There are things you don't ask about. That, Peter thinks, was the greatest unwritten code the bureau had. Caffrey breaks every code ever written and a few yet to be written ones, for good measure, on a regular basis.
"My brothers want to meet you."
Peter looks up from his paperwork and hopes that there is a REALLY good explanation. Neal leans on the doorframe, fedora in hand and sheepish look on his face.
Oh, he really is in trouble.
"Brothers?" he asks, because he does and doesn't want to know.
Neal smiles as well as he can, but his skills are failing, poor kid. "Dads too."
Peter raises an eyebrow; he likes to think of it as the eyebrow of Neal Caffrey's doom. For the first time, Neal winces.
The first thing he thinks as he walks into the mansion is "Holy Saint Peter's Basilica". The house is much grander than that. Then, when the nice housekeeper takes his coat is "Why the hell does Caffrey steal again?"
"It's in his genes." A tall, pale figure descends from the stair case. He's getting on in years, clearly, but young and spry. Peter realizes with distinct alarm that the man is wanted by at least seven international government agencies, and vanished around the time Caffrey was... Oh, that makes a hell of a lot of sense. That still doesn't explain how he defied wrinkles, at least visibly aging ones.
"I'm Arthur," the man smiles warmly, and sharply, at Peter. He can sense a predator is in his presence.
"And I'm Eames."
Peter jumps and pulls his gun. A dirty blonde smiles and a gun's worth of bullets clatter on the granite floors. He recognizes that face to, a forger wanted around the... Oh.
"Dad," Neal hugs the Arthur and then Eames. Peter blinks and he thinks distractedly that these two criminals must have stitched their DNA together somehow. He sees Arthur's taste for only the best suits and restless energy and Eames's skill in art and theater.
Neal said he had brothers.
Peter stands chilled to the bone as Neal introduces him, "Peter Burke, FBI, White Collar Division."
"Elementary, love, but not our division," Eames jokes. The three laugh like they know something. It clicks in his head. Eames is British. That Holmes guy who called in a tip from across that Atlantic was British... And his head hurts a lot.
"Neal!" A body launches past Peter and tackles Neal and family in a hug. The young man beams, and laughs as they tousle his curly hair. "That is what you're going by these days?" he asks cheekily. He's probably the most normal out of all of them.
Neal laughs. "Quinn, it's great to see you again. This is Peter Burke." They continue in some similar skein as Peter zones out.
"I'm home!" There is the sound of another man brushing by. He smiles winningly at Peter and leaves his blond, and confused, companion at the door. Peter is pretty sure he just saw Emrys, the hacker that leaves revealing porn videos of corrupt officers on government servers.
In a family like that, he takes a second look at the normal one. Quinn, he's trying to recall why that should be important when a hand clamps on his shoulder. A man about his age gives him a lopsided grin.
"The name's Bond. James Bond."
Peter splutters and passes out.
When he finally comes around, Neal is sitting at the edge of his bed. Well, with the thread count he's lying on, it definitely isn't his bed. He takes the glass of water offered and drinks. It's refreshingly cold and he tastes a little lemon.
"So, do your parents like me?"
"They like you as much as any ex-criminal parents can love the fed their son works with." Peter grimaces. Well put. Neal smirks, not fake or bold, just like he's won a little victory.
"Who got you?" Neal's eyes sparkle with mirth.
"James Bond." Peter shakes his head. "That's not real right?"
"No, Quinn is his handler and they may or may not be sleeping together." Neal's smile shifts to something less than comforting. "Hold on, Peter, this is just the beginning."
By dinner, he's gotten his sense of reality challenged again and again.
Eames is cousin to the Holmes brothers, based in London. One is a consulting detective and the other is a minor official in the British government. Arthur has an identical twin named John Blake, who is Batman. No biggie, he thinks manically. They worked the dream crime network, which may or may not have even been heard of. They were apparently not only there in its conception, but when it burned to the ground, shattering and imploding some of the world's greatest minds. Not before, adopting three boys and raising them to be the greatest powers in a war of good against evil.
Quinn is handler to THE 007, who he may or may not be sleeping with James Bond, is a charming guy. Bond apparently likes cupcakes, and Quinn.
Colin, or Merlin, the reincarnation of the wizard, is an international hacker. He brought King Arthur, freshly reawakened in this cycle and the Prince Bradley of Wales, as his plus one.
And then there's Neal, who looks equal parts amused and mortified. "Not too bad?"
Peter sighs. Neal, who can probably drop names like Rockefeller with his family connections, smiles at his answers. "Not too bad."
"Arthur here is a descendent of Abraham Lincoln?" Eames offers in his plummy accent, gesturing to his husband.
That is the least surprising part of his evening, he muses as he sips his wine. That glass is probably worth his year's salary and just as illegal.
He wonders exactly how on earth he earned the chance to meet and not have to arrest these people.
"Hey, sleepy head." Peter blinks rapidly and his eyes focus. He's in Neal's apartment. They're in bed. It was just a dream.
He wraps his arm around Neal's shoulders. "I had this crazy dream."
Neal smirks and rests his head on Peter's shoulder. "What was it about?"
Peter chuckles as Neal's hair tickles his neck. "I met your family: Quinn, Colin, Papa Eames, Daddy Arthur," he lists off.
Neal laughed. "Oh? How do you know I didn't kidnap you?"
"What?" peter felt a rumble in his chest as he laughed. "You had Mozzie drag my body out the window and into an unmarked white van or something?"
Neal pouted, his lips blooming into a smirk.
"How else do you know it was just a dream?"
Peter rolls his eyes. "I met James Bond. He was sleeping with your brother."
Neal raised an eyebrow to match. "Well, my brother did well for himself." Peter snorted and Neal kissed him. "Not as well as I did of course."
To Q:
Are you really sleeping w/ JB? - NC
To NC:
We're still working it out. – Q
stupid himitsu. wall's up.