"So… Can I go?"

Sixteen-year-old Noah turned on the puppy dog eyes that had worked for him so well when he was younger. Brett Steven's parties were renowned throughout the school and he'd been invited to one. The only hurdle would be getting his parents' permission to attend.

"Maybe," his mother replied. "I'll need to talk to your dad about it. When is it again?"

"Next Friday. Please, mom."

"We'll speak to your Dad when he gets home." Olivia looked at the clock. "It might help your case if you've got your homework done by the time he gets in."

Noah pulled his school books out of his bag and separated them into two piles. One for classes where he did have homework, one for those he didn't. Luckily, today he only had History and Calculus.

He was still working on the Calculus when Rafael got home. His father strode into the kitchen, depositing his briefcase on the table next to Noah's 'no homework' pile.

"Hola, mijo." He ruffled Noah's hair as he passed to approach Olivia who was stirring sauce on the hob. He stepped next to her and, putting an arm around her, kissed her cheek. "Carino."

Olivia stopped stirring and turned to face him with a smile, pecking him quickly on the lips. "Hello. Good day?"

Rafael chuckled, pulling a cup down from the cupboard above her head. "You saw me all of," he looked at his watch, "three hours ago." He popped a pod in the Keurig that sat in the corner of the counter as Olivia shrugged.

"A lot can happen in three hours." She went back to stirring. "Noah has something to ask you."

Rafael turned back to the table, leaning against the kitchen counter and regarded his son as he waited for the water to heat. "Mijo?"

Noah dropped his pen onto his Calculus textbook and looked at his father. "So… one of the boys at school has invited me to a party on Friday."

Rafael narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, Noah. Friday nights are family nights."

It was the one night of the week they all managed to get home at a reasonable hour, so they tended to make the most of it. They would go out for dinner, or to a movie or show. Sometimes they went to the football game at Noah's school. Noah didn't play but he enjoyed supporting his fellow students. Other weeks they stayed in and vegged out in front of a movie or played games. When Rafael chose, it was a board game like Monopoly or Articulate, while Noah nearly always chose to thrash his parents on Mario Kart.

"I know, but maybe we could do family night on Saturday. Mom's off this weekend, right?"

Olivia looked up from her stirring. "I should be." It was never guaranteed, but since her promotion to Captain, it was easier. It had taken a while for her to get used to delegating the responsibilities, but she'd gotten there in the end. She very rarely went in on her days off now; only when it was absolutely necessary.

"We'll see. I have more questions first. Who is this boy?"

"Brett. Brett Stevens. He's the first receiver on the football team. He's in my Social Studies class."

"And where is this party?"

"At his house. It's his birthday," Noah explained.

Rafael hummed as he poured his freshly brewed coffee and joined Noah at the table, sitting opposite him. "So, his parents will be there?"

"I guess so, yeah. I'll check." Noah picked up his phone and typed a quick message to the group chat.

So, my Dad's being difficult about this party. He wants to know if there'll be adult supervision.

While they waited for a response, Rafael continued his interrogation.

"Who else is going?"

"Everybody," Noah replied. 'And I bet they don't get this much grief from their parents about it either,' he added silently to himself.

This answer did not satisfy Rafael. "Names, please." He took a sip of his coffee and let out a contented sigh. "I assume there will be some people there who we know?"

"Yeah, Josh will be there."

Rafael nodded, feeling more at ease. Noah and Josh had been friends since Kindergarten and he was a sensible boy, much like Noah.

Rafael opened his mouth to ask further questions but was cut off by Noah's phone vibrating on the table.

Tell him, yeah sure, my parents will be there.

Noah showed the message to his father – careful to obscure his original message as he didn't think Rafael would appreciate it – and turned on his puppy eyes once again. "So, can I please go?"

Rafael looked over the top of Noah's head to Olivia. She shrugged again.

"If… if your mum and I say yes, I'd want some assurances from you," Rafael said.

"Like?"

"Like no drinking or drugs."

"Dad!"

Olivia turned the heat down on the sauce, leaving it to simmer, and joined her husband and son at the table. She stood beside Noah and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Your Dad and I may be old, Noah, but we're not too old to remember what teenage parties are like. Plus, in our line of work, we-"

"See a lot of bad stuff, yeah I know." He barely held in his eye-roll. He'd heard it all before. But a sharp look and raised eyebrow from Rafael had him lowering his gaze to the table. "Sorry, Mom. But I'm not like those kids you see at work."

"You're more like them than you think, mijo," Rafael said, placing his cup on the table in front of him. "We see so many children who've never been in trouble before, give in to peer pressure or take one chance, make one little mistake and then their whole lives are ruined. Your mom and I are just trying to look out for you."

Noah sighed. "But I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm sixteen."

"And you want your independence, I get that mijo, I do. But with independence comes responsibility. So, as I was saying…" His finger absentmindedly traced the rim of the coffee cup as he spoke. "If we decide you can go you need to promise us that you won't drink or do drugs and that you'll be home by…?" He looked at Olivia.

"Eleven?" she suggested.

"Eleven-thirty," Rafael amended, wanting to show Noah he was willing to compromise. "I'll book you an Uber to bring you home."

"Okay," Noah decided. "So, if I promise no drink or drugs and to be home by eleven-thirty, I can go?"

Rafael and Olivia shared one more look; their unspoken communication as effective as ever.

Are we sure about this, Liv? He's just a kid.

But he's a good kid. Smart. Sensible. He needs to know we trust him, Rafa.

I just can't help but worry.

I know. It's what makes you a good father. But we agreed, we trust him until he gives us a reason not to.

Rafael took one more look at his son, towering over him and tried not to think about how quickly he was growing up and how he wouldn't need him as much soon, and made his decision.

"Yes. You may go."

Noah's arms shot up in triumph. "Yeeeessss!" He stood and hugged Olivia first before rounding the table to Rafael and bending to embrace him. "Thanks, Dad."

Rafael wasn't worrying. At least that's what he was telling himself. He was at his desk in his home office, trying to come up with an argument against a defense motion for a hearing scheduled for Monday morning, but he was distracted. Not because Noah was currently at his first teenage party. Definitely not.

Leaning back in his chair, Rafael looked at his watch. 9:33. He lifted his phone from the desk to check if Noah had been in contact – he'd told him to ring if he wanted to leave the party early. There was nothing from Noah, but there was a message from Olivia that he'd missed. A glance at the notification bar told him that the device was still muted from the meeting he'd had at the end of the day. He quickly turned it up again, in case Noah should get in contact, and then opened the message from Olivia.

He'll be fine. Stop worrying.

Rafael couldn't help the smile that spread across his features. His wife knew him far too well. He wished she hadn't been called into work. If she'd been at home, she would have distracted him from his thoughts. He chuckled. He still probably wouldn't have finished his preparation, but Olivia's distraction would have been much more pleasurable.

He stood, stretching his back muscles, and winced at the clicking sound. He crossed the room to the coffee maker that sat on a small table. It had been a gift from Noah for his 55th birthday. He had jokingly complained once too often about having to leave his office in the middle of case prep and traipse all the way to the kitchen prep to get his caffeine fix and his son had decided to fix the problem. It wasn't as top of the range as the Keurig they had downstairs, but the boy had saved up his allowance to buy it and Rafael had to admit that it made a pretty decent cup.

Pouring himself a cup of the dark, rich liquid, he moved to his bookshelf and drew a finger along the heavy tomes, searching for a book that would allow him to double check legal precedence pertinent to the case. When he found the volume he needed, he placed his coffee on the shelf and pulled the book off. He quickly thumbed the pages until he came across the particular case.

He stood their so engrossed in his reading that, when the sounds of 'Un Poco Loco', his ringtone for Noah – Coco had been the boy's favourite film as a child – blasted through his office, he almost dropped the book. Slamming it closed, he scrambled back to his desk and snatched up his phone, thumbing the slider to answer the call.

"Noah?"

"Dad, I…"

Rafael's heart raced at the panic in his son's voice. "What is it, mijo? Are you okay?"

"I am but… Josh isn't. He… he was drinking, and he got into a fight with Brett. He threw him out, so I went with him. I didn't want him to be out on his own this late. Not when he's drunk."

"Noah, take a breath." He listened as his son's shaky breath calmed and tried to come up with a way to help him. It was at times like this he wished he had a car but in a city like New York, there was no need. "Where are you?"

"Down the street from Brett's. I'm not sure. I don't really know the area."

"Is there anywhere that's well lit? Or where there are people?"

"There's a bodega on the corner."

"Okay, I want you to head to the bodega. I'm going to stay on the phone with you until you get there. Then, you're going to hang up and call yourself an Uber. You might want to get Josh a black coffee too if they sell them."

"You always say that stuff isn't really coffee," Noah reminded him.

"It's not, but needs must."

"What about Josh? Do I take him home to face his parents or…?"

"Bring him back here. He can sleep it off and we'll get him home in the morning." That would also give Rafael some time to decide what, if anything, to tell Josh's parents.

"O..okay… We're at the bodega."

"Call me back when you've ordered your Uber," Rafael instructed. When Noah had hung up, Rafael let out a shaky sigh. He ran his hand through his hair and, bypassing the coffee he'd made not minutes earlier, he poured himself a large scotch as he waited for his son to call back.

Rafael stayed on the phone with Noah for the entire Uber journey, pacing the already worn carpet in front of his desk, as he did when he was working out closing arguments in his head. He could hear Josh's high-pitched giggling in the background. When Noah announced they were pulling up outside, he hurried to the sidewalk to meet them. He helped Noah get Josh out of the car and supported him as he staggered into the house.

Josh collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, stretching his body out along the length. Rafael turned to Noah. "Get him a blanket and pillows from the hall closet. I'll wait for you in my office."

Noah nodded solemnly. His father's tone was clipped and he knew there was going to be a serious conversation ahead.

With Josh settled and snoring loudly, Noah trudged to Rafael's office. The door was ajar but Noah still knocked lightly before entering.

Rafael was leaning against the edge of the desk, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He'd finished his scotch while on the phone with Noah and opted for coffee at this point. He would feel a bit of a hypocrite discussing the evils of alcohol whilst drinking himself, even if it was perfectly legal for him to do so.

Noah took a deep breath. "Dad, l-" he began but stopped when Rafael held up his hand.

His father's brows drew together as he looked Noah up and down. "I am going to ask you a question, mijo and I want an honest answer, okay?"

Noah nodded. He had a feeling he knew what the question was going to be, and he could see being grounded in his future.

"Did you drink tonight?

Noah knew there was no point lying. Both his parents made a living out of spotting liars and if he tried to pull the wool over his father's eyes, he'd probably get his mom to bring a breathalyser kit home.

"Yes," he mumbled, looking at the floor. He could feel the waves of disappointment from his father, he didn't need to see it as well.

Rafael sighed but was otherwise silent, considering the best thing to say. His years as an attorney had taught him to pause and collect his thoughts before speaking, a skill that he had found useful on more than one occasion as a parent.

Noah hated this silence. Even though he'd been on the receiving end of it several times over the years, it didn't make it any less uncomfortable. A feeling which only grew as the silence stretched out. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his stomach clenched and twisted, awaiting his father's response.

Finally, after what seemed to Noah like an age, he spoke.

"I thought this boy's parents were going to be there."

Noah mumbled something under his breath.

"Look at me, mijo."

Noah lifted his gaze from the floor and met Rafael's eye. "He said they would be, but they weren't. I don't know where they were."

"I see. How much did you drink?"

"One beer."

Rafael raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly. I was just one. I didn't really… It tasted weird." He screwed up his face at the memory. "By the time, I'd finished one, Josh was already on his fourth. When I told him to slow down he just muttered something about his parents and downed the rest of the bottle in one. I stopped drinking then. I thought one of us should probably stay sober."

"A sensible decision, but I can't say I'm not disappointed in you, Noah. While you may have been sensible enough to stop drinking and to call when you were in trouble, you still broke your promise. Your mother and I specifically told you no drinking and you assured us you wouldn't."

He rubbed his hands against his jeans. He swallowed past the painful lump in his throat and dropped his chin to his chest, his eyes finding the floor once more. "I know. I'm sorry Dad."

"Why did you do it, mijo?"

He stared at the floor. The pattern on the carpet began to blur. Noah's jaw was tight and his throat was aching. His hands gripped the seams of his jeans and he drew a shaky breath but didn't look up.

"Everyone else was drinking and when Brett offered me a beer…" Noah shrugged. "He already thinks I'm weird because of what you and mom do. I guess I wanted to prove to him that I was y'know… cool."

Rafael watched him gesture helplessly and let out a heavy sigh. Peer pressure. The sole reason behind a good percentage of sex crimes cases involving under 21s.

"Well, you're about to become uncool again." He held out his hand. "Phone."

Reluctantly, Noah dug the device out of his pocket and placed it in Rafael's palm. He knew from past experience that arguing or trying to work out a deal would only increase the terms of his punishment. "How long?" he asked.

"Two weeks." Rafael held down the power button to switch off the device. "Maybe one with good behaviour. Are your iPad and Laptop in your bag downstairs?"

Noah nodded.

"Well, they're now restricted to use for school work only. And you're grounded for… well, I'll need to discuss it with your mom, but it's likely to be a couple of weeks."

Noah bit his lip and looked at his father through lidded eyes. "I don't suppose there's any way we could, I don't know, maybe not tell mom?" His father's disappointment was hard to take and he knew his mom would be just as disappointed and she would have no qualms in letting him know that.

Rafael merely raised an eyebrow and Noah sighed.

"No, I guess not. Right… well, I'll head to bed then…"

He waited for a moment, making sure Rafael had said all he wanted to say before turning towards the door. When he reached the threshold, his father's voice called out, stopping him.

"Noah!"

Rafael approached as Noah turned back to face him. He put his hand on the teenager's shoulder and spoke gently, "While I'm disappointed by some of your behaviour tonight, I'm glad you're home safe. I love you, mijo."

Noah nodded. "I love you too, Dad. And I really am sorry."

"I know," Rafael assured. Noah knew he had done wrong and he would try and be better. "We all make mistakes, mijo. What matters is that we learn from them. That's how growing up works. Now, you'd better get yourself to bed. Your mother is going to want to talk to you in the morning – there'll be no lie-in for you."

Noah grimaced, but heeded his father's advice and retreated to his room.

Rafael closed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, letting his mind catalogue every moment of their conversation. He knew Olivia would want the play-by-play when he told her what Noah had done.

He kept telling himself it could have been worse. Like he'd told Noah earlier in the week, a large part of his job was prosecuting kids who made the wrong choices. The police could have been called and Noah hauled down to the station or he could have gotten drunk along with Josh and then the two of them could have been stumbling around the streets of Manhattan for hours. Or worse. Rafael shuddered at the thought.

He was home and he was safe. At the end of the day, that's what mattered. Yes, he had acted foolishly, but he had also shown some maturity in his actions, a maturity which had ensured he and Josh were unharmed. Even though Noah had made a mistake, for which he would be punished, Rafael could see the sensible, compassionate man his son would grow into and he couldn't be prouder of him. He knew Olivia would feel the same.

They may not always like, or agree, with Noah's actions but they would always be proud of him and they would always love him. He was a smart kid, but as a teenager, he still had a lot to learn. It was their job, as parents, to help and guide him to make the right decisions. It wasn't an easy job – he actually thought it was one of the hardest in the world – but it was one he felt privileged to do and he wouldn't change it for all the expensive coffee in the world.