"Pass me that edging brush please, Buddy."
Neal put down the box he'd been moving and grabbed the requested item for Peter. "I'm happy with how that's starting to look." Neal indicated the small area of wall that was now adorned with the olive green paint that he had chosen himself from the hardware store. Peter had decided to do up the basement over the weekend while El was out of town securing clients for her new business. So he'd dragged Neal along to the store for moral support in selecting a colour scheme and the young kid had all but taken over. Neal opened the roller and made quick work of catching up to Peter's edging efforts.
"Your birthday next weekend?" Peter asked.
"Yeah."
"What would you like?"
Neal was going to say 'a break' but Peter had been good to him and he deserved better. "Mom is taking me to see The Phantom of the Opera next Saturday night. Would you like come?"
Peter's brush slipped out of his hand and landed fortunately onto the plastic protection sheet he'd laid down before beginning. "Oh…No that's a special night for you and your mom." Peter climbed down off the step stool to retrieve the edger. "But thank you anyway. How about on Sunday you and I go fishing or hiking or if you like the following weekend we could go camping up at the national park?"
Neal would have rolled his eyes if he didn't think Peter was seriously considering these as possible options for an exciting day out. "Peter, it's my birthday. Shouldn't it be something I actually like? Those suggestions sound more like a list of punishments for very serious offences."
"Okay." Peter sounded deflated like he'd taken his best shot and it wasn't even close to the mark.
Neal felt bad that he was unable to show a little more enthusiasm for Peter's gift ideas so he came up with a compromise quickly. "Any chance you'd be able to take me to the Met for my birthday? They have a renaissance exhibition that's ending in a couple of weeks and I was hoping to make it before it closed."
"Yeah. That sounds great." How bad could it be? "If that's what you'd like, I'd love to take you."
"Thanks so much."
Peter resumed his painting happy with the successful negotiation and feeling a lot like a real dad working on a project with his son.
-W-C-
Neal came downstairs on the morning of his fourteenth birthday. Twelve years to the day since his father was shot. It was always his first birthday thought. His whole life he'd never have trouble remembering that particular anniversary.
The fourteen year old walked into the living and dining room only to find it empty. He was about to walk into the kitchen when he heard activity on the back patio. Opening the back door, he was greeted with the traditional birthday wishes, kisses and hugs.
Neal sat down on one of the patio chairs to help himself to a juice when suddenly, a gorgeous labrador pup came running out of nowhere and began to lick the birthday boy's feet.
"Hey. Wow!" Neal scooped up the puppy and cuddled him close. "What's this? For me?"
El nodded.
"I didn't think you'd let me have a pet Mom?"
"No I didn't, Baby Seal. The puppy is from Peter." El disappeared into the house to get the hot food.
"Wow, Peter. I don't know what to say. He's incredible." Neal stroked the puppy's shiny coat and then quickly wiped a stray tear away from the corner of his eye. "Thank you, Peter." Neal juggled the puppy in one arm while he gave Peter a huge hug with the other.
"You're welcome, Neal. What are you going to call him?"
"I have no idea. Maybe Special Agent Caffrey." Neal joked.
"Could be tricky for puppy to learn but it can be whatever you like." Peter got up to help El with the breakfast and to leave the boy to spend some time with his new friend. "I thought we could leave for the Met in about an hour Neal?" he suggested before heading inside.
"Awesome."
-W-C-
Peter stretched out on the couch while Neal took up position on the arm chair. El had gone up to have a shower while the two boys polished off what was left of the birthday cake. "I was thinking Peter, I'd like to try fishing sometime if it's still on offer. I don't know anything about fishing so it might not be much fun for you." Neal shrugged. "Maybe you could show me. I really don't have any idea."
"Well it's your lucky day, little one because you are looking at the Junior Fly Fishing Champion for Carrol County. I can turn you into the greatest fisherman Brooklyn has ever seen."
"I'm guessing that's not a very prestigious title. I imagine not much in the way of competition around here. But still, I'll be happy just not to get a hook through my eye. My expectations are very low Peter."
"Nonsense. Aim high, Buddy. Aim for the moon and you might hit a star."
Neal gave Peter the look. "What are you, an inspiration calendar?"
"No. I'm just full of insight after our four hours at the Met today." And just an average guy learning to be a dad.
"Fair enough. So we might try fishing one weekend?"
"Yeah. And I'll stand guard over your eyes so you don't get a hook through them!"
"Thanks, Peter." Neal dragged himself off the chair, picked up his puppy and walked over to kiss the older man goodnight. "Thanks for a fantastic birthday."
"My pleasure, son."
Neal liked the sound of that. It was the first time Peter had called him son and in years to come when he celebrated his birthday, Neal no longer remembered it as the day his dad died. He remembered it fondly as the day his dad gave him Satchmo.
-W-C-
The following weekend, Neal found himself chasing Satchmo into the master bedroom. Peter and El sat up to check out the commotion.
"Sorry to wake you guys."
"No worries Baby Seal, we were already awake."
"Speak for yourself, El," Peter groaned as he wiped a hand across his face and willed his eyes to stay open.
Neal took that as an invitation to jump up onto the bed and planted himself comfortably between the two adults.
Resigning to the fact that all chance of a lazy morning slumbering was shot, Peter announced, "I'll go put the kettle on. You want a milkshake, Buddy."
"Yes thanks, Peter." His chocolate milkshakes were legendary.
El waited until she heard Peter in the kitchen before asking the kid lying beside her, "How would you feel if Peter was to adopt you?"
"I'm sorry?" El had Neal's full attention.
"I've been speaking a little to Peter about him adopting you but before we go any further, I'd like to know what you think." All El got was a blank stare so she asked, "Do you understand what that would mean?"
"Of course, Mam'ma." Neal hated it when El gave him less credit for his intelligence than he was due. "Would I change my name?"
"Only if you wanted to."
"I think I'd like to stay a Caffrey. Will you be changing your name?" El had taken Neal out for lunch through the week and told her son that Peter had asked her to marry him. Neal had remarked that the expected engagement was far from a revelation but had congratulated his mom, kissed her and told her how happy he was for all of them.
"I will be changing my name to Burke."
"What difference will it make if I let him adopt me?"
"It won't be any different to what it is now." El preempted the 'then why bother' statement. "Legally though, he also becomes your guardian. He is legally allowed to make all the same decisions that I am able to as your mother."
"I'm happy with the way it is already."
"I know this is hard for you to hear but if something were to happen to me Baby, I'd be able to take comfort in knowing that you'll be well cared for. Peter loves you very much." El pulled her son in close. "I also believe that you deserve a father, Neal and while you would never admit it, you love Peter as much as I do."
Neal rolled off the bed and scooped up his puppy that was beginning to chew on El's slipper. "I'd like to think about it if that's okay."
"Of course, Baby."
-W-C-
"Peter, are you and my mom going to have kids once you get married?" The cool air cut right through Neal's jacket as the Staten Island Ferry returned to its Lower Manhattan port. The pair were out for a boy's day out which included a ride on the ferry, hot dogs and art galleries. A real mixed bag!
"We already have a kid."
Neal looked predictably insulted. "Okay then, another kid."
"We'd like to but I have a medical condition that means I cannot father a child."
"Oh." Neal was using Peter as a wind breaker which the older man found quite amusing.
"Yeah. I've known pretty much my whole adult life and I did talk to El about it very early on in our relationship. It wouldn't have been fair to leave something like that out in case maybe your mom had her heart set on having more children."
"I'm pretty sure she just had her heart set on you."
"And you of course."
Neal stopped looking out at the view and studied his hands that were resting in his lap. "Did she tell you about my father?"
"She did Neal."
"She never really talked much to me about him. I had to do my own research."
I can only imagine. "She would be probably happy to talk with you about him now that you are older. Maybe she was just protecting you at the time."
"Maybe... I'm a lot like him you know." Neal's voice was missing its usual confidence. He actually sounded like a teenager.
"You're not him."
"Certain things are in my blood."
"I don't believe it." Peter pulled the boy in close and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "It's been my experience that the greatest influence on a person are the people that surround him day in day out and and the love that is used to guide them." He leaned over and kissed the top of Neal's head.
"Not the old nature versus nurture debate, Peter?"
"Something like that."
"Peter?"
"Yeah, Buddy?"
"If I wanted to call you Dad, how would you feel?"
"I'd feel like it felt right. I'd like it a lot but I'd only like it if it was something you wanted to do, not something to make me happy. See the difference?"
"Yeah." The ferry came to a complete stop and passengers were allowed to disembark. "Peter?" Peter looked patiently at the young boy waiting for him to continue. The kid was fully of deep and meaningful questions today. "If you adopt me, could I add an amendment."
"No."
"No? But you don't even know what the amendment is yet."
Peter took Neal's hand as they walked off the ferry. "Of course I know what you'd put."
"What, you can read my mind now?"
"Is it a no spanking clause?"
Neal ignored the fact that Peter had indeed read his mind and changed the subject."Don't forget you promised Mom you'd get her a bottle of fragrance from that shop she likes on Water Street."
"Thanks, Buddy. I'd be sharing with Satchmo tonight if I forgot."
-W-C-
Their chosen path up towards Greenwich Village took the weekend sightseers directly through the Enbrook Plaza Markets.
They were about to cross through the stall littered plaza when suddenly Neal grabbed Peter's arm and tried to steer him in an alternate direction. "Wait, let's go via Church Street. There's a gallery there I'd like to check out."
Peter didn't know what to make of Neal's slightly panicked state but he was keen to look through the markets so he suggested, "We'll go there after I have a quick look through some of these stalls. I may be able to grab something else to put away for El for Christmas."
"Can I meet you at the gallery?"
"No, you can not meet me at the gallery." Peter turned to face the young boy, "Neal, what's wrong, Bud?"
"Nothing, Peter…I just didn't want to miss out on the gallery before it closes but it's okay. Let's look through the market first."
What a load of crap. "Okay then."
Neal pulled his hat down further over his eyes and donned a pair of dark sunglasses he found in his pocket after Peter stopped to look at a sunglasses hut. It didn't work. At the next stall, "Hi Nick."
Peter turned to see who the store holder was talking to but since only he and Neal were standing close he looked at Neal for a clue."
"Uh…Hi." The kid took a few steps away and Peter followed.
"Who was that, Neal? Did they call you Nick?"
"Possibly. May have confused me with someone else."
Peter got distracted at a hand carved wood stall soon after and Neal though he was off the hook until, "Hey yah Nick."
This time Peter gave the young kid his full attention. "Neal." Peter tilted his head and used his firm agent voice. Translation - Explain this to me now before I throw you in leg irons!
"Peter." Neal held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Obviously I look like someone who hangs out around here sometimes, I don't know, I'm a pretty standard looking fourteen year old."
Like hell. "Where did those sunglasses come from?" Peter noticed the shades for the first time.
"Well.." Neal didn't need to answer because a young man in his early twenties walked past at that moment and slapped the kid on his back, "What ya been up to Nick?"
"Not too much, Charlie." Neal groaned out.
"Catch you later, man."
Peter's charge looked up at him with a nervous smile.
The agent simply shook his head, "I don't even want to know. Let's go."
They almost made it to the edge of the plaza when out of no where a young woman appeared in front of the pair and asked Neal, "Steve, I need some advi…" Peter grabbed the kid's upper arm and all but dragged him to the gallery on Church Street.