"Peter, be reasonable," Neal wheedled. "You didn't technically say that I couldn't go. At no point, in fact, did you say that I was not allowed to go to that unveiling. You just... frowned, a lot. But you always frown a lot so it cannot fairly be said that I should have inferred from your frown that the unveiling was off limits..."

Peter Burke eyed the young man with something alarmingly close to murderous intent boiling inside him.

"I am going to kill you," he murmured quietly, in his most dangerous of dangerous tones. "Do you realize that? That one of these days I'm just going to snap and actually throttle the life out of you in a fit of rage?"

Neal raised a brow with the additional audacity of smiling that smile of his.

"I think you've just negated any crime of passion defense with that statement, Peter. You should probably keep those thoughts to yourself or end up facing a very long jail sentence. Murdering FBI Agents tend to get a raw deal."

Agent Burke closed his eyes and pressed a hand over the closed lids, praying for the abnormal level of patience needed to deal with Neal Caffrey on a daily, supervisory basis. Exhaustion dogged him as he leaned back in his desk chair, uncaring that he was leaving his charge to squirm uncomfortably in front of his desk. He had crossed yet another line to protect Neal from being unceremoniously thrown back in jail. Whilst he didn't flat out lie to the Marshals Office, he sure as hell didn't tell them the whole truth. The extent to which Neal had been outside his radius was a new blow, even for him. Every other week he found himself slipping further and further away from the dogged principles he, prior to Neal's arrival into his life, had no problem living up to.

"Why do you do this, Neal?"

He opened his eyes and looked at the young man straight in the face, allowing his deep disappointment to flow unchecked in his voice. He watched as the mask of nonchalant bravado slipped slightly from the handsome face in front him as the dark, tousled head ducked downwards guiltily.

"Every time I think I'm getting through to you and every time I think you're beginning to live up to your incredible potential... I blink and we're right back to square one. We're right back to the sneaking around, the sleight of hand and the deceit. You pride yourself on never directly lying to me, but what you do is just as bad. You continually defy, disobey and disrespect me. Why? What are you hoping to achieve?"

He watched as Neal swallowed and stared resolutely at his shoes.

He realized he was being much harsher and blunter with the kid than usual but found he didn't feel guilty about it. Neal was a law unto himself, no matter what he did to try and stem the tide of his reckless behavior. This latest stunt was just another link in the successive chain of escalating misbehavior over the last month.

"Answer me, Neal," he demanded angrily. "Right now."

Neal sighed softly and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't know."

Peter shook his head.

"No way. No way are you getting away with a non-answer. If you're not ready to give me one, then it seems to me like you need some time to think about your behavior. Starting from right now, you are on house arrest-"

He held up a warning hand as Neal's head snapped up with a deep scowl scarring his features, opening his mouth to let loose a tirade of complaint that Peter was in absolutely no mood for.

"Don't you dare give me any backchat right now," he practically growled. "I am dangerously close to turning you over my knee right here and right now and giving you the spanking of a lifetime on your bare behind regardless of who hears or sees. Is that what you want?"

Neal paled and felt his mouth hang open in shock.

Peter was unrepentant, raising a quizzical brow.

"Well?" he said impatiently. "I asked you a question, I expect an answer. Do you want to keep your mouth shut while I am talking to you or do you want to go back to your desk with a tanned hide? It's entirely your choice."

Neal swallowed hard. Peter had painted his backside crimson red more times than he even cared to think about but this was a new threat. Whilst he didn't think the man would actually whoop him in the office, in plain view and earshot of everyone, he didn't think it a good idea to press his luck when it wouldn't be too surprising to see steam pour from Peter's ears any second.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," he said, grudgingly.

"I am so grateful" said Peter dryly. "Now, as I was saying, you are on house arrest effective immediately and until I say otherwise. You are either here with me or you are home. You are nowhere else. I am done cutting you slack and I am done giving into your ridiculous justifications for your never-ending stunts. I think I've found the answer to my question... I think I know why we always end up back at square one. It's because I'm too damned soft on you."

He ignored Neal's irrepressible grunt of spluttering disagreement.

"Well, that's over," Peter continued. "You seem intent on learning the hard way and so I have no choice but to teach the hard way. You are going to go back to your desk, work quietly for the rest of the day and then go straight home. I will give you two hours there to come up with some explanation for your behavior today. I will be at your apartment at seven p.m. and then you and I... well, we're gonna have a very long discussion about what I will and will not tolerate from you from here on out. And, spoiler alert, I really don't think you're going to be very willing to sit down when we're done, so enjoy it while you can."

He pointed sharply to the door.

"Now get back to work and for your own good do not let me hear a single word from you for the rest of the day."

Neal felt his face flush hot and turned on his heel without another word.

Making his way back to his desk, it took everything he possessed to smile dazzlingly at Diana as she looked him up and down curiously. The last thing he wanted was for either she or Jones to know he was in hot water with Peter again. They always took his side, idolized him, thought he could do no wrong and that he Neal could do no right.

By the time he got back to his desk, Neal was in a full-blown internalized rage.

How dare Peter speak to him like that? Threaten him like that? He busted his ass for the FBI every single day, without fail. He came up with plans and solutions that even Peter could only dream of. He was every bit as responsible for the White Collar's impressive closure rate as Peter was and yet... all he ever got was the sharp side of the man's tongue and a rash on his ankle from that damned anklet for his trouble.

Sitting mutinously in his chair, he glared up at Peter's glass encased office.

The man was tapping away on his computer like nothing had even happened. Like he hadn't just outrageously torn shreds off the only real asset his team had. The longer Neal watched Peter's unperturbed typing the angrier he became. He was frustrated with his sentence, frustrated with the anchor around his ankle... frustrated with the government's stranglehold on his entire life. He ignored the pinging sound of new emails sliding into his inbox with deliberate sullenness, shooting off a scathing message to Mozzie instead.

Great job on manipulating my tracking data, genius. The Marshals wised up before the signature piece was even unveiled and Peter was at the gallery before they even opened the supermarket red. Now I'm on house arrest for the rest of my natural life... great work, Moz, thanks a million.

As soon as he hit send, he regretted his words. Mozzie was only trying to help, he wasn't the problem. Perfect Peter Burke was the problem. He glared at his desk, drumming his fingers upon it as he recalled the latter half of Peter's tantrum. The familiar feeling of unease slipped into stomach like a sinking ice cube. His ass didn't even feel completely healed from its latest rendezvous with Agent Burke's unnaturally hard, leathery hand. Squirming in his seat, he thought angrily about all the comebacks he should have shot back at the ranting Suit. If it was anyone else, it wouldn't have been a problem, he would have wheedled out of it without breaking a sweat.

But it was always different with Peter.

Damn him to hell.

Tapping aimlessly on his keyboard, his gaze slid to the screen of his cellphone as it flashed. His spirits instantly soared when he saw who the message was from and then sank like a capsized dinghy boat.

Neal, I'm in town on business. I know last time we said it was just one night... one glorious night but I'm willing to break the rules if you are? I'm staying at the Fitzwilton, Room 394. I'll have a bottle of our favorite chilling for you... I'm only here for one night so why not make the most of it? A x

Swallowing hard, Neal felt his heart skip several beats.

Picking up his cell, he stole one furtive glance at Peter who was frowning at his computer, lost in work.

Mozzie, sorry for the rant. I need to know if you can trace and fix the bug that got me caught today? I need to slip away tonight... it's important. I'll fill you in later. Let me know what you can do.

Stealing another glance at the oblivious Peter, he shot off another message.

I'll be there. Don't start without me. N x

Leaning back in his chair, he hid the smile that threatened to expose him. His act of rebellion against what Mozzie would entitle the man was an addictive salve for the stinging effect of Peter's harsh words. Neal let himself have the benefit of a small smirk as he threw his ball up in the hair and caught it with a flourish.

House arrest? he thought snidely, sure thing, Peter, sure thing.

…...

TBC

A'N: In honour of the announced reboot of our beloved White Collar.