Look who didn't abandon their story. I hereby promise more frequent updates.

Oh and I realized that you guys knowing the ages of the characters would be somewhat important/helpful…

Reese, Peter: Senior (12th grade) 18

Mozzie, Elizabeth: Senior (still 12th grade) 17

Neal, Alex, Kate: Sophomore (10th grade) 16

Lauren, Jones: Sophomore (and more 10th grade! Yay!) 15

Neal took one glimpse at Peter's glare and knew that this wasn't going to end well. Obviously, Mozzie's prediction about Peter was true. He looked a little like…well he looked little like the guy his girlfriend dumped him for was heading straight towards his table. Neal hid a sigh. Getting Peter to trust him suddenly got more difficult. He glanced nonchalantly over Peter's table, wondering what excuse he could come up with that would explain him being at the jock's table. Neal's eyes lit up at a familiar face. Ah. There we go…

"Hey," Neal greeted cheerfully as he plopped down in the only empty chair at the table. Was it his fault that it happened to be by Peter? He was thinking not, but Peter leaning back and turning to glare at him seemed a bit much. A chorus of 'hey' and 'what's up' went through the table, with a noticeable silence from Peter and Reese.

"How are you guys doing this fine day?" Neal asked with a charming smile.

"Actually, we're discussing Mitch's disturbing habit of watching chick-flicks. Want to join?" Henry asked.

Neal grinned. "What movies has he seen?"

"The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle, Just Like Heaven –"

"I was forced into watching all those movies!" Mitch protested loudly.

"Of course, you were," Neal agreed solemnly, "they probably had to duct tape you down to a chair and force your eyes on the screen for the entire hour and a half too."

Mitch sputtered incoherent protests while the other baseball players laughed. Peter forcibly frowned as a smile threatened to break out.

"So, what brings you over here?" Reese asked Neal, saving the Peter the trouble of asking him that himself. Of course, Peter probably would've phrased his question slightly different.

Neal shifted in his seat to look at Reese. "Actually, I just came over to chat with Clinton here."

"Oh, um…why?" Clinton asked a little surprised.

"I was wondering if you could feed Casey after school. Mozzie needs to help me with math and I won't be there," Neal said with an apologetic shrug. He'd have to inform Mozzie of that plan. Good thing that none of the baseball players were in his math class or they might have a hard time believing that excuse. Neal frowned minutely, wondering if his mom or step-dad might actually be home. He doubted it. If he could use one word to describe them it would be 'workaholic.'

Clinton grinned. He loved that dog. "Sure."

"Thanks!" Neal beamed. He reached towards his pocket to grab his house key before he stiffened. Oh, she did not…Well, I feel less bad about stealing Alex's cheat sheet now. "Uh…I'll just give you the keys to my house later."

"Cool."

There was a brief silence at the table before Dan asked Mitch how many chick-flicks he had actually seen. An argument quickly broke out. Neal wondered briefly when Dan was going to tell Mitch that he was dating his sister. Probably never. Unless Leslie ended up telling her brother anyway which seemed like something she would do. Poor Dan. Neal mad a mental note to ask Dan if he'd like an open or closed casket funeral.

Neal turned to Peter, who raised an eyebrow at him. Neal sighed, time to build a bridge.

"So," Neal began, "seen any good movies lately?"

"Nope," Peter said tersely.

"That's a shame," Neal said with a winning smile.

Peter glared. "So, how's the soccer life treating you? Not kicked out yet?"

"No," Neal said conversationally, hoping he successfully hid his annoyed tone. What did Peter mean yet? "I heard you guys won the game this Saturday, it's a shame that you struck out five of the times you went to bat."

Peter's eyes narrowed. Neal mentally berated himself. Insulting a person who already doesn't like you is not the key to befriending them.

"How many games has the soccer team won? None? And this started the year you began to play?" Peter asked with a mock frown.

"And they were the rival team too. They would've been so much more humiliated if you actually scored on some of those strikes," Neal said. Wow, I really need to start listening to myself. New rule: Don't insult Peter. There, that sounds simple enough. Now apologize. The apology got stuck in Neal's throat.

"So, how was jail? I hear great things about their food."

Neal felt his face go a little pale. That seemed a bit low, but Neal could admit that he probably deserved it. He would just prefer to keep the school ignorant about the fact that he went to jail, for whatever small a cause. Neal hid a grimace. Oh great, the gossipy girl just heard Peter. There goes that wish. Neal caught a slight triumphant glint in Peter's eye as the gossipy girl went straight to her posse of moronic, giggling friends. So that's how it's going to be. Fine then. Two could play that game.

"It was fantastic. Bravo to the chef is all I have to say. Oh yeah, and Peter," Neal added, with a conspiratorial tone, "your Uncle wants me to remind you to pay off some of those parking tickets. He doesn't want his cop buddies to get too irritated."

Peter flushed an interesting shade of red. Neal hid a smirk.

"Your parents probably were overjoyed to receive that phone call," Peter quipped in a surprisingly level voice, "probably their proudest moments as parents. Their little Nealy was all grown up. His first night in jail. Call the grandparents."

Neal gave Peter a plastic smile, holding back a wince. Saying his mom and step-dad had been angry would be the understatement of the century. He was officially grounded for life and forbidden to see 'that no good trailer trash' ever again and the fact that Mozzie didn't actually live in a trailer was a moot point. Of course, his parents weren't usually around to enforce their punishment, so that was a plus. Unfortunately, his step-dad did have a tendency to always show up whenever he really didn't need to.

Reese cleared his throat. Neal bit back his retort as he realized the entire table was staring at them. Peter glanced around, seeming as surprised as Neal about that little discovery.

"Lunch is almost over," Reese said pointedly. Neal nodded, almost thankful that Reese was giving him an exit line.

"I should probably go…" Neal said as he stood up from his chair.

"Yeah, Mozzie looks like he's spazzing out," Dan said, concerned. The entire table glanced at Mozzie, who was currently shaking with laughter. Neal felt his eyes narrow.

"I knew he forgot to take his green pill," Neal said, seemingly to himself. The fact that some of the baseball players actually heard him was not something Neal could help. Neal waved as he made a swift retreat back to his table. He barely heard the chorus of 'bye, Neal.'

"So," Moz said in a shaky voice, "how did it go?" Neal's glare sent his so-called friend into another bout of laughter.

"Let's just go to class."

"That bad?" Mozzie asked in an attempt to sound more serious. 'Attempt' being a key word.

"You were right. Peter doesn't trust me. He doesn't even like me," Neal looked at his friend considerately. "Maybe you should—"

"—no way Neal." That sobered him up.

"Just a thought," Neal said innocently.

"Well, keep it that way," Mozzie scowled. Neal smiled broadly at his expression.

"Let's go to class," Neal grinned.

~O~

Peter turned to Clinton. "How do you know him?"

"Peter," Henry said slowly, "everyone knows Neal. He's kinda popular." Peter waved his hands in dismissal and turned his attention back to their newest baseball player.

"Yes, but how do you know him?" Peter demanded.

"We're neighbors," Clinton replied, squirming under Peter's gaze. "I watch Casey, his dog, whenever Neal isn't at his house after school."

"As fascinating as that is," Reese interrupting Peter's interrogation, "what was that?"

There was a pause. "What was what?" Peter asked finally. It was probably too stupid of a question, even Dan was staring at him disbelievingly.

"He couldn't possibly be talking about the little argument you and Caffrey just had," Henry said sarcastically.

"Far too obvious," Mitch nodded in agreement.

Peter glared.

"It seemed a tad extreme," Reese said. "We all know you don't like the guy, but you hardly gave him a chance before attacking him. Of course, Neal really didn't help much." Reese muttered the last part mostly to himself.

"Peter Burke, please come down to the guidance councilor office." That was probably the only time he was glad for the crackly intercom voice.

"That's me," Peter said cheerfully.

"You do know that –" Reese started.

"Peter Burke, please come down to the guidance councilor office."

Peter waved as he exited the cafeteria.

~O~

Peter tapped his fingers nervously on his knee as he waited for one of the guidance councilors to call him in. The relief of getting out of the potentially uncomfortable talk with Reese only lasted so long. He had no idea what they could possibly want and it was freaking him out. He hadn't done anything against the rules, or broke any laws, for that matter. This couldn't have anything to do with Caffrey could it? Peter doubted it, but it was a possibility. Peter remembered the odd scene he witnessed between Neal and Alex on the way here. She grabbed Neal by the elbow and hissed something in his ear and he smiled innocently back at her. She looked prepared to kill him, until he held out a piece of paper and she grudgingly fished a set of keys out of her pocket and they traded items. Peter had as much of an idea of what that was about as he did of why he was here.

"Peter Burke," Mr. Benjamin called. Peter leapt out of his chair and hurried to Mr. Benjamin's office.

"Yes, sir?" Peter asked, seeing no harm in being a potential suck-up since he didn't have a clue about why he was here.

"Do you know why you were called down here?" Mr. Benjamin asked.

"No, sir."

"You're here because you've been reported harassing another student in your English class."

"What?"

Mr. Benjamin looked surprised at Peter's shocked response. "You've been reported—"

"No, no, I heard," Peter interrupted, probably not the smartest thing to do under the circumstances. "But who exactly am I allegedly harassing?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Mr. Benjamin said stiffly. Of course not. Peter thought sardonically.

"Is it one of my friends on the baseball team?" Peter asked, hoping that this was some sort of sick joke.

"I can't answer that question since I don't know who your friends with on the team," Mr. Benjamin said. Peter glared down at the floor as he realized who he was 'harassing.' Ruiz and Fowler. They've been making his life miserable ever since Peter knocked over Fowler's clay pot in third grade. Peter grew even more annoyed when he realized that this disproved his theory that only girls held long grudges.

"So, you're being transferred from Mr. Mason's English class to Mrs. Skimehorn's," Mr. Benjamin said, "but she, unfortunately, doesn't have an advanced class open this block, so you'll have English instead of your P.E. class." Peter groaned. P.E. was, without a doubt, one of his favorite classes.

"Wait," Peter said, "so am I having P. E. this block?" That wouldn't be so bad; I'd just have fourth and fifth flipped around.

"Sadly, no," Mr. Benjamin said unsympathetically, "there are no open P.E. classes at this time. You have a choice of" Mr. Benjamin's fingers ran over the keyboard "fashion design or art." Peter had a mental picture of himself pricking a finger while he sewed a bright pink, gaudy shirt. He shuddered mentally. His friends would never let him hear the end of that.

"I'll take art."

~O~

Neal sat down at his seat which currently was surrounded by girls. Not that he minded, but Kate had some serious jealous issues. Of course, he did too, but he'd like to think that he wasn't to terrible overbearing. He heard somewhere that it was a good sign for your girlfriend to be jealous. He couldn't quite remember the reasoning though.

Neal leaned back in his chair, attempting to ignore the whispers that floated around him. It appeared that everybody now knew that he went to jail over the weekend. That gossipy girl worked fast. He'd have to remember to thank Peter. Some dismissed it as rumor, others decided it was true. Since the rumors were actually true for once, Neal couldn't say anything that implied otherwise. Well, he could, but he didn't want to be known as a liar and a thief.

"Alright, students!" Mrs. Johnson called as the bell rang. "Pipe down and sit at your proper seats." Mrs. Johnson waddled to the chalkboard with a glare that promised afterschool detention if anyone so much as whispered. The students murmured quietly to each other, knowing their teacher well enough to avoid scrutiny. Mrs. Johnson was…strict. She didn't hate anybody, despite what many of her students said, she just didn't like them. Mostly due to the fact that art was considered by many of the students to be a course that required little to no brain usage. Mrs. Johnson hated that. Of course, Neal loved art, and wasn't half bad at it, so Mrs. Johnson could at least bear his presence.

The door creaked open, causing Neal's gaze to flicker over. Seriously, someone needed to fix that. It sounded like a door from a scary movie. His blue eyes lit up as he did a double take at who was standing in the open doorway. Oh, this is too good.

~O~

Peter internally groaned as he saw Neal in his new art class and, of course, he was sitting beside the only empty seat. Peter's day just kept getting better and better.

The old lady he assumed was his teacher glanced at him, annoyed. "I suppose you're my new student, Peter Burke, correct?"

"Yeah," Peter said.

"Good," the art teacher said impassively. "I'm Mrs. Johnson. Now, I expect you to realize that just because you're new does not give you an excuse for being late. You get only one warning. The next time will earn you a detention. Sit down."

Peter nodded as he strode over to the empty chair next to his lunch buddy.

"Welcome, to Art," Neal said with a smirk. "Long time no see."

"Too soon for my liking," Peter muttered underneath his breath. Neal grinned.

"So," Neal began, "why are you changing classes mid-semester?"

Peter ignored him.

"Never really pictured you as an art guy," Neal mused. "So I guess you were—"

"You know," Peter interrupted, "some people actually want to pay attention to their teacher. A concept that's probably new to you, but is practiced quite a bit."

Neal's blue eyes narrowed. "What is your problem?"

"I don't know," Peter began sarcastically, "maybe I just don't like criminals trying to be buddy buddy with me."

"Not that you're being over dramatic or anything," Neal muttered.

Peter glowered at him. "I'm not."

"Mhmm."

Peter was silent for a moment. He glanced sideways at Neal, who apparently decided that now was a great time to actually listen to the teacher. Peter glanced at Mrs. Johnson to find her staring at him disapprovingly. He stared at her attentively until she continued.

"So, how was I supposedly being over dramatic?" Peter asked softly.

Neal regarded him for a moment before replying almost inaudibly. "Oh, you mean when you called me a criminal with a hint of disgust in your voice? Or during lunch when you gave me the third degree? Or perhaps –"

"I meant just now," Peter interrupted stiffly.

"Well, then you would mean option A: criminal with hint of disgust," Neal took Peter's silence as agreement. "You see, my over dramatic acquaintance, your opinion that I'm a criminal for staying in a jail cell over night is…how to put this –"

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

Neal ignored him. "– over the top."

"You did something illegal. Last time I checked, that translated to someone being a criminal."

"Well, technically, I didn't actually do anything against the law."

Peter snorted. "Really? My uncle arrested you on a whim?"

"I suppose you could –"

"I wouldn't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Neal said, slightly miffed.

"Were you going to say something along the lines of 'I suppose you could look at it that way'?"

Neal was silent for a moment. "Not that exact wording."

Peter smiled smugly.

"Anyway, I really didn't do anything illegal," Neal continued, deciding to ignore the interruption.

"Really? It's almost like you broke into a bakery…"

"Exactly my point!" Neal said in an excited whisper. Peter stared at him blankly. Neal gave an exasperated sigh. "I was arrested for breaking and entering."

"Okay…"

"Breaking and entering is when someone uses brute force to enter a building –"

"Right…"

"– and I didn't do that," Neal finished with a triumphant smile. "So, therefore, the arrest was unjust."

Peter gave a soft laugh. Neal turned to him in disbelief, but quickly hid his puzzled expression under a mask of polite inquiry with an ease that caught Peter slightly off guard. "You still trespassed," Peter explained. Neal pursed his lips.

"So, Peter," Mrs. Johnson said, "what do you think of the Renaissances Time Period?"

Peter started and glanced up at Mrs. Johnson's looming figure. "It was uh…enlightening," Peter stumbled.

Mrs. Johnson smiled slightly. "Please pay attention in future classes, Peter. We're currently talking about the group project that'll be due next Friday," Mrs. Johnson addressed the class. "The group project will involve you, and your partner, to make a model of a Renaissance model. That includes any famous Renaissance statues, cathedrals, or sculptures. You'll be allowed to pick your partner."The class broke out in excited murmurs. Mrs. Johnson not assigning partners? That was almost unheard of. Neal studied Peter out of the corner of his eye. He looked uneasy. Neal supposed that Peter was a lot of things, but artistic apparently wasn't one of them. Becoming partners with Peter would make the whole "gain Peter's trust and lead him to Alex's party" thing a lot easier. Not to mention getting Peter an A on the project might finally stop him from giving Neal the third degree. Mrs. Johnson already said that it was worth two test grades, but Peter had been staring at the clock mournfully and probably wasn't paying attention. Plus, Neal wouldn't be forced into partnership with one of the giggly girls who kept staring at him. Sounded like a win-win to him. Now only to get Peter to agree…

"So, want to be partners?"

Neal turned sharply. "What?"

Peter glared at him. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh," Neal said, slightly deflated. It hadn't even sounded like Peter now that Neal thought about it. The bell rang obnoxiously loud through the school, signaling the end of class. Peter stood up abruptly, obviously too eager to escape the room. Possibly having to do with the occupants inside it, but Neal optimistically hoped it was just Mrs. Johnson. He watched Peter's rapidly disappearing form with a sigh. He'd work on Peter later. Neal scooped up his books, grinning, eager to disappear in the hallways and meet a certain brunette.

~O~

Peter plopped his books down in his new English class as he sat wearily down at his new seat. Why Neal decided to annoy him the entire time last block was beyond him. Peter really hoped that he was wrong when he accused Neal of wanting to become friends with him. He would probably just want to whisk Peter away somewhere to do something stupid and possibly illegal, if Peter was stupid enough to lower his guard, that is. Peter relented a bit. Okay, maybe not illegal. Neal didn't really come off as the big, bad criminal type despite what Peter said earlier.

Laughter made Peter glance up. He gaped, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Elizabeth Jenson was in his new English class. A small grin broke its way onto his face. Maybe being harassed by Fowler and Ruiz wasn't so bad after all. He tried to discreetly watch Elizabeth stroll to her seat, crossing his fingers that it was somewhere close to him. Her face broke out into a grin as her friend said something. Peter honestly didn't care what. Elizabeth tucked her long, silky, curly locks of hair behind her ear. Her blue eyes sparkled as she strolled over to her seat in a depressingly non-slow motion pace. She dumped her books on a desk directly across the room from him. Peter couldn't decide if that was a better alternative than her seating near him. At least, with her seating across from him he could covertly watch her in a very non-creepy way. Of course, if she sat nearby he could try and talk to her. Try being the key word. Peter always stuck his foot in his mouth around when he was in a fifteen foot radius of her.

"Oh no, you're not going to be staring at her the entire time are you?" a familiar voice asked, part mock exasperation and part idle curiosity.

Peter rolled his eyes as Diana sat in front of him. "No."

Diana made a doubtful noise. "So, what are you doing here? Last time I checked you were in Mr. Mason's fourth."

"It's creepy how you remember that."

"It's fascinating what happens when someone actually listens to what the other person is saying, isn't it?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Peter muttered underneath his breathe. He stiffened slightly as he recalled a disturbingly similar conversation he already had with a much more irritating individual.

Heels tapping off the tile floor announced Mrs. Skimehorn's approach. "Hello, you must be Peter."

"Yeah," Peter returned her smile. So far, she seemed like a better improvement than Mrs. Johnson.

"Well, you transferred at the right time. We're starting The Crucible today," Mrs. Skimehorn informed him. Peter nodded politely. "Mr. Mason and I are basically on the same schedule teaching wise, but sometimes one of our classes gets ahead of others, so if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask."

She waited expectantly. "Oh, um, alright," Peter finally stuttered. Mrs. Skimehorn beamed as the bell rang.

She clapped her hands together, "Okay, class, today we get to start on The Crucible. Can anyone tell me what that's about?"

The students continued talking to each other before turning their attention to Mrs. Skimehorn. No one offered an answer.

Mrs. Skimehorn waited expectantly. "Don't all talk at once you're confusing me."

A cricket chirped. A startled Peter looked around in confusion. Diana hesitantly raised her hand in the air.

"Diana."

"It's about the Salem Witch Trials."

"Correct! Now the Salem Witch Trials took place – "

Peter's eyes glazed over as Mrs. Skimehorn continued her lecture. It wasn't the teacher's fault per say, Peter just wasn't a big fan of history. He found out last year, however, that he managed to still look attentive even when he wasn't paying attention. Great gift in his opinion.

~O~

Elizabeth smirked as she saw the new boy, more of a man really, doze off. Peter Burke was his name if she remembered correctly. She had math with him last year and science the year before. He always seemed nice, but never really talked to her. Or around her. Elizabeth hoped she hadn't accidentally offended him somehow. She studied him, a bit thankful that he was in front of her so it looked natural. Her blue eyes swept appreciatively over his lightly toned body, soft brown eyes and slightly tousled hair. He was cute, she realized, very cute.

Mrs. Skimehorn finished her lecture and passed out papers so students could write down what role they wanted to play. Elizabeth had dibs on Elizabeth Proctor for obvious reasons. She quickly scribbled down her name and role and twirled her pencil between her fingers as she waited for everyone else to finish.

She glanced at Peter. Big mistake. The absolute and utter bewilderment on Peter's face as the blank piece of paper was not-so-gently passed to him by Diana was adorable. He looked around uncertainly as he flipped the paper over to see if there was in clues about what he was supposed to be doing. Elizabeth stifled a giggle. Her friend glanced at her curiously. Elizabeth shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. Her gaze stayed on Peter. He was currently trying to peek at someone else's paper and wasn't having much luck. He frowned and poked Diana in the back. She ignored him. Peter's pencil hovered uncertainly over the paper.

Elizabeth hid her grin as she took pity on him. "Mrs. Skimehorn? Do you want us to put anything else on the paper besides our names and the roles we want to play?" She watched with amusement as Peter flipped his book open and quickly jotted down his name and probably the first male role he saw and lean back in his chair with a relieved sigh. Elizabeth tried to ignore the smile tugging on her lips.

"No, that's alright," Mrs. Skimehorn answered. Elizabeth nodded back, hoping she hid her momentary confusion. "Would you mind collecting the papers, Elizabeth?"

"Not at all." She stood back and made her way around the room, slowly accumulating the papers. She ignored her pounding heart as she approached Peter's row. Stop it, she ordered herself. You haven't even spoken to him yet. There's no need to act like a nervous schoolgirl. Another part of her pointed out that she was a nervous schoolgirl. She decided to ignore it.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said with a warm smile as Diana handed her the last of the papers. Her gaze flickered toward Peter as she turned to hand Mrs. Skimehorn the papers. He wasn't paying attention. Elizabeth briefly considered walking past Peter's desk again, but quickly decided against it. She didn't want to seem too desperate and what was she going to do if she didpass Peter's desk again? Smile? Since, everyone knows that smiling is the key to getting someone to ask you out. Elizabeth scoffed at herself. She was such a naïve little girl sometimes. She grudgingly returned to her seat.

~O~

The ringing bell interrupted Mrs. Skimehorn mid-sentence. A scuffle soon emerged as students attempted to all squeeze out the door at once either to prevent Mrs. Skimehorn from assigning last minute homework or to go to their locker and escape to home as soon as possible. Most likely a mixture of both.

"Just out of idle curiosity," Diana began, as she gathered her books. "How much did you actually learn during this class?"

"It's English," Peter answered, somewhat unhelpfully as they walked out the door. There was no shoving their way through a crowd either. Oh the miracle of waiting a few seconds. "I was under the impression that you learned all you need to know by 7th grade."

"So 'not much' would be the answer you're looking for. Too busy gawking over Elizabeth," Diana said, mockingly fluttering her eyebrows. Peter nudged her. "If the school knew about your fixation with Elizabeth, they probably would've never transferred you."

"I'm not fixated with her," Peter protested. Diana shook her head exasperation as she left Peter to go her locker. He didn't know where Diana got her weird, girly, romance ideas. He wasn't fixated with Elizabeth. He hadn't even talked to her successfully before! So, obviously, he wasn't fixated with anybody. Who used the word 'fixated' anyway? Not anyone he knew, besides, apparently, Diana.

Peter's eyes brightened at the sight of familiar figure leaning against the lockers, fiddling her hair. Elizabeth looked quite lonely standing there. He could easily fix that. In fact, he should fix that. He took a deep breath. Come on, he urged himself. Walk over there, talk, smile, leave. It really shouldn't be all that hard. He waited for a moment. It was. Peter decided to change directions slightly, slowly angling towards Elizabeth. He'd walk by, very casual like, say hey and continue on to his locker. Sounded like a plan. He'd work up the nerve to finally have a full conversation with her eventually.

He was nearing Elizabeth when her face broke out into a smile. He felt a small answering grin come to his lips.

"Neal!" she cried happily. Peter stopped mid-step. Neal smiled at Elizabeth as she squeezed him into a tight embrace. Peter scowled. Neal had to ruin everything didn't he?

"Hey, Elizabeth," Neal said as he did his combination. "What's up?" Peter quickly turned to his own locker, half irritated and half relieved that his locker was close by.

"I'm fine, Roy hit on me again, but I think he might've finally gotten the hint that 'I don't like you' actually means 'I don't like you'," Elizabeth said. Neal smirked. Peter paused in dumping the rest of his text books in his locker. Roy? As in Roy Duloc? "Neal, why didn't you tell me you went to prison?"

Neal's face went impassive until he slipped a charming smile firmly into place. "Well, prison is a bit extreme." She raised an eyebrow. Neal relented. "I stayed in a jail cell for about five hours. That's it."

"Still," Elizabeth said, "you handed me my purse without saying a word about prison."

"Jail." Peter rolled his eyes. Neal and specifics…

"Whatever. The point, Neal, is that I forgot my purse in the bakery and you got it back for me and now everyone is scooting their stuff away from you whenever you're in a six feet radius." Peter frowned slightly at that comment. Neal was arrested for breaking into a bakery to get Elizabeth's purse? That seemed…odd.

"At least they still trust me at seven feet."

"Neal," Elizabeth said sharply, "I love you," – Peter bristled at Elizabeth's casual remark – "but I will hurt you."

"Look, Elizabeth," Neal said, suddenly serious, "you seemed to have forgotten about the anniversary present you got for your mom to give to your dad."

Elizabeth frowned. "She always has trouble remembering –"

"Not really the point," Neal interrupted, "the present that was in your purse, the present that you couldn't give to them the next day. The concert tickets of the band your parents went to on their first date. The band that happened to be in the next town over the weekend of your parent's anniversary—it was fate. I couldn't let you not give them it. Not after how you went on about how romantic it was and how your mom was ecstatic when you mentioned the band was in town. You freaked out when you realized you left it behind and your boss never opens the bakery after closing hours. So really, I didn't mind."

Elizabeth looked at Neal with happy, gleaming eyes. It was kind of cute. Elizabeth. Not Neal's semi-uncomfortable expression.

"I swear, Elizabeth, if you say 'aww' –"

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered. Neal patted her on the back. Peter's hand froze on his locker door as they disappeared through the double doors, chatting about Elizabeth's plans for when her parents were out of town. Neal jokingly suggested that she should throw a party. When Elizabeth didn't instantly say 'no' Neal continued walking in a thoughtful silence.

So, Neal broke into the bakery to get Elizabeth's parent's anniversary gift. That was…nice and here Peter thought that Kate somehow had something to do with Neal's recent jump into the criminal world. He closed his locker shut thoughtfully.

Alright, so Caffrey doesn't randomly break into places. That's nice to know, but it didn't necessarily mean that Peter would suddenly like him, but Elizabeth looked so pretty when she smiled like that…no, stop it! He ordered himself. Himself didn't listen. The great thing about Elizabeth was that she always seemed like a genuinely nice and happy person. The fact that she was drop dead gorgeous on top of all that was just a major bonus. No wonder Roy Duloc kept hitting on her…She had no flaws as far as he was concerned. Well, except her being friends with Neal. Peter thought that over for a moment. Neal was friends with Elizabeth. Peter's eyes widened. He might actually be able to use the fact that, for reasons unknown, Neal was trying to get on Peter's good side for reasons unknown. Peter felt his brain kick into overdrive. If Neal could introduce him and Elizabeth, Peter might finally be able to talk to her with usage of coherent words which might lead to flirting and possible dating. Not that he was thinking too far ahead or anything. He grinned. This could work. This could actually – Peter paused as a sudden realization struck him. Damn it! He was going to have to be nice to Caffrey…

Hope you enjoyed and thank Clary1234 for Neal being a soccer player. Nice mental picture isn't it?