, mused Peter, always trying to gain the approval of others in order to complete his self confidence.
Peter took another piece of the pineapple and slid the file over to Neal. Today might be salvageable after all.