"Isn't Neal supposed to show up?" Jones asked Peter over the loud music playing in the club.

Peter nodded. "He'll be here soon. El's got a few things to work out with him first."

Bruce came over to them with another round, grinning. Peter was glad he'd chosen Bruce as his best man and he was glad Bruce was able to make it up from DC for this. It meant a lot to him and he really couldn't wait to introduce Bruce to the love of his life. Peter chugged the beer he'd been given, taking the fact that he'd have to take care of Neal's alcohol consumption into consideration. Neal was pretty good about his limits, but Peter didn't want Neal to get drunk. He himself wasn't planning on getting drunk either. "Where's that boy you fished out of the sea?"

Peter chuckled, pulling his phone out to check his messages. Neal sent him a message two minutes ago to tell him he was en route. "He's on his way now. You'll love him, Bruce." He grinned at his best friend. "He's absolutely perfect."

"You always were a perfectionist," Bruce commented. Peter gave him a wry smile. "I'm sure I'll like the man you've dedicated your life, too, Peter. If he's made you happy all this time, he's good for you." Bruce wasn't aware of everything Neal had gone through and Peter wasn't inclined to tell him the whole story unless Neal chose to tell it. Bruce knew the essentials about Neal, but nothing absolutely personal.

Peter had another beer in his hand as he sat on the circular couch. It'd been at least ten minutes since he last heard from Neal, so he was lazily waiting for his fiancé. It didn't help that he was buzzed. When Neal came in, he was wearing skintight black jeans, a grey loose-fitting silky shirt, and his fedora. Peter was awestruck as he watched Neal search for him in the sea of club employees and Peter's group. He held his hand up and caught Neal's attention. The younger man sighed, smiling affectionately at his lover as he crossed the large room. "Hey, you," he murmured, leaning towards Peter to peck his lips.

The older man held his arms out and Neal jumped into his lap, wrapping his arms around Peter's neck. "Hey, yourself," he whispered, bumping his nose against Neal's.

"Mm. You're drunk," Neal said quietly against Peter's lips.

"Buzzed," Peter corrected. "No more for me after this one," he promised, showing Neal how close he was to finishing the bottle. He scooted forward on the couch, standing while he held Neal in his arms. The younger man chuckled. He loved when Peter held him like this. He felt weightless, like he was high up in the clouds. Maybe he just felt high.

He glanced over Peter's shoulder and saw Jon and James near the bar. He was relieved to see that they weren't getting into an argument. He had to admit that he was reluctant to give Peter his blessing to invite James. It wasn't Neal's party, but Peter asked Neal what he thought since he'd also invited Neal. "I take it this is the future Mister Neal Burke?" Peter spun, laughing happily as he nodded. He gently set Neal down. "Bruce Hawes," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. Neal shook it, smiling. "Pleased to finally meet you. Peter kept talking about you and the suspense was killing me."

Neal chuckled. "It's nice to finally put a face to your name as well." Peter's hand rested low on Neal's back, nearing his ass. He was really beginning to think Peter was more than just buzzed. He didn't mind. It just meant he could have maybe one drink since he'd have to drive them home.

Mozzie and Jones were holding a conversation off in another corner of the room, which Neal was surprised to see. Mozzie barely put up with Neal and Peter for being Suits. To put up with someone outside of their immediate circle was something that didn't happen every day.

They all met up near the circular couch, spreading themselves out over it. Peter held Neal close, Bruce and Mozzie sitting beside them respectively. Neal wasn't sure what to expect. The guys were still drinking—he'd denied Peter two drinks already since arriving. James and Jon stood behind the couch, Jon standing behind Peter and Neal with his hands on both of their shoulders.

Neal and Peter were murmuring quiet words to each other until what appeared to be a waiter came out with an ensemble of women. Neal raised an eyebrow and Peter glanced in the direction Neal was looking in. "I heard we've got a bachelor in the club?"

"Hell yes!" Jones and Bruce said simultaneously. Neal had a bad feeling all of a sudden.

The waiter immediately focused on Peter, grinning mischievously. The women dispersed themselves amongst the other men. Neal politely declined the lap dance one of the women offered him and he was stunned when the man who'd spoken before started grinding on his fiancé. Peter paled, trying not to watch the man who began stripping for him. Neal noticed that the women were stripping for the others and he was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. The man stripping for and grinding on Peter was practically dry humping Peter, which pissed Neal off to no end. The fact that Peter didn't push the other man away didn't help ease his foul mood either. "Uh, excuse me," Neal said firmly. "I can be a striptease for my fiancé, thank you very much." The man looked stunned to see Neal. He hadn't expected Peter's fiancé to be here with him. He respectfully stepped back and Peter tried to take Neal's hand, but Neal quickly got up from the couch and went to the bar to get a drink.

James watched his son, hurting with him. Peter spun to look up at both his father and Neal's father. "I swear, I had no idea we were having strippers," he whispered, horrified.

"Better get your ass over there, Peter Michael Burke," Jon said.

Without another word, Peter leapt off of the couch and went to join Neal. Neal was hunched over the bar, downing a few shots of whiskey. "Babe, take it easy," Peter said, resting a hand between Neal's shoulder blades. Neal glared at him. "I didn't know we ordered strippers, Neal. I swear I would've told you if I knew."

"Didn't look like you wanted to shove him away," Neal muttered, the bitterness of jealousy dripping from his voice.

Peter leaned closer, kissing Neal's jaw. "Honey, I won't say I'm too buzzed to know what I'm doing. I panicked, okay? I thought it was kind of obvious that we were together, so I wasn't expecting…that." Neal grunted in response, grabbing another shot. "Angel, listen to me," Peter pleaded. "You know I'd tell you in advance—"

"How does your best friend plan your bachelor party without you knowing about the strippers? Especially the one male stripper who seemed to know exactly who he was going to dry hump in front of me."

"I told him he could have some women come strip for them. I told him I wasn't interested for this reason." He was trying to get Neal to calm down, knowing how angry and upset he was. Hell, he'd feel the same way if their positions were reversed. If this had happened to Neal, Peter actually would have understood why Neal didn't push the stripper away. He would have been terrified by the sudden sexual intent of a stranger. "Angel, I wouldn't lie to you about this. Do you honestly think I would've invited you if I knew?"

Peter realized he'd fucked up royally when Neal looked even angrier. "Oh, so I wouldn't have been invited if you knew about him." Peter started to stammer an apology, but Neal shook his head. "No, I get it. It's okay. I'm not supposed to be here anyway. Have fun, Peter." He set his glass down and turned abruptly, heading for the exit.

Peter chased after him, tugging Neal's hand. "Don't leave."

"Let go," Neal whispered, his voice tight.

The older man knew he was really testing Neal's patience, but he didn't want to let Neal leave like this. "Neal, please, don't leave," he pleaded quietly. He was staring at Neal's face, trying to will the younger man to relax and stay.

"I'm just gonna ruin your fun. This is your bachelor party, so you should—"

"You're about to be my husband," Peter interjected. "You're more important to me than some damn party." Some of Neal's tension dissipated in that moment and Peter was relieved. "I want you to be here, Neal. If I didn't, I wouldn't be trying so desperately to beg you not to leave me."

Neal's jaw was tensed and all Peter wanted to do was stroke Neal's face until his jaw relaxed. "If I have to sit through another show for you, I—"

"There won't be another…show," he assured Neal. "No more strippers for me, honey, unless you're the one stripping." He laughed lightly, trying for levity since Neal was still tense. Neal only stared blankly before walking past him to rejoin the other men. Peter sighed, following his lover. Neal sat on the other side of Mozzie at the very edge of the couch, which meant Peter wasn't going to be sitting beside him at the moment. He kept glancing at Neal, but Neal was looking away.

As the night wore on, Neal drank a little more than he'd intended to. Peter didn't realize it until Neal got up to go to the bathroom and nearly stumbled over the table not too far away. "Son of a bitch," Neal hissed, stepping around the table tentatively, rubbing his face. Peter gaped at his lover for a moment before jumping up to follow him. He was worried about Neal now. When he got into the bathroom, Neal was relieving himself. He'd seen everything after being with Neal for so long, so he didn't really care. He just waited patiently for Neal to finish and zip himself up. When Neal turned, he startled. "Seriously? Watching me piss now?"

Neal brushed past him unsteadily, washing his hands. "I came to check on you," Peter said softly. "We…haven't talked for a little while."

"I'm kinda pissed off with you if you couldn't tell," Neal said bluntly.

Neal could be a silly drunk or an angry drunk. This happened to be one of the latter situations. Neal wasn't furious. He just wasn't happy and made it known. "Angel… Let me take you home."

"We're both fucked in the head, Peter. If we drive, we'll probably kill ourselves. I'm fucking shitfaced and I know that was a stupid suggestion."

Peter bristled a bit at that. "Can you tone it down on the hostility? You know damn well I love you more than anyone in this whole world, Neal."

"I'm second to strippers."

Growling, Peter grabbed Neal and pulled him into a tight hug, whispering fiercely, "No one will ever come before you. You're everything—everything to me." He kissed Neal's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Don't you ever doubt that, Neal. I'd give my life for you. Don't make me sing 'Grenade.'"

Neal breathed in Peter's scent and he wasn't sure what he was heavily intoxicated by more—Peter or the whiskey. His vision was tunneled, so he could only really register Peter's neck in his foggy mind. "Only thing I'd change in that song is that I would do the same for you," he whispered.

"I'll never love anyone more than I love you," Peter murmured. "Remember that when you think you aren't worth anything. I want you in my life. I crave you and your love. Neal, I need to hear your voice and see your face every day to stay sane." He kissed Neal's throat. "I'd be nothing without you."

Neal shrugged, leaning heavily on his lover in his drunken state. "You'd still be a world-class FBI agent," he muttered. "It just wouldn't be nearly as exciting without me."

Peter chuckled, kissing Neal's jaw. "My life wouldn't be very eventful," he said happily. Neal began to hum something Peter didn't recognize. He just held Neal and listened to him. When Neal started rocking them, he smiled softly, resting his head on Neal's shoulder just as the younger man did the same with his shoulder. They slowly turned and Neal's attempt to lead was futile since his vision was slightly off. He nearly collapsed a few times and he would have if Peter hadn't righted him almost immediately. He supported his lover's weight entirely, slowly dancing with Neal.

He figured this could be so much better if Neal were sober, so he told himself he'd get at least one dance out of Neal while they were on their honeymoon. He wasn't telling Neal where they were going just yet and Neal seemed inclined to wait for the surprise. "I will let you go when the world stops spinning," Neal whispered twice. "I will let you go when the stars explode…and the world stops spinning." He knew this is what Neal had been humming to, but he couldn't recall hearing the song before. Neal, even when drunk, sounded beautiful—slurs and all. "I don't need a savior, I don't need a saint. When the moment comes, I'll be calling out your name. How I long to be with you till the end…" The younger man sighed contentedly against Peter, holding him tightly.

It took a few seconds longer for Peter to realize Neal was crying. "Honey?" He gently pulled back to look at Neal's face. Neal's eyes were glossed over already from the alcohol. "Hon, what is it?" Neal just kept crying and he had no idea why. He hadn't said anything to upset Neal. He took Neal's hands in his, kissing his knuckles.

Neal gasped for breath before he could speak, rubbing his eyes and cheeks. "I don't know," he said miserably.

"Okay. Okay, babe." He held his arms out and Neal crushed himself against Peter, taking refuge in the physical closeness. Peter stroked Neal's hair, rocking them from side to side, shushing Neal as Neal made small whimpering sounds. "It's okay, Neal. It's okay." He had no idea what he was trying to convince Neal of, but it seemed to be helping nonetheless.

The bathroom door swung open and Jon came in, giving the boys a bewildered look. Peter glanced at his father. "Is he all right?"

Peter gave him a small smile. "Yeah. He's just kind of drunk." Jon nodded, stepping closer to them. "I'm thinking about calling it a night. He's physically and emotionally beat and I can't say I'm too far behind him." He kissed Neal's shoulder gently, sighing. "Neither of us can drive ourselves. Did you or James drive here?"

"Mozzie brought James. I can probably take you two home if—"

"Neal drove here. We can't leave the car here overnight."

"I'll ask James to drive it back and then I'll give him a lift to wherever he's staying."

Peter nodded, rubbing Neal's back. "Thanks, dad. I really appreciate it."

Jon shook his head, chuckling. "You're my boys. I'm proud of you for being responsible after drinking."

Everyone started getting ready to head home. James agreed to drive the Taurus home and Neal drunkenly offered to sit in the car with him, claiming he wanted to make sure Peter's stuff wasn't messed with. Peter had no idea what he was talking about and figured Neal had no idea either, but he let Neal ride with James while he rode with his father.

James drove carefully since it started pouring on the way back to the apartment. He glanced over at Neal, watching his son slowly slump towards the window or the dashboard occasionally. "Hey," he whispered, reaching over to touch Neal's shoulder. "Careful, kid. Can you try to sit upright for me?" Neal tried really hard to, but he was starting to get nauseous. "You okay?" James asked a moment later.

"Need Peter," he murmured. He flinched and cringed, which confused James. "Please."

James was surprised when Neal started trembling. "Neal, what's wrong?" Neal didn't answer, unbuckling himself quickly and James had to hit the breaks hard just as Neal threw the door open and jumped out, falling to his knees. James got out and rounded the front of the car, finding his son vomiting in the grass. He crouched beside Neal, rubbing his back. They were both getting soaked and Neal's breathing was shallow. "Jesus, kid. What's going on?"

Neal couldn't tell James. He was having sudden flashbacks that he didn't remember very well. He heard Vincent talking to him, telling him they'd be back home and in bed together soon. He'd been laying in the backseat, curled up and crying silently while lightning flashed overhead. He tried sleeping in the car on the way home, but Vincent didn't let him. He'd kept Neal awake and he'd tortured Neal all through the night. Neal was hurt badly enough to miss school for two days following, but Vincent didn't let him sleep the pain off. "I need Peter," he sobbed. "Peter!"

•◊•

"C'mon. That's it." Neal swallowed hard as Peter led him up to the apartment. Jon and James followed them, concerned. James had no idea what happened out there, but he'd taken Neal's phone after Neal unlocked it for him and he'd called Peter, telling him what was going on. Jon turned their car around and came right back to where James and Neal were.

As soon as James told Peter how Neal was acting, he knew. He stayed with Neal in the back of the Taurus while James drove. He unlocked the apartment door and was surprised to see candles lit on the table. He could smell something cooking, too. He found that strange. Michael didn't usually cook. "I'm okay," Neal said shakily as Peter helped him lower himself down to the couch. He breathed heavily, bowing his head as Peter knelt in front of him, resting his hands on Neal's knees. "I don't… I don't know what happened."

Peter nodded, sliding his hands halfway up Neal's thighs and then back down to his knees. "That's all right. Just take it easy, honey." He was smiling softly at Neal, trying to ease Neal's tension. Neal put his hands over Peter's, watching their hands move as Peter continued to rub Neal's thighs. Peter decided to distract Neal by asking, "Were you making dinner for us?" He nodded over his shoulder and Neal glanced over, nodding. "Are you hungry?"

"Kinda." He sighed and nodded slowly, his eyes seeming distant.

Peter silently watched his lover. He had no idea what triggered the flashback. He just hoped Neal would be okay. For now, Neal didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it and that was fine. Maybe it was just because their fathers were still around. If Neal wanted to talk, he knew Peter would always listen. It's just that he wanted to talk with only Peter. "Is there anything we can do?" James asked, watching his son concernedly.

"Unfortunately, no. He'll be all right." He looked at Neal, finding the younger man's eyes on him now. "You will be all right, hon." Peter rose up enough to kiss Neal's forehead before rising to his full height. "I'll take care of him," he whispered, running his fingers through Neal's hair before moving towards their fathers.

James looked miserable. "What happened? He seemed fine and—"

Peter shook his head, whispering, "I'm not at liberty to discuss this. That's his decision." He glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw Neal leaning forward with his face in his hands. "He'll be okay soon. I'll make sure of it."

Jon hugged Peter a few moments later, kissing his son's cheek. "Good night, Peter, and happy birthday. Hope the bachelor party was good."

"It was," Peter said with a smile.

"Happy birthday, Peter," James said, forcing a small smile.

Peter was startled when arms slid around his waist and a sudden weight was pressed against his back. He rested his hands on Neal's. "Thanks, guys. I had fun at the party. Better make damn sure we don't drink this much during the wedding though." Both of their fathers chuckled. "All right. We'll let you guys head out. Thanks for bringing us home."

Neal's arms slid away and he stepped over to the side, immediately hugging Jon. Jon was surprised at first, but hugged Neal, smiling. He rubbed Neal's back and kissed his cheek as well. Peter smiled, watching his lover and father. Neal really did see Jon as a father. "Peter will get you through this, son," Jon whispered. "I know you're a strong man, too. You'll be just fine." Neal nodded, his face in the crook of Jon's neck. Jon knew this was more than just a hug to say good night. This was his way of showing he trusted Jon and needed some emotional support from him. He just didn't realize it until he was in Jon's arms.

Jon never treated him like shit and Neal appreciated that. From the start, Jon made him feel welcome. "Thanks, dad," he whispered. He inhaled sharply before exhaling and backing away. Jon smiled at him, loving Neal as much as he loves Peter. The hug Neal gave James seemed awkward at first, but they relaxed into it. He wasn't looking for support from James and that was pretty clear to both Peter and Jon.

Neal tentatively tried to back away, but James hugged him tighter. "I'm proud of you," James said. "You're a good man, Neal, and you picked another good man to spend the rest of your life with." He stroked Neal's hair, his eyes watering as he said, "You're going to be all right, son. Jon and I are here for you as much as Peter is, so don't feel like you can't come to us, too."

"Thank you," Neal said politely. His father knew what'd happened to him in the simplest of explanations and that was all Neal wanted him to know. Jon knew everything and he'd been there to help Neal even though they lived hours apart. Neal loved Jon in a way he'd never loved his mother and he definitely loved Hannah more than his own mother. He really appreciated that Peter's parents were there for him when his own abandoned him.

James was in his life, but he wasn't sure how open he wanted to be just yet. He didn't like the small, pitiful looks he received from his father sometimes. Jon never looked at him that way because he understood Neal's pain. James didn't.

Both of their fathers said good night to the couple before leaving. Neal shut the door, frowning. "Hey," Peter whispered, stepping forward to rest his hand on Neal's back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Feeling a little better now." Neal turned and Peter kissed his forehead. "Can I… First of all, I have a present for you. It kind of sucks, but…yeah."

Peter smiled at him. "The greatest gift I could receive again and again every holiday and every birthday is you, Neal." Neal blushed furiously, smiling despite his mood. "There's the sun," Peter teased, caressing Neal's cheek.

Neal took Peter's hand and led him over to his easel. Peter was confused for a moment. Surely Neal hadn't worked on something for him that he hadn't already seen? He was shocked when Neal flipped the large canvas open to reveal a painting of Peter. The older man's lips parted as he looked at it. He found himself looking startlingly attractive in the painting and he normally didn't think of himself that way, especially when he stood alongside Neal. The more he looked at it, he recognized exactly when Neal had sketched it.

In the painting, he was lying on his stomach on their bed, looking up at Neal with a goofy smile and tired eyes. The blanket was halfway down his bare back and his left arm extended towards where Neal was sitting, though Neal hadn't included himself in anyway. He remembered waking up that morning to find Neal sketching. He never minded when Neal took advantage of the fact that he was asleep because he understood the beauty of sleep. After all, he found Neal absolutely beautiful and peaceful when he sleeps.

"This is how you look to me," Neal whispered. Peter finally turned to him. Neal was biting his lip nervously, his eyes slightly fearful. His entire posture screamed nervousness and Peter didn't understand. Neal's a very talented artist and Peter was fairly certain he knew it.

"I love it," he whispered in response, giving his lover a soft smile. Neal looked away. He didn't believe Peter. The older man stepped in front of Neal, gently holding the sides of his face while he kissed Neal. It was a quick, passionate kiss that left Neal breathless. "It's perfect, Neal."

The younger man shrugged a bit, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's a really cheap present and you always do expensive things for—"

Peter pressed a finger to Neal's lips, silencing the younger man. "This is far from cheap, my love. I look at this and you know what I see?" He paused, searching Neal's eyes. "I see the way you feel about me when you look at me. It's priceless. This is a beautiful painting Neal and it makes me actually like how I look—for however brief a time."

Neal chuckled, giving Peter a goofy grin. "You really like it then?"

Peter kissed Neal hard before murmuring, "Yes, angel," against his lips. He rested his forehead against Neal's, holding the younger man's hips. "Neal, I love you. I love you a lot more than I can say in words."

"I love you, too—just as much if not more."

"You're drunk. Of course you'll think you love me more."

Neal raised an eyebrow. "I'm sobering up. I wasn't that drunk, Burke," he said, poking Peter's chest as he wandered over to the stove. Peter couldn't help smiling at the fact that Neal still stumbled a bit.

"You know you'll be a Burke in a matter of days," he said softly as Neal bent to pull lasagna out, setting it atop the stove.

Neal glanced back at him, smiling. "I can't wait, Peter." He turned back towards the kitchen, grabbing two plates out of the cupboard. Michael was already asleep if not 'hanging out' with Mel in his downstairs room and Nicky was with Trenton, so the two men had the apartment to themselves. Peter admired the painting a little more before turning his attention towards Neal again. "I never saw myself getting married," the younger man said, "until you."

Peter slowly stepped towards Neal as the younger man dished out lasagna for them both. He rested a hand on the small of Neal's back. "I never saw myself happy until you," he said quietly, watching Neal's face.

The two took their dishes into their bedroom and ate on the bed with the television on and muted. Peter watched Neal eat and couldn't help laughing lightly. He never imagined falling so madly in love with someone like Neal. Neal was perfect in his eyes and he felt as though he didn't deserve Neal sometimes. It was times like this when Peter sat beside Neal and just looked at him, knowing damn well they were meant to be together and they were destined to stay together.