Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ferris Bueller is a very convincing man. Very few people have ever been able to deny him the things he wants. One of those people is Peter Burke, and the things he wants are behind bars. It's almost like a very bad joke, how as soon as "Neal Caffrey" gets out of prison, the most important people get put in his place.

"No, Neal, you can't visit swindlers just 'because you want to,'" Peter's telling him tiredly, making that face he always does. "They're in prison for a reason. They killed a man."

And, well, that’s news to Ferris. He wouldn’t put it past Sloane, but this was serious. Cameron would hate that, especially to be blamed. He must be the reason they didn’t get away, unless they were stupid enough to do it to see him. Cameron would do whatever Sloane said for something like that.

“Neal!” Peter snaps at Ferris, who is confident in his conclusion.

“If you let me see them, they’ll stop refusing to do things. They’re here to see me.”

“Of course you⁠— Really? The only grifters who murder?”

Ferris decides not to grace him with a response. It’s been so long since he saw them. They’re so much better than office work.

Peter agrees to look at visitation. They won’t let him in with Sloane and Cameron, but that won’t matter. Ferris will be happy just to see them. Peter puts him back to work. Ferris doesn’t stop smiling.

⁠—

Neal is a bit too excited to see the killer swindlers. Peter first thought they'd worked together, but there wasn't anything like that in the FBI files. The next assumption was that they were rivals⁠—maybe Neal beat them to a job or, worse, he pulled one over on them. Soon enough, Peter had to admit that he just didn't know. Neal was acquainted with them, and if it got them to talk, he could live without knowing.

That's what he told himself as he checked them into the prison's visitation center. Neal was bouncing on the balls of his feet, unusually eager, and Peter could already feel the headache beginning. They were escorted to a private room, with just a thick glass wall between them and the infamous Twist and Shout.

Neal immediately walks toward them, so quickly that Peter can't grab him until the alarm starts going off.

"You can't get that close to the glass," he reminds his CI, who should already know this.

Neal's face falls, but he nods. His eyes are locked on the duo.

Peter turns to take them in. Twist is very attractive. She and Neal could have gone out, once, and maybe there were lingering feelings, but that still didn't seem right. Anyway, she and Shout are thought to be engaged, though Peter can see why she would cheat on him. He's all arms and legs, skinny and hard-set, with a face Peter would personally rank rather low on the scale.

Peter's opinions on Shout's appearance don't matter here, though. He and Twist are pressed up against each other, like they're trying to melt into just one person. They watch Neal with matching grins, which he returns in kind.

"Hey, hot stuff," Twist says cheerfully.

“Honeybears,” Neal replies amicably. “You didn’t really kill someone just to see me, did you?”

Twist laughs, but there’s a hard look in her eyes that makes Peter question how funny she really finds that. “No, of course not. We had a score to settle.”

“We did miss you, though,” Shout cuts in, almost fast enough that he interrupts her. “We⁠—” He stops himself, eyeing Peter nervously.

“Ignore me,” Peter tries to say, stammering under the pressure of talking to killers.

“Might as well,” Neal agrees. “He’s going to find out anyway. Very persistent.”

“Like you, then,” both the pair say, their words off key and overlapping.

“Does he know your name yet?” Twist asks, confirming a theory that Peter was already sure of.

“Of course not,” Neal says, but his grin is a bit nervous to Peter, experienced as he is. The other two seem to recognize the same.

“Oh!” Twist exclaims.

“You can’t con him?” Shout asks. “Or, you know.”

“Like us, then. No wonder you like him.”

Neal rolls his eyes. “He’s fine, for a Fed.”

Peter jumps a bit as Shout turns to him once more. “High praise. Can you prove that?”

“Leave him alone, C⁠a⁠—Shout.” Peter might be imagining it, but it almost sounded like Neal went off-script, and even more than that, that he may know Shout’s real name. That couldn’t be possible. Nobody did, except maybe Twist, if rumors were true.

“He’s putting things together,” Twist observes, laughing like a bell. Peter finds it hard to look away from her, something about the way her mouth moves and the shape of her hair. He’s lucky they’re so attached to each other.

“I told you, he’s alright.”

“Doesn’t mean we trust him with you.” Shout hasn’t looked away from Peter, even when Neal spoke, for a minute now. “He’s dangerous.”

“I think he’s my friend. Did you even kill anyone?”

“Oh, no,” Twist laughs. “He was dead when we got there. We only had the idea after we saw him.”

“I was worried there,” Neal says, and when he continues, Peter wonders for a moment if he's forgotten that the room is mic'd. “I was scared you'd done it without me.”

The tension after that statement is palpable. All three known criminals are watching Peter, like this is some strange game of chess and it's his move. He feels exposed in a way he hasn't felt since he closed the Neal Caffrey case.

Peter laughs nervously, eyes darting to a visible microphone. “Neal, you know you can't be making those jokes. I have to take every threat seriously.”

“Sorry, Peter.” Neal's face paints a perfect picture of regret, but there's a strain in his eyes. Twist and Shout manage, somehow, to press even closer into each other.

Peter decides it's in his best interests to change the subject. “You two plan to plead innocent?”

“To the murder, yeah,” Shout says easily, though his mouth grimaces. “Lighter sentence, and we really didn't do it.”

Neal sways in place, eyes fixed somewhere between Peter and the con artists. “You shouldn't have any sentence,” he says dully. “You shouldn't have followed me. This is my fault.”

“Followed you?” Peter intercepts. “There's no known association between you and these two, or between those two and anyone else, for that matter.”

“We just needed payback,” Twist says sweetly. Unlike the other two, her emotions, while definitely fake, rest perfectly in her face and voice. Whatever her tells, Peter wouldn't know if she was lying to him, not like he can with Neal and, apparently, Shout.

Shout smiles, a mean shape that makes him look even less attractive⁠. What does Twist see in him? “He did ruin my life, after all.”

“I offered to take it for you!” Neal exclaims. This is a repeated argument, apparently, because Twist just rolls her eyes. “Cam⁠—Shout⁠—you were half dead when we found you.”

Did Peter hear that correctly? Did Neal just say, with the FBI recording, part of Shout's real name? He tries to find a hint in their faces, but all he can see is anguish, the way the two prisoners pull each other close, the look in Neal's eyes as he holds back from the glass, desperate to be closer to them.

“They'll use this conversation against you,” Peter warns.

Neal smiles at him, almost condescendingly. “That's adorable, isn't it?”

Twist and Shout chorus their support with excessive nods and exaggerated cheers.

“It's really cute that you think the FBI would ever have access to this conversation,” Neal finishes. His smile is closer to a smirk now, all confidence.

Peter feels like his legs were shaking. Neal had suggested murder, almost revealed the identity of a world-renowned con artist, expressed deep personal concerns with inmates who would soon be on trial⁠—and he said it all in front of Peter, with all the confidence that it would never get back to the Bureau.

“The microphone receivers are playing a tape of my own making,” Neal explains. “We recorded tons of fake conversations for every possible situation, and I have enough of your voice to splice it into a realistic conversation. They don't even check those cameras to compare.” He smiles again and tips his fedora at Twist. She giggles.

“I'm dead,” Peter whispered. “I'm the kill you're going to make together.” He backs away from his CI.

Neal looks genuinely concerned. Had he been faking his acting flaws this whole time? “What are you talking about, Peter? Why would we kill you?”

Twist and Shout's eyes track Peter as he stills. Shout continues to glare. Twist frowns. “You said he was your friend.”

“As much as a government agent and a criminal can be friends,” Neal affirms. “But he's never met you two. We're spooking him.”

“Good,” Shout mutters under his breath.

Neal looks—well, heartbroken, almost, although not as much as he had been earlier. “We've been friends for months, Peter. Do you really think I'd hurt you?” Neal steps back until he touches the glass, an act which no longer sets off the alarm. The two on the other side push against him from behind, their bodies distorted by the glass as they shove into it.

“You would have met them eventually,” Neal adds. “I'd never leave them alone for too long.”

Peter shakes his head, trying to process what's happening. Neal or some spy on the inside must have disabled the alarm, after having it on the first time to⁠—what, to disarm him? To make him think they were safe? When they got out, because they clearly have the means, would Peter be the only one in danger? Would Neal have realized whatever scam they'd pulled him into?

“The doors should open in a few minutes,” Neal continues. “We'll stage a fight. You're probably already knocked out at this point in the tape. We fight, and then compromise to leave together. Don't worry, the fight recording is long, and I know that no one is monitoring the booth.” Neal is so casual in his explanation. How long had he been planning this? They just got word of Twist and Shout's capture, how⁠—

They recorded conversations for every scenario, Neal had said. It wasn't Neal who had been conned: it was Peter.

“You didn't work solo before I started on your case, did you?” Peter asks. The pieces come together quickly as the doors separating the interrogators from the room click and beep. Twist and Shout are falling through them before he can even think about moving, Twist's long hair catching on Shout's clothes as they trip over each other's legs. They fall straight into Neal's outstretched arms, giggling like girls talking to their crushes at school.

Neal laughs, a barking, manic thing that Peter has never heard from him before. It was nothing like the refined laughs Peter knew. This is a man he had never met, with a grin that split his face and arms tight around two fellow con artists who were accused of murder. He looks happy in a way that Peter has never seen before.

“I'm leaving soon,” he tells Peter, even as he focuses on Twist and Shout. He pulls Twist's hair out of Shout's zipper, where it had been caught, and straightens Shout's collar while he ruffles his hair even worse with the other hand. Shout's indignant cry is muffled by Neal's shirt, against which his face is still pressed.

As the three hold each other, the room speaker crackles to life. Peter, already too lost to make any more movements, just stares at it with dread. Instead of a prison guard or FBI supervisor, what comes through is a familiar sound⁠—a song, the same one for which Twist and Shout are named. However, when it reaches the vocals, instead of John Lennon's famous voice, what they hear in the interrogation room is almost as familiar.

This live recording, the source of which Peter has no idea, is sung by Neal Caffrey. Peter has never heard him sing before. The screaming voices of a crowd echo around the room as Shout pulls himself away from Neal.

“Really?” he asks, making a face. “You need to move on, Ferris.”

Ferris? A nickname, probably. It isn't a common name, although Peter does remember a trend years ago centered on a boy named Ferris. Neal would have been in high school, he thinks.

“It is a bit ridiculous,” Twist agrees, sliding gracefully out of Neal's arms. “I’d think you peaked in high school.”

Neal just smiles. “I'll never have a car like that again. Maybe I did peak in high school.”

“The car,” Shout says—whines? “My dad almost killed me for that. I'm lucky he knew you were out of school that day.” He sounds horrifically pained, but his expression is much softer.

“It was a good car,” Neal says agreeably. He pulls Twist in to start a dance they both seem to know well.

Peter is in awe of the ease of the interaction. Neal is never this relaxed, and even in the rare glimpses he's seen of a more private man, his apparent comfort could never measure up to this. Peter startles when Shout bumps into his shoulder. He hadn't noticed the grifter was moving.

“They're gorgeous, aren't they?” Shout asks quietly. His expression is one of awe as well, but sweeter than Peter could have imagined. He'd seen the way Shout looked at his partner-in-crime in the cell, but now he has tears in his eyes. This is definitely not the hardened criminal Peter had been briefed on.

“It really was one of the best days of my life,” Shout continues. Despite the tears, his voice is clear. “They saved my life. Ferris saved my life.”

And that was too emotional of a statement for Peter to continue thinking the strange name was a nickname. “That's Neal's real name.” It isn't a question. There is no doubt in his mind.

On the tape playing over them, two voices shout, “Ferris!” Twist and Shout, younger but still just as recognizable as Neal⁠—as Ferris.

“The records all say that you and Twist are engaged,” Peter begins hesitantly, watching Ferris dip the woman as another song begins, still with Neal's voice singing.

“Do you think we aren't?” Shout asks. He smiles, and for once, Peter thought he can see something attractive in that face. “Ferris is the love of our lives.”

“You've been together since high school?” Peter asks. “The three of you?”

“More or less,” Shout agrees vaguely. “We were already conning people, so it didn't really matter. It was just about⁠—well, for Ferris, it was always about making Twist happy and making me want to be alive. I'd say we were together, in that way.”

Peter resists the urge to sigh. “That's⁠—well, the teenage con artists were what I should have expected. Were you in high school for the Save Ferris thing?”

Shout grins with delight. It really does light up his face. “I wouldn't say that we were in high school.”

Peter finds himself smiling back. “Your scheme made national news.”

“Ferris's scheme. I was just there because he needed a Don Knotts impersonation.”

Neal's⁠—Ferris's eyes catch on Peter for a moment. He can't believe he'd ever thought this man would kill him. “Are you telling my secrets again, Cam?”

“Only the ones you'd want me to tell,” Shout assures him. “You two done with that ridiculous dance?”

Twist gasps dramatically. “Ridiculous?! You love this one!”

“I really don't,” Shout begins, but she's already rushing forward to pull him from the wall.

“Ferris!” she exclaims loudly. “Make him dance!”

Ferris smiles brightly and slings his arm around his⁠ friend—his partner's shoulder. “You heard the lady, Cam.”

Shout⁠—Cam⁠—sighs, groaning as his arms are pulled into a position similar to Twist's early on. “Sometimes I think you want me to die.”

“Never,” Twist reassures him. “I want you to live.” She smiles and turns to Peter. “Are you joining us? Just for the dance, of course.”

Peter, who hardly danced on a night that wasn't his wedding night, steps forward hesitantly. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and while he had learned none of what they are doing, Twist seems to be happy to walk him through the motions. Shout was right, it is ridiculous, but as Ferris plants a kiss on each of his partners, one after the other, Peter concludes that it is tolerable, if only because of how happy they looked.

“I put our numbers in your phone,” Twist informs him easily. “I'm Sloane, that's Cameron, and Ferris⁠—well, I put in his personal number, instead of the FBI one.”

“Of course. I expect to hear from him at least a couple times a year. And my wife would appreciate photos.”

“Oh, lots of photos,” Sloane affirms. “And a wedding invitation, if we ever make it there.” She winks.

“You'll make it out of the building fine? I won't be suspected?”

“Not at all. Don't look now, but Cam is⁠—”

The bone-crushing blow to Peter's side prevents him from hearing the rest of her warning. That was the point, of course, but as he succumbs to darkness, Peter can only think to curse Neal for everything he has ever done. Somehow, Peter has been tricked into aiding and abetting a prison break, and somehow, he doesn't really mind.