Keep Paying it Forward
Title: Keep Paying it Forward
Author: J. Rosemary Moss
Fandom: White Collar
Genre: A friendship/family fic and stand alone part of the My Old Man verse. Warning for fluffiness!
Pairing: Peter-Neal
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don’t own White Collar
Summary: Neal’s worried about all those dinners Peter missed with Elizabeth. Tag to By the Book.
~oOo~
Neal had known the lecture was coming. He’d known even before Peter took him to task for his latest debacle. Breaking into a cigar lounge that turned out to be owned by a member of the cartel might not have been his smartest move.
But the lecture had been stewing in Peter's mind for months now. Neal had known it was coming ever since Peter had decided to go along with his con-the con wherein he convinced Peter’s neighbors that the agent was his father.
Neal hadn't expected Peter to play along. He hadn't expected Peter to look into adult adoption. And he hadn't expected the man to start introducing him to a select group of friends as his son.
Not that Neal objected. As far as he was concerned, Peter owed him the parental treatment. If there was any fairness in the universe, Neal would have grown up with Peter as his father (and Elizabeth as his gorgeous step-mother). Peter fit just about all his criteria for a dad.
Responsible? Check. Caring? Check. Supportive? Check. Would have let Neal have a dog when he was growing up? Check. Would have taken Neal to art lessons? Check. Willing to be wrapped around Neal’s finger? Check-even if Peter would never admit it. Stylish and suave? Ah, no check there. But Neal was generous enough to overlook that failing.
He was also generous enough to overlook Peter’s domineering tendencies. Most of those could be overcome by wrapping the agent around his finger, so they didn’t signify. And even when Neal couldn’t overcome them . . .well, that was why he needed to talk to Peter tonight. He might as well offer the man a chance to get the lecture over with.
He didn’t call Peter in advance; better just to show up at his house. Neal no longer set off his anklet by going to Peter’s, as long as he went by one of his pre-approved routes.
Of course, Peter might not be there. He might be out with Diana conducting his own investigation into Kate’s death. The agent had a bad habit of hiding said investigation from Neal-but since that was due to Peter’s misguided desire to protect him, Neal was inclined to forgive him.
If Peter wasn’t there, Neal would just make himself at home. Elizabeth was away, so he wouldn’t be able to engage in some harmless flirting with his gorgeous step-mother. But at least he’d have some quality time with Satch.
Neal didn’t bother with the doorbell when he arrived-he let himself into the house. Satchmo-the-wonder-watchdog didn’t even bark.
“Peter?” Neal called out as he knelt down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“In the kitchen,” Peter called back. “Be right there. Want a beer?”
Neal smiled at the way Peter accepted his presence without question. “Sure,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the couch.
Peter came out a moment later. He was in a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt; that was his version of a dress down look. Neal smiled. Somehow Peter seemed more himself like this than in those standard, boring FBI suits he insisted on wearing at the Bureau.
Peter handed Neal a beer, keeping one for himself, and took a seat beside him. Neal watched him settle into the corner of the couch.
“What’s up?” Peter asked as he twisted the cap off his bottle.
“Not much,” Neal said, unscrewing his own cap. “Thought we could watch a movie. I’d even be willing to sit through part of a ball game.”
Peter nodded and reached for the remote. “Sounds good.”
“And if you wanted to get the lecture that’s been brewing in your brain out of the way, I’d be ok with that too,” Neal added.
Peter turned toward him, raising his eyebrows. “Which lecture would that be?”
Despite the relaxed atmosphere and ‘home-like’ feeling of the house, Neal felt his throat tighten. “Ah, the one where you tell me that just because you consider me, to some extent, your son, you’ll still haul my ass back to prison if I screw up.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond to that, but then shut it again. A long moment of silence followed.
Neal finally spoke up again. “Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting to tell me? And then you can add something about messing with the cartel--even if it was unwittingly--and all the dinners you've missed with your wife because of me.”
There was another moment of silence.
“Peter?”
The agent sighed. “Neal, I need you not to tangle with the cartel, yeah. But I’m doing my damnedest to keep you out of prison. I’m not your get-out-of-jail-free card, but-”
“I know,” Neal interrupted. “I know. I just want you to know that-well, if you want to lecture me, I’ll sit here and listen. I know you haven't had your say on any of it. Like the humidor incident. You, ah, you were a little upset about that.”
“You think?”
Neal risked a grin. “Yeah. You looked like you wanted to spank me.”
Peter grunted. “I did.”
“I know. I probably would have let you. Back in my apartment, anyway-not at the office.”
The agent rolled his eyes. “You have serious daddy issues. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yeah,” Neal answered, still smiling as he shifted so that he could put his feet up on the couch while leaning back against Peter. “Moz mentioned it when I told him about the adoption idea.”
He paused to shift back against Peter again, trying to find the perfect position.
“Comfortable?” Peter asked, his voice sarcastic.
“Yes, I am actually. Thanks for asking.”
Peter was probably rolling his eyes again, but he didn’t say anything. He just let one arm rest over Neal’s shoulder, semi-holding him. Neal sighed with contentment and let himself relax against the agent.
Another moment of silence passed. Peter was still holding the remote, but he seemed to have forgotten about the television. But that was ok. Neal liked this, just half-sitting, half-lying here, and Peter not minding their physical closeness. Or not minding too much.
But something was still bothering him. It was the thought of all those years Peter had spent chasing him-all the extra hours he’d put in, all those missed dinners. He sighed again, but not with contentment this time.
“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to fix those dinners you missed with Elizabeth. I don’t know how to repay you two.”
Peter tousled his hair, just as if he had really been his father. Which, Neal supposed, he was. Biology didn’t mean all that much, did it?
“Listen to you, all repentant," Peter smirked. "Hard to admit that your actions have consequences and that you're not quite the center of the universe, huh?"
"Bastard," Neal muttered, not bothering to disguise the fondness in his voice. "Yes to the first question, but you haven't done anything to prove that I'm not the center of your universe."
Peter took a moment to think that over. "Ok. I'll give you that."
"I am sorry, though," Neal continued. "And I wish there was something I could do to make up for it."
"Don’t worry about paying us back,” Peter said. “Just keep paying it forward.”
Neal considered that. Peter had told him, more than once, that he made a difference working for the Bureau. And if he went the distance--if he stayed in this line of work even after the anklet was off--he’d rack up more than his share of stake outs and extra hours and missed dinners.
“Ok,” he said at length.
Neither of them spoke again until Peter finally flipped on the Yankees game. And that was fine. There was more to be said-there was still the secrets Peter was keeping in his clumsy attempt to protect him. But maybe Peter had a fatherly right to make that attempt. Or maybe he didn’t. They were friends too, after all, and friends didn’t keep each other in the dark.
Neal shook himself a little and then turned his head toward the TV. For tonight, at least, those questions could keep.
~The End~
Author: J. Rosemary Moss
Fandom: White Collar
Genre: A friendship/family fic and stand alone part of the My Old Man verse. Warning for fluffiness!
Pairing: Peter-Neal
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don’t own White Collar
Summary: Neal’s worried about all those dinners Peter missed with Elizabeth. Tag to By the Book.
~oOo~
Neal had known the lecture was coming. He’d known even before Peter took him to task for his latest debacle. Breaking into a cigar lounge that turned out to be owned by a member of the cartel might not have been his smartest move.
But the lecture had been stewing in Peter's mind for months now. Neal had known it was coming ever since Peter had decided to go along with his con-the con wherein he convinced Peter’s neighbors that the agent was his father.
Neal hadn't expected Peter to play along. He hadn't expected Peter to look into adult adoption. And he hadn't expected the man to start introducing him to a select group of friends as his son.
Not that Neal objected. As far as he was concerned, Peter owed him the parental treatment. If there was any fairness in the universe, Neal would have grown up with Peter as his father (and Elizabeth as his gorgeous step-mother). Peter fit just about all his criteria for a dad.
Responsible? Check. Caring? Check. Supportive? Check. Would have let Neal have a dog when he was growing up? Check. Would have taken Neal to art lessons? Check. Willing to be wrapped around Neal’s finger? Check-even if Peter would never admit it. Stylish and suave? Ah, no check there. But Neal was generous enough to overlook that failing.
He was also generous enough to overlook Peter’s domineering tendencies. Most of those could be overcome by wrapping the agent around his finger, so they didn’t signify. And even when Neal couldn’t overcome them . . .well, that was why he needed to talk to Peter tonight. He might as well offer the man a chance to get the lecture over with.
He didn’t call Peter in advance; better just to show up at his house. Neal no longer set off his anklet by going to Peter’s, as long as he went by one of his pre-approved routes.
Of course, Peter might not be there. He might be out with Diana conducting his own investigation into Kate’s death. The agent had a bad habit of hiding said investigation from Neal-but since that was due to Peter’s misguided desire to protect him, Neal was inclined to forgive him.
If Peter wasn’t there, Neal would just make himself at home. Elizabeth was away, so he wouldn’t be able to engage in some harmless flirting with his gorgeous step-mother. But at least he’d have some quality time with Satch.
Neal didn’t bother with the doorbell when he arrived-he let himself into the house. Satchmo-the-wonder-watchdog didn’t even bark.
“Peter?” Neal called out as he knelt down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“In the kitchen,” Peter called back. “Be right there. Want a beer?”
Neal smiled at the way Peter accepted his presence without question. “Sure,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the couch.
Peter came out a moment later. He was in a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt; that was his version of a dress down look. Neal smiled. Somehow Peter seemed more himself like this than in those standard, boring FBI suits he insisted on wearing at the Bureau.
Peter handed Neal a beer, keeping one for himself, and took a seat beside him. Neal watched him settle into the corner of the couch.
“What’s up?” Peter asked as he twisted the cap off his bottle.
“Not much,” Neal said, unscrewing his own cap. “Thought we could watch a movie. I’d even be willing to sit through part of a ball game.”
Peter nodded and reached for the remote. “Sounds good.”
“And if you wanted to get the lecture that’s been brewing in your brain out of the way, I’d be ok with that too,” Neal added.
Peter turned toward him, raising his eyebrows. “Which lecture would that be?”
Despite the relaxed atmosphere and ‘home-like’ feeling of the house, Neal felt his throat tighten. “Ah, the one where you tell me that just because you consider me, to some extent, your son, you’ll still haul my ass back to prison if I screw up.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond to that, but then shut it again. A long moment of silence followed.
Neal finally spoke up again. “Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting to tell me? And then you can add something about messing with the cartel--even if it was unwittingly--and all the dinners you've missed with your wife because of me.”
There was another moment of silence.
“Peter?”
The agent sighed. “Neal, I need you not to tangle with the cartel, yeah. But I’m doing my damnedest to keep you out of prison. I’m not your get-out-of-jail-free card, but-”
“I know,” Neal interrupted. “I know. I just want you to know that-well, if you want to lecture me, I’ll sit here and listen. I know you haven't had your say on any of it. Like the humidor incident. You, ah, you were a little upset about that.”
“You think?”
Neal risked a grin. “Yeah. You looked like you wanted to spank me.”
Peter grunted. “I did.”
“I know. I probably would have let you. Back in my apartment, anyway-not at the office.”
The agent rolled his eyes. “You have serious daddy issues. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yeah,” Neal answered, still smiling as he shifted so that he could put his feet up on the couch while leaning back against Peter. “Moz mentioned it when I told him about the adoption idea.”
He paused to shift back against Peter again, trying to find the perfect position.
“Comfortable?” Peter asked, his voice sarcastic.
“Yes, I am actually. Thanks for asking.”
Peter was probably rolling his eyes again, but he didn’t say anything. He just let one arm rest over Neal’s shoulder, semi-holding him. Neal sighed with contentment and let himself relax against the agent.
Another moment of silence passed. Peter was still holding the remote, but he seemed to have forgotten about the television. But that was ok. Neal liked this, just half-sitting, half-lying here, and Peter not minding their physical closeness. Or not minding too much.
But something was still bothering him. It was the thought of all those years Peter had spent chasing him-all the extra hours he’d put in, all those missed dinners. He sighed again, but not with contentment this time.
“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to fix those dinners you missed with Elizabeth. I don’t know how to repay you two.”
Peter tousled his hair, just as if he had really been his father. Which, Neal supposed, he was. Biology didn’t mean all that much, did it?
“Listen to you, all repentant," Peter smirked. "Hard to admit that your actions have consequences and that you're not quite the center of the universe, huh?"
"Bastard," Neal muttered, not bothering to disguise the fondness in his voice. "Yes to the first question, but you haven't done anything to prove that I'm not the center of your universe."
Peter took a moment to think that over. "Ok. I'll give you that."
"I am sorry, though," Neal continued. "And I wish there was something I could do to make up for it."
"Don’t worry about paying us back,” Peter said. “Just keep paying it forward.”
Neal considered that. Peter had told him, more than once, that he made a difference working for the Bureau. And if he went the distance--if he stayed in this line of work even after the anklet was off--he’d rack up more than his share of stake outs and extra hours and missed dinners.
“Ok,” he said at length.
Neither of them spoke again until Peter finally flipped on the Yankees game. And that was fine. There was more to be said-there was still the secrets Peter was keeping in his clumsy attempt to protect him. But maybe Peter had a fatherly right to make that attempt. Or maybe he didn’t. They were friends too, after all, and friends didn’t keep each other in the dark.
Neal shook himself a little and then turned his head toward the TV. For tonight, at least, those questions could keep.
~The End~