Title: Geometry
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Length: 531 words
Content notes: None. Gen.
Author notes: Thanks to mergatrude for beta. <3
Summary: It probably started before the coffee run, but the coffee run was when Neal first noticed it.

Geometry

It probably started before the coffee run, but the coffee run was when Neal first noticed it. He slipped out ten minutes before a meeting to buy lattes for Peter, Diana and Jones, as a surprise, because it had been a long, dull week of insurance fraud and mortgage cases. Neal's interest was intermittent at best when it came to paperwork, but you could tell things were bad when Jones and Diana started to look bored and surf the internet.

While Neal was waiting in line, he contemplated the muffin display, idly speculating about who would prefer what flavor, so he ended up buying them all muffins too—blueberry for Diana, apple spice for Jones and banana chocolate-chip for Peter. He didn't get one for himself; it was only an hour since lunch.

Carrying his bounty up the stairs to the conference room, Neal had a moment's doubt. What message was he sending, bringing refreshments like this? But he was only half a dozen steps from the door and Diana had already spotted him. It was too late to turn back. He had to bluff it out.

"Thought we could all use a sugar boost," he said, placing the coffee and bags in the center of the table.

"Thanks, Caffrey," said Jones, and Diana echoed him. Peter picked the chocolate-chip muffin out of the bag, looking pleased, and then eyed Neal warily, as if he thought this might be a con.

"It's not a trick," said Neal, grabbing a latte and taking his place next to Diana. "Just a pick-me-up, to stop this case sending us into a coma."

"Well, in that case, thank you," said Peter. "Now, about these accounts—"

Neal listened with half an ear while he watched the others consume their snacks. He was gratified to see Diana and Jones also chose the muffins he'd picked out for them.

Peter, Jones and Diana. They were a stable unit: a right-angled triangle. Peter was the upright side, of course, tall, steady and unassuming; Jones was the horizontal base, supporting the others; and Diana was the hypotenuse, holding the team together. Neal wasn't sure where he fit in, in the geometry of the White Collar unit, but he was too pleased with the metaphor to care much. Perhaps he was in a third dimension, connected to all of them in a fluid, ever-changing pattern that could only be described with advanced mathematics and irrational numbers.

"Neal?" said Peter, breaking into Neal's reverie.

"It wasn't me," hazarded Neal, widening his eyes to emphasize his innocence.

Peter shook his head, and Jones and Diana both grinned, all of them regarding Neal with matching amusement, and Neal didn't hear what Peter said next, because he was too busy being blind-sided by the realization not just that he loved them, but that what he loved was the triangle of them all, fitting together so intricately. It wasn't them as individuals and it wasn't romantic, exactly—which was just as well, because he didn't stand a chance with any of them—but it was exhilarating and special, tilting Neal off-balance.

Apparently he had a new type: teams of FBI agents.

Mozzie would be horrified.


END