Neal woke up, disoriented. He sat up, and was relieved that the room was not, in fact, spinning. He must have thrown up most of the whiskey before his body had a chance to absorb enough of it to give him a hangover. Neal felt his face flush when he remembered vomiting. Neal remembered the feeling of Peter's palm pressed against his forehead; it had made him like he was a little kid again. He had felt cared for in Peter's hands, even though he'd brought his sickness upon himself.

He glanced at the clock. It was 3 am. As he stumbled groggily to the bathroom, he tried to remember what he'd said to Peter. On his way back, with a cursory stop at the refrigerator for more water, he noticed his easel had been moved. He sat back down on his bed, and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. He smiled when he read Peter's note.

Still, Neal was a little worried that he couldn't remember exactly what he'd said to Peter. He'd been in an emotionally vulnerable state, talking about a very traumatic part of his childhood. Frank Ammon was largely the reason Neal had gone to such great lengths to entirely erase his childhood. Neal turned off the lights and he grabbed his phone to send a small text to Mozzie.

"Sry so late. Frank Ammon is in town, staying Mark, gonna rob Met, Matisse's Sailors. Any info from your network would be appreciated."

Neal stretched out on the bed, and flipped through his phone to set an alarm for the morning. His phone beeped at him, and his eyes widened as he read the note from his longtime best friend.

"Is that why Keller's in town?"

Neal immediately dialed his best friend. "Fuck! Moz! Why didn't you tell me this as soon as you heard?"

"Because I was busy liquidating known product that Keller wanted, and then hightailing it to my safe house!"

"A heads up would've been nice." Neal tried not to sound angry, but, dammit. Keller being out of prison and on the streets again was huge. He'd been one of the boys in Ammon's gang. If he was here, things were definitely about to go sideways.

"You had the Suit at your house. I figured that was enough protection. I'm at Thursday. If you need me send Estelle. I'm going off grid, this phone call will be my last until I get the all clear."

"Okay, Moz. Call if you run out of wine or cheese. I'll stop by."

Neal lay in the dark and debated calling Peter. It was a lose-lose. If he called and woke him up he'd be pissed it was so late. If he waited until morning, he'd be pissed Neal was 'keeping secrets.' Neal decided to let him sleep. He was more fun to tease when he wasn't tired. He did call Jones, though, as he was the lead agent and this was his case. Neal thought it was a good enough compromise.

He had clearly woken Jones from a deep sleep. "Hmrhgh?" was about the extent of coherency Neal got through the phone.

"Hi, Jones, it's Neal, sorry to wake you. I just got word that Ammon is working with Matthew Keller. He's in town." Neal smiled as he heard Jones sit up and flick on the light. Obviously that had woken him up the rest of the way.

"Fuck! Have you told Peter?"

"No. I didn't want to be the one to wake him."

"But you woke me?" Jones grumbled. Based on the background noises, it sounded to Neal like he was getting dressed.

"Well, you're the senior agent on the case."

"I'm heading into the office. I'll see you there."

"Was that an order?"

"No, but I am telling Peter you tried to keep this news from him, if you don't show up." Jones smirked into the phone.

"Oh that's low."

"Bring some Starbucks. You owe me a cup."

Neal flopped backwards on his bed. "You're such an ass, Jones."

"A café mocha with two extra shots of espresso. Venti."

"I'll see you in twenty." Neal hung up and made a noise of exasperation at his ceiling.

After a quick shower, Neal had to admit that going to sleep around six in the evening meant that waking up at three in the morning hadn't left him overly exhausted. And, some Starbucks would start the obnoxiously early morning off right. He fished a few paperclips out of his Canali suit pocket and headed off to get some coffee. If Jones was going to be so prissy about his coffee, he shouldn't send a known prankster to bring him a cup. In fact, Neal smiled to himself, he'd tell the barista to write "Paperclip" on Jones' cup.

Peter walked into the bullpen a little surprised at the early morning chaos, even though he knew something was amiss because there was a police car parked in front of his house that morning. He normally had a few minutes to himself—it was his routine to arrive early. Making coffee, sorting files, sifting through emails—small tasks that he was able to complete before his agents filtered in and the workload started. He glanced around, and was surprised to see Neal, Jones, and Diana were crowded around a whiteboard. Neal, Peter assumed it was Neal, anyway, had completed a Known Associates list and it appeared they had begun surveillance. He made it to his office, and paused. He gave Jones the "two finger summons" and beckoned for him to report.

"Diana, this is gonna be good. Watch." They both turned and gave their boss' office their undivided attention. "Jones never called Peter last night, to tell him that Keller is a known associate and has been seen in town."

Diana gasped, "Oh, no, he didn't!" Neal nodded, grinning. Diana started laughing as she saw shock and anger fill Peter's face.

"He probably found out when he walked outside and saw the protective detail." Diana's probie agent commented.

"Oh, shit, he looks pissed." Neal hurriedly scooped up some papers and called over his shoulder, "I'm going to run the credit cards for these three, see if we can't narrow down their locations here in New York."

Neal was stopped halfway to his desk by the sound of Peter's voice. Despite the noise in the bullpen, with agents running around and reports piling in, Peter's voice carried. "Caffrey. My office. Now." A sudden hush fell, as the entire floor turned to see how Neal had messed up this time. Peter's voice wasn't filled with hot anger, it was cold, and calm, and it made a shiver run down Neal's spine.

Neal hurried up the stairs to Peter's office. "That's the last time you get coffee, Judas!" Neal hissed at Jones.

Peter glared and motioned him inside, with a firm sounding "Sit down!" and continued his conversation with Jones. Neal tried to eavesdrop, but didn't catch much. It seemed that Jones was simply catching his boss up on the case status. Because of the bugs Diana planted they were able to piece together Ammon's plan—which involved a slash and grab by Keller—and were debating the hows and whens of various take-down options.

Peter finally dismissed Jones, and stepped into his office. He firmly shut the door and sat down at his desk. He shot Neal a solemn look, and then proceeded to carry on with his work as if Neal wasn't there. After a few minutes of being ignored, Neal began fidgeting.

"Be still." Peter didn't even look up from the current file he was reading.

After a few minutes more, Neal finally opened his mouth. "Why am I here, Peter?"

Continuing to focus on his work instead of Neal, Peter answered, "Seriously? You need to ask that?" Peter set down the file and signed a work authorization form tucked inside the blue envelope.

Neal shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to have this conversation right now. "I didn't immediately call you when I found out Keller was in town."

"Oh, you're a mind-reader, Neal!" Peter finally looked up from his work and glared across his desk.

"Look, Peter, I'm sorry—" he was cut off by Peter's sharp hand motion and scolding tone.

"Stop, right there. Stop. If you say 'I'm sorry, but…' I'm going to really get angry. I appreciate that you understand that I'm upset, but I don't think you grasp the 'why' so much." Peter reached for his coffee mug and leaned back in his chair.

"Because of Elizabeth?" Neal was confused, and worried, and didn't like to see his boss and friend this angry—especially at him. Besides, Neal had told Jones. The person Peter should be mad at here was Jones, not him.

"Not just Elizabeth. Keller has repeatedly put the lives of those I care about at risk. You, Neal, you are one of those people. Diana. Jones. Elizabeth. Me. Heck, his goons even roughed up Satchmo. So, no, you don't get to hide this information from me. And," Peter leaned across his desk, leveling a look of intensity that scared Neal, "you especially don't get to launch some half-baked idea about catching Keller and Ammon while I'm asleep in the wee hours of the morning. You are benched, for this one."

Neal recoiled as if Peter had slapped him.

"No, you don't get to pout, either! Your safety is more important to me than collaring those two." Peter sighed, exasperated that Neal couldn't see the amount of danger he'd been in last night.

"Peter, you're being unfair!" Neal pleaded.

"Yeah?"

"I said I'm sorry! But, I told Jones! It was three in the morning! And you would've been pissed if we had woken you." Neal launched into his defense with gusto. He honestly hadn't expected Peter to be this upset.

"Neal, I dealt with Jones. He understands what he did wrong, and why, and he won't ever do it again. And, besides, he took proper steps to ensure my safety. You, scolding you just doesn't work. Nothing works with you. You were planning to meet Keller and go undercover to help him steal the paintings?! No!" Peter took a deep breath because he was nearly roaring at Neal.

"What am I going to have to do to keep you from making dangerous choices? No matter what I threaten, you run headlong into trouble! I can't even threaten to send you back to prison-you don't take anything I say seriously."

Neal opened his mouth to protest. "That's not true! I do take you seriously! I just thought we could catch him. I have a better chance of getting closer to Keller then you guys..."

His voice trailed off as Peter started lecturing again, "No, just stop, Neal. You're too busy thinking of excuses and defenses. I have half a mind to just flip you over my knee and spank you like the pouting nine year old you're being right now."

Neal's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Peter with wide eyes. Peter continued as if he hadn't threatened to upend Neal's world. "In fact, you are too busy thinking up excuses to even give me a proper apology. A simple 'I'm sorry' without a 'but' and an excuse trailing after it is all I want. You're so busy whining about me trying to protect you, that you completely missed the fact that I. Am. Scared. Of. Losing. You. Do you understand me, Neal?"

Neal swallowed, nervously. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what he had told Peter last night in his drunken haze. He vaguely remembered talking about spanking. But he couldn't remember what he'd said specifically.

"Neal. Do you understand me?" Peter repeated himself, annoyance clear in his eyes.

"Yes." Neal swallowed again, and added hastily, "sir."

"Good." Peter shoved a stack of folders at him. "Take these to Jones and Diana."

Neal meekly took them and stood. As he reached for the door, he glanced over his shoulder at his boss. If he hadn't been so scared of what the answer might be, he would have asked, "Would you really spank me?" Instead, he said, "I'm sorry, sir." and scampered out the door.

Author's Note:

Thanks for all the feedback, again! I've started checking the page rather obsessively while waiting on M to finish beta'ing the next chapter (he's the one who introduced me to White Collar in the first place! When M handed me a thumb drive with season 1, I was instantly addicted). It's exciting to see that y'all are enjoying a story I was originally so nervous about sharing!

To my dear Guest...I didn't even think about the conversation with Ellen and how it had been 15 years. Now I'm thoroughly confused because I was using the White Collar Wikia which says Neal's birthday is March 21st, 1977 (Matt's birthday is different)...Which means the show is contradicting itself. Or more likely the WC Wikia page information is wrong. Anyway, whatever, the point is, we agree: Neal's character is very childish and he does crave boundaries, and Peter (and El and everyone else) sees that he desperately needs some structure in his world. Which is why I wrote him...not *asking* for a spanking, exactly...but observing that Ellen spanking him when he was little was "effective," and that he's still out-of-control even with a tracking anklet and the threat of jail time hanging over his head. I'm not saying he WANTS a spanking, but I did want it to be a little more consensual than other fics I've read. The reason for that is because the real life spanking community is definitely based on consensual agreements. And, as a government employee, Peter could find himself in all sorts of trouble for "abusing" his CI. (hence the conversation with El in the previous chapter:) Peter would never do something so blatantly "against policy" without Neal's consent (simply because Peter is a rule-follower) but also because I think he knows it would give Neal all sorts of leverage. "If you don't extend my radius, I'll tell them you spanked me." ...tell me you can't see Neal making a threat like that in a moment of desperation, even if he was bluffing. =P

...I will say when we get to the spanking bit, Neal won't be all "this is a great idea, Peter!" ...but they're both going to go into it knowing it's consensual and safe, and for Neal's good. Especially because, in this noncannon fic of mine, Neal's an abuse survivor, so putting him in a situation that could potentially trigger flashbacks or panic attacks just isn't something paternal!Peter would do to him. (Public service announcement: the spanking chapter is well over 4000 words already and I don't see anyway to cut it in half to make two smaller chapters, so sorry in advance for that)

Also, my dear readers, serious question here! I was trying to find a picture of those ridiculous paisley pajamas, because I swear I thought they were pink and I wanted to verify that before putting it in the story. My google-fu must be broken though, because the only pictures of Neal in pajamas are just green, red, or a dull grey color. And I can't even tell if they're paisley print. Did I make up some really random pajamas for Neal? Guys, help! Where did pink paisley pajama pants come from?! I mean, he's got great fashion sense, which is why I remember being horrified at those pajamas when I saw them...Unless I was having some crazy daydream...?

Okay, longest author's note ever. Sorry. Next chapter will be up soon, hopefully before the weekend is out...hopefully.