Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar

a/n: This is a word prompt being "Vulnerable" obviously.

Vulnerable was not a word Peter liked at all. In fact, if he was being honest, it was a word he downright hated. Vulnerable meant many things but in his profession it meant too many things. Vulnerability implied risks and then consequences. Consequences like El being targeted by a suspect or Jones taking a bullet to the chest which were caused by risks that were over looked and thus creating a life sucking black hole of vulnerable space. They were protected.

Neal, though, Neal was vulnerable.

Peter was vulnerable in many places, he took precautions beyond precautions that were borderline neurotic, but he had never experienced such a vulnerable leap of faith until Neal came along. Neal was Peter's responsibility. He was his friend. Neal was family. Yet, Peter took Neal into some of the riskiest situations, which went against every instinct inside of him that told him to suffocate any variable that would leave Peter vulnerable in a situation. But Peter also knew that to stifle Neal was like trying to put a robe on a lion. Practically impossible and very dicey. He knew he was getting to the kid but smother him too much and he'd start to resent him and go against everything they had worked on until it backfired.

He had done his job as a husband, making sure his wife knew every possible exit strategy, and his job as a boss, Diana and Jones were trained to the best of their abilities. But Neal never did as he was told. Neal was either completely blind or blatantly ignoring Peter's reasons because somehow the con man found ways to just run headstrong into some crazy dangerous situation that got him a trip to the hospital. Or worse, Peter's couch. Peter liked his couch. He did not like Neal trying to ice a black eye on his couch before his eye was swollen closed.

But Neal was a genius, not that Peter would ever say it aloud and probably one of the strongest men he knew. The things Neal had gone through…geez Peter wasn't sure he could handle. And Neal had this way of hiding his greatest weakness out in the most vulnerable open places that you completely missed them unless looking for them. Neal was vulnerable. Which made this all the more worse.

Devon O'Reilly was one of the new upcoming bosses in New York. Talk had spread quickly about his blunt but effective operations over night. It had also gone completely to his head. Peter had only to step into the room and shake Devon's hand to realize that the man enjoyed his newfound power. His ego practically leaked from his calloused hands. Smelling like sea salt and cigarettes his mere presence was intimidating alone before he could even say a word. Which only made the pit grow in his stomach at the thought of what he was about to do. He was undercover as a high powered businessman with enough pull into the criminal world that Devon accepted his offer for a job, after haggling for a higher pay naturally.

Peter was pretty sure he had Mozzie to thank for his new reputation.

"Mr. Calloway," Devon said taking Peter in and giving him a firm squeeze in his handshake before leaning back with his arms crossed, biceps pressing against his gray t-shirt. Somehow, even in his torn jeans, Devon appeared to outrank Peter in his smart suit Neal had picked out. Peter fiddled with his cufflinks before giving Devon contempt but tolerate nod of his head.

"Mr. O'Reilly. I trust you've taken care of what you needed for tonight?"

Peter had raised a brow when Neal began stripping himself of his vest and tie, running his hands through his hair. The dark ebony locks fell from its smooth form and fell in ragged fluff over his eyes.

"What are you doing," they said. "Neal?"

But Neal pulled out Peter's bag, rifling through it and pulling out a shirt.

"That's my shirt." Peter grumbled as Neal ripped the dress shirt off and threw the plain tee on. "You're wearing my shirt. Why do you have my shirt?"

"Put these on," Was all Neal said as he thrusted the cufflinks and tie pin to Peter. Without saying anything else he dropped his pants and switched over to Peter's jeans.

"Call me when you're ready for me!"

"Neal—"

But then Neal was gone closing the van door behind him.

"What just happened?"

But Neal had caught on early on, Devon's alpha wolf complex, and Peter had missed the severity the man held to that. So, Neal stood behind him quietly, Peter's clothes nearly swallowing him whole. His arms were covered in paint that splattered along Peter's shirt but he was too preoccupied with Devon to be really annoyed.

"This your guy," Devon asked.

"This is my guy." Peter nodded. Devon narrowed his grey eyes piercing Neal who was acting a part Peter hadn't known was in his repertoire. The usual confidence was hidden beneath his hair, his eyes wide and nervous shifting from Devon to the floor. Looking small and vulnerable, the con man just hugged his chest. Instinct was telling Peter that this was wrong and it was screaming at Peter. He tried to quell it though. If Neal was uncomfortable he would have said something earlier, and from the cocky smirk he gave the others in the van Peter was sure he was fine.

"There's something you should know about me, Mr. Calloway," Devon said as he walked towards Neal eying him up and down. Peter frowned, shifting slightly. Neal gave him a sharp look before turning back to look at Devon nervously. Devon turned him with a raised brow, his mouth in a thin line. "I don't do work for hire. I do partnerships."

"Something could be arranged I'm sure. If," Peter said. "You do a good job on this one."

"It's the other way around, Mr. Calloway," Devon said, his voice no longer pleasant but dangerously low. "I am the one who will decide if this goes on. I'm the one sticking my neck out for the cops. I've got a lot more people willing to 'work for hire' for me than you do."

The message was there and Peter tensed his jaw. Giving a curt nod he finally looked away allowing Devon to win their staring match. Devon turned back to Neal and sneered.

"Can you trust him?"

"He'll keep his mouth shut," Peter said, not being able to help his irritation at the deflation of his ego O'Reilly had been able to do with just a few sentences.

"Can I trust you?" Devon towered over Neal, looking down at the still silent artist. Neal didn't say anything and Peter felt that familiar itch that he got every time his charge was planning something that Peter didn't know.

And then quicker than Peter could react Devon had Neal pinned against the wall. His hand was wrapped around the smaller man's neck, fingers locking Neal's face into place. The position screamed of dominance and the pressure pushing into Neal's neck that even the slightest movement would cut off Neal's air was Devon's effective way of control. It took every ounce of focus for Peter not to pull the man off.

Neal's blue eyes looked to Peter unsure and before the mask slipped back on Devon slammed him against the wall again.

"Don't look at him. You're looking at me now."

Neal was shaking, Peter could see but he kept in character. It's not like the con man hadn't been intimidated before, but this was different. Someone who could actually do something was just standing there not doing anything.

"Do you understand me? You work for me, yes?" Devon stared hard at Neal. Neal nodded, wide terrified eyes on Devon. "Can I trust you?"

He said each word with a slow venomous bite. The younger man swallowed, nodding and mouthing out a yes even though no sound came from his mouth. Devon released Neal, the con losing an inch in height as he rubbed his neck. Devon smiled at Peter.

"He'll be returned when my business is through. Then we can discuss a real partnership. But-"

"That's not going to work," Peter said before he could stop himself. Devon's smile dropped and he grabbed the back of Neal's neck, twisting the con to bend hunched over. Neal's eyes widened at Peter, a discrete twist of his head for Peter to see him shake it.

"I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Calloway." Devon's look was fierce, his pale face turning into a dangerous blank expression. "We aren't partners yet. I need to see what exactly you have to offer. Or I can end it right here."

"That's fine," Peter said trying to think of a way to cover up his stumble. He looked at Neal again then narrowed his eyes with a disgusted look. Neal easily flinched at the look. "He's my wife's nephew. Just don't rough him up too much."

"Don't worry," Devon snorted patronizingly, dragging Neal to the back of the room towards the closet, opening the lock and tossing him in before he closed the door with the padlock practically echoing throughout the room as it snapped shut. "Your wife won't even know."

Peter nodded again, the door holding Neal, burning the back of his head as he turned to Devon. He had no other choice and followed Devon out of the room. It was going to be a long couple of days. It didn't help that Peter could hear Neal's breathing as he left but that... it was probably his imagination.

"You ok," Devon asked clearly irritated by Peter's sudden withdrawal from the conversation.

"Fine." No he wasn't. This went against everything he… But Neal made that choice. He…

Peter forced a smile, extending his handshake into a squeeze giving Devon is own unspoken promise before he left Neal and Devon alone.

Neal was vulnerable. And Peter had let him be. He wasn't sure he'd get over that.

a/n: Something to take my mind off tech week. Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside!