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Of all the things Peter thought he’d find, this was not it. If he had to list the illegal things he thought he’d find in Neal’s apartment, this wouldn’t even make his top fifty.
Part of Neal’s contract with the FBI is random searches. They have to be done once a month, but Neal isn’t allowed to know when they’re supposed to happen, naturally. He usually does them when Neal isn’t here, so he’s never known that Peter actually does them, even if they are in the contract that he agreed to.
Neal knows Peter has a key. Outside of these random searches, Peter has only had to use it once or twice, and Neal has known about those times. Coming into Neal’s apartment when he isn’t here isn’t something he enjoys doing, but it’s something that Neal resigned himself to when he went to prison.
Peter checks the usual places: under the bed, in all the drawers and cabinets, in the pockets of all his pants, in the fireplace, and the bookshelf. The whole thing takes around twenty minutes, which means that Neal should be coming back from the coffee shop now.
Peter, satisfied, turns to leave. When he passes by the fridge, he notices something odd: the freezer door is open.
It’s just by an inch, enough that it couldn’t have been anything but an accident. Peter pulls the door open and picks up the bottle that had fallen over and prevented the freezer from closing all the way. That’s when something black catches his eye.
Peter pulls it out of the freezer, the cold metal burning his hand, and immediately sighs.
A gun. A matte black .45 that Neal, under no circumstances, should ever have in his possession. Not only is Neal a felon, but he’s also a non-violent felon. Even if the law didn’t dictate that Neal isn’t allowed to have one, Neal’s own principles do.
He needs to talk to Neal.
Fortunately, Neal returns sooner than Peter expected. He walks through the door with a coffee cup in his hand. When he sees Peter, he stops.
The gun is sitting on the kitchen table, its presence loud in the deafening silence. The fact that it’s here implies a million things and Peter doesn’t even know where to start.
“Sit,” Peter says. “We need to talk.”
Neal stands in the doorway for far too long. Peter suspects he’s considering running, but he doesn’t. After a moment, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.
Peter expects more. Neal is usually quick to deny, deny, deny, even when he hasn’t been officially accused of anything. Now, he just stands there, silent.
“ Sit ,” Peter repeats.
Finally, Neal listens. He sits in the chair across from Peter and remains silent.
“I want to know why you have this,” Peter says, gesturing toward the gun. “But first, I want to know why I found it in the freezer.”
Neal frowns. “It was in the freezer?”
“Yes.”
“Why was it in the freezer?”
“I don’t--” Peter rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know why it was in the freezer. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Neal pops up and marches over to the freezer. “Was someone here?”
Peter turns to watch him search through all the cabinets. Finding nothing, he moves on to the area where his bed sits and begins looking through the drawers in his nightstand. Peter sighs.
Neal freezes by the french doors. He turns around and walks back to the bed. He slides his hand under the pillow and straightens, reading the piece of paper in his hand.
“What is that?” Peter asks.
For a moment, Neal is silent. He stares at the paper for far longer than needed before shoving it in his pocket. “I have to go.”
Peter blinks. “What? No, you need to talk—“
“I’m sorry, I’ll be back later and I’ll tell you all about the gun,” Neal says. He’s halfway to the door now, and Peter doesn’t know if he should stop him. He can't tell if this is something that the FBI needs to be involved in or not. “I have to meet up with someone.”
Peter stands, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape. “At least tell me who you’re meeting up with.”
Neal stops with one foot out the door. He frowns. “It’s my brother. He put the gun in the freezer because he knew someone would find it. I need to go find out what he wants.”
“Brother? What—why would he put it in the freezer for someone to find?”
Neal shrugs. “No clue. He was raised in a cult. I have to go now, bye.”
The door slams behind him, leaving Peter standing in the middle of the room, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.