Title: White Collar Christmas
Summary: Neal doesn't want to spend the holidays alone. WARNING: story contains non-sexual discipline of an adult, if that's not your cup of tea, don't read!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The following story is for fan entertainment only.
Chapter Two:Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
"Merry Christmas, Peter!" Neal arrived forty five minutes after hanging up with Peter, cheeks rosy and arms full of hastily wrapped packages.
Peter wondered why his gift wrapping skills paled in comparison to his forgery skills. He looked like an overly excited kid on Christmas morning. 'Probably excited to find new and exciting ways to make my life hell' Peter thought glumly.
"I brought gifts!" Neal exclaimed.
Elizabeth hurried out of the kitchen to greet Neal. "Oh, you shouldn't have" She helped Neal set down the packages and took his coat for him while Peter stood near the stairs, arms crossed, wondering what he got himself into.
"Dinner's almost ready" Elizabeth smiled again before heading back into the kitchen.
Neal followed Peter to the front room and plopped down on the couch next to him.
"Is that Chinese?" Neal asked, mouth watering.
"It's out Christmas Eve tradition" Peter said, and Neal could have sworn he empathized 'our'.
"Sound good" Neal replied. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Neal bounced back up, grabbed one of the smaller packages he brought over, and presented it to Peter.
"Come on! Open it!" Neal said excitedly. Peter raised an eyebrow before taking the package.
"Champagne?" Peter asked.
"Not just any champagne. It's a '96 Salon. Same thing I was drinking the night you caught me" Neal said and Peter knew he could tell him every detail of that night. He certainly remembered the suit Peter wore, he commented on it often enough.
"I don't want to know how you got this, do I" Peter couldn't help but smile. He knew the champagne had to be expensive, and therefore good.
"So. Got any glasses?"
**********
Peter, Elizabeth and Neal spent the rest of the evening drinking the champagne after they finished their meal. Elizabeth kept smiling at a buzzed Peter and Neal, both of the seeming to enjoy each other's company more after a few drinks. They swapped stories and Neal and Peter talked about a few cases, Elizabeth chiming in every so often, offering a women's point of view.
When Elizabeth finally looked at the time, it was almost one in the morning.
"Alright boys, I'm calling it a night."
"Sounds like a plan. I don't get to bed soon I won't be up till noon tomorrow" Peter said as he stood and stretched his back.
"Need a full eight hours in your old age, Peter?" Neal smirked.
"Very funny, Caffrey"
"I think I'm going to sit with Sachmo a little longer" Neal said, petting the sleepy dog's head.
"Alright. The guest room is all ready for you" Elizabeth gave him a quick hug, making Neal smile.
"Sleep well" Neal raised his glass at them and Sachmo took Elizabeth's place on the couch.
**********
About an hour after Elizabeth and Peter disappeared up stairs, Neal noticed his glass was empty. Only feeling slightly drunk, he went to Peter's liquor cabinet. He ran his fingers over the smooth glass and suddenly had an overwhelming urge to hold his Bordeaux bottle. Without Peter and Elizabeth to talk to, his mind wandered back to Kate. He thought of how happy Peter and Elizabeth seemed, cuddled on the couch together, like he and Kate used to do. He felt a pang deep in his stomach. God, he missed her.
He picked up a bottle up a bottle of Lagavulin. He'd had better, but this would do. He filled his glass, downed it, then filled another before bringing the bottle with him back to the couch. Sachmo curled up next to him and Neal drank until visions of Kate stopped dancing in his head.
**********
Peter slipped out of his bed, trying not to disturb El and tiptoed into the hallway. Every year since he met El he'd wait until she fell asleep to put her presents under the tree. It was a silly tradition, but he knew it reminded his wife of her childhood and he loved the look of reminiscence on her face. He pulled several boxes out from the closet and brought them downstairs. He didn't see Neal sprawled on the couch until he heard his voice.
"Hey Peter!" Neal exclaimed as he struggled to sit up. Peter nearly dropped the packages he was holding.
"Neal? What the hell are you doing up?" Peter whispered harshly as he set the presents down. He spotted the empty bottle of scotch, his favorite at that, on it's side by Neal's shoes. He picked up the bottle and looked at Neal incredulously.
"What...." He was at a loss for words. Sachmo looked at Peter from his spot on the couch, head resting on Neal's discarded jacket, undisturbed by the exchange.
"I hope you don't mind, I had a few more drinks"
"A few? A few!" Peter yelled. Neal, completely wasted, was looking at him with droopy eyes and a ridiculous smile on his face. Peter wanted to smack it off. "I let you stay in my house, on Christmas Eve, and you drink my best damn bottle of scotch!" Peter tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake his wife, despite his anger.
"Yeah, you need to get a better liquor collection" Neal said, falling back into the couch.
"Since when are you a drunk?" Peter asked as he picked up the empty bottle, his voice still an angry whisper. He had never known Neal to have more than a few. He figured it had something to do his need to always be in control of everything.
"Kate loves the classics" Neal slurred.
"What?" That didn't exactly answer his question. Peter had no idea what Neal meant by that.
"Marks the spot, Peter" Neal said, laughing.
Peter took a deep breath. Clearly Neal wasn't in a state where yelling at him was going to do any good. He was certainly going to give him a piece of his mind tomorrow, however.
"Right. Of course it does." Peter set the bottle down and hauled Neal off the couch. "Time for bed"
Neal pulled away from Peter and almost fell on his ass before Peter caught him again. Neal could barely keep his feet under him but somehow managed to stay defiant as he leaned heavily on the older man.
"I'm not going to bed. M'not tired" Neal slurred, trying to push against Peter.
"Don't get yourself into any more trouble than you're already in Neal" Peter said, trying to keep his grip on the younger man.
"I'm not in trouble. I didn't break any rules. You can' put be back in jail for being drunk" The fact that Neal had a point didn't make Peter any less angry. Neal was still pulling away from Peter, so he let him go. He watched Neal try to open the door, not realizing that it was still locked.
"Where exactly do you think you're going?" Peter asked.
"Away from you. Don't want to ruin you Christmas any more that I already have" Neal said sadly.
Peter pulled Neal away from the door, a part of him tempted to open the door and let Neal leave.
"Your lucky I don't let you wander around in the snow. Besides, its not the first time you ruined my Christmas"
"Go away" Neal whined as he made his best effort to get away from the agent.
"Come on, your going to bed" Peter had his arm around Neal's waist, but Neal decided to go limp and slide to the floor.
"You can't make me" Neal laughed to himself, "I think here's good"
The last thing Peter wanted was El to find Neal passed out on the floor in the morning.
"Don't think so" Peter said, trying to haul Neal off the floor. This wasn't going to work. Getting a protesting Neal up the stairs would be loud, and probably dangerous.
"Neal, get up or I'm taking you back to jail" Peter said blankly, hoping that the threat would have some weight with the inebriated man.
"No, your not" Neal said smartly, "You gonna tell your boss you couldn't get me to go to bed so I have to go back to jail?" Neal laughed.
"Okay, your two mile radius of freedom will go down to fifty feet" Peter threatened.
"Go ahead. I have everything I need at June's"
Peter had had enough. He pulled Neal roughly off the floor. He practically dragged the smaller man back to the couch and sat down, pulling Neal over his lap.
"What'r you doin?" Neal questioned, flailing his arms around. Peter trapped Neal's legs with one of his own and pinned Neal's arms behind his back.
"Your right Neal. I can't send you to jail for acting like a brat and drinking yourself silly. But I can do this" Peter landed and hard smack to Neal's backside, making him jump.
"Hey!" Neal yelled, squirming. He tried to push off Peter's lap, but the older man was stronger than he was, and Neal was drunker.
"I don't know what the problem is here, but I'm putting and end to it now. Your going to go to bed, sleep it off and wake up tomorrow and not ruin Christmas for El" Peter continued to land hard smacks to Neal's backside while he lectured. Neal was trying to get away, but was making less noise than Peter expected.
"Okay. Okay, just stop!" Neal groaned, feeling the pain and tiredness and nausea. He really did want to go to bed now.
Peter let Neal slide to the floor before standing and pulling him up. Peter kept a steadying hand on Neal's shoulder and the younger man refused to look up.
"M'sorry Peter" He slurred, "I just...being here...Christmas'is sad" Neal said pitifully. Peter sighed, still not clear what had brought this all on.
"I'm sure you are. Let's just get you to bed"
"I didn't mean to" Neal babbled.
"Ok, ok. We'll talk about it tomorrow." Peter said. He slung Neal's arm around his shoulder and wrapped an arm around the smaller man's waist. Halfway up the stairs, Neal's hand gripped Peter's shoulder tightly.
"Peter!" Neal said urgently, "Gonna be sick!"
Peter pulled Neal the rest of the way up the stairs and the duo barely made it to the bathroom. Neal slumped over the toilet, gripping the sides tightly as heaves seized his body.
Neal started crying miserable into the toilet as he blindly tried to find the handle. Peter flushed it for him, grimacing at the pitiful display. Neal was practically sobbing, chocking out words Peter couldn't understand, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. Peter could see his thin frame shaking under the thin cotton of his t-shirt.
"You're okay, Neal" Peter helped the younger man stand before closing the toilet lid and sitting him back down. "Just, don't cry, okay?" Peter said as he handed Neal a damp washcloth.
"I swear to God, Peter, if you tell me to cowboy up---" Neal yelled suddenly. He looked up at Peter, his normally piercing blue eyes now glassy and bloodshot.
Sobs overtook him again and his sudden outburst of clarity was quickly replaced by incoherent rambling, the washcloth hanging unused in his hands.
"Alright, alright" Peter soothed. He crouched down in front of Neal and squeezed the younger man's knee."You just need to get some sleep, okay?"
"M'sorry. M'ruining your Christmas" Neal mumbled, the washcloth hanging unused in his hand. Peter took the cloth and wiped at Neal's mouth as tears continued to roll down his flushed cheeks. The younger man blurted out one final nonsensical sentence before bursting into tears and slumping against Peter.
"Neal" Peter sighed. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Neal's breath was hot on his neck and his whole body was shaking with sobs.
"Shh. Neal...don't..." Peter tried to sound comforting, but Neal was scaring him with the intensity of his breakdown. He really wished Neal would just calm down.
Neal barely managed to say something that sounded like 'It's not okay' before gripping tight handfuls of Peter's thin t-shirt. He held the broken man in his arms, mind reeling. For seven years, the quick-minded con had been a part of his life, their witty banter and battle of wills always making their connection between the energized. From the moment he first heard about the con, he never thought there would be a dull moment with him. Neal was always so in control of himself, even when it came to Kate. When Peter caught him the second time, it was only minutes before Neal was formulating another plan. Never did he think he'd be crouched in his bathroom with the young man's tear stained cheek pressed against his neck.
Their current situation was presenting a side of the Neal that Peter never though he'd be witness to. He was a complete mess. His hair was sticking out at odd angles and his now wrinkled clothes smelled like scotch. There were no witty comments or wry smiles, just Neal overtaken my his own misery, hardly in control of himself and definitely not in control of his situation.
Even though Peter's legs were cramping, he held Neal until his breathing returned to normal. His knees popped when he finally helped Neal to his feet.
"Come on, rinse your mouth out" Peter handed Neal a Dixie cup full of mouthwash. Neal ended up missing the sink when he spit it out, provoking more tears.
"M'sorry" Neal mumbled, frowning at the bright green solution staining the white counter.
"Don't worry about it" Peter got a hold of Neal and guided him into the guest room. He set him on the bed and tried to ignore the tears still clouding Neal's crystal blue eyes.
"Sit here for a minute. Can you do that for me?" Peter asked. He took Neal's lack of response as a 'yes'.
Peter returned a few minutes later with two bottles of water and a trash can.
"Neal, I need you to drink some of this for me" Peter tried to hand Neal the bottle, but he refuse it.
"I can't, I don't feel good" Neal whined. He tried to lay down, put Peter kept him upright.
"Come on, it will make you feel better" Neal finally took the bottle and took a few sips before handing it back. Peter set the bottles on the nightstand and helped Neal lie back. He pulled off Neal's shoes and pulled the covers up over his shoulders.
"Get some rest, buddy" Peter turned the light off, but stayed by the door until Neal stopped whimpering. He shut the door and went back downstairs to finish arranging El's presents and tried not to think about the conversation he was going to have to have with Neal the next morning.
