Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: This is slightly AU but it just came in my head, so I wrote the little one shot to make it go away:)

The cold wind stung his face was he walked down the blistery New York street sans coat. Or gloves. Or scarf. Or anything really. He hadn't meant to just take off like that, but he definitely couldn't go back now. He felt a sting in his eyes forming that wasn't from the January wind and he blinked quickly to prevent the tears from falling.

Neal Caffrey had no clue where he was heading. He had exactly sixteen dollars in his pocket, a stick of gum, a pencil, an ID claiming he was Neal Caffrey and there was the possibility there was one claiming another identity a convenient amount older.

Basically Neal Caffrey was screwed. He had barely any money, no one he could trust. Well, no one he could trust anymore.

Neal Caffrey was a fifteen-year-old boy walking alone on a freezing January night with no coat leaving the only place he had been comfortable calling home.

Home. The work was so foreign to him. After living on the streets for almost a year and a half Neal had never imagined his life would be at the point it was now. Two quasi parents, a suburban home, and even a dog. It was like a damn storybook life.

Neal sniffed and wiped his hand under his nose. It was because of the cold, he was not crying. Neal Caffrey didn't cry. But damn, did his pride hurt. More than he had though possible. Neal took pride in his ability to lie and get around rules, but it was different with Peter. It always had been.

Well at least it had been for Neal. Apparently Peter still thought of Neal as a criminal. Even after thirteen months of the boy living in his home, it was still obvious Peter didn't trust Neal.

Just thinking of what had happen caused Neal's legs to propel him forward a little faster, putting some more distance between the Burke's home, it wasn't his anymore, he was back to being homeless.

Neal drug his hand roughly across his cheek. That was a melted snowflake he felt there, definitely not an escaped tear.

Escaping the cold and his emotions Neal ducked into the closest building and schooled his expression into a complex façade. The smell of coffee curled around Neal and immediately eased some of the tension in his body.

He strolled up to the counter and flirted with the young barista leaving her a little tip and a phone number to go with his charming smile, his emotions conveniently stored in a nice little spot at the back of his mind for the moment.

Finding a secluded booth in the back Neal slid in keeping his back to the rest of the quaint café. The warmth of the cup in his hands let Neal finally realize just how cold he was and he struggled to quell the shiver that ran through his body.

The coffee relaxed his body and the young boy couldn't help the thoughts of the home he'd just run from filling his mind. His quiet sniff was interrupted by the gentle sound of a throat clearing behind him. Neal's head immediately jerked around and he wasn't surprised to see Peter standing there.

"How…" Neal's question trailed off and internally he winced at how vulnerable it sounded. Just ten minutes ago he had been cool and collected, flirting mercilessly with the barista. But the second Peter showed up Neal's defenses came down, he couldn't even help it anymore.

Realizing this brought tears back to Neal's eyes even as he tried to prevent them. Peter, the only person he really trusted, over Mozzie and Elizabeth and everyone, still hadn't believed him when it mattered.

"Hey, kiddo." Peter placed a warm affectionate hand on the base of the boy's neck and Neal felt his body stiffen. "Scoot over."

Peter gestured with his head and Neal slid across the booth, noting that Peter had him sitting against the wall now, and the man had effectively blocked his only manner of fleeing. Smart, Peter. Neal's thoughts had a bitter tone.

"So, I talked to Elizabeth. I know you weren't lying."

Neal intently watched his finger trace the rim of the coffee cup refusing to look at Peter.

"Hey," Peter gently caught Neal's finger in his grasp, effectively stopping the distraction and Neal's face slowly rose to meet Peter's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Peter's voice was thick with emotion. Neal caught his bottom lip between his teeth and as tears gathered in his eyes again he felt his head nodding.

He didn't know what he was agreeing to. Being sorry for running off again maybe.

Peter gave the boy a small smile and palmed the back of his dark head, pulling the boy into a sideways hug. For the first time since he had ducked out of the house earlier, Neal felt himself relax into the older man's strong presence. Because no matter what, Neal trusted Peter explicitly. He couldn't help it.

"Neal, where the hell is your coat?" Peter pulled back from the boy, a cross between amusement and frustration playing on his face.

Neal just smiled, and Peter rolled his eyes as he stood.

"Let's go home, kiddo. Elizabeth is probably worried sick by now, especially if she realized you left your coat at home."

Neal looked away sheepishly before confusion passed over his face for a moment.

"Wait, how did you find me?"

Peter just smirked over his shoulder at the boy.

"Peter: 4, Neal: 0"

Neal huffed indignantly and followed after the man. "Technically I let you catch me the third time. It doesn't count!"

Peter rolled his eyes and held the door to the café open allowing the boy to walk onto the snow covered sidewalk ahead of him.

"I did!" Neal let out seeing Peter's disbelieving expression.

"Uh huh, sure." The older man dismissed the assertion as he exited the cafe. "Let's just go home and have dinner without any more adventures tonight."

As they slid into the back seat of a taxi Neal peaked through his eyelashes innocently, "Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances I'm not in trouble for taking off again, am I?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Oh yeah, definitely in trouble, Neal."

Neal's head fell back against the headrest of the seat with a groan.

"Shouldn't of stopped for coffee, could have gotten away." Neal mumbled to himself as he started moodily out the window.

"Please sulk, you're quiet that way."

"I don't sulk!" Neal turned back towards Peter who was having a hard time controlling his amusement.

"Sure you don't, Neal."

The boy crossed his arms and turned back to window. He was not sulking. He was crossing his arms for warmth until they got back to their warm home.

Home. The word was still foreign to Neal, but he could care less. It was where he belonged regardless if Peter sometimes took a second look at if he explicitly trusted him. It was worth it.