Neal looked at Peter pleadingly for help but his non-verbal pleas went firmly unanswered.

After heaping second helpings onto Neal's dinner plate and ensuring he was sufficiently fed and foddered, Elizabeth suddenly morphed from ally to nemesis. Peter watched grimly as she laid into an abashed looking Neal, delivering a lecture that even he wasn't capable of. The kid seemed to wilt into the sofa as Elizabeth stood over him, hands on hips, lambasting him as to the errors of deception and disobedience. Sitting in the nearby armchair with his arms folded and legs crossed, Peter simply provided the necessary reproving nods when prompted by his angry wife whilst all the while thanking God above that it wasn't him on the receiving end of her wrath. Finally, the usually kindly woman had worn herself out with Neal looking suitably chastised, examining his lap with extreme concentration.

"I am taking Satchmo for a walk now, Neal," Elizabeth concluded sternly. "Peter is no doubt going to want to have his own talk with you. You will not give him any trouble or lip if you know what's good for you. Do you understand me?"

The dark head bobbed up and down in immediate agreement. Sighing, El crossed over to her favourite con man and dropped a quick kiss on his thick hair, whispering something into his ear which immediately perked the kid up. Peter watched with a sigh as they communicated in their own way which he could never understand before El summoned their faithful pooch and departed with a meaningful glance in her husband's direction. Her look was something he had no difficulty understanding. It's meaning was as clear as a bell.

Deal with him.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Peter weighed his options. He had intended on lecturing and punishing Neal tomorrow but now he instinctively felt it would be better dealt with in the moment. Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he quickly settled on a course of action that made his stomach sink in dismay. It was going to be a tough couple of days for he and his roguish charge but they would get through it… they always did and this would be no exception.

"You deserved that you know."

Neal looked up at him, knowing he was referencing El's tongue lashing and nodded miserably.

"I know… it's always worse coming from her though."

Peter couldn't help but chuckle.

"You saying I don't know how to give a lecture, Neal?"

The reforming con shook his head with a small grin.

"No. I'm just saying when it comes to making someone feel two feet tall, she's the master."

Peter snorted.

"Tell me about it."

A comfortable silence settled between them then, each man lost to his own thoughts. For Neal's part, guilt assailed him. He had been moronically stupid. Stupider than stupid could be. He had been practically willing to throw everything he had achieved in the bin for one final romp in the sheets with a woman who could take him or leave him. He had always known he was an adrenaline junkie but tonight's actions belonged to a man several tens of IQ points below his own. He had thought he was being clever, making himself sick so he could honestly tell Peter he was sick without telling a direct lie, but he was just being a blithering idiot. He knew that now… but he also knew that his new found knowledge was too belated so as to save him.

Peter, for his part, was trying to keep a lid on his temper as he recounted the events of the day. He had correctly guessed that Mozzie was involved in some way in tampering with the anklet and giving Neal God knows what to make him temporarily sick as an end around the no direct lying rule the kid prided himself on. Looking over at Neal's slumped torso and dropped head, he knew he was genuinely sorry for his stunt.

"You ready to talk about this now, Neal?"

Hesitating for a second or two, the young man eventually nodded with a gulp before looking across at Peter with wide puppy dog eyes.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Peter didn't miss a beat, raising a stern brow.

"What do you think I should do to you?"

Neal looked away, a dull flush creeping across his cheeks. He didn't like the honest answer to that question. He didn't like the honest answer to that question one bit and so he kept his mouth shut, hoping that question would just float away. He should have known better than to hope that. He should have known better about a lot of things.

"Answer me, Neal," Peter scolded. "Right now. I am not in the habit of talking to myself."

Piercing blue eyes met his in silent distress.

"Peter, I'm really, really sorry-"

"I didn't ask you for an apology," Peter interjected sternly. "I asked you how you think I should deal with you. You're not squirming out of answering that question so quit trying. You had no problem looking me in the eye feeding me lies dressed as truths so you should have no problem looking me in the eye now and telling me how I should deal with you. You can tell me now or you can tell me in three hours, but you're not leaving that sofa until you tell me."

Neal worried his lip in despair.

Usually, he would pray and hope that El would be able to talk her husband down from the Executioner's block in these situations. This time, he was pretty sure she would be more inclined to buy a front row ticket to his lethal injection and smile all the while. The woman was as pissed as him as she had ever been. He was on his own with this one and he grudgingly had to admit to himself that's exactly where he deserved to be. He gave a jerky shrug of his shoulders and looked Peter in the eye with some considerable difficulty.

"I don't know…" he flushed deeply, giving a frustrated wave of his right hand. "The usual, I guess…"

Peter was undeterred.

"The usual?"

Neal baulked.

"C'mon, Peter, you don't need me to spell it out for you. I-"

"You don't presume to tell me what I do and do not need right now, Neal," Peter countered firmly. "You are in no position whatsoever to do anything other than what you are told. I am asking you a direct question and I want a direct answer. What, precisely, do you mean by the usual?"

Prison wasn't so bad, Neal reasoned desperately.

He could back to prison and avoid all of this.

"I mean a…" his face burned. "I mean a spanking. Ok? That's what I mean by the usual. As you well know."

Peter was unfazed.

"Thank you. Now, next question. Do you really think that one trip over my knee is sufficient punishment for the stunt you have pulled this evening? Because, from where I'm sitting Neal, it seems to me that you have a lot more than one appointment with a sore behind before your slate can be wiped clean on this debacle."

He fixed his recalcitrant charge with a glare that would sour milk.

"You lied to me, no matter how you dress it up with fake illness and stomach bugs, you lied to me. You tampered with your anklet. You created a situation where I had no choice but to lie directly to the face of a US Marshall in order to keep you out of jail and you have the bare faced cheek to sit there and tell me with a shrug of your shoulders that I should just give you the usual and call it a day? Really?"

Neal shook his head, accepting the rebuke with good grace.

"I know this is not a one and done situation, Peter. I know I've screwed up big time here."

This mollified Peter somewhat, but not a lot.

"You're damn right you screwed up big time," he lectured sternly. "What do you think would happen to me if it got out that I lied this evening to cover for you? That I perverted the course of justice to keep you out of jail?"

He waved a vague hand around the living room.

"You think I could afford to keep on living here? You think El and I would have this home, our lifestyle if I was thrown out on my ear from the FBI with no severance package? Because that is exactly what would happen if I was caught, Neal. I'd be fired. I'd lose my job, my livelihood… and those would by my consequences. I would deserve them… because what I did tonight was outrageous. It goes against everything I believe in and unlike you, I don't have a Peter who can give me closure and tell me all is forgiven. I will have to live with my guilt every time I put on my badge and think about what a damned hypocrite I am. And for what? All so you could sneak out and… how do the kids say it these days? Live your best life?"

Neal felt the fiery pits of hell erupt in his stomach.

He had never felt guilt quite like it.

He hadn't even thought about what would happen if Peter were to be caught.

"I'm so sorry," he said clearly, his sincere contrition ringing in his every syllable. "Peter, no matter happens or what you decide to do… please believe me when I say I never even thought about that. It didn't cross my mind… I didn't think. I'm really sorry. I never meant to throw everything you've done for me back in your face like this."

Peter smiled a sad smile despite himself.

"You see, I can believe that. I do believe that. I know you didn't think because that's precisely your problem, isn't it? You just don't think. I find that to be a very strange glitch in an otherwise extraordinarily intelligent human being but I suppose we all have our flaws. You have the impulse control of a three-year-old on a sugar high and the IQ of a top three tenured college professor. That's one hell of a dangerous combination… but impulse control can be taught. It can be learned… and come hell or high water I am going to teach you to control your impulses if it's the last thing I do."

Neal swallowed deeply at the ominous note in the older man's voice.

"How do you propose to do that?"

Peter raised a pointed brow and tilted his head to the side.

"You know damn well how I propose to do that, Neal. You know damn well."

The kid nodded with a small sigh.

"I guess I do."

Fidgeting with the tassels of the cushion beside him, he took a deep breath and bit the bullet.

"What's my sentence?"

Peter considered this for a moment and then another moment. He saw the kid physically squirming as he carried out his considerations and did not feel a second's guilt for it. He catalogued the boy's disobedience, deception and disregard in a logical fashion. He needed to ensure Neal was sufficiently and severely punished but he also needed to ensure he didn't go overboard. He prided himself on being fair and measured in dealing with Neal and he wasn't about to throw his good record in the trash.

"Well, you already know you're grounded. Indefinite duration. Yes?"

Neal nodded miserably without looking up.

"Uh huh."

Peter shook his head reprovingly.

"Try that again."

Sighing, Neal dragged his gaze upwards and nodded once more.

"Yes, Peter."

"Better," the elder man acceded. "Now, it seems to me that we can breakdown your breathtakingly stupid conduct into three distinct categories. Category one, the lying. I know full well that Mozzie was involved in this someway and that he gave you some vile of God knows what to induce a temporary illness so that you could oh so cleverly tell me you were sick and not technically be lying. Well, guess what, Neal? That might fly in Court but in my book that's still lying. In fact, it's even worse than lying. It's a double deception. So, I think we can go ahead and pencil in one serious trip over my knee for that category. Agreed?"

Neal flinched visibly at the word "serious" but somehow found the courage to nod his head.

"Agreed."

A small flicker of pride ignited inside of Peter. For all his faults, Neal was a good kid.

"Good," he continued firmly. "That brings us to Category two, the tampering with your anklet. Obviously, I'm going to order a new one with a different chip so that whatever key Mozzie has cleverly put together will be defunct. Now, if I recall correctly, this isn't the first time you've tampered with your anklet and I thought I had adequately taught you the error of your ways in doing so on the last occasion. Clearly, I was mistaken and so I think we can go ahead and pencil in another serious trip over my knee for that category. Agreed?"

Neal couldn't help the spluttering whimper of distress that escaped him.

"I said is that agreed, Neal?"

Peter's voice brooked no argument and the chastened con accepted his fate.

"Yes, Peter," he mumbled miserably. "It's agreed."

"That's better," the elder man acknowledged, in a slightly gentler tone. "Then that brings us to our third and final category, the reckless disregard for your well-being. You broke your anklet tonight without rhyme nor reason because you were smarting from what I had said to you. If I hadn't got to you in time, you would be in jail and God himself wouldn't be able to get you out. I acknowledge my part in this category. I should never had said what I did but that doesn't excuse what you did as a result. You never risk your deal; do you hear me? Never. We have been over this. You go back to prison and it's found out that you were a C.I. on the outside, you're done. No one can protect you. You know that you are supposed to protect your deal and your consequent well being at all costs. You did not do that. You did the complete opposite of that and so I think we can go ahead and pencil in another trip across my knee for that category. Agreed?"

Neal looked up at him with misery splashed across his face.

"You forgot the "serious" part," he said sadly.

Peter shook his head.

"No, I didn't. It's another trip but it's not going to be as serious as trips one and two. You did what you did because you were upset and I'm the one who upset you. I'm not excusing your behaviour in breaking off your anklet but I am acknowledging that you were reacting to some pretty spiteful comments from me. So, no, I didn't forget the serious part. Does that make sense, Neal?"

The kid nodded his head slowly.

"Yes."

Peter raised a brow.

"So, we're agreed?"

Neal scrubbed a hand across his face and exhaled slowly as he countersigned his own death warrant.

"We're agreed."

"Good," Peter said softly. "Now, just so we're clear, I want you to tell me exactly what is happening. What we have just agreed. In other words, how are you being punished for this debacle?"

Neal supressed a groan with some difficulty, drawing in a deep breath.

"I'm grounded indefinitely and I'm getting two uhh… serious spankings and… one not so serious spanking."

Peter nodded in approval.

"You know exactly why you deserve all of that, Neal?"

Wondering if he could still smuggle himself out of the country on a cargo ship, Neal sighed.

"Yes. I know exactly why I deserve it, Peter. Honestly, I do."

Satisfied, Peter glanced at the clock on the living room wall. It was gone eight o'clock… not exactly early but not exactly late either. Debating as to the merits of getting the Category One spanking over and done with tonight as against letting the kid get a good nights sleep, his thoughts were interrupted by an intuitive Neal.

"I'd rather get Category One over and done with tonight…"

Peter stared.

"Do you always know what I'm thinking?"

Neal allowed himself a small smirk.

"Your mind is more Harry Potter than Ulysses, Peter."

Snorting at the incorrigible nature of his favourite human other than El, the elder Agent rolled his eyes.

"You're pretty cheeky for someone who's going to be crying about his sore backside soon."

Neal shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk.

"All part of my charm, Peter. All part of my charm."

…..

TBC x

….