El put a Louis Armstrong CD into the player and sat down at the table with her scrapbooking box. It had been ages since she'd had a chance to pull it out. Neal sat on the couch, sneaking a glance out the front window every time he didn't think El was looking. Eventually, after what seemed like hours for Neal but only minutes for El, Peter walked in through the front door, hanging his jacket coat up and heading over to his beautiful wife. "Hi El. You have a good day?"
"It was different." El reached up and kissed her husband. "I believe you had you had a doozie."
"That's one way to put it," Peter chuckled. "Where is he?"
"Well, until a few seconds ago, he was over on the couch but I'm pretty sure that was him I heard scurrying up the stairs as you came through the door. How about I make us a coffee while you tell me all about it?"
"That would be fantastic, thanks." Peter rested his elbows on the table and placed his head in his palms. "I could do with some Panadol if you pass any on the way to the coffee thanks, Hon. You had a day off?" Peter noticed the scrapbook box and all El's paperwork spread over the table for the first time.
"Yes. I treated myself."
El returned minutes later with two steaming coffees and a couple of headache tables for her husband. "So how did Ruiz know that Neal had used his card to order the pizzas?"
Peter shot his eyebrows up at his intuitive and amazingly intelligent wife. She still had the ability to surprise him every day. "Neal told you?"
"Some. Other parts were easy enough to guess. From what I've been able to gather between the dusting and the folding, Ruiz gave Neal a hard time for two weeks, something by the way you should have nipped in the bud from the get-go." Peter looked sufficiently guilty so El continued, "It all came to a head this morning at the docks when Ruiz shoved Neal into a wall. Neal being Neal, grabbed his wallet and when he got back to the office, he ordered pizzas for everyone. Somehow Ruiz found out…and that's when we ran out of household chores."
Peter smiled, understanding El's domestic duty interrogation routine – he had experience with it.
"Yeah, well, regrettably for Neal, some of the White Collar team have manners and a couple of them called Ruiz to thank him for the special treat. And after a junior agent that had particularly enjoyed the barbeque chicken supreme, shared an elevator ride with Ruiz to the 21st floor… well no great surprise here, Ruiz was blazing with anger. I saw him come through the front door, actually, I heard him, shouting at Neal. Neal was out of his chair at the same time I was out of mine, but fortunately, Ruiz's fist had a lot shorter distance to travel than my legs."
"Fortunately? You're okay with Ruiz punching Neal?"
Peter nodded while El looked ready to let fly. "Honey, if Ruiz hadn't punched Neal, it would be very likely that I'd be driving him back to the SuperMax tonight. Because Ruiz had punched Neal in full view of the entire White Collar division, I was able to cut a deal with Hughes, rationalizing that they were both in the wrong. I offered to return Ruiz the money for the pizzas. He agreed not to do anything about his stolen wallet that had miraculously appeared back in his jacket pocket while talking to Hughes. And I wouldn't be pressing charges against Ruiz for assaulting my CI in the middle of an FBI office. Without the punch, El, Neal would be going back."
"Well, when you put it like that, it's Neal's lucky day I guess." El said not too convincingly.
"Dodged another bullet. But his luck won't hold out forever. So I'm going to give him a very stern reminder that his chances are all but used up."
El got up from the table and pulled Peter into a quick hug before picking up the empty coffee mugs. "You'd better put the poor boy out of his misery."
"Yeah," Peter sighed. He pulled back from his beautiful wife and called up the stairs, "Neal! Get down here."
Neal sauntered down the stairs and met Peter in the living room with his all impressive smile and a grace that didn't belong on someone in so much trouble. "Ah Peter. You're home. How was your day?"
It was absolutely the wrong thing to say. El rolled her eyes. Oh Neal you silly boy. Peter grabbed Neal and gave him two very hard swats across his butt.
"Sorry Neal. I didn't hear you. My ears are still ringing from where Hughes chewed me out! You want to try that again?" Peter stood over Neal with his hands on his hips.
"No. I'm good thanks," Neal replied weakly as he slowly crept back until he was able to safely lower himself onto the couch.
El had seen enough so she disappeared into the kitchen leaving her husband to take care of their wayward charge.
-W-C-
Peter paced back and forth across the living room floor, hands on hips, trying to calm himself down. He'd been fine until Neal got him all frazzled again in a matter of seconds.
"I was quite clear last time we had this discussion Neal as to what would be the consequences of your reckless, juvenile behaviour. You remember that conversation don't you?"
"Possibly." Neal's brain was fast tracking solutions to get him out of his current predicament but it was always a lost cause when he was battling Peter.
"If you can't remember Neal, I'll be happy to remind you before we take care of your latest offence." Peter had stopped in front of Neal looking like he was only seconds away from making good on his threat.
"No. No it's all good. I remember now. No reminders necessary." Neal sat chewing his fingernails. "How many?"
Peter stood with his arms crossed sporting a no-nonsense look across his face. "I think twelve will serve the purpose to be a sufficient reminder to cut out the boneheaded stunts." Neal watched in horror as Peter unbuckled his belt, slipped it out through the loops and folded it in half. He tapped the back of the arm chair. "Let's go Neal."
"Can't you just stick to what works, Peter? Just maybe put me over your knee. You've got a very firm hand." Neal was using his whining voice that really irked Peter.
"Not this time, Neal. You've well and truly earned yourself a session with my belt," and then some. "Hop up!"
Neal just sat staring at the sight of Peter holding a menacing strip of leather that would soon be landing on his butt. "No thank you Peter, I'll give it a miss if it's alright with you."
Peter grabbed Neal off the couch, landing him on his feet, turned him sideways and brought the belt down across his backside three times before releasing him.
Apparently not alright with you! Neal stood before his partner, hands rubbing at his butt. "Crap Peter that stung!"
"Yeah Buddy. Do you think it's going to sting much less when some beast of an inmate has punched you in the gut five times before the guards even bother to get off their stools?" Peter didn't want to, couldn't, say what he was really thinking might happen to Neal when the guards backs were turned.
They stood in silence for the next minute or two while Neal processed the information and waited for the sting to subside from his butt. Accepting that Peter wasn't going to relent anytime soon, he moved past the older man and stood at the back of the arm chair. "Just nine more to go then?"
"Twelve Neal."
"No Peter! You already gave me three." Neal protested.
"The three were for your smart arse comment and you know it. It's still twelve." Peter pushed gently on Neal's back till he had his hands on the seat of the chair.
"It's hardly fair and I want my objection noted." Neal tried to put as much conviction into his tone as his nerves allowed him.
"I'll note your objection if you note mine." Peter pulled back his arm and walloped Neal across his backside with the belt."
Neal quickly straightened from his position over the chair and turned once again to face Peter. "Owww Peter! That was a lot harder than the others!"
"The others were for a smart comment Neal. These are for trying your level best to get your butt thrown back in prison."
Peter turned Neal around and guided him back over the chair. Without delay, he brought his belt down twice in quick succession. "Any more objections, Neal?" The young con grimaced but remained silent.
Peter gave Neal another three good hard whacks with the belt before Neal couldn't hold back any longer. The younger man jumped out of the way of a fourth whack and spun to face his handler.
"You know. I think you may be wrong about needing twelve. I feel like you've already made a significant impression on what I'm supposed to remember the next time I want to have a little fun. Six is actually the right number. I guess you can't always be right." Neal smiled as he stepped away from the chair.
Peter grabbed the back of his collar and hauled the young man over the chair. Was Neal going out of his way to grate on Peter's nerves in the middle of a punishment? Surely he had more sense? Peter considered that thought while continuing to wallop Neal's behind. He got three more in before Neal stood once again.
"I'm glad that's over with Peter." Neal tried a contrite tone and kept his eyes downcast. "I've certainly learnt my lesson." Peter didn't buy it. "I'll be more thoughtful next time."
"Neal."
"What?"
"It's not over."
"Why not? I counted twelve. You've obviously lost track." His hands were on his butt, desperate for this this to end.
"I only counted six Neal so back over you go!" Peter countered.
"That's not fair Peter. You've already given me ni…"
Peter raised his eyebrows at Neal, willing him to continue the statement. Neal shook his head, turned, bent over and braced for what he hoped would be a final three.
Peter brought the last three down with a little more force than the others hoping to leave a truly lasting impression. "Okay Neal, you can get up now." When Neal didn't make a move, Peter gently pulled up the younger man. This time Neal had genuine remorse in his slightly wet eyes. Gone was the cocky attitude and smart retorts from moments before. Twelve had been the right number, Peter nodded with satisfaction.
-W-C-
El walked back into the dining area and placed the freshly washed napkins in the sideboard drawer. Neal was on the receiving end of a Peter lecture. "No more crap, Neal. You can't afford to pull the stunts you have in the past. I've only got so many get out of jail free cards left for you. How many more times is Hughes going to let me put a 'please let me take care of Neal's latest misdemeanor myself' card on the table before he announces enough is enough and it's back to prison you go? Tough luck that you have family and friends here that will pay an equally difficult price just because you didn't think!" Peter wasn't shouting but his words were driving straight through Neal like he had a megaphone.
Peter took a deep breath and pointed at Neal with the folded belt. "You will go straight to bed after dinner."
"Yes Peter."
"And to pay me back for the pizzas, every Saturday morning for the next month, you will do extra chores around the house here and at June's place."
"Can't I just give you the money instead?"
"NO." Peter continued to point with the belt. "Tomorrow you can weed out the front garden and repaint the doghouse."
"Yes Peter."
"And Neal…this is going to be the deal from now on so take careful note. You do something stupid to put your life in danger or something that could see you thrown back in prison and you get this every time. Am I clear?"
"Yes Sir." That was a first! Peter was a little taken back at the title. On the other hand however, he liked the sound of it, something he could get used to.
Peter looked over at El who was waiting patiently by the dining table. With his eyes, he asked her if she would mind taking over. She gave an almost indiscernible nod.
"Okay. I'm going to go have a long hot shower." Peter eyed the young man standing before him. "Please try to stay out of trouble till I get back."
Neal let out a long sigh after Peter left the room but he didn't move from his spot. He didn't realize until he felt himself being pulled into a hug that El had come over to stand with him. Neal rested his head on Elizabeth's shoulder. It felt right. They stayed that way for a good five minutes until El eventually asked, "You okay now honey?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for putting up with me all afternoon." Neal pulled away and followed El into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.
El turned on the oven and pulled out a casserole dish from the top pantry. "So young one," Neal looked up, "you were spanked, lectured, are being sent to bed without any dessert and even given extra chores as part of your punishment." El looked at Neal with a mischievous smile. "What do you call someone who has that type of parental control over you, Neal?"
Boss, friend, handler, big brother, father, parole officer? Peter? The one person in my life I trust the most … Neal got lost in his thoughts before deciding on an answer. By any other name. "Dad, I guess." Neal smiled cheekily at Elizabeth…"Mom?"
Elizabeth chuckled as she gave his behind a swat. "Step-mom maybe I could handle. But not the wicked type you hear. Now come and help me get the dinner ready."
"Yes ma'am." He would have said Mom but he wanted to protect his backside.
-W-C-
El sat enjoying every mouthful of the chicken pie. It was truly delectable. Her assistant had done an amazing job of taking a simple dish and turning it into a masterpiece.
Neal forked the last mouthful of his pie into his mouth. He'd been chatting throughout dinner, mostly about his plans for painting a mural on the side of Satchmo's kennel. It was a very distracting conversation to listen to as he continually shifted in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position for the entire meal. Shortly he would be sent to bed and then someone would sneak up a little while later to check that he was sleeping soundly.
Peter sipped at his wine, chatting a little about work and a lot about his plans for the weekend.
El studied her two boys. They were as much father and son as her and Peter were husband and wife. In every sense of the word at some point during the last year, they had evolved into that particular relationship. For two very intelligent men, they were quite oblivious to it all. El decided she would have to buy them both matching t-shirts or something glaringly obvious for Christmas because they were the kind of pair that would need hitting over the head to see what was literally sitting across the table from them.
Neal finished his meal. Peter looked patiently across and waited. Neal got up, "Goodnight Elizabeth." He kissed her on the cheek.
"Goodnight Neal."
Then the young man did something El would need to add to her never forget/always remember fondly moments. Neal walked around the table and kissed Peter on his head. "Goodnight." Dad. And while he didn't speak the words, Peter had heard them anyway.
"Goodnight, Son."
El packed up the dishes off the table, which was a little trickier than her early jobs. For this time she had tears in her eyes.