context is an early morning, access to Twitter, and a fic request
silveraspen: Morning all! Waiting on comcast tech to come and fix cable TV. No coffee yet. How should I self-distract?
agonistes: Write me fic!
silveraspen: ... about what? Give me a prompt!
agonistes: Raylan Givens and Neal Caffrey trade hats.
And thus, the following ridiculousness, as posted to Twitter in 140-character bits.
Peter Burke leaned back in his chair and eyed the two men standing on the other side of the conference room table. Beside him, an unnerved Jones whispered, "Is it the hats? I think it's the hats."
Burke nodded. "Neal? Do I want to know?"
"Why, don't you think it suits me?" Neal turned a charming smile on Peter, on Jones, and then on the silent man watching him.
"Not really," Givens drawled. "It's my hat."
"Well, you're wearing mine," Neal countered.
"After you stole mine, I had to--"
"Stop right there," Burke interrupted. "I don't care. Neal, give the marshal back his hat. Givens, you too. Or else I--"
"You could shoot them," Diana offered, from the door. "Although it's Marshal Givens who has a reputation for that, I hear."
"It was justified," Givens pointed out, and Neal looked at Peter. "How come that excuse works for him?"
"Because of the hat," Peter decided. "Which means it's never going to work for you. Now give it back."
Neal sighed, dramatically, and traded hats with Givens, then put his own back on his head and gave it a rakish tilt.
agonistes: BEST. HURRAY. HURRAY!! (You're posting this elsewhere, right?)
silveraspen: Oh sure, why not...
And there you have it!
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