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Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights of the White Collar Division buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the conference room where Peter sorted through a stack of financial records.

Line after line of falsified documents painted a picture that was all too familiar: generous donations diverted into offshore accounts, fake vendors pocketing nonexistent expenses, and a charity that wasn’t nearly as charitable as it seemed. The name on the top of the file - James and Katherine Bennett, founders of the Better Future Initiative - mocked him with its irony.

“This is a big one,” Peter muttered, sliding the folder across the table to Diana. He pinched the bridge of his nose before leaning back in his chair. “Millions in diverted funds, at least half a dozen shell companies, and who knows how many people they conned into thinking they were doing some good in the world. It’s disgusting.”

Diana scanned the documents, her eyes narrowing as she flipped through the paper trail. “They’ve been careful, though. This isn’t amateur work. If that whistleblower hadn’t come forward with the fake vendor invoices, we’d still be chasing ghosts.” She paused, tapping her finger on a line item. “And they’ve got offshore accounts in the Caymans. It’s textbook money laundering, but-”

“They’ve covered their tracks,” Peter finished for her. His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the grainy photos of James and Katherine Bennett clipped to the folder.

In the images, they looked every bit the part of respectable philanthropists: bright smiles, expensive tailored suits, hands clasped with community leaders and celebrities at fundraisers. It was hard to reconcile those images with the cold, calculated deception outlined in their financial records.

“This is why people don’t trust charities,” Peter muttered, shaking his head. “We need to nail this down clean, no mistakes. I don’t want them slipping away on a technicality.”

“Agreed,” Diana said. “I’ll double-check the warrants, but we’re ready to move.”

Peter glanced at his watch. “Good. We’ll bring them in this afternoon. I want it by the book.”

By 3:00pm, the team was gathered outside the Bennetts’ downtown office, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Peter adjusted his earpiece as Jones gave the all-clear.

The Better Future Initiative’s headquarters was deceptively humble, housed in a modest modern building with tasteful signage. But Peter knew better than to trust appearances.

“Alright,” he said, gesturing to his team. “Alpha, you’re with me. Beta, take the back exit. Let’s keep this quiet and professional.”

Inside, the office was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of computers and the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock. Peters gaze swept the room, landing first on the neatly arranged desks and then on the receptionists area. His stride faltered slightly when he saw the small figure sitting behind the counter.

A boy, no older than six or seven, sat swinging his legs idly beneath the desk. His blue eyes, impossibly wide and curious, flicked up to meet Peters. In one hand, he held a notepad, covered in a messy array of doodles, and in the other, a stubby pencil. The boy tilted his head, regarding Peter with the kind of quiet confidence that seemed far too composed for someone so small.

“Can I help you?” the boy asked, his voice small but steady.

Peter blinked, his mind racing to connect the dots and to hide the gun he was wielding. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Neal,” he said simply, his lips curled into a faint smile. “Neal Bennett.”

Diana shot Peter a look, her brows furrowed. Peters jaw tightened as he crouched slightly, bringing himself to the boys eye level.

“Neal, is your mom or dad here?” Peter asked, keeping his tone gentle.

The boy nodded and set his notepad on the desk. “Mom’s in the back. She said she’s finishing something important. Are you her friend?”

Peter exchanged a quick glance with Diana, who subtly shook her head. “Not exactly,” Peter said, straightening. He turned his attention back to the boy, his gut twisting. There was no way Neal was unaware of the tension in the room, but his calm demeanor made it clear this wasn’t the first time he’d been dragged into his parents’ mess.

Before Peter could say anything else, Katherine Bennett appeared in the doorway of a nearby office, her smile fixed but strained. “Neal, sweetheart, why don’t you go grab a snack from the beak room?” she said, her tone bright but brittle.

Peter stepped forward, his badge flashing in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. “Katherine Bennett, FBI. We need you to come with us.”

Neals smile faltered as his mothers face went pale, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she bent down, kissed Neals cheek, and whispered, “Be good, okay?”

As two agents escorted Katherine away and another few headed toward James Bennetts office, Peter glanced down at Neal. The boy was standing perfectly still, his small hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“Hey, Neal,” Peter said softly, crouching again. “We’re not here to hurt you. Do you have someone you can call to pick you up?”

Neal shook his head. “It’s just me and them,” he said. His voice wavered slightly, but his posture remained composed, almost defiant.

Peter sighed. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Looks like you’re coming with me for now.”

------------------

Peter leaned back against the worn corner of his desk, flipping through the preliminary file on James and Katherine Bennett. On the surface, the couple looked like upstanding citizens. James worked as an independent financial consultant, while Katherine ran a boutique from their suburban home. But beneath that polished veneer was a tangled web of shell companies, forged documents, and fraudulent accounts that spanned state lines.

“This doesn’t add up,” Peter muttered, tapping his pen against the folder. “They’ve been at this for years, but there’s no sign of the money.”

“Smart crooks don’t leave trails,” Diana replied, leaning over her own desk nearby. “But this kind of operation? They’ve got to be hiding it somewhere.”

Peter nodded, his gaze drifting toward the interrogation room. Through the one-way glass, he could see James sitting with his arms crossed, his expression a blend of smug confidence and irritation. Across the hall, Katherine was pacing like a caged animal. Both were refusing to talk.

And then there was the kid.

Peters eyes moved to the small figure sitting quietly at a conference table. Seven-year-old Neal Bennett didn’t look scared. In fact, he looked remarkably calm for a kid whose parents were being interrogated by federal agents. He sat with a notepad and a pencil and pen Diana had handed him earlier, absently drawing.

Peter pushed off his desk and crossed the bullpen to stand beside Diana. “What’s he drawing?”

Diana glanced up, her expression softening. “Blueprints, I think. Kid’s got a knack for details.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Blueprints? For what?”

Diana smirked. “For this office. He’s been staring at the layout all afternoon.”

That caught Peters attention. He moved closer, peering over Neals shoulder. Sure enough, the notepad was covered in rough sketches of desks, doorways, and filing cabinets. Neal glanced up, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Peters.

“It’s wrong,” Neal said matter-of-factly, pointing to his drawing.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, intrigued despite himself.

Neal frowned, tapping the notepad with his pencil. “The filing cabinet by the door. It should be over here, next to the desk. Otherwise, it blocks the exit.”

Peter blinked. “You’re worried about blocking the exit?”

Neal shrugged. “You should always know where the exits are.”

Diana coughed to hide a laugh, and Peter shot her a look. “Well aren't you a clever-clog,” he muttered.

Before Neal could reply, Hughes strode into the bullpen, his usual no-nonsense demeanor cranked up a notch. “Burke, we’ve got a problem.”

Peter turned. “What kind of problem?”

Hughes waved a hand toward Neal. “ They are going into holding overnight, and Child Services is backed up. Every foster home in the area is either full or unavailable.”

Peter frowned. “What about emergency placements?”

“Nothing,” Hughes said flatly. “I’ve had three agents on the phone for an hour. Unless you want to drive him to the other side of the state, there’s nowhere to take him.”

Peter felt the weight of those words settle over him. He glanced back at Neal, who was now watching them intently, his pencil still in hand.

“I don’t get it,” Neal said, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “Why can’t I just go home?”

Peter crouched down beside him, keeping his tone gentle. “Neal, your parents are in some trouble right now. Until we figure things out, we need to make sure you’re safe.”

Neal tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I’m not in trouble.”

“No, you’re not,” Peter assured him. “But we need to make some phone calls to figure out where you can stay tonight.”

Neal’s pencil stilled against the paper. “What about one of those places? You know, where they take kids - like on TV.”

Peter hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Those homes are pretty full right now.”

The boy studied Peter for a long moment, his sharp gaze unnerving in a way Peter couldn’t quite grasp. “What happens if you can’t find somewhere?”

Peter didn’t have an answer.

Neal didn’t seem surprised. Rather, he leaned back in his chair and resumed his sketching, as though this were just another detail in a very strange day.

“Burke,” Hughes said in a low voice, pulling Peter aside. “You’ve got a wife, don’t you?”

Peter frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You want the truth?” Hughes said, crossing his arms. “If Child Services can’t place him by tonight, the responsibility falls on us. And you’re the only one I trust to keep an eye on him without letting him disappear into the night.”

“Disappear into the night?” Peter repeated, incredulous.

Hughes nodded toward Neal. “That kid’s sharper than he looks. I’d bet my pension he already knows more about his parents crimes than we do. Keep him close, Peter. At least until we can sort this mess out.”

Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was an FBI agent, not a babysitter. But as he glanced back at Neal, who was now meticulously shading in the corner of his drawing, he realized he didn’t have much of a choice.

Peter stepped into his office, shutting the door behind him as he pulled out his phone. He leaned against the desk, thumb hovering over the speed dial for Elizabeth. Taking a deep breath, he hit the call button. The phone barely rang twice before her warm, familiar voice answered.

“Hey, hon. Everything okay?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. “Define ‘okay.’”

There was a pause. “What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did,” Peter said defensively. “It’s... a situation. With a kid.”

“A kid?” Elizabeth's tone sharpened, shifting into concern. “Peter, what’s going on?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, glancing through the blinds at Neal, who was now flipping his pencil between his fingers like a miniature con artist practicing sleight of hand. “We’ve got these suspects in custody - financial fraud case - but they’ve got a kid, he's seven years old. Every foster home in the city is full, and Child Services can’t place him anywhere tonight.”

“Oh no,” Elizabeth said softly. “Where is he now?”

“In the bullpen, sketching floor plans like he’s auditioning for Architectural Digest,” Peter said with a huff. “Look, Hughes suggested... well, he suggested I bring him home. Just for the night. What do you think?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Elizabeth spoke again, her voice steady. “I think you’re a good man for asking. Of course you can bring him home. I’ll get things ready.”

Peter felt a rush of relief. “Thanks, El. You’re the best.”

“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for extra dishes this week,” she teased. “What does he need?”

Peter thought for a moment. “Uh... pajamas, maybe? I doubt he’s got anything with him. Something to keep him busy would be good too - he’s smart. And El, don’t go too overboard, okay? It’s just one night.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Have you met me? I’ll keep it simple, I promise. What time do you think you’ll be home?”

Peter glanced at his watch. “Probably around six, if we can wrap things up here. I’ll text you when we’re on our way.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said. “And Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Be patient with him. This has got to be scary for a little kid.”

Peters gaze drifted back to Neal, who was now standing on his chair to reach something on Diana’s desk, much to her annoyance. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

------------------

By the time Peter pulled into the driveway that evening, Neal was dozing in the back seat, his head lolling against the seatbelt. The boy had been quiet on the ride over, the days events finally catching up with him.

“Hey, kid,” Peter said gently, reaching back to give Neals leg a nudge. “We’re here.”

Neal blinked awake, his eyes darting around in confusion before settling on Peter. “This is your house?”

“Yep,” Peter said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”

Neal clambered out of the car, clutching the notepad he’d insisted on bringing with. He followed Peter up the steps to the front door, his gaze flitting curiously over the neatly trimmed hedges and the cheerful porch light.

The door swung open before Peter could reach for his keys. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, a warm smile on her face. “You must be Neal,” she said, crouching down to his level. “I’m Elizabeth. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Neal hesitated, glancing up at Peter as if seeking permission.

“It’s okay,” Peter said. “She doesn’t bite - usually.”

That earned him a mock glare from Elizabeth, but it seemed to break the tension. Neal offered a shy smile. “Hi.”

“Come on in,” Elizabeth said, standing and ushering them inside. The house was warm and inviting, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Peter said, shrugging off his coat.

“I made spaghetti and meatballs,” Elizabeth said. “Figured it was kid-approved.”

Neals eyes lit up at that, and Peter felt a pang of something he couldn’t name.

Elizabeth bent slightly, meeting Neals curious gaze. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? You must be.”

Neal nodded quickly, taking a small step toward her. “Yeah. It smells really good.” His voice was soft, almost tentative, but there was a flicker of excitement in his expression.

“Well, come sit down,” Elizabeth said, placing a gentle hand on his back to guide him to the dining table. Neal leaned into her touch just a fraction, enough for Peter to notice. It wasn’t the wariness he’d seen earlier, it was like Neal was testing the waters, seeing if it was safe to trust her warmth.

Dinner was a surprisingly smooth affair. Neal ate quietly, but not sullenly, his focus shifting between the food on his plate and Elizabeth. She kept the conversation light, drawing Neal in with questions about his favorite foods and what he liked to draw.

Peter noticed how Neal seemed to light up every time Elizabeth spoke to him, as though he wasn’t used to someone paying him that kind of attention.

At one point, Neal hesitated with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked at Elizabeth. “This is really good,” he said, his voice earnest.

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes softening. “I’m so glad you like it. You can have as much as you want.”

Neal smiled back, a small but genuine expression, before returning to his plate.

After dinner, Neal followed Elizabeth around the kitchen as she tidied up, offering to help dry the dishes. Peter, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, watched the exchange with a growing flame of warmth in his chest.

“You don’t have to do this, Neal,” Elizabeth said as he handed her a plate.

“I don’t mind,” Neal replied quickly. His gaze flickered down to the towel in his hands. “I like helping.”

Elizabeth gave him a kind smile and ruffled his hair lightly. “Well, you’re doing a great job.”

Neal blinked at the touch, startled for a moment, but then his lips curved into another small smile.

Later, as Peter showed Neal to the guest room, he noticed how the boy lingered in the doorway, his notebook still tucked under his arm. The bed was neatly made, and on the dresser sat a new pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a small stuffed bear Elizabeth had found in storage from her own youth.

“This okay?” Peter asked.

Neal nodded, his gaze darting around the room. “It’s nice,” he said softly, though he stayed by the door.

Peter crouched slightly to meet his eyes. “You can relax here. You’ve got a safe place to sleep tonight, okay?”

Neal nodded again but didn’t move.

“Do you... want to say goodnight to Elizabeth before bed?” Peter asked, an idea striking him.

Neals eyes lit up. “Can I?”

Peter chuckled. “Of course. Let’s go.”

In the living room, Elizabeth was straightening up the couch cushions when Neal approached her, his notebook clutched tightly to his chest.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, but he lingered just long enough that Elizabeth picked up on the hesitation.

She brushed a soft hand over his hair. “Goodnight, Neal. Sleep well, okay?”

Neal hesitated for a second before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around her in a quick but fierce hug.

Elizabeth blinked in surprise before returning the hug just as warmly. “You’re going to be just fine,” she murmured softly.

When Neal finally let go, he gave her a shy smile before retreating back to the guest room with Peter.

As Peter rejoined Elizabeth in the living room, she looked up at him, her expression unreadable.

“He’s a cute kid,” she said finally.

“Yeah,” Peter said, sitting down beside her. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I just wish he didn’t have to go through this.”

Elizabeth reached over, placing her hand on his. “He’s lucky to have you, even if it’s just for one night.”

Peter didn’t respond, but as he glanced back down the hall, he couldn’t help but wonder if one night would be enough.

The evening was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only came after a day filled with unexpected surprises.

Peter and Elizabeth sat side by side on the couch, the soft glow of the TV lighting up the room as they relaxed, content with the comfort of each others company. Elizabeth leaned her head on Peters shoulder, a sigh escaping her lips.

“This was a good idea,” she said, her voice low and warm.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her hand. “He’s a smart kid. It’s kind of hard to believe; seven years old and already knows the ins and outs of building safety like it’s second nature.” He gave a soft chuckle. “But he’s got potential. If we can get him on the right path...”

Elizabeth nodded, but her gaze was distant, clearly lost in thought. “I wonder what he’s been through. You can see the walls he’s already built.”

Peters expression softened as he looked toward the hallway. “I know. It’s hard to imagine what a kid like him has seen at that age.”

Just then, the sharp sound of a muffled cry shattered the quiet, sending a chill down Peters spine. Elizabeth immediately sat up, her eyes wide with concern.

“That’s Neal,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

Without thinking, Peter was already standing, heading for the hallway. Elizabeth followed closely behind. They reached the door to the guest room just as another terrified wail came from inside.

Peter knocked gently before pushing the door open. Neal was sitting up in bed, eyes wide with fear, his small hands clutching the blanket tightly. His breath was shallow, his body trembling as if he was still trapped in whatever nightmare had gripped him.

“Neal?” Peter’s voice was calm but firm as he entered the room, Elizabeth close behind him. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re at our house.”

Neals eyes darted between Peter and Elizabeth, his face pale and stricken with panic. He didn’t seem to hear them at first, his mind still lost in the dream.

“No, no- please-” he whimpered, his voice cracking as if he was pleading for someone to stop. “Don’t- please don’t hurt her-”

Peters heart clenched at the raw fear in Neals voice. He didn’t understand the full context, but it was clear the nightmare had been about his parents. Neals grip tightened on the blanket, and he looked as though he was trying to shrink into the bed itself.

Elizabeth immediately went to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. “Neal,” she said softly, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “Sweetheart, we’re right here. You’re safe. You don’t need to be afraid.”

But Neal shook his head frantically, tears beginning to slip down his cheeks. “They’re gone,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “They left, they don’t- they don’t care about me,”

Their hearts shattered at the words, the pain in Neals voice cutting deeper than anything they’d felt all day. Peter crouched down beside the bed, trying to make himself as small as possible to not overwhelm Neal - all his training finally coming in handy.

“They didn’t leave you, Neal,” Peter said softly. “They’re not here, but you’re with us now. You’re safe.”

Neal curled in on himself a little more, hugging his knees to his chest, still shaking. He sniffled, and Peter could see the struggle in his eyes - he wanted to be comforted, but he was scared to let them in.

Elizabeth leaned in closer, her voice a soft murmur, but firm in its reassurance. “It’s okay to be scared. You don’t have to be alone in this. We’re here, Neal. Both of us."

Neals eyes flickered from Elizabeth to Peter, his gaze full of hesitant hope, but it was quickly replaced by doubt. His lips trembled, and he whispered, “I don’t want to sleep, what if it happens again?”

Peters hand gently rested on Neals covered knee, an attempt to ground him. “I understand,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “But you don’t have to be afraid. You can sleep here with us, if you want.”

Neal hesitated, his eyes darting between the two adults, unsure whether to take the offer or retreat back into the safety of his thoughts. The silence stretched between them, thick with Neals uncertainty, before he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

Without a second thought, Elizabeth nodded, brushing a hand over Neals messy hair. “Of course we will, honey. You’re not alone.”

Peter shifted so he was sitting next to Neal, his back against the bed frame, and motioned for Elizabeth to sit on the other side of him. Neal hesitated for a moment longer before he scooted closer to Peter, his small body seeking out the warmth and safety of his presence. Peter smiled softly and carefully wrapped his arm around the kids shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I’m right here,” Peter murmured, feeling Neal stiffen slightly at the contact before relaxing into his side. “We’re not going anywhere. You’re safe now.”

Neals breathing slowly began to steady, though his eyes remained wide open, alert but slowly losing the panic that had gripped him. Elizabeth sat beside them, her fingers tangling in Neals messy hair, as she continued to speak in soothing tones.

“You’re doing great, Neal. Just relax. We’re here.”

Minutes ticked by, and Peter could feel Neals tiny body slowly begin to slacken in his arms, the tight tension easing as the nightmares hold began to slip away. His breathing became slower, steadier, until it finally evened out into a soft rise and fall.

Peter looked at Elizabeth, her face soft with affection as she watched Neal, who had finally drifted off, his small form curling against Peter for warmth.

“Poor kid,” Peter whispered, his voice filled with both sorrow and determination. “He deserves so much better than this.”

Elizabeth gave a quiet nod, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He’s not going through this alone anymore. We’re here, Peter.”

Peter squeezed Neals shoulder gently, offering a soft, reassuring smile as he settled back against the wall. “Yeah. We’re here.”

As the soft glow of the hallway light filtered through the room, the house was quiet again, save for the steady rhythm of Neals breathing.

With a creak in his neck, Peter let himself fall asleep to the quiet snores of the boy in his arms.

Chapter Text

The sun streamed in through the curtains of the guest room, casting warm lines of light across the floor. Peter stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

For a kid who’d had a rough day and an even rougher night, Neal slept like a rock. He was sprawled on the bed, tangled in the blanket Elizabeth had tucked around him, one arm flung dramatically over his head as if he were posing in his dreams.

“Peter,” Elizabeth whispered from behind him, nudging his side with a mug of coffee. “He’s going to be late for work if you don’t wake him up.”

Peter shot her a look over his shoulder, taking the coffee gratefully. “You’re funny,” he muttered, sipping the hot liquid. “You know he’s not actually working, right?”

Elizabeth smirked. “Tell that to you and your boss. You’re the ones dragging him into the office.”

Peter grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t argue. Instead, he set his coffee down on the dresser and crouched beside the bed, resting a hand gently on Neals shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. Rise and shine.”

Neal stirred but didn’t open his eyes, letting out a soft groan as he burrowed further under the covers.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. “He’s definitely your problem.”

“Thanks for that, hon,” Peter shot back with good humor. He shook Neals shoulder again, a bit more insistently this time. “C’mon, Neal. We’ve got places to be. I don’t want to leave you home alone, and you’re not skipping breakfast.”

Neal blinked up at him, squinting against the sunlight. His hair stuck up in every direction, making him look impossibly small and a little lost. “Where are we going?” he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

“To my office,” Peter replied, standing up. “Elizabeth’s got work, and I can’t leave you here alone.”

Neal frowned slightly but didn’t argue. He pushed the blanket off and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I don’t have to talk to anyone there, right?”

“Nope,” Peter assured him. “You can just hang out and behave. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Elizabeth stepped forward, smoothing down Neals messy hair with a fond smile. “First things first, let’s get you ready, okay? I bought some clothes for you yesterday. They’re in the bag over there.”

Neal turned his head and spotted the shopping bag Elizabeth had left on the dresser. He slid off the bed, his bare feet padding against the wooden floor, and rifled through it. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt, holding them up uncertainly.

“They’re perfect,” Elizabeth said. “And there’s a sweatshirt too, in case you get cold.”

Neal looked at her for a beat, his expression unreadable, before nodding. “Thank you,” he said softly, almost like he wasn’t used to saying it.

Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now get dressed while I make breakfast.”

The kitchen was full of the smell of fresh pancakes and syrup. Neal sat at the table, a fork clutched tightly in his hand as he tore through his breakfast like it might disappear at any second. Peter watched him with an amused expression while Elizabeth topped up her coffee.

“Slow down, kid,” Peter said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not a race.”

Neal froze mid-bite, cheeks puffed out slightly, like a chipmunk caught hoarding food. He swallowed quickly and shrugged, poking at the pancakes with his fork. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Elizabeth intervened with her usual gentle touch. “It’s okay, Neal. Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”

Peter shot her a look over his mug, silently grateful she always knew what to say. Neal seemed to relax at her words, slowing down enough to actually enjoy the food.

Once breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleared, Peter grabbed his keys from the counter. “Alright, let’s go. Neal, get your shoes on.”

Neal didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled on his old sneakers - slightly too big and scuffed - and followed Peter out to the car, Elizabeth waving them off from the door.

“Be good, you two!” she called.

---------------

The bullpen was already buzzing with energy when Peter walked in, Neal trailing close behind him. Agents bustled back and forth, phones rang, and the hum of conversation filled the air.

Neals eyes darted around, taking everything in again - the people, the desks, the giant screens mounted on the far wall.

Peter kept a hand on Neals shoulder, steering him through the chaos. “Alright, this is my desk,” he said once they reached his office. “Sit here, don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to, and stay out of trouble.”

Neal nodded solemnly, though Peter didn’t miss the curious glint in his eye. “Got it.”

“Good.” Peter shot him a warning look before adding, “And I mean it, Neal.”

“I know, I know,” Neal muttered under his breath.

--------------

It didn’t take long for Neal to find an opportunity to wander.

Peter had been called into a quick meeting in the conference room, leaving Neal at his desk with a stack of random papers and pens to keep him busy. But boredom got the better of him.

The door to the conference room was cracked open just enough for Neal to hear snippets of the conversation: something about forged Renaissance art pieces, smuggling routes, and international buyers. His ears perked up. Art.

Curiosity took over, and before Neal could stop himself, he crept closer. He slid into the chair nearest the door, just out of sight, and listened intently.

Inside, Peter was mid-sentence when another agent spotted something - or rather, someone - moving near the door.

“Uh, Peter?” Hughes said, interrupting. “Why is the kid eavesdropping on our meeting?”

Peter blinked, turning to see Neal sitting casually in the chair like he belonged there. “Oh, for the love of—Neal!”

Neal looked up, completely unbothered. “What?” he asked innocently.

Peter opened the door, beckoning Neal over with a stern look. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know,” Neal admitted, standing up. “But I heard you talking about art.”

The room went quiet. Hughes crossed his arms, amused but clearly curious. “What do you know about art, kid?”

Neals expression brightened. “A lot. Especially Renaissance paintings. That’s what you’re talking about, right? Smuggled pieces?”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Neal-”

But Hughes raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Neal stepped forward confidently and peered at the images sitting on the large table, rattling off facts with the ease of someone triple his age with a degree.

He talked about specific painters, how forgeries could be spotted by differences in brush strokes, and even mentioned the routes certain stolen pieces might take when being smuggled.

The room stared at him in stunned silence.

When he finished, Hughes turned to Peter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, Burke. Looks like your kid’s a prodigy.”

Peter groaned, glaring at Neal, who beamed back innocently. “I told you I know things.”

Hughes, on the other hand, looked equal parts impressed and curious. “Alright, kid, that’s a lot of information. Where’d you learn all that?”

Neals face was switched to being perfectly neutral as he shrugged. “Books.”

“Books?” Hughes pressed, skeptical but entertained. “You’re, what, seven?”

“Seven and a half,” Neal corrected, puffing up a little. “And books are fun.”

Peter gave Hughes a warning look, silently begging him not to push too hard, but Hughes wasn’t one to leave stones unturned. “Fun enough to know about art forgery?”

Neal faltered just slightly, his confidence wavering for the first time. “Some people... talk about that stuff too. It’s not hard to figure out.”

The room tensed at his words. Peter stiffened, his gut instinct kicking in - the kid knew too much. The way Neals eyes darted down and his voice quieted told Peter everything he needed to know: this wasn’t just books and morbid curiosity.

“Neal,” Peter said softly, crouching to meet the boys eye. “Did someone teach you about art like this? About forgeries and... smuggling?”

Neals mouth opened and closed as he tried to come up with an answer, but nothing came out. Finally, he just looked down at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. “I just... know things.”

Peter exchanged a glance with his team, who nodded slightly, understanding the weight of what they’d just uncovered. This wasn’t some random kid who stumbled across art history books at the library - Neal had been around people who talked about cons.

Hughes straightened. “Peter, a word?”

Peter stood up, ushering Neal back toward his office. “Sit at my desk. Don’t move, don’t eavesdrop again, and-” He held up a finger when Neal opened his mouth. “-no trouble. Got it?”

Neal sighed dramatically but nodded, shuffling off toward Peters desk with exaggerated disappointment.

Peter shut the conference room door, turning back to Hughes, who was already frowning. “The kid’s good, Peter. Too good. He’s been around this stuff before.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly. “It’s gotta be the parents. They’re not just running frauds - they’re teaching him. You heard him. Brush strokes, smuggling routes? A kid doesn’t just know that.”

Hughes sighed, pulling at his tie as he leaned against the table. “What’s the word on his placement?”

“Nothing good.” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets, frustrated. “Jones and Diana have been calling around since yesterday. Foster homes are full or won’t take emergency placements, no parents are up for it, and there's no registered next of kin. And now... now we’ve got this.”

Hughes nodded grimly. “So what’s the plan?”

Peter hesitated before answering, already anticipating the argument he was about to have with himself. “Elizabeth and I can take him for a few days. Just until Child Services finds a spot.”

Hughes raised an eyebrow, clearly biting back a smile. “Your wife agreed to this?”

“She did,” Peter replied, a touch defensive. “It’s just a week, maybe less.”

Hughes smirked. “Uh-huh. Well, you’d better get used to having little Neal around. He’s a handful.”

“Tell me about it,” Peter muttered.

Neal sat at Peters desk, small legs swinging under the chair as he studied the papers scattered across the surface. He wasn’t touching anything - yet - but his eyes roamed over everything like he was cataloging it for later.

“What are you looking at?” a voice asked.

Neal looked up to see a younger agent, Jones, watching him curiously from the doorway.

“Daydreaming,” Neal replied quickly, sitting back in the chair and pretending to look innocent.

Jones smirked. “You’re a terrible liar, kid.”

“I’m not lying,” Neal said defensively, though he couldn’t quite hide the mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

Jones leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You were listening to the meeting, weren’t you?”

Neal hesitated. “Maybe.”

Jones chuckled. “Figures. You seem like the type who doesn’t miss much.”

Neals grin widened at the compliment. “I don’t. You shouldn’t have left that file open on your desk.”

Jones blinked, glancing at the file Neal had nodded toward. “What file-” He froze, realizing Neal was absolutely right. He’d left a case summary half-visible on his own desk, and Neals sticky fingers had snatched it at some point.

He snatched it up, narrowing his eyes playfully at the kid. “You’re trouble.”

“I know,” Neal said smugly.

By the time Peter emerged, Neal was sitting cross-legged on his chair, looking at Peters computer like it might spring to life at any moment.

Jones gave Peter an amused nod as he passed by.

“Your kid’s got good instincts, Burke,” he called over his shoulder.

“He’s not my kid,” Peter replied reflexively before looking pointedly at Neal. “And what did I tell you about trouble?”

Neal beamed up at him. “I didn’t touch anything.”

Peter sighed, already exhausted. “C’mon, Neal. Let’s get out of here.”

Neal perked up. “Where are we going?”

Peter stopped short. “We’re going to my home, El's finished with work. You’ll be staying with Elizabeth and me for the week.”

Neal’s face lit up in genuine surprise. “Really? With you and Elizabeth?”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Peter muttered, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just temporary, alright? Until they find you a proper place.”

Neal didn’t seem to care about the word “temporary.” He hopped out of the chair, grabbing his slightly oversized jacket and falling into step beside Peter. “Does Elizabeth make pancakes every morning?”

Peter gave him a side-eye as they walked toward the elevator. “No. Don’t push your luck.”

Neal grinned. “I’m just asking.”

As they rode down together, Peter looked at the small boy behind him - the one who knew too much about cons, art, and things no seven-year-old should know.

The kid was trouble, alright. But there was something about him, something that made Peter think he was worth the effort.

Elizabeth opened the door with a warm smile, glancing between Peter and the small boy twisting a pen in his fingers.

Peter ruffled Neal's hair lightly. “He’s all yours for the afternoon. I’ve got a full slate of meetings and still no word on a home - I'll explain later. Hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth said, straightening to give her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. “Neal and I are going to have a great time, aren’t we?”

Neal gave a tentative nod, his wide eyes studying her.

Peter crouched down to Neals level, his tone softening. “I’ll be back tonight, alright? You behave for Elizabeth. No sneaking around, no lying, no messing about.”

Neal cracked a small smile at that. “I’ll try.”

Peter smirked and rose, giving Elizabeth a quick wink before heading out the door. “Good luck,” he called over his shoulder.

As soon as the door shut, Elizabeth turned her full attention to Neal. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think we could both use a snack.”

Neal perked up slightly at the suggestion, his stomach grumbling in agreement. “What kind of snack?”

“Let’s see what we can whip up,” Elizabeth said, leading him into the kitchen.

Elizabeth handed Neal a step stool so he could see the counter better, then pulled out a few items from the fridge. “How do you feel about grilled cheese?”

Neal nodded eagerly. “I like cheese.”

“Good, because that’s the main ingredient,” she teased, setting the bread and cheese on the counter. “Now, the secret to a perfect grilled cheese is the butter. You have to spread it just right - no skimping.”

Neal watched closely as she demonstrated, his little hands mimicking hers when she handed him a slice of bread and a butter knife. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” she said with a warm smile. “You’re a natural.”

He beamed at her praise, unguarded joy crossing his face. They worked together to assemble the sandwiches, Neal growing more confident with each step.

As the sandwiches sizzled on the stovetop, Elizabeth leaned against the counter and glanced at Neal. “So, Peter says you know a lot about art.”

Neal nodded, his expression turning a bit shy. “A little.”

“I’d say more than a little,” Elizabeth replied. “What’s your favorite piece?”

Neal tilted his head, thinking. “I like the ones with lots of colors. Like... um, Kandinsky. His paintings look like music.”

Elizabeth blinked, impressed. “Kandinsky? That’s a pretty sophisticated answer for a seven-year-old.”

Neal shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “I just like them.”

“Well, maybe we’ll take you to a museum so you can see them in person,” she said, flipping the sandwiches onto plates and sliding one in front of him.

Neal looked up at her with wide eyes. “Really? I've never been to one before.”

“Really,” she said, handing him a napkin. “But first, let’s see how good of a chef you are.”

As they ate, Neal gradually began to relax, answering Elizabeth’s questions with growing enthusiasm. He told her about his favorite books, his knack for solving puzzles, and how he liked to draw but didn’t always have the right supplies.

“What kind of things do you draw?” Elizabeth asked, her interest piqued.

“Anything,” Neal said, his eyes lighting up. “Buildings, people, sometimes I make up my own.”

“Do you have a sketchbook?”

He hesitated, looking down at his plate. “Not really.”

Elizabeth's heart ached at the quiet admission. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Neal looked up at her, a spark of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” she repeated firmly. “Every artist needs the right tools.”

After lunch, Elizabeth set Neal up with some paper and pencils she found in a drawer. He immediately lost himself in a sketch, his tongue poking out in concentration as he worked.

Elizabeth watched from the couch, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. Neal was a complicated, clever little boy with a world of potential, and she was determined to make him feel safe and valued for however long he stayed with them.

When Peter finally came home that evening, Neal was sprawled on the living room rug, proudly showing Elizabeth his drawing of a fantastical cityscape.

“How’d it go?” Peter asked, loosening his tie as he stepped inside.

Elizabeth glanced up with a soft smile. “We’re having a great time, aren’t we, Neal?”

Neal looked up at Peter, his face breaking into a shy smile. “She’s nice.”

Peter chuckled, glancing between the two. “Yeah, I like her.”

Elizabeth squeezed Neal affectionately. “And so are you, kiddo.”

Neal’s cheeks flushed pink, but he didn’t pull away, instead leaning into her touch with a small, contented smile.

"Why don't you keep drawing while I talk to El," Peter motioned for his wife to follow him into the kitchen.

"So, about Neals placement," he began. "There's still no places available, we've had agents calling all day and nothing. I offered that we would keep him here until we get something."

Elizabeth inhaled, more with surprise than anger. "So, he's staying?"

"Until we can either get in contact with family or find a home."

"Okay," Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "We can handle that. It's kind of nice to have a little one around the house. I'll have to take him shopping for some toys and clothes."

Peter glanced at the living room where Neal was sitting at the coffee table, pencil scribbling as he watched the TV, knees folded underneath himself and hair askew.

They could manage that, right?

Chapter Text

The FBI office was a flurry of activity, the kind of buzz that came when a long and arduous case was finally reaching its conclusion. Peter Burke stood in the conference room, surrounded by corkboards plastered with photographs, aliases, bank statements, and timelines. At the center of it all were Katherine and James Bennett, their faces glaring back at him from decades-old mugshots.

“Years of cons, fraud, and theft,” Peter muttered under his breath, tapping the mugshots with the end of his pen. “And somehow, they stayed just out of reach.”

“Not anymore,” Diana said, sliding a fresh batch of evidence onto the table. “This just came in from Miami. Katherine used the alias ‘Margot Sinclair’ to sell counterfeit checks through a fake charity. That ties directly to the offshore accounts we flagged.”

“And James?” Peter asked, barely glancing up as he thumbed through the new evidence.

Jones entered the room, holding another file. “We’ve got more evidence on him, too. The deed fraud trail leads straight to him. He’s been laundering the profits through dummy corporations under yet another alias - William Drake. We’ve got signed documents, email records, and even testimony from one of his former partners who flipped.”

Peter leaned on the table, scanning the files in front of him. This wasn’t just a case, it was a sprawling web of deceit that had taken years to untangle. And at the center of that web was Neal.

“Good work,” Peter said, his voice steady but tense. “Let’s wrap this up. I want the U.S. Attorney's office to have everything they need by the end of the day.”

Diana hesitated for a moment. “You’ve warned the kid, right?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not yet. He knows his parents aren’t exactly saints, but this... this is different. Knowing your parents are guilty and hearing they’re going to prison for the rest of their lives? That’s a different kind of pain.”

Diana nodded, her expression softening. “He’s tough, Peter. Smarter than most adults I’ve met. But he’s still just a kid.”

Peter didn’t respond. He just stared at the evidence on the table, a pit forming in his stomach.

--------------------

Everyone was on edge.

Katherine walked with an air of defiance, her heels clicking against the floor as if she were entering a gala instead of an interrogation room.

James, on the other hand, looked weary, his shoulders slouched under the weight of years spent evading justice.

“Peter Burke, we meet again,” Katherine said with a smirk as she was seated in the interrogation room. “The one who finally caught us. Congratulations. I’m sure this is a career highlight for you.”

Peter didn’t rise to the bait. He sat across from her, his hands folded calmly on the table. “Your son is under my care,” he said simply. “So this is personal.”

Katherines smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. “Neal’s always been a resourceful young man. He’ll be fine without us.”

“He's a resourceful child because you made him that way,” Peter snapped, his calm exterior cracking. “You taught him to lie, to steal, to con his way through life. And now you’re leaving him to clean up the mess you made.”

Katherines eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond.

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, Diana and Jones were interrogating James. Unlike his wife, he seemed resigned.

“We have enough to bury you,” Diana said, sliding a thick folder across the table. “Fraud, money laundering, conspiracy. The list goes on. You’ll be lucky to see the outside of a cell again.”

James sighed, leaning back in his chair. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I regret it all?”

“How about starting with your son?” Diana pressed. “Neal deserves better than this.”

James' gaze hardened. “Neal’s a survivor. He’ll assess his situation and adapt.”

--------------

When Peter got home that evening, the weight of the day followed him through the door. Neal was on his spot of the couch that he had claimed days ago, sketchbook in hand, his pencil moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Satchmo was splayed across the couch, one paw kept on Neal to keep him safe. Elizabeth stood in the kitchen, her expression calm as she prepared tea.

Peter set his briefcase down and sat in the armchair across from Neal. “We need to talk.”

Neal didn’t look up. “It’s done, isn’t it?”

Peter hesitated. “It is. Your parents have been charged. They’re facing fifteen years in prison.”

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. Neals pencil froze. He closed the sketchbook and set it aside, his movements slow and deliberate. “Knew it was coming,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

Elizabeth came into the room, sitting beside him. “Neal, it’s okay to feel something about this. You don’t have to bottle it up.”

Neal shook his head, a bitter scoff leaving his lips. “Feel what? Relief? Anger? They’re criminals, always have been. I've known it my whole life. This doesn’t surprise me.”

“But it hurts,” Peter said gently.

Neals jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the floor. His foot kicked at the coffee table. He spoke quietly, a twinge of anger in his small voice, “They’re my parents. I know they're bad people, but... they’re still my parents.”

Elizabeth reached for his hand, but Neal pulled away, standing abruptly. He began pacing the room, his hands bunching in the fabric of his trousers.

“I’m not upset because they’re guilty,” he said, his voice rising, reaching a volume Peter didn't know could come from someone so small. “I’m upset because- because now it’s final. They’re gone. They were never really there, but now there’s no chance. No chance to fix it, no chance to ask why they did it, why they made me like this.”

Peter stood, his heart breaking at the sight of Neals breakdown. “Kid, you’re not like them,” he said firmly. “You’re better than that.”

Neal stopped pacing, turning to face Peter. “Am I? Everything I know was learned from them. Lying, stealing, surviving. That’s who I am, that's who I've been for seven years.”

Elizabeth stepped forward, her voice soft but steady. “That’s who they taught you to be. Our parents shape us with their beliefs and ideas, but you get to decide who you are as you grow. For you, that's now.”

Neal looked at her, his face crumbling. “I don't know how to do that.”

Peter crossed the room, scooping Neal up to sit on his lap. “Then we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this, you got me and Elizabeth.”

For a moment, Neal sat there, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Then, slowly, he nodded, his shoulders relaxing under Peters hold.

Elizabeth sat next to them, swiping Neals cheek with a gentle thumb. This time, he didn’t pull away.

In that moment, the Burkes felt a small but significant shift. Neal was still hurting, still wrestling with his past, but he was starting to let them in.

"So- so does that mean I'm staying? I'm not going to a home?" Neal whispered, voice unsteady as if preparing for a hit.

Peter and Elizabeth shared a look, a silent conversation that they'd been hinting at for days coming to a decision.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do. I don't know if they'll let me for sure, but I promise I'll fight to keep you here, with us." Peter muttered into his hair.

They'd only known each other for just over a week, but they loved like they knew Neal since birth.

The boy sniffled and dug his head into the crook of Peters neck and whispered, "Thank you."

Chapter Text

"Come on, out you go, out you go," Peter ushered Neal out the door, their jackets draped over his arm.

Neal was stuck in the office yet again since Elizabeth had work that he couldn't tag along to. As much as Neal liked to draw, it got a bit dull after doing it for five hours, so he was left riled up at the end of the day.

At his wits end, Peter decided a trip to the local park would suffice and allow Neal to run the energy out in time for dinner.

Neal admired the city with awe that only a child could muster, being half dragged as Peter made sure he didn't accidentally bump into pedestrians with his head tilted to look at the skyscrapers.

"You've lived here all your life, what's got you so excited about the city?" Peter asked as he stopped Neal from crossing a red light at a crosswalk.

"Mom and dad never let me. Every time we left the house - which wasn't that much outside of their work - I had to be alert and stuff." Neal knelt down to pick up a cool rock before being pushed along the zebra crossing.

Even though he knew Neal's past and what he had learned, it still struck Peter every time the kid let it out like it was the most casual thing in the world.

When they reached the bustling park, Neal had nearly walked into two lamp posts, knocked into four people, and had asked what twelve buildings were.

Peter couldn't be more excited to sit on a bench and zone out while Neal ran wild.

"I'll be over here, go play or run or something. We'll go back at sun down." Peter shooed him away.

Neal darted through the park, his trainers kicking up little puffs of dirt as he moved with precision.

He’d already scoped out the best toys - brightly colored balls, a frisbee that soared enticingly through the air, and even a kite abandoned momentarily on the grass. His method was flawless: grab the item, enjoy a quick test run, and then stealthily return it before anyone noticed.

Or so he thought.

From a nearby bench, Mozzie watched, intrigued. At fourteen, he prided himself on his observational skills, and the boys antics were fascinating.

This wasn’t the reckless grab-and-go of a common thief. No, there was a method to the kids madness. Mozzie adjusted his glasses and flipped his book shut, deciding this warranted further investigation.

Just as Neal tossed a borrowed soccer ball back onto the patch of grass he had found it, his luck ran out.

“Hey! That’s ours!”

Three older kids, maybe eleven or twelve, came storming over. Neal froze, his eyes wide as he clutched the ball.

“I saw someone else take it!” Neal tried, flashing a disarming smile. “I was giving it back.”

“Sure you were,” the tallest one said, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you just leave everyones stuff alone?”

Neals charm wasn’t working, and he could feel his heart sinking. It was easier to charm adults than it was other kids.

Just as he was about to drop the ball and bolt, a new voice cut through the tension.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Mozzie said, stepping forward with all the confidence of someone twice his size. He adjusted his glasses, his tone dripping with authority. “You’re clearly unaware of the vital work this young man is conducting.”

The boys hesitated, their attention shifting to the newcomer. “What are you talking about?” the tall one asked.

Mozzie leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough to make them strain to hear. “He’s testing toys for the government. Quality control, safety inspections, that sort of thing. Do you really want to be the ones who interfere with a federal operation?”

The boys blinked, glancing at each other. “That’s not real,” one of them said, but his voice wavered.

“Isn’t it?” Mozzie countered, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to find out what happens when you obstruct a government program?”

That was enough for the boys. Muttering among themselves, they backed off, leaving Neal and Mozzie alone.

Neal stared at Mozzie, equal parts amazed and grateful. “That was so cool!” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “How did you do that?”

Mozzie smirked, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. “It’s all about confidence, kid. And knowing how to read your audience.”

Neals eyes sparkled. “You’re like a magician but with words!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment," Mozzie chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Neal,"

Mozzie stuck his hand out, "Mozzie, where are your parents?"

"In jail."

They both stared at each other for a long moment, Mozzie actually not sure of what to say.

"My guardian's over there, though," Neal pointed at Peter, who was staring up at the sky and trying to block out the sound of a crying child next to him.

Mozzies face dropped. "Your guardian's a fed?"

"A fed?" Neal frowned up at him, "Oh, an agent? Yeah, he is. I even got to work with him a little."

He had to end this, he couldn't be seen with a feds kid. Neal picked up on his sudden unease.

"What? Are you one of those people who think they're bad?"

Mozzie glanced between Neal and Peter, "Let's sit down, then I'll explain."

They ended up on the swings, Neal kicking his legs to go higher while Mozzie pushed idly at the ground with his shoes.

"Feds aren't exactly bad, but they can conspire - you know what that means?"

Neal scoffed "Yes I know what conspire means, I'm not three."

"Hey, by looking at you, you aren't far off," Mozzie defended.

"I'm seven and a half!"

"Okay, let's just talk about the feds," Mozzie gave up. "Feds are known to conspire against anyone who goes against them. Some of them are hired to spy on us and track our every move. We are never truly free because of them."

"You said some of them are like that, do you avoid all of them just because of the possibility of running into one of those ones?"

"Yeah, you can never be too safe."

"Well, I think that's dumb," Neal quickly put his feet down when he accidentally swung a little too high for comfort.

Mozzie turned towards him. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," Neal thought, "my parents thought that way and that landed them in jail. You look too suspicious if you avoid authority like the plague. Socialise with them all, and use your skills to filter out the good ones from the bad ones. Someone who avoids the cops looks guilty and you're more likely to get investigated. At least, that's my way of looking at with a bit of common sense."

"Well, it ain't that easy when you get into deep shit, kid," Mozzie sighed. "People skills only go so far, even the worst cops can hide their true intentions. You need a balance of observation, tuition, and limiting your risks. Trust no one is my ideology."

Neal laughed "Sounds like paranoia."

"A bit of paranoia never hurt anybody."

"That just isn't true-"

"Okay, I don't mean that literally-"

“You’re really good at the talking bit, I can only talk to adults,” Neal randomly cut in, previous topic completely forgotten about. “I wish I could be like that.”

Mozzie turned to him. “Like what?”

“Like... you know how to talk to people. How to fit in.” Neals voice dropped, his hands gripping the swing chains tightly. “I don’t know how to play with the other kids. Borrowing their toys is easier.”

Mozzie was about to speak when a booming voice cut through the air.

"Neal!"

Peter was gesturing for him to come, the sun beginning to set, disappearing over the many brick buildings and autumn trees.

"Coming!" Neal called, turning back to Mozzie. "I need to go."

"Alright, be careful, Neal." Mozzie got up to leave as well.

As Neal was walking, he turned to the teenager with a thought, "And by the way, Peter isn't one of the bad feds." He ran over to the man.

Mozzie stayed to observe momentarily, returning the smile and nod that the agent shot his way when he realised that Mozzie had been with Neal.

He knew that mans face - Peter Burke, FBI agent trained at Quantico and working as the leading agent of the White Collar division.

He also knew about Neal, his face having been plastered on the news ever since his parents were arrested and sentenced. Meeting him in person, however, really gave him some insight to the boys mind. He was just as interesting as he had imagined.

Mozzie doubted Neal knew, likely shielded by the Burkes, but reporters had speculated about neal following in his parents footsteps. People came forward - some real and some just looking for publicity - about having seen Neal participate and assist in the Bennetts cons.

Neal was spotted pick-pocketing, lying, distracting, and deceiving anyone who needed to be while his mom and dad did their dirty work.

They weren't wrong, statistics said that Neal would end up like them, but that didn't mean it was right to spread that image of a child over international news. Shockingly, Mozzie had felt a pang in his chest when he first heard of the rumours.

-----------------------

"This is fantastic, hon," Elizabeth complimented Peters cooking.

"Why thank you, I thought you deserved a treat with how busy you've been lately." He kissed her cheek as he set Neals plate.

Neals hand raised, "I helped cut the carrots!"

Elizabeth put on an exaggerated expression, "Oh, I can tell, only you could make such a simple vegetable taste so good."

He knew she was lying - that's what adults do when a kid chimes in - but he played along anyhow, acting very proud of himself. He was, but always turned it up a notch. That's what adults found cute, it gave him some extra trust points.

Half way through the meal, Neal just couldn't stop himself from asking Peter what had been bugging him since the park.

"Peter," He shoved a fork full of rice in his mouth. "Are you one of the bad agents?"

They both paused, and Neal realised he messed up. He probably shouldn't have brought it up.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth put her fork down.

Neal pushed his food around uncertainly. "Well, some agents are bad and mean, they arrest people who don't deserve it and have it out for people whose lives would be ruined from them."

Peter exchanged an SOS glance at Elizabeth, she shrugged, just as surprised as he was.

"Uhm," He began. "there are some people like that, and those cops aren't good, they don't deserve to be cops. But I'm not like them, I only go after people who are bad and have evidence of being so."

"Like my mom and dad?" Neal muttered.

"Yeah, like your mom and dad." Peter sighed.

"What prompted you to ask that, sweetheart?" Elizabeth asked, struggling to mask her concern.

Now came his training. "Just something I wondered about. Dad always told me to avoid anyone associated with the FBI and government."

"Well, I can promise you that none of us - not me, not Diana, not Jones, not Hughes - are one of those cops. We try and arrest the bad guys, even though we get it wrong sometimes. But we always make up for it."

"Does that make sense?" Elizabeth assured.

Neal nodded, his mood doing a complete one-eighty. "Yep!"

--------------

After dinner, with the dishes cleared and Neal curled up on the couch watching a documentary on the history of fossils, Peter and Elizabeth retreated to the kitchen.

Peter leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought. Elizabeth joined him, resting a hand lightly on his arm.

“He’s such a sweet kid,” Elizabeth began softly, glancing toward the living room where Neal was quietly absorbed in the TV screen. “It breaks my heart to think about what he’s been through.”

Peter exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah. I keep telling myself he’s here now, safe, but...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some of the things he says - like tonight, asking if I’m one of the bad agents - it just... it gets to me.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze distant. “He’s seven, Peter. Seven. And he’s already had to learn how to navigate adults like it’s a survival skill. That’s not normal. He shouldn’t have to worry about ‘bad agents’ or how to con his way out of a situation.”

Peters jaw tightened. “His parents didn’t give him a childhood. They used him. He talks about it so casually, like running cons was just part of life.”

“It probably was,” Elizabeth said sadly. “He doesn’t know anything else. And now, he’s trying to figure out where he fits in, how he’s supposed to act. It’s like he’s been trained to think everyone is either a mark or a threat.”

Peters fists clenched briefly before he let out a frustrated breath. “I know, and I hate it. I see him trying so hard to please us, to be ‘useful,’ and I just want to shake him and tell him he doesn’t have to. That it’s okay to just be a kid. You know he almost broke down because he wasn't allowed to clean up my own mess at work today? You should have heard his begging.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “He trusts you, though. Maybe not fully yet, but he’s trying. Did you see how he looked at you tonight? He wanted to believe what you were saying about good agents.”

“That’s the thing, El,” Peter said, his voice heavy. “What if I screw this up? What if I’m not enough to undo all the damage they did? He’s smart, he’s resilient, but he’s also so fragile in ways he doesn’t even realise.”

Elizabeth reached up, cupping Peters face and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You are enough, Peter. We are enough. We can’t erase his past, but we can give him a better future. A safe, loving home where he doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.”

Peter nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’re right. As always.”

She smiled, leaning into his side. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. He’s already come so far, Peter. And with us, he’ll keep moving forward. We’ll make sure of it.”

From the living room, Neals voice called out brightly, breaking the moment. “Hey, Peter! What kind of dinosaur do you think I’d be?”

Peter chuckled, the weight in his chest lifting slightly. “A raptor,” he called back, grinning at Elizabeth. “Fast, clever, and always causing trouble.”

Neals laugh rang out, filling the house with a warmth that reassured them both.

Chapter Text

After two weeks of being at the Burkes house, drawing and watching TV had become a bit dull for Neal. He enjoyed it, of course, but doing that and only that day after day was repetitive.

He didn't dare complain. Elizabeth and Peter were already going above and beyond by letting Neal stay with them indefinitely, he couldn't complain.

But, his boredom was getting harder to hide.

Neal started to hang around whoever he was with. When Elizabeth was home, he followed her around the house, sometimes not even saying anything, just watching. He would ask to help out with chores such as dishes or laundry, he always wanted to walk Satchmo around the block, and after going with an adult a few times, he was allowed to go alone.

He wasn't allowed to stray far, only walking the dog up and down the street and popping inside to let Elizabeth know he was okay. But, it was enough. Satchmo loved Neal for his work and started to cuddle him more and more. Neal loved the freedom he got from going outside. He could pick up rocks, study flowers, and even met a few small animals.

A particularly memorable walk was when Neal was running with Satchmo along the crosswalk, and a bigger dog appeared, leash dropped on the floor and obviously having escaped. Neal was on edge, aware of how dogs reacted and how Satchmo reacted when the neighbours cat explored the backyard.

His grip on the leash tightened, slowing down and trying to put himself between the dog and Satchmo. It hadn't exactly worked, Satchmo became reactive and tried to run while the other dog couldn't decide if it wanted to run or bark back. Unfortunately, Neal wasn't exactly a big kid - he was scrawny and below average for height and weight - so his presence didn't do much.

After some shouting and panicking, the dogs owner came running, flushed and rushing out apologies as he took control of the dog. He had repeated his apologies beyond what was necessary and introduced himself. His name was Alex and lived a few blocks down from them. Apparently, he was friendly with Peter and Elizabeth. That then lead to the awkward conversation of "How are you related to the Burkes?" to which Neal lied about being a nephew.

Neal had to explain what happened to Elizabeth and Peter incase Alex ever brought up this strange 'nephew' they apparently had. Luckily, they just laughed it off and made sure he was okay. Sadly, he wasn't allowed to walk Satchmo for the weekend.

When Neal was dragged to work with Peter, it was slightly more interesting. There were more opportunities to explore and discover something new.

His parents never let him explore anything related to the police unless it was to train despite his extreme interest in the force. He had always found the uniforms cool, the criminals interesting, and their methods unique. If he grew up normally, Neal believed he would have ended up at the BAU.

He'd still like to if the opportunity rose.

Though he enjoyed it, Neal was often shooed away. Jones was hard to understand, Neal didn't know if he liked him or not. They would talk, sometimes Jones explained things to him, but he was always a bit shifty. Maybe he wasn't good with kids.

Diana was very nice, Neal liked her a lot. She would joke with him and sometimes play pretend during breaks. When Neal tried to listen in on a meeting on a case, Diana was often the one to drag him away and hang out until it was over. She answered his questions and treated him with the perfect balance of child and adult.

Hughes was surprisingly nice as well. Neal didn't see much of him but on the off hand he did, Hughes would be kind. He treated Neal more like a toddler, but that was okay. One time, he snuck him a chocolate from his desk drawer.

Elizabeth had also started picking up on his lack of stimulation. She tried her best to sit down with him and play or draw or read, but between juggling work and not really having any toys, it was difficult.

So, she made a plan.

"Neal," she asked while they ate breakfast in the yard, Neal repeatedly having to be told not to feed Satchmo any of his eggs. "what do you think about going shopping today? We could get you some clothes, toys, maybe some new art supplies?"

He perked up, brows raising. "Really?"

"Of course, since you're staying here for a while I thought it would be ethical to get you some things."

After a moment of hesitation, Neal grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

Once the table had been cleared, the pair got ready for their adventure and hopped in the car. Elizabeth had picked up a carseat for Neal one day on her way home from work - Neal had insisted he wasn't four despite practically being the size of one.

The shopping center was lively, filled with the buzz of young families, couples, and teenagers milling about. Neal stuck close to Elizabeth, his eyes wide as he took in the bright displays and colorful store windows. It was the most he’d been out in weeks, and he found himself both overwhelmed and thrilled.

Their first stop was a clothing store. Neal wasn’t thrilled about this part of the trip - clothes shopping sounded boring - but Elizabeth made it fun. She handed him options, asking his opinion on colours and styles, and didn’t get upset when he turned up his nose at certain choices.

“I think red looks great on you,” she said, holding up a wine red sweater.

Neal glanced at it, then at her, and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

She grinned. “Alright, tough crowd. What about this one?” She held up a navy hoodie with a simple, understated logo on the chest.

His face lit up. “That one’s cool!”

Elizabeth added it to the growing pile of clothes. “Cool it is. Let’s grab a few pairs of jeans, and we’ll be good to go.”

Afterward, they headed to the toy section of a nearby department store. Neal was a little hesitant at first, but Elizabeth encouraged him to explore. His gaze wandered over the shelves filled with action figures, stuffed animals, puzzles, and board games.

“Pick whatever you like,” she said gently, watching him.

He hesitated. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Neals eyes landed on a small, intricate model kit of a ship. He picked up the box, turning it over in his hands. “This is neat.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Then we’ll get it.”

They moved on, Neal clutching the model kit like it was a treasure. As they passed the books section, his steps slowed. His eyes scanned the shelves, and he drifted toward a display of art and history books, his interest immediately piqued.

Elizabeth followed, watching as Neal carefully pulled a book about Renaissance art from the shelf. He flipped it open, his small fingers grazing the glossy pages as he studied the vivid images of paintings and sculptures.

“You like that?” she asked.

Neal nodded, his voice quieter now, more focused. “It’s beautiful. Did you know Michelangelo was only 24 when he started carving the Pietà?”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that. How do you?”

He glanced up, almost shy. “I read a lot before everything.”

Her heart ached at the unspoken parts of his sentence. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, let’s add it to the cart. Anything else catch your eye?”

He hesitated before reaching for another book, this one about ancient civilizations. Elizabeth didn’t miss the way his fingers lingered over the title before he hugged it close.

“Alright,” she said warmly, “these are great choices. Let’s get them.”

They browsed a bit longer, Elizabeth picking up some home necessities as well as finding a magnet set that you could build with for Neal, while he sat in the trolley seat with his book open, excitedly relaying facts every now and then.

It was only mildly shocking that Neal was capable of reading encyclopedias, but the kid had already shown multiple signs of being above average so it was almost expected that he could read well.

On their way to check out, they passed a display of kids toys with giant "SALE" signs. Elizabeth glanced over it, checking Neal for a reaction.

His eyes lit up when they caught sight of one particular furry friend. It was a realistic stuffed cheetah with a floppy head.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at his innocent reaction. "Do you like him?"

Neal shook his head, though it wasn't very convincing with how he continued to stare. "It's okay..."

"Neal, honey," Elizabeth started. "it's okay if you want it."

Neal glanced at her, his cheeks pink. “It’s just... it’s kind of for little kids, right?”

Elizabeth crouched to his eye level, her expression gentle but firm. “Neal, you are a kid. It’s okay to want things like this. It doesn’t make you childish; it makes you human. Everyone deserves a little comfort, especially you.”

His gaze flicked between the stuffed cheetah and Elizabeth. Slowly, he reached out and picked it up, holding it delicately like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“It’s soft,” he mumbled, his fingers running over the plush fur.

Elizabeth stood back up, her smile widening. “Then it’s yours.”

Neal still seemed hesitant, but when Elizabeth placed it in the cart with the rest of his treasures, he didn’t object. He kept glancing back at the cheetah as they continued through checkout, his fingers brushing its fur whenever he thought Elizabeth wasn’t looking.

By the time they got home, Neal was practically buzzing with excitement. He helped carry the bags inside, setting them on the kitchen counter. As Elizabeth unpacked, he immediately pulled out his model kit and spread the pieces across the dining table, eager to get started.

The cheetah sat by his side, watching over the project like a silent companion.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway, a cup of tea in hand, watching him work. He looked so focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he fit the pieces together.

“You’re really good at that,” she commented, stepping closer.

Neal glanced up, grinning. “It’s fun. It’s like solving a puzzle.”

She ruffled his hair lightly, earning a small, happy laugh.

By the time Peter came home from work, Neal had finished his build and was sketching the finished product.

"Would you look at that!" Peter exclaimed when he took site of the ship. "You made that?"

Neal beamed up at him, showering in the amount of praise he had received that day. "Yep! Elizabeth took me out today."

"Yes I did, we had lots of fun, didn't we?" Elizabeth smiled.

Neal nodded enthusiastically, his eyes darting to the cheetah sitting proudly on the table next to his model ship. Peter noticed it immediately, his brow lifting in curiosity as he set down his briefcase.

"And who’s this?” Peter asked, pointing to the plush animal.

Neal hesitated for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “Uh... that’s Spots,” he said quietly, his voice soft but clear.

“Spots, huh?” Peter crouched slightly to get a closer look, his tone playful. “Good name. Looks like he’s already part of the team.”

Neals cheeks flushed pink, but the corners of his lips curled upward. “Yeah... he’s keeping an eye on the ship. You know, like a guard cheetah.”

Peter chuckled, glancing at Elizabeth, who smiled knowingly. “A guard cheetah. I like it. Maybe I’ll have to get one for work.”

Neal giggled at the idea, his earlier hesitation melting away.

The rest of the evening passed in a warm blur. Neal sat with Peter on the couch after dinner, showing off the intricate details of the ship while Elizabeth cleaned up. Satchmo wandered in and out of the room, occasionally sniffing at Spots, who now had a place on the coffee table.

When it was time for bed, Neal hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. Elizabeth noticed his pause and crouched down to his level.

“What’s on your mind, hon?” she asked softly.

Neal glanced at Spots, who he had tucked under his arm. “Can he sleep with me?”

Elizabeth's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She gently brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “Of course he can, that’s what he’s for.”

Neal nodded, his grip on the cheetah tightening.

Peter, watching from the living room, called out, “Goodnight, cowboy. Sleep tight. And make sure Spots keeps watch for pirates!”

Neal laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I will! Goodnight!”

Elizabeth walked him upstairs, tucking him in and making sure Spots was nestled securely beside him. As she kissed his forehead, Neal whispered, “Thanks for today. It was the best.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. “You’re welcome, Neal. Sweet dreams.”

As she turned off the light and closed the door, she couldn’t help but pause in the hallway, a content smile on her face.

Downstairs, Peter looked up from the newspaper as she returned. “He settling in okay?”

Elizabeth nodded, her smile lingering. “Yeah. I think he’s starting to feel at home.”

Peter reached out, pulling her down beside him on the couch. “That’s all we could hope for.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the house around them. Upstairs, Neal slept soundly, Spots tucked under one arm and a small, content smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Peter straightened his tie, his palms slightly clammy despite the chill in the room. He wasn’t usually one to get nervous before meetings, but this wasn’t just any meeting. Sitting at a long conference table with three members of the child welfare board staring at him, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he was asking.

“Agent Burke,” one of the board members, a woman with grey hair and sharp eyes, began. “I have to admit, it’s unusual for someone in your line of work to apply for foster custody of a child involved in a case.”

“I understand that,” Peter said, his tone measured. “But Neal’s situation is unique. He’s a good kid who’s been through more than anyone his age should ever have to. My wife and I believe we can give him the stability he needs right now.”

The man to her left, a younger, bespectacled man who had been silent until now, adjusted his glasses. “Stability is important, yes, but fostering a child isn’t something to take lightly. Your work as an FBI agent must demand a lot of your time and energy. How do you plan to balance that with caring for Neal?”

Peter sat up straighter. “Elizabeth and I have discussed this extensively. She runs her own business mostly from home and has a flexible schedule, and we’ve already made adjustments to ensure Neals needs come first. My team at the Bureau is also incredibly supportive. This isn’t something we’re taking on lightly.”

The third member, a woman with kind eyes and a soft voice, leaned forward. “Neals file indicates he is at risk of behavioral issues. Are you prepared to handle that if it happens?”

Peter nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “I won’t lie and say it won’t be a challenge. But Neals struggles comes from a lack of trust and a fear of abandonment. If we can show him he’s safe and that we’re not going to give up on him, I believe we can help him. He needs someone to be consistent for him, and that’s what we intend to be.”

The room was silent for a moment as the board members exchanged glances. Peter’s heart thudded in his chest, but he kept his expression steady. Finally, the first woman spoke again.

---------------

Neal perched on the edge of the couch, his legs dangling as he stared at the television. The cartoon on the screen went unnoticed; his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts he couldn’t quite put into words.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of staying here, in this house that somehow managed to feel warm even when it was snowing outside. It was more time than he’d spent in most places, at least recently. That alone made him nervous.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway broke his thoughts. Neal sat up a little straighter, craning his neck toward the window.

Moments later, the front door opened, and Peter stepped inside, brushing snow off his coat. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and he carried a folder tucked under his arm. Neals eyes flicked to it, curiosity and wariness mixing in his chest.

Peter caught his gaze and smiled. “Hey, cowboy,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual. He didn’t sit down or take his shoes off, which Neal noticed immediately. Instead, Peter glanced toward the kitchen. “El, can we talk for a second?”

Elizabeth turned from where she was stirring something on the stove, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Sure! Dinner’s almost ready, by the way.” She gave Neal a quick smile before following Peter into the kitchen.

He shifted on the couch, his curiosity growing. He wasn’t trying to listen, but their voices weren’t exactly quiet.

“They approved it?” Elizabeths excitement was unmistakable.

“They did,” Peter said, sounding both relieved and pleased. “We’re officially his foster parents.”

Neals heart skipped a beat, and he froze.

Foster parents?

His fingers tightened on the couch cushion as he tried to process the words. Did that mean he wasn’t going to, well, anywhere? Did it mean he had to stay here? Was this permanent? The questions churned in his head, making his chest tighten.

The sound of footsteps brought his attention back to the room. Peter and Elizabeth came back into the living room, their expressions warm but careful.

Peter sat down on the couch beside him, leaning forward slightly, while Elizabeth settled in a chair nearby. Neals stomach twisted; they looked serious. Serious was rarely good.

Peter cleared his throat. “Neal,” he began, his tone steady but kind, “we just got some news today. Elizabeth and I are officially your foster parents now.”

Neal blinked, staring at him. “Does that mean I can’t leave?” he asked hesitantly.

Elizabeth leaned forward, her gaze level with his. “It means that you don’t have to leave unless you want to,” she said gently. “This is your home now, for as long as you need it to be.”

Neals hands clenched in his lap. “What if you don’t want me anymore?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Peters brows furrowed, the question clearly catching him off guard. “That’s not going to happen,” he said firmly. “We wanted you to stay because we care about you. You’re part of this family now, Neal, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Elizabeths hand found Neals arm, her touch light but reassuring. “We mean it, sweetheart. This is your home.”

Neal searched their faces, looking for any hint of doubt or hesitation, any sign that they didn’t mean what they were saying. But all he saw was honesty. Warmth, care. His chest felt tight again, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was something he didn't recognise.

“Does that mean the guest room is now my own?” he asked, his voice small.

Peter’s serious expression softened into a smile. He reached out and ruffled Neal’s hair lightly. “It always has been, kiddo. And I think Elizabeth’s been planning a shopping trip to decorate it, haven’t you, El?”

Elizabeths grin widened. “You bet I have. We’re going to pick out new bedding, a bookshel, maybe some posters, whatever you want. It’ll be all yours.”

Neals eyes widened. “Like... anything I want?”

“Well, within reason,” Peter said, chuckling. “Don’t push your luck.”

Finally, Neal smiled. It was small and a little hesitant, but it was real.

Elizabeths eyes softened. “Why don’t we eat dinner, and then we can start brainstorming ideas for your room? How does that sound?”

Neal nodded, his chest feeling a little lighter. As they moved toward the dining table, he couldn’t help glancing around the house. His house. For as long as he needed it to be.

Chapter Text

"Neal," Peter asked as he swallowed down a swig of coffee. "I checked your files, and I couldn't see you registered with any schools. Where did you go?"

The kid peered up from where he was buried in a book of stars and planets. "I didn't go to school, Mom taught me at home. She didn't want me to 'pick up on bad habits' or something."

Both Peter and Elizabeth silently shared a look that said they understood what Neals words insinuated. "Well, how would you like to go to a real school?"

That got Neals attention, shutting his textbook in favor of looking up at his guardians with sparkling eyes. "I'd love to! Am I going?"

Elizabeth smiled widely at his enthusiasm. "Since you're staying with us, we need to enroll you somewhere. There's a brilliant school just up the road that has fantastic reviews. My friends daughter goes there, she's about your age."

"I don't want to meet her." Neal stated bluntly, catching onto what Elizabeth was hinting at. Peter only chuckled.

"You don't need to. But, we were invited to an open day on Tuesday. You'll be able to go and sit in on lessons, see the playground, classrooms, even the library," Peter added with full knowledge it would make Neal even more willing to go.

"I have nothing to do for work that day and Peter managed to get off work, so we could go check it out if you'd like?" Elizabeth was hopeful that Neal would. She valued her education as a child and knew that Neal was equally - if not even more - passionate.

She was also keen on getting Neal to socialise with kids his own age rather than the dog and adult coworkers he stumbled in to at their jobs.

"Yes please!" Neals feet kicked excitedly under the table.

"Then we have a plan."

---------------

Tuesday couldn't come fast enough. Neal bugged them both until the very second they left the house that morning, constantly asking about the school to the point that Peter sat him down with his laptop so he could navigate the school's website himself.

"Neal, we are coming, calm down," Peter laughed while the kid tugged at his arm. "just let Elizabeth get her purse."

In Neal's opinion, she was too slow at gathering her things and locking the car doors. Standing in front of the very large campus was even more exciting than he imaged.

The gates wore a large banner stating in big bold lettering: Wildflower Academy of Excellence open day

Within the flood of school children, ages three to eighteen, were families on the same mission as them. A few school officials stood at the entrance, holding signs that directed the tourists to where they needed to be.

"Our booking is with group four," Elizabeth scanned the grounds, hunting for the number sign. "Ah, there we go."

She led them over to a kind looking lady that immediately smiled at them and introduced herself, "Hi guys! I'm Anne, I'll be your tour guide for today! We just have to wait for one more family to show and then we'll get started."

Anne turned her attention to Neal, her smile growing wider to a point that was slightly creepy. "Hi, honey, you must be Neal?" He nodded. "Well I bet you are going to love it here, we have so many activities and fun equipment."

"How many books does the library have?" Neal asked, eyes still staring in awe of the large brick campus. He tried to ignore the anxiety-inducing crowd. His dad always warned him about crowds.

"We have a very large selection of around 8,000 books for to choose from."

Peter blew air at the number, nudging Neal, "Plenty of books to keep you busy, aye?"

Just then, the second family joined them. They were a nice couple that reminded Neal of Diana and her girlfriend. The ladies were all over each other and had two boys that were Neals age. They - Jack and Max - were horribly loud and very chatty, so much so that he moved to stay between Peter and Elizabeth to avoid them.

After a brief history of the school and its objectives, Anne led them through the wide transparent doors of the front building. By then, students had made it to their classrooms, allowing them to explore the assembly haul, reception, and playgrounds.

Neal had to admit, the playground for the 1st and 2nd graders was really cool. He could already picture a path he would run: climb the rock wall up to the wooden platform, run over the bridge, make quick succession of the monkey bars, jump down, and then reach the top of the big spiderweb looking climbing frame.

It was just like the parkour his parents had him do in the backyard, just with actual equipment rather than knickknacks from around the house.

Peter could see the gears turning in Neal’s head, could almost see the sneaky plan that he would probably sketch when they got home.

“Next I’ll show you where you boys would be having your lessons,” Anne had brought them to a pastel blue hallway, cork boards filled with art and essays were stacked against the walls. Neal recognized one board that painted the Starry Night. He really had to force himself not to start critiquing them and asking what art teachers they had.

Anne told them they needed to be quiet for the next bit as they were entering an active class. Neal and the two boys were were placed at a small table at the back so they could watch. Neal listened in on the vocabulary lesson for approximately five minutes before finding it much too simple. He already knew what the man was saying and more.

Instead, his eyes fixated on the board with the planets and stars, he even recognized a few images from his textbook. Elizabeth saw his distraction and gently tapped him to get him to refocus. With a sigh that his guardians most definitely caught, he turned to face the front again, though he picked at his cuticles to pass the time.

Ten minutes in, Neal was losing his mind from boredom. He wasn’t exactly known for having the most patience - a trait he despised in himself.

“Who thinks they can come up here and identify the nouns in this sentence?” The teacher asked.

“Who can’t?” Neal meant to mumble, but I’m the quiet room, it was ten times louder.

The teacher turned his head to Neal, head tilting. “Well why don’t you come try it out then?” He offered.

After a quick glance at Peter, Neal stood and went to the board. Suddenly, he had twenty pairs of eyes on him. His hand moved steadily, using the smart pen to highlight the nouns without as much as blinking.

“Well done, you think you can do verbs?” The teacher regarded Neal with a look he hadn’t seen before.

Once again, Neal did as told. They got through highlighting verbs, adverbs, adjectives, and pronouns before Neal got annoyed and started explaining sentence types and structures and why this was “far too simple for any normal person”. That comment earned him a sharp “Neal!” from Elizabeth, one that made him cower slightly and trudge back to them.

“Very sorry about that, he gets ahead of himself sometimes.” Peter apologized.

The teacher smiled. “No worries, he’s just clever.”

Anne decided that that moment was the perfect time to leave. “We’ll now head to the gym where a group activity for all the tour kids is to take place.”

Neal kept his head down as they walked, knowing Peter and Elizabeth would be a bit angry at him. Despite that, Peter kept a hand on his shoulder - one of comfort, not of annoyance of warning.

The gym was just as Neal had seen in the movies. The organisers had set up hoops and games to play, presumably for them. All the other tour families were there, bringing the total number of kids to 13.

The adults were gathered at the other end of the gym, likely to be spoken to and have their questions answered. Meanwhile, the kids were split into groups and set to rotate through the activities.

Neal realized it was his time to shine.

It was all skill based games and obstacles - Neal’s specialty. He flew through the course, getting a few oohs and ahs from kids since apparently all you need to be able to do to make friends with them is be able to run and jump fast.

Elizabeth looked over just in time to see Neal throw his arms in the air as he won beanbag toss, his group jumping in excitement. She nudged her husband.

“Well, he sure is popular.” Peter laughed as he watched Neal try to pry one girls hands off of him.

After twenty minutes, the games were over and Anne came to take the group to their swimming pool.

“Children ages five to eleven are required to participate in swim lessons once a week, unless there is a reason as to why they cannot,” she rambled as they walked around the pool that was split into four lanes.

Neal moved himself to stand far away from the edge, staying behind Elizabeth and Peter.

“You okay, cowboy?” Peter frowned at Neal’s behavior. “Not a fan of the pool?”

Neal shook his head timidly, he wasn’t meant to show that weakness. “I can’t swim.”

“Oh, honey,” Elizabeth ruffled his hair. “That’s nothing to worry about, if you want to, we could teach you before you start here so you have a basis to go off of.”

Neal shrugged, storing that in the back of his mind for later.

They then toured the library, that ended up slightly disappointing Neal as it was mostly children’s books with some encyclopedias littered between. However, he did find the section for high schoolers which looked much more inviting.

They were heading to the final rooms when they caught the crowd of students switching classes for lunch time. The hall quickly became packed with students pushing their way to the canteen.

All the worry about crowds that his parents had instilled in Neal came crashing in, anxiety pounding at his chest. He grabbed onto Peters shirt, bunching it in his hand.

“Hey, you’re alright,” Peter leaned down to gather him in his arms, successfully keeping him out of range of the smaller kids. Neal buried his head into the man’s shoulder, slightly embarrassed that he was being carried in front of so many of his peers.

They got to the needed room fast as Peter may or may not have accidentally bumped into a few students. Neal was placed back down and Elizabeth checked him over, asking what had caused the reaction.

“Crowds are bad - I couldn’t move.” Neal ushered out, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

They always recognized the innuendos that came with Neal’s words. He didn’t like crowds in a confined space - there would be no where to escape to. Peter cursed his parents for making him so scared of such a thing.

Luckily, the room they had been brought to was the art room. It was easy for Neal to distract himself.

These walls were even more decorated. The back wall that held sinks and drying racks was painted rainbow and had multiple lines holding drying paintings. Some trays displayed clay works, some sketches, and even some paper mache.

It may as well have been heaven.

Neal quickly separated himself from the group and walked the room, taking in the amount of supplies and art there really was.

“Is that The Grand Duke’s Madonna?” He asked when he saw an example sketch on the front board.

Anne looked surprised. “By Raffaello Sanzio, yes. We share this space with the high school students. That was done by one of our eleventh graders.”

“This is amazing.” Neal stated in awe as he noticed the fancy paints he always stared at in the shops.

“We offer many kinds of art after school, you’re welcome to join.” Anne said. “Students lessons are very creatively motivated and offer many opportunities for imagination, but you can never have too much.”

Peter and Elizabeth shared a knowing look.

Neal would enjoy it here.

———————————————

“Alright, in ten minutes we have the meeting with the principal.” Peter noted as they finished off their sandwiches.

“Why are we meeting them?” Neal asked.

“She wants to meet you,” Elizabeth smiled. “She’ll ask you some questions about yourself and then you’ll take a written test. It’ll only be at most forty-five minutes.”

On their way there, Neal pondered the likely questions he would be asked and how he should answer them. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much experience with schools to back him up.

The principle - Mrs Spring - seemed nice enough, she had a posh British accent and wore glasses that looked too big for her face, giving her a bit of a comical look.

“Neal Bennett? It is lovely to meet you,” Mrs Spring cheerily spoke. “How about we have a chat in my office while mummy and daddy talk to my assistant?”

She had him sit on a comfy leather couch while she sat on an office chair. The scene reminded him of a therapists office.

“So, Neal,” she leaned forward to appear less intimidating. “What’s so fun about school for you? Is there any particular subject you enjoy?”

He answered truthfully, “I really like art, mostly sketching but I also like to paint. I think I’m quite good at it. Right now I do a lot of buildings and copies of famous paintings. I really like Raphael and Berthe Morisot, though she doesn’t get nearly enough recognition for her work.”

The principle nodded along, “You sure know your stuff, I think you’ll like our art programs. Anything else?”

“I’m also quite happy with history and English. I mostly like the artistic side of history but some of the medical events are interesting. You know that the Black Death in the 1300s was one of the deadliest? It had a death toll of 200 million.” It all spilled out of his mouth before he could even think about his words. “I think I prefer the reading part of English rather than the writing. I’m quite interested in Shakespeare - Macbeth was fantastic - and I love poetry. I used to have a big book of poetry, around 400 pages. I got through half of it before it got lost.”

“You know what, I think I know what book you’re talking about,” Mrs Spring got up and walked over to her large wooden bookshelf and searched the spines. She pulled out a thick leather bound book. “There we are, The Norton Anthology of Poetry,” she handed the book to Neal.

His face lit up as his fingers swiped the front cover. “This is it. It has 1871 poems and 355 poets in total. It’s amazing.” He flipped through the pages, admiring the writing in quick glances. “My favorite are Shakespeares sonnets and Michael Drayton.”

After a moments thought, Mrs Spring said, “Why don’t you keep it? Take it home with you.”

Neal looked up with wide eyes. “But it’s yours?”

“Sure, but I’ve gotten my use out of it, someone as young and passionate as you deserves to appreciate such works of art.” She smiled kindly.

“Thank you,” Neal offered with a wide grin.

They continued with conversation like that for a while, the questions gradually being made to test his intelligence rather than personality. Afterwards, he was sat down at a desk to work through five pages of questions with a time limit of thirty minutes,

In fifteen minutes, Neal announced he was finished.

“Are you sure?” Mrs Spring asked as she came over to check his work. After a quick flip through, she realized he was done, and seemed to have answered them all correctly. “Well, then, let’s go get your parents.”

Neal wanted to correct her that Peter and Elizabeth weren’t technically his parents, but felt it may come off as rude. With his book clutched in his arms, he plunked himself down next to them when he caught sight of them sitting across the office.

Elizabeth asked about his book while Peter briefly spoke to Mrs Spring. He was called over to say thank you again and goodbye.

“I hope to see you again soon, Neal.” She said as she shook his hand.

On the drive home, Peter and Elizabeth whispered amongst themselves, just too quiet for Neal to hear from the back seat.

“What did she say about me?” Neal finally interrupted them when he’d heard his name one too many times.

Peter looked at him through the rear view mirror. “Well, she said you were a very promising candidate, she thought you were clever and witty. And…” he hesitated, glancing at Elizabeth. “She thinks you may be better off in a higher grade. Possibly grade four.”

Neal’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew he was smart, but not that smart. “Really? I wouldn’t mind that.”

“That’s not the problem, Neal,” Elizabeth’s voice took on a sadder tone. “We’re a bit worried that you won’t make friends with the older kids, it may be a lot of pressure. We don’t want you to be stressed or taking on too much.”

Neal considered it. “Sure, but I don’t like the other kids anyway. I might actually make friends if they’re older. The seven year olds in class today were so dumb.”

Peter corrected his language before sighing. “We have the week to decide, we can talk about it at a later time, okay?”

————————————

Neal insisted on reading one of the poems from his new book before bed, which is how Elizabeth and Peter ended up in bed, Neal very carefully choosing a Shakespeare sonnet.

“Here, sonnet 116, my favorite.” He offered the book over to Peter for him to read.

“Oh you trust me to do Shakespeare justice?” He chuckled, and squinted at the page. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments,” he read the sonnet in a hushed voice, holding up a yawning Neal on his shoulder.

The boy was completely worn out, and by the time Peter reached the end, his eyes had shut. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.” He read the final line, looking up at Elizabeth, who was resting her head on her palm. She swept Neal’s hair back and pulled the blanket over his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with him?” She asked, freshly manicured nails raking over Neal’s back in a comforting massage.

Peter sighed. “I don’t know, do we let him skip three years? It’s an awful lot of time.”

“It is, but I mean, just look how smart he is. He got through that test without so much as a blink, his vocabulary his beyond anything I’ve heard from a child, and he obviously knows a lot. It may be beneficial.”

“It’s just,” Peter hesitated. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice and put Neal in a tough situation. He could get bullied for being smaller and younger, he may not get along with his peers. What if the work is too hard or the teachers are too tough or-“

“Honey,” Elizabeth lay a hand on his arm to stop his rambling. “I think you’re reading too much into this. If things are too hard, then we pull him out and he’s back where he needs to be. I think we need to give him a chance.”

Peters gaze flickered over Neal’s limp body, watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He couldn’t believe how much he felt for this boy who had only recently come into his life and taken over his very mind.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Elizabeth got up and kissed his cheek. “I always am.”

Chapter Text

"Peter, I don't know if I should be doing this," Neal tried to reason as they approached the pool, his small hands gripping the straps of his backpack like they were a lifeline. His wide blue eyes darted nervously to the shimmering water ahead, the light reflections dancing across the walls doing little to calm him. "What if I can't do it? What if I sink? What if-"

"Neal," Peter interrupted gently, his hand resting reassuringly on the boys shoulder. "That's why we're here. You're not doing this alone, okay? Elizabeth and I are going to help you, every step of the way."

Elizabeth crouched down to his level. She smiled warmly, her kind eyes meeting his. "We wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, sweetheart," she said softly. "I promise. Learning to swim is so much fun. And you'll feel so proud once you do it."

Neal looked between them, his lips pressing into a tight line. "What if I mess up? Or everyone else at school is already better than me?"

"Then we keep practicing until you're better than them," Peter said with a grin. "No one's born knowing how to swim, buddy. We all had to learn, just like you're going to."

Elizabeth chuckled, nudging Peter. "And some of us weren't great at it either," she added, earning an offended look from her husband.

Neal hesitated, glancing back at the pool. The water rippled slightly, looking both inviting and intimidating at the same time. His heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to trust them - Peter and Elizabeth had never let him down yet - but the idea of stepping into that water made his stomach twist.

"Do I have to?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Elizabeth reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for," she assured him. "But if you give it a try, we'll be right here the whole time. And you might find it's not as scary as it seems."

Neal swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "Okay... but can we go slow?"

"As slow as you need," Peter promised, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Neal took a shaky breath, clutching his backpack tighter. "Okay. I’ll try."

"That's my brave boy," Elizabeth said, her smile widening as she stood up.

Peter reached for Neals backpack and handed him a small red towel. "First step, we get you changed into your swim trunks. Then we’ll sit by the pool and get comfortable before we even think about getting in. Sound good?"

Neal nodded again, his nerves still buzzing, but a small spark of determination flickered in his eyes. If Peter and Elizabeth believed in him, maybe he could believe in himself too.

A few minutes later, Neal emerged from the changing room, clutching his towel tightly in front of him. His swim trunks were a little big on his slim frame, and his damp hair stuck to his forehead in messy waves. He looked up at Peter and Elizabeth, who were waiting by the edge of the pool, and hesitated.

Peter gave him an encouraging nod. "Looking good, cowboy. Come on over."

Neal shuffled toward them, his bare feet making soft slapping sounds on the wet tiles. He stopped a few feet away from the water, his gaze fixed on the rippling surface. He could almost pretend it was art.

Elizabeth noticed his hesitation and knelt down again. "You’re doing great so far," she said softly. "Let’s just sit on the edge for now, okay? We won’t go any further until you’re ready."

"Promise?" Neal asked, his voice small.

"Promise," Peter and Elizabeth said in unison, making Neal crack a tiny smile despite himself.

With their guidance, Neal carefully sat on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling over the side. The water felt cool against his skin, and he flinched slightly at first, but Elizabeths calm presence next to him helped him relax. Peter sat on his other side, close enough to catch him if he wobbled but giving him space to adjust.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Peter said, splashing his own feet in the water.

Neal tilted his head, watching the waves that spread out from Peters movements. "It’s cold," he muttered, though there was less fear in his tone now.

"That’s how it feels at first," Elizabeth said. "But once you’re in, your body gets used to it."

Neal frowned, kicking his feet gently. The water splashed back against his legs, and he blinked in surprise. "It feels... weird."

"Weird’s okay," Peter said with a grin. "Weird means you’re trying something new."

Neal thought about that for a moment, then nodded slowly. "What do I do now?"

Peter glanced at Elizabeth, and they exchanged a quick look before Peter leaned forward. "Get your hands wet. Just lean down and scoop some water up. Like this." He demonstrated, cupping his hands in the water and letting it pour back in with a splash.

Neal watched intently, then hesitantly leaned forward to mimic the motion. His first attempt was clumsy - more of a cat giving a nervous tap against the surface - out of fear of falling forward, but Peter and Elizabeth both cheered him on like he’d just performed a perfect dive.

"There you go, Neal!" Elizabeth said, clapping her hands lightly.

"See? You’re a natural," Peter added, ruffling Neals hair.

Neal couldn’t help but smile at their encouragement, despite knowing it was exaggerated. He tried again, this time managing to scoop up a small handful of water. It dribbled through his fingers as he held it up, and he giggled softly.

"That’s it," Elizabeth said, her eyes sparkling. "You’re getting the hang of it."

Neal felt a flicker of pride. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As Neal grew more comfortable with the water, Peter leaned back on his hands, observing the boys tentative splashes. “You’re doing great, buddy. Ready to take it a step further?”

Neal froze mid-splash, his fingers dripping with water. “What kind of step?” he asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes at Peter.

“Just putting your feet a little deeper,” Elizabeth said gently, noticing Neals apprehension. “We’ll hold onto you, you won’t go anywhere.”

Neal bit his lip, his gaze flicking back to the water. “What if I slip?”

“You won’t,” Peter said firmly. “I’m right here. And Elizabeth’s here too. We won’t let anything happen to you, Neal. I promise.”

Neals fingers curled tightly into his shorts for a moment, but then he let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay... but don’t let go.”

“We won’t,” Elizabeth reassured him with a smile.

Peter slid into the pool first, standing waist-deep in the water. He extended his hands up toward Neal. “Come on, sport. I’ll hold you the whole time.”

Neal hesitated, looking between Peter and Elizabeth, before scooting closer to the edge. “You promise you won’t let go?”

“Cross my heart,” Peter said, mimicking the motion across his chest.

Taking another deep breath, Neal reluctantly reached for Peters hands. The moment his strong grip closed around his fingers, Neal felt a flicker of security. Slowly, Peter guided him into the pool, careful not to move too quickly.

When Neals toes finally touched the bottom step, he gasped at the cold sensation and clung tightly to Peters arms. “It’s freezing!”

Peter chuckled. “You’ll warm up in no time. Just focus on standing right here with me. You’re doing awesome.”

Elizabeth knelt at the edge of the pool, leaning over to stroke Neals hair. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Neal was too focused on the water around his legs to answer right away. “It’s... what I imagine a bath is like,” he said after a moment. “But not bad. Just... don’t let me go, okay?”

“Never,” Peter said firmly, repressing his smile at the bath comment.

After a few minutes of standing on the step with Peter holding him steady, Neal began to relax. He even glanced down at the water, curious instead of scared.

“You know,” Elizabeth said, still sitting on the edge, “when I was your age, I used to love splashing around in the pool. Want me to show you how to make a big splash?”

Neal tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “How?”

Elizabeth dipped her hand into the water and swept it upward in a smooth motion, sending a small spray toward Neal and Peter. Neal squeaked in surprise but then laughed - a real, unguarded laugh that made Elizabeth and Peter exchange a warm look.

“Your turn,” Peter encouraged.

Tentatively, Neal copied Elizabeths motion, sending a tiny splash toward her. When Elizabeth gasped dramatically and pretended to wipe her face, Neal laughed even harder.

“There you go,” Peter said, grinning. “See? The water’s not so scary anymore, is it?”

Neal paused, looking down at the pool again. “Maybe not,” he admitted softly, a small smile still tugging at his lips.

Peter ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy.”

As Neal grew braver, Peter guided him another step into the pool. The water rose to Neals thighs, and while he tensed at first, he didn’t pull away.

“You’re doing so well,” Elizabeth praised, sitting on the edge with her legs dangling in the water now. “It’s like you were born for this.”

Neal gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t think so. People who were born for this aren’t scared of drowning.”

“You’re not going to drown,” Peter reminded him, his grip still firm on Neals hands. “You’ve got us, and pretty soon, you’ll be the one keeping yourself afloat. Trust me.”

Neal hesitated but nodded. “What’s next?”

Peter gestured toward the water just beyond the steps. “We’ll try moving a little bit. I’ll hold you up, and you can kick your legs. It’s like riding a bike, but in the water.”

“I don’t know how to ride a bike either,” Neal muttered, though there was a hint of humor in his tone.

Peter chuckled. “Okay, bad analogy. It’s like... swimming. You’ve got to learn the feel of it first. Sound good?”

Neal chewed his lip, looking at the open water. “You’ll hold on?”

“Absolutely,” Peter assured him. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Neal nodded hesitantly, letting Peter guide him a little farther from the steps. The water reached his chest now, and he clung to Peters arm like it was a lifeline.

“Okay,” Peter said, his voice steady and calm. “Now, try lifting your legs one at a time and kicking the water behind you. Just small kicks for now.”

Neal tried, his movements awkward and unsure at first. The water resisted, splashing weakly as his legs moved.

“Perfect,” Elizabeth encouraged from the edge. “You’re kicking like a pro already!”

“Not really,” Neal said, his cheeks pink. But he didn’t stop.

Peter grinned. “You’re doing great, Neal. Want to try lying on your stomach and kicking? I’ll hold you up.”

Neal hesitated, his grip tightening. “What if I go under?”

“You won’t,” Peter promised. “I’ve got you, kiddo. Just trust me.”

With visible effort, Neal nodded. “Okay. But don’t let me go.”

Peter gently lifted Neal under his arms and shifted him into a horizontal position, keeping a firm grip as the boy clutched at him. Neals body stiffened, and a shuddered breath escaped his lungs, but Peters calm words and steady support helped him relax.

“Now, kick your legs, just like you were doing before,” Peter encouraged.

Neal kicked, his splashes growing stronger as he found a rhythm.

“There you go!” Elizabeth cheered, clapping her hands. “You’re swimming, Neal!”

“I am?” Neal asked, glancing up at Peter, his expression equal parts disbelief and pride.

“You sure are,” Peter said, his grin wide. “See? Told you the water wasn’t so bad.”

He slowly guided Neal forward, helping him stay afloat as the boy continued kicking. Each small success brought a little more confidence to Neals face, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“Alright, Neal,” Peter said gently after a few laps across the shallow end. “How about we try something a little different? Let’s see if you can float on your back.”

Neal stiffened immediately. “No way. If I lean back, I’ll sink.”

“You won’t sink,” Peter assured him. “The water will hold you up. It's physics and stuff. I’ll hold you up too, okay? You’ll be safe.”

Neals wide eyes darted between Peter and Elizabeth. “I don’t know... I don’t think I can.”

Elizabeth leaned forward from her perch. “Neal, you didn’t think you could swim either, but look at you now. You’re already proving yourself wrong.”

Neal frowned, clearly battling his nerves. “Floating sounds harder than swimming,” he muttered.

Peter chuckled. “It’s actually easier. All you have to do is lie back and relax.”

“Relax,” Neal repeated, as though the word were foreign to him.

“You can do this,” Peter said with a nod. “How about we try, and if you don’t like it, we’ll stop right away?”

After a long pause, Neal gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. But don’t let me go.”

“I won’t let you go,” Peter promised yet again. He would repeat it a thousand times if it meant Neal was relaxing.

With slow, deliberate movements, Peter helped Neal recline into the water, keeping his hands firmly beneath Neals back and shoulders. Neal flinched as the water reached his ears, his hands flailing to grab onto Peters wrists.

“Easy,” Peter said softly. “I’ve got you. Just lean back and let the water do the work.”

Neals chest rose and fell quickly, but he focused on Peters steady voice. Bit by bit, he let his body relax, his head resting back until his ears dipped below the surface.

“That’s it,” Peter encouraged. “You’re floating, Neal.”

“I am?” Neal whispered, his voice tinged with awe.

“You are,” Elizabeth confirmed, beaming. “You look like a natural.”

Neal let out a shaky laugh. “It feels weird.”

“Weird in a good way?” Peter asked, smiling.

“I guess.” Neals lips twitched into a tiny smile. “It’s not as scary as I thought.”

“That’s the spirit,” Peter said. “Now, if you’re comfortable, I’ll start to loosen my grip a little, but I won’t let go completely. Deal?”

Neal hesitated but then nodded. “Deal.”

Peter slowly eased the pressure of his hands, keeping them just beneath Neals back. Neal’s body floated easily, the water supporting him like a gentle cushion.

“You’re doing it all on your own now,” Peter said proudly.

Neal’s eyes widened. “I am?”

“You are,” Elizabeth said, clapping again. “You’re amazing, Neal!”

A full smile spread across Neal’s face, and for a moment, he let himself bask in the small victory. “Maybe this isn’t so bad.”

Peter chuckled. “Told you.”

This time, Neal didn't argue.

“Alright, champ,” Peter said after Neal floated for another minute, his confidence growing by the second. “Let’s try something else. How about kicking on your back while you float?”

Neal tilted his head slightly, his wet hair fanning out in the water. “Kick on my back?”

Peter nodded, his hands steady under Neal as reassurance. “Exactly. You’re already floating, so now you just move your legs - like you’re swimming but facing the ceiling.”

“That sounds harder.” Neals voice was skeptical, but not as fearful as before.

“It’s just like the kicking you were doing earlier,” Peter explained. “You’ve already got that part down.”

Elizabeth chimed in from the edge, her feet splashing lightly in the water. “And if you need a break, you just float again. Easy as pie.”

Neals lips twitched at that. “Pie isn’t easy.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay, maybe we aren't great at the example thing right now. But you’ve got this, Neal. I know you do.”

With Peters encouragement and Elizabeths cheering, Neal hesitantly began to kick his legs while floating. At first, the movements were uneven and hesitant, sending small splashes of water into the air.

“You’re doing it!” Peter said, grinning.

“Am I?” Neal asked, his voice wavering.

Elizabeth clapped again, her enthusiasm unwavering. “You’re swimming, Neal!”

The words seemed to spark something in him. Neal kicked more steadily, the splashes growing stronger as his confidence soared. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, and for the first time, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“I’m swimming!” Neal said, his voice ringing with pride.

“You are,” Peter said, his hands still lightly supporting him. “And you’re doing great.”

Neals smile widened, but then his legs faltered slightly. His expression turned uncertain. “What if I stop? Will I sink?”

“Nope,” Peter assured him. “You’ll just float again. Want to try?”

Neal hesitated but then gave a small nod. Peter gently encouraged him to stop kicking, and just as promised, Neals body remained buoyant.

“See?” Peter said. “The water’s got you.”

Neal stared up at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not so scary now.”

Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice soft. “You’re braver than you think, Neal.”

The boys cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he gave a quiet, “Thanks.”

They continued practicing for a little while longer, Peter gradually introducing his arms to the movements while keeping things light and fun.

After some more practice with floating and kicking, Peter decided it was time to let Neal take a well-deserved break. “You’ve done enough drills for one day. What do you say we just have some fun for a bit?”

“Fun?” Neal asked, perched on the pools edge, his legs dangling in the water.

Elizabeth grinned and flicked a little splash of water toward him. “Yeah, you know, fun. Ever heard of it?”

Neal laughed, dodging her splash. “I think so. What kind of fun?”

“Well,” Peter said, swimming backward a few strokes, “we could try some games. Maybe racing or just seeing who can make the biggest splash.”

Neals eyes lit up at the idea. “I bet I could splash bigger than you, Peter.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neal slid back into the water, a mischievous smile on his face. “You bet it is.”

Elizabeth stayed on the steps, laughing as Peter and Neal splashed at each other, water flying everywhere. Neal quickly forgot about being nervous, his laughter echoing off the pool walls. He even started venturing farther away from Peter, experimenting with paddling and floating on his own.

“You’re doing great, Neal!” Elizabeth called, her voice filled with pride.

Neal grinned back at her, a little too distracted to notice he’d drifted into slightly deeper water. As he tried to show off a fancy backstroke move he’d seen Peter do earlier, he tipped too far backward and suddenly slipped beneath the surface.

The water closed over his head, and panic set in. He flailed wildly, trying to find his footing, but his feet didn’t touch the bottom. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he was back to being the scared kid who didn’t trust the water.

Peter reacted instantly, surging forward and pulling Neal up. “I’ve got you!” he said firmly, his arms around the boy.

Neal coughed and clung to Peters shoulders, his body trembling. “I- I couldn’t stand,” he gasped, his voice tight with fear.

“You’re okay, Neal,” Peter said, his tone calm and steady. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Elizabeth was with him in an instant, her face filled with concern. “Neal, sweetheart, you’re alright. Look, Peter’s got you.”

Neal buried his face against Peters shoulder, still shaking. “It felt like I was gonna drown.”

“You weren’t, though,” Peter said gently, rubbing soothing circles on Neals back. “You’re alright now. You just got a little too excited. That happens.”

Neal took a few deep breaths, the steady feel of Peters hold and Elizabeth's reassurance helping to calm him. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at Peter. “I don’t think I want to do that again.”

Peter gave him a small smile. “Fair enough. But hey, you tried something new. That’s brave.”

“Really?” Neal asked, his voice still shaky but less panicked.

“Absolutely,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You were having fun, and you learned from it. That’s what counts.”

Neal gave a small nod, his grip on Peter easing slightly. “Okay, maybe we can play a little more. Just... not too far from you.”

Peter grinned. “Deal.”

With that, they shifted to calmer games - tossing a beach ball and floating on pool noodles. Neal gradually relaxed again, his confidence returning in small steps. By the time they finally climbed out of the water, Neal was laughing once more, his earlier fear just a distant memory.

Neals face was flushed from laughter and exertion, his damp hair sticking up in wild directions. Elizabeth wrapped a soft towel around him, rubbing his arms gently.

“Look at you, all waterlogged,” she teased, giving him a warm smile.

Neal grinned back, though he looked a little sleepy now. “I didn’t know swimming could be this fun,” he admitted, letting her fuss over him.

“See? What did I say?” Peter said as he grabbed a towel for himself. “And you were worried about even getting in.”

Neal wrinkled his nose but didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a content sigh and leaned into Elizabeth's side. “Thanks for teaching me. I think I like swimming now.”

Elizabeth smoothed back his damp curls. “We’re so proud of you, Neal. You worked really hard today.”

“You even took on a little adventure,” Peter added, his tone teasing but kind. “And now you know what happens when you try to show off too soon.”

Neal let out a small laugh, though his cheeks turned pink. “I just wanted to be good at it like you.”

Peter crouched down to Neals level, his expression softening. “You don’t have to be good at everything on day one, kid. It’s okay to learn as you go. That’s what makes it fun.”

Neal seemed to think about that for a moment before nodding. “Okay, but I still want to get as good as you someday.”

Peter chuckled, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Deal. We’ll keep practicing, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Can we come back tomorrow?” Neal asked, his voice hopeful.

Elizabeth laughed, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. “Let’s give you a day to rest, champ. You’ve earned it. But we’ll definitely come back soon.”

As they gathered their things and headed toward the exit, Neal stayed close to them, his hand slipping into Peters without hesitation. Peter glanced down in surprise but didn’t let go, giving his hand a gentle squeeze instead.

“Thanks for not letting me sink,” Neal said quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of vulnerability.

Peter smiled. “Always, cowboy. We’ve got your back.”

Elizabeth, walking on Neals other side, leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Always.”

For the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe this was what it meant to have a real family.

And he decided he liked the feeling.

After drying off and getting changed into warmer clothes, they made their way to the ice cream shop around the corner, Neal wrapped snugly in his towel like it was a blanket. His hair was still damp, but he didn’t seem to mind, the days excitement leaving him in a bit of a daze.

As they stood in line, Neal looked at the variety of flavors in front of him, his eyes wide with indecision. “I- I don’t know what to pick.”

Elizabeth smiled down at him. “How about we go with your favorite? Chocolate and vanilla swirl?”

Neal hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Peter leaned over, his voice low and teasing. “You sure you don’t want to try something a little more adventurous, like pistachio?”

Neal scrunched up his nose. “Pistachio’s weird.”

“Not a man of taste, I see,” Peter laughed.

As they waited for their cones at an outdoor table, Neal shuffled closer to Peter, the cool air making him inch a little closer for warmth.

Peter caught the quiet movement out of the corner of his eye. “What’s up, buddy?”

Neal hesitated, his cheeks flushing just a little. “Uhm- can I... sit on your lap while we eat?”

Peters smile softened. “Of course.”

Neal bit his lip, looking up at Peter shyly. It was rare that he asked for anything like this outright - he was usually so cautious about getting closer than a hug. But today, after everything they’d done together, Neal felt like he could.

Peter didn’t wait any longer. He scooped Neal up effortlessly, settling him on his lap with a gentle, “There you go.”

Neal settled in with a sigh, snuggling up close to Peters chest. Peter wrapped one arm around him to keep him warm, and Neal relaxed into the comfort of his embrace.

Elizabeth handed them their ice creams, leaning down to kiss Neal on the top of his head. “You’re a cozy little burrito, huh?”

Neal giggled, taking a careful lick of his ice cream. “Yeah, I’m warm.”

Peter chuckled, gently tapping Neals nose with his ice cream. “Glad you’re comfortable.”

Neal gave a dramatic whine and wiped it off before relaxing into the man, still a little dazed from the swimming, the ice cream, and the simple joy of being in this moment. He leaned back against Peters chest, eyes half-lidded with a sense of peace.

The world outside was still buzzing, but in that little moment, Neal had everything he needed - warmth, comfort, and a family that made him feel safe.

And that was perfect.

Chapter Text

"Hi Mozzie!" Neal jumped to pull himself up onto the swing.

"Quiet!" Mozzie whisper-shouted. "Don't say that too loud, I don't want anyone recognising me."

Neal scoffed. "Recognise you by the cover-up name you created?" He smiled at the look Mozzie gave him. "Did you think I didn't know that?"

The older rolled his eyes before breaking into conversation, "So, it's been a while since we last spoke, what's happened since?"

Taking a moment to get himself in the air, the chains squeaking as he kicked off the ground, Neal replayed the previous events: touring the school, swim lessons, being allowed to skip a few grades, and even his new book.

"School, huh?" Mozzie considered. "I guess a clever clog needs to continue his studies."

"Yeah, I start fourth grade tomorrow."

"You nervous?"

"No, it'll be fine." Neal wasn't sure he believed his own words, but, he wasn't meant to show that vulnerability. Especially not to someone he had only met once before.

"Well, at least let me give you some advice," Mozzie started, adjusting his glasses and looking around as if the playground itself might be bugged. "School is a microcosm of society, Neal. If you're not careful, it’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even realise what’s happening."

"Sounds dramatic," Neal said with a grin.

Mozzie held up a finger. "Mock me if you will, but heed my words. Rule number one, always sit near the back. You want to observe without being the center of attention. People forget about you back there - teachers and students alike. It’s the perfect vantage point."

Neal nodded, swinging idly. "Back of the room, got it."

"Rule number two," Mozzie continued, "never be the first to volunteer for anything. Let someone else stick their neck out. It gives you time to assess the situation and see if it's worth your involvement."

"Doesn’t that make me look like I’m not trying?" Neal asked, tilting his head.

"Ah, but that’s where rule number three comes in," Mozzie said, tapping his temple. "You want to answer just enough questions to seem brilliant, but not so many that people start to expect it. It’s all about managing expectations."

Neal raised an eyebrow. "So I’m supposed to look smart, but not too smart?"

"Precisely. You want to be memorable, but not a target. Blend in, but stand out just enough to keep them curious. It’s an art form, really."

Neal chuckled. "Okay, what else?"

Mozzie leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Rule number four, never trust anyone who offers you cafeteria food. Always have your own stash."

Neal snorted. "Why? Do you think it’s poisoned or something?"

Mozzie’s eyes widened, as if Neal had just stumbled onto a profound truth. "You laugh, but you’d be surprised what they can slip into a meatloaf. Besides, having your own food gives you leverage. Everyone wants a piece of the kid with snacks."

"Noted," Neal said, filing that away with amused skepticism.

Mozzie straightened, looking as though he were about to impart his final pearl of wisdom. "And rule number five - the most important rule - don’t let anyone push you around. If someone tries to mess with you, use your brain. Outsmart them. People only have power over you if you let them."

Neal stopped swinging for a moment, letting Mozzie’s words sink in. "You really think I can outsmart them?"

Mozzie gave him a look, like the answer should’ve been obvious. "Kid, you’ve been running circles around adults since you were a toddler, I've seen the papers. Fourth grade is nothing. You’ve got this."

A small, genuine smile spread across Neals face. "Thanks, Mozzie."

"Don’t mention it," Mozzie said, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. "Just remember, school’s like a chess game - always think three moves ahead."

With that, he gave Neal a little wave and disappeared into the shadows of the playground, leaving Neal to swing in thoughtful silence.

---------------

The sound of soft knocking echoed through the Neals room, followed by Elizabeth's warm voice. "Neal, time to wake up! It’s your big day - first day of school!"

Neal groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. He wasn’t a fan of early mornings, especially ones that involved something as uncertain as starting a new school.

"Not now," he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

A second knock came, louder this time, and Peter’s voice joined in. "Come on, cowboy. You don’t want to make us late. I’ve got a whole speech ready about punctuality."

"Bet that’s a real crowd pleaser," Neal quipped, peeking out from under the covers with a sleepy grin.

Elizabeth chuckled as she opened the door, stepping inside. "You’re lucky I made pancakes. Chocolate chip ones," she added enticingly.

That got Neal’s attention. He sat up, his hair a messy halo around his head, and rubbed his eyes. "Should've said that sooner."

Peter appeared in the doorway, arms crossed but smiling. "We figured you’d need some motivation. Fourth grade’s no walk in the park."

Neal hopped out of bed and padded toward the small dresser. "I’ll be fine," he said confidently, though his stomach fluttered a little at the thought of walking into a classroom full of strangers.

Elizabeth ruffled his hair as he passed. "We know you will. You’re a smart cookie. And hey, you’ve got us cheering you on."

"And don’t forget Mozzie’s rules," Neal muttered to himself as he rifled through his clothes.

"What was that?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Neal replied quickly, grabbing a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. "Just thinking out loud."

Peter exchanged a look with Elizabeth but decided to let it go. "All right, kid. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready, or those pancakes are mine."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," Peter teased, turning to head back downstairs.

Elizabeth lingered for a moment, her hand resting lightly on Neal’s shoulder. "It’s going to be a great day," she said softly. "And if it’s not, we’ll be here when you get home, okay?"

Neal nodded, the reassurance settling some of his nerves. "Okay."

With that, she left him to finish getting ready. Neal glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing down his hair and pulling on his shirt.

First day of school ever, he thought, squaring his shoulders. I’ve got this.

The car ride to school was a mix of chatter from Elizabeth, gentle reminders from Peter about the rules of being polite and listening to the teacher, and Neal quietly staring out the window, taking everything in.

The red-brick building with large windows and a bustling courtyard full of kids and parents loomed ahead.

Peter pulled the car into the drop-off loop and parked. "Here we are," he announced, turning to look at Neal in the backseat. "You ready?"

Neal nodded, though his grip on his blue backpack straps tightened slightly. "Yeah, I’m good."

Elizabeth turned in her seat, offering a warm smile. "Remember, Neal, just be yourself. And if you need anything, the office is right near the entrance or you can ask your teacher. You’ll do great."

"Got it," Neal said, pushing open the car door. He stepped out, adjusting his backpack as he scanned the crowd of kids and parents, quickly mapping out the layout of the courtyard. He spotted the main entrance, marked by a large sign, and a flow of students heading inside.

"Hey, Neal," Peter called from the driver’s seat, leaning over Elizabeth. "If you need us, you’ve got our numbers, okay?"

Neal turned back, giving a quick nod. "I’ll be fine. See you later."

Peter and Elizabeth watched as Neal blended seamlessly into the crowd of students, his small figure confident as he navigated the unfamiliar setting.

Inside, Neal moved with purpose, glancing at the map posted near the entrance. His classroom was in the east wing, Class Raccoon (he tried not to think about the childish names). A quick mental note of the arrows and labels was all he needed before setting off.

The hallway was noisy, kids chatting and laughing, some clinging onto each other as they joked. After mentally calming himself about the amount of people, Neal didn’t miss a beat, weaving through the crowd and dodging slow-moving groups with ease. He reached his Raccoon Class in no time, stopping just outside the open door.

Inside, the classroom buzzed with activity as kids found seats and unpacked their bags. The teacher, a friendly-looking woman with short curly hair and glasses, stood at the front, greeting students as they came in.

Neal hesitated for a brief moment, then stepped inside. The teacher spotted him and smiled warmly. "You must be Neal, welcome! I’m Ms. Harper, I'll be your teacher this year."

"Hi," Neal replied, his voice polite and steady. "Nice to meet you."

Ms. Harper gestured to the rows of desks. "You can pick any seat that’s open. We’ll get started in just a few minutes."

Neal scanned the room, taking in the seating arrangement and the other kids. He chose a desk near the back, Mozzie’s advice still fresh in his mind. Setting his bag down, he took out his notebook, water bottle, and pencil case, neatly arranging them on his desk.

As he waited for class to begin, Neal glanced around, observing the other students. Some were chatting excitedly with their friends, a few were reading, and others were already doodling in their books. Neal leaned back slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

So far, so good.

Once the class was settled, Ms. Harper clapped her hands lightly for attention. "All right, everyone, before we get started today, I’d like to introduce someone new to our class. We have a new student joining us - please welcome Neal Bennett."

All eyes turned toward Neal, who sat near the back, his small frame looking almost out of place among his taller classmates. Neal stood up hesitantly, offering a polite smile. "Hi," he said simply, his voice soft with the sudden attention.

Ms. Harper smiled warmly. "Neal is a bit younger than the rest of you because he’s skipped a few grades, but that doesn't mean he can't be an amazing friend. I’m sure you’ll all make him feel very welcome."

A few kids exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of surprise and skepticism. Skipping grades wasn’t exactly common, and Neal was clearly much younger than anyone else in the room. One boy whispered something to the girl next to him, who raised her eyebrows in response.

Neal caught the exchange out of the corner of his eye but didn’t react. Instead, he sat back down and folded his hands neatly on his desk, pretending not to notice the attention.

Ms. Harper continued, her tone light and encouraging. "Let’s get started with something simple to ease back into the week. I’ll pass out a short maths worksheet, and we’ll review the answers together." She handed the sheets to the front row, and they were quickly passed back.

Neal glanced at the paper and immediately felt at ease. The ten problems were straightforward, and his pencil flew across the page as he worked through them. Equations, fractions, and word problems all came naturally.

By the time most of the class was still scratching their heads over the fourth problem, Neal had already finished. He slid his worksheet to the edge of his desk and leaned back, observing the room.

The girl next to him, a tall brunette named Sarah, glanced over at his paper and raised an eyebrow. "You’re done already?" she whispered, her voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

"Yeah," Neal said quietly. "It wasn’t too hard."

Sarah frowned at her own paper, then back at Neal. "Do you always finish that fast?"

Neal shrugged, trying to play it off. "Sometimes."

Before Sarah could say more, Ms. Harper walked over, picking up Neals paper with a curious smile. She scanned it briefly and nodded. "Very impressive, Neal. You got everything right."

A few heads turned at that, and whispers broke out again. Neal felt his face flush slightly but managed a small, polite smile.

"Nice work," Ms. Harper said as she placed the paper back on his desk. "Looks like you’ll have no problem in this class."

Neal glanced around the room, catching a mix of curious, impressed, and even slightly annoyed looks from his classmates. He knew being the new kid wasn’t easy - being the younger, smart new kid? Even harder. But he also knew how to play this game. He’d keep his head down for now, let them underestimate him.

It always worked better that way.

As the day went on, Neal settled into a rhythm. The lessons were easy enough, and he had no trouble staying in tune with the material. But the stares and whispers from his classmates didn’t fade.

At lunch, Neal carried his lunchbox (thank god Peter agreed on not eating school food) to an empty table near the corner of the cafeteria, the sound of chatter and laughter echoing around him. He picked at his sandwich, not really hungry, while keeping his ears open to the conversations nearby.

“Did you hear? He skipped two grades or something,” one boy said at a nearby table, not bothering to lower his voice.

“More like three,” another chimed in. “My little brother’s in second grade, and he looks older than him.”

Neal kept his head down, pretending not to notice, but their words prickled. He’d expected this - Mozzie had even warned him about standing out too much. Still, hearing it wasn’t easy.

"Hey," a voice said, snapping Neal out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see Sarah holding her tray. She gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Mind if I sit?"

Neal hesitated but nodded. "Sure."

Sarah set her tray down and slid into the seat. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just ate her food silently. Finally, she glanced up. "So are you, like, some kind of genius or something?"

Neal smirked faintly, happy with the praise. "Something like that."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. "Seriously, though. How’d you skip so many grades? Do you, like, study all the time?"

Neal shook his head. "Not really. I just pick things up fast, I guess."

Sarah studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Huh. That’s cool, I guess. But you should probably watch out for Jake."

"Jake?" Neal asked, frowning.

She nodded toward a group of boys at the far end of the cafeteria, laughing loudly. One of them - a broad-shouldered kid with a buzz cut that may as well have been well into puberty - stood out as the center of attention. "He doesn’t like it when new kids show him up. And you? You’re basically a flashing neon sign for ‘easy target.’"

Neal glanced at the group, then back at Sarah. "Thanks for the warning."

"No problem," Sarah said, taking a bite of her apple. "Just don’t let him push you around. Jake’s all bark, no bite. Probably."

Neal grinned, appreciating her bluntness. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Back in the classroom after lunch, Neals chance to prove himself came during a group activity. Ms. Harper had the students split into teams to solve a series of logic puzzles, giving each team a set of laminated cards and a whiteboard for their answers.

Neal ended up with Sarah and two other kids - Kyle, a freckled boy with glasses, and Emily, a quiet girl who barely spoke above a whisper.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking charge. "Let’s divide these up. Emily, you take the first one, Kyle, the second, and I’ll do the third. Neal, you can-"

"I’ll take the whole stack," Neal interrupted, reaching for the cards.

Sarah blinked. "The whole thing? You sure?"

Neal nodded, his confidence steady. "Yeah. I’ve done tons of puzzles like these before."

Kyle and Emily exchanged skeptical glances, but Sarah shrugged. "All right, Einstein. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Neal spread the cards out in front of him, his mind already working through the patterns and clues. He was in his element. Within minutes, he was writing down solutions on the whiteboard, explaining his reasoning as he went.

By the time Ms. Harper called for the teams to share their answers, Neals group had solved every puzzle correctly - faster than any other team.

"Excellent work!" Ms. Harper said, clapping her hands as she reviewed their board. "Neal, you really took the lead here. Great job."

As the class murmured and exchanged glances, Neal felt the weight of their eyes on him again. Some were impressed, others skeptical, and a few, like Jake, looked distinctly annoyed.

Neal tried not to think about it.

---------------------

The hum of the classroom softened as the clock neared the end of the day. Ms. Harper had wrapped up the final lesson early, giving the students a bit of free time before the bell rang. Conversations bubbled up, laughter echoed, and the sound of pencil sketches and card games filled the room.

Neal sat at his desk, scribbling idly in his notebook. He wasn’t doodling aimlessly, though; he was sketching the map of the school he’d memorized earlier, just for fun. He liked having a visual layout in his head - it made navigation easier.

“Hey.”

Neal looked up to see a boy standing beside his desk. He had dark, curly hair and wore a red hoodie that looked slightly too big for him. The boy shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head curiously.

“You’re Neal, right?”

“Yeah,” Neal replied cautiously, closing his notebook. “And you are?”

“Ryan,” the boy said, plopping down into the empty desk next to Neal. “So, what grade are you actually supposed to be in?”

“First.”

Ryan grinned. “That's crazy. You’re, like, what? Eight?”

“Seven,” Neal corrected, bracing himself for skepticism.

Ryan let out a low whistle. “Seven and in our class? That’s kinda awesome. You must be super smart.”

Neal shrugged, he was never sure how to respond to those comments. “I guess.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, studying Neal for a moment. “You’re not like a robot or something, are you? Like, all you do is work?”

The corner of Neals mouth twitched. “No, I’m not a robot.”

Ryan laughed. “Good because that’d be boring.” He glanced at Neals closed sketchbook. “What were you drawing?”

Neal hesitated, then opened it slightly, revealing the map.

“Whoa,” Ryan said, leaning in for a better look. “Is that the school?”

“Yeah,” Neal said. “Just something to do.”

Ryan looked impressed. “That’s cool. I mean, it’s kinda weird, but, like, cool weird.”

Neal smiled faintly. He wasn’t used to kids his age - or older - thinking his quirks were “cool.” Adults praised him endlessly, but kids? Intelligence didn't seem to be all that important to them.

“So,” Ryan said, propping his chin on his hand, “you any good at chess?”

Neal blinked. “Chess?”

“Yeah, I brought a mini set. Wanna play? Unless you’re too scared to lose,” Ryan teased, grinning.

Neal smirked, catching the challenge. “Sure. But you’ll be the one losing.”

Ryan let out a gasp. “Oh, it’s on now.” He pulled a small, foldable chess board from his backpack, setting it up between their desks.

As they played, more kids drifted over, watching with growing interest as Neal and Ryan traded moves. Neal won the first game in just under ten minutes, his sharp thinking and strategic moves earning a few impressed murmurs.

“Okay, okay,” Ryan said, resetting the board. “Best two out of three. And this time, I’m serious.”

Neal chuckled. “Good luck.”

By the time the bell rang, Neal had won two out of the three games.

“Man,” Ryan said, shaking his head as he packed up the game, “you’re scarily good at this.”

“Thanks,” Neal said with a small smile.

Ryan slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Neal said. “See you tomorrow.”

As Ryan left with a wave, Neal felt a surprising warmth in his chest. It wasn’t much, but having someone like Ryan around made him think that he could find a place here after all.

The school doors swung open, and Neal stepped outside, scanning the small crowd of parents and older siblings waiting to collect their kids. He spotted Peter leaning casually against the car, his arms crossed and a warm smile on his face as Neal approached.

“How’d it go, cowboy?” Peter asked, straightening up.

Neal shrugged, slipping his backpack off one shoulder. “It was fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?” Peter pressed, opening the passenger door for Neal to climb in.

Neal slid into the seat, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yeah. Some kids stared a lot, but I did good in class. Made a friend too.”

Peters eyebrows lifted as he shut Neals door and circled to the drivers side. “A friend? That’s great! What’s their name?”

“Ryan,” Neal said. “He’s funny. We played chess during free time.”

Peter chuckled as he started the car. “Chess, huh? Of course you’d find a way to turn free time into a brain game.”

"It was his suggestion." Neal smirked faintly, gazing out the window as the car pulled onto the street.

A short drive later and lots of discussion of his day, Peter parked in front of the FBI office. Neal glanced at the building, then at Peter.

“Why are we here?”

“I’ve got a quick meeting,” Peter explained, grabbing his briefcase. “Figured you could hang out in the office until I’m done. Plus, Jones and Diana have been asking about you.”

Neal hesitated. “What am I supposed to do?”

Peter grinned. “You’ll figure something out. Come on.”

Inside the office, Neal stuck close to Peter, the office was busier than usual. Agents bustled about in a rush, talking over phones or tapping furiously away at their keyboards. The organized chaos was oddly fascinating.

“Neal!” Diana called, spotting him first. She walked over, offering a bright smile. “Hey, kid. How was school?”

“It was fine,” Neal said, repeating his earlier answer.

Diana crossed her arms, her eyebrow arching. “No adventures? No trouble?”

Neal gave her a mock innocent look. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

Jones appeared beside Diana, holding a cup of coffee. “That’s what worries me.”

Peter laughed, clapping Neal gently on the shoulder. “All right, enough grilling. Neal’s going to hang out here while I’m in my meeting. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Jones said with a grin.

Peter gestured to an empty desk near Dianas. “You can sit there, Neal. There’s paper and pens if you want to draw or write. Just don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to, okay?”

Neal nodded. “Got it.”

While Peter disappeared into a conference room, Neal settled into the chair at the desk. He pulled out his sketchbook and continued his map, tuning out the background noise of phones ringing and people chatting.

Every so often, Diana or Jones would glance over. At one point, Diana leaned down to look at his sketch. “What are you working on?”

“Something to help me at school,” Neal replied, tilting the pad to show her. The lines were clean and precise, capturing the halls in impressive detail for someone his age.

“Not bad,” Diana said, clearly impressed. “You ever think about being an artist?”

Neal shrugged. “I have, but right now it’s just something I do for fun.”

Diana smiled, straightening up. “Well, you’re good at it. Keep at it, kid.”

By the time Peters meeting wrapped up, Neal had finished the map and tried to draw his classroom from memory, finished a crossword puzzle he’d swiped from Jones’s desk, and thoroughly charmed half the bullpen with his exaggerated innocence and giggles, playing into their cooing.

“Ready to head home?” Peter asked, appearing at Neals side.

Neal nodded, sliding his book into his bag. “Yeah.”

As they walked out, Peter glanced down at him. “So, was it boring, or did you have some fun?”

Neal smirked. “It was fine.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “You and that word. Fine, huh? Guess that’s good enough for me.”

They stepped into the evening air, and Neal felt completely at ease.

Chapter Text

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and Neal packed up his things quickly, eager to head home. He'd barely set foot outside the classroom when Ms. Harper’s voice called after him.

“Neal, can I have a word?”

He paused, feeling a flicker of annoyance. He wasn’t used to being pulled aside like this. But he turned back, walking slowly toward her desk.

Ms. Harper stood with a gentle smile, her arms folded. “I wanted to talk to you about something. You’ve been doing great in class - no surprises there. But I’ve noticed that you’re always working on your own, and you tend to keep to yourself and do all the work by yourself when he have group tasks.”

Neal tilted his head, a slight frown pulling at his lips. “I work better that way.”

“I understand that,” Ms. Harper said, her tone soft but firm. “But school is about more than just what you can do alone. It’s about learning to work with others, too.”

Neals gaze dropped to the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I don’t need help. I can do it on my own.”

Ms. Harper regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m not saying you need help, Neal. But sometimes, working in a team can teach you things you might not get on your own. Different perspectives, new ideas. You might even find that others can offer something you didn’t expect.”

Neals lips twisted into a slight sneer. “Other people make mistakes. I don’t have time for that.”

“You’re a very bright kid,” Ms. Harper continued, her voice calm but insistent. “But you don’t have to do everything by yourself. You can still be independent and strong, but learning to adapt to other peoples work styles might be the best way to push yourself even further.”

Neals eyes narrowed. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

Ms. Harper smiled, though it wasn’t a judgmental smile. It was more like she understood something he wasn’t ready to say yet. “You are doing great. But sometimes, even the best need others to lean on. And that’s okay.”

Neal stayed silent, unwilling to admit anything he wasn’t ready to face yet. After a beat, he nodded stiffly. “I’ll think about it.”

Ms. Harper’s smile grew. “Good. That’s all I ask.” She waved him off with a nod. “Go on, Neal. Have a good evening.”

Neal turned and walked out of the classroom, the cool air of the school hallway doing little to calm the tightness in his chest.

As Elizabeth drove him home that afternoon, Neals thoughts replayed the conversation with Ms. Harper over and over again.

The idea of relying on others felt strange. In his mind, he was better off working alone. It was always that way - he’d learned early on that people could be unreliable. His parents had always expected him to do things for himself, to trust his own instincts above all else.

He remembered when his parents first started teaching him how to work with them, how they told him it wasn’t about the tricks or the games - it was about control. They told him that trusting others was a weakness. The only person he could rely on was himself.

Neals life had been a series of lessons, each one pushing him to be quicker, sharper, more perceptive. His parents had never offered love in the traditional sense, they gave him lessons. They taught him how to get what he wanted by any means necessary, using his charm, his looks, his quick hands.

And the biggest lesson they drilled into him was that others could always be a liability.

It wasn’t the first time he had this thought. After all, they had drilled it into him since he was three: you’re the only one who matters. Trusting anyone else was risky. People were fickle, weak, always prone to slipping up.

But as he stared at the passing blurs, he couldn’t shake the nagging voice in his head. What if they were wrong?

He was good at working alone, no one could deny that. But was that really the best way? Could he afford to always go it alone, to never trust anyone else? It was one thing to pull a scam with his mom and dad, who knew the ropes and who knew him, but it was another to put any faith in other kids, or even adults, who didn’t have the same sharpened instincts.

The thoughts were swirling in his head, and he wasn’t sure how to untangle them. His mind was made up when the car was parked in the driveway. He’d stick to what he knew best. He’d keep working alone. He didn’t need to rely on anyone else.

Neal stepped inside the house, feeling the familiar warmth of home greet him. The soft hum of the fan and the warm smell of the faded candles Peter loved to light made him feel less alone, but the knot in his chest remained, tied tightly from the conversation with Ms. Harper.

As he set his backpack down by the door, Elizabeth watched him carefully. Her eyes flickered over him, noticing the shift in his demeanor.

"Hey, did anything happen at school today?" she asked, her voice light but concerned, sensing the change in his mood.

"No, it was fine," Neal said quickly, brushing past her to head toward the stairs.

But Elizabeth wasn’t fooled. She placed herself in front of him before he could take another step.

"Neal," she said gently, her voice soft but firm, "something’s bothering you. You’ve been different since I picked you up. What’s going on?"

Neal hesitated, trying to brush off the feeling that had been gnawing at him all day. It was easier to deflect, to avoid talking about it. But something in Elizabeth's soft gaze made him pause.

He sighed, dropping his shoulders slightly. "It’s nothing really. Just something Ms. Harper said after school."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, her posture softening as she sat down on the couch. "Ms. Harper said something?"

Neal bit his lip, hesitating for a moment longer before he gave in. There was something about Elizabeth that made him feel like it was okay to let his guard down, just a little.

"She thinks I should try working with the other kids more. In teams, I mean." Neals voice was quiet, a hint of frustration slipping through. "She says it’ll help me. That it’s good to learn to trust others."

Elizabeth sat back, her expression thoughtful. "And you don’t agree?"

Neal crossed his arms over his chest, as if physically shielding himself from the conversation. "I don’t see why I should. It’s faster and easier when I do things by myself. People make mistakes. They slow you down."

Elizabeth's gaze softened, her tone gentle. "I understand where you’re coming from. You’ve always been independent, Neal. But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own."

Neal shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "But I’ve always done it on my own. My parents taught me that. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself. Trusting others is a risk. They just screw it all up."

Elizabeth’s expression sharpened slightly at the mention of Neal's parents, but she quickly masked it, choosing her words carefully. "I get that your parents... they taught you to be self-reliant. But you’re not alone anymore, Neal. You have people around you who care about you, who want to help."

Neal scoffed under his breath. "I don’t need help."

"Maybe not all the time," Elizabeth said, "but you’re still learning. You’re still figuring things out, just like anyone else your age. No one expects you to have all the answers or to do everything perfectly."

He looked at her, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want people to think I’m weak or... I don’t know, different."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "Neal, you’re not weak. And being different is what makes you, you. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry everything on your shoulders."

Neal stayed silent, digesting her words. It felt like a weight had lifted just a little, though he wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling.

"Maybe you don’t need to change everything," Elizabeth continued, her voice steady and calm. "But trusting others? Learning to rely on them? That might not be such a bad thing."

Neal was quiet for a long moment, thinking over her words. Maybe there was some truth in them. Maybe he didn’t have to do everything by himself. But still, the thought of letting someone else in, of depending on them, felt unsettling.

---------------------

The weekend was sunny, a perfect day for being outside. The Burkes’ backyard was filled with the sounds of birds chirping and the faint rustling of the trees as a gentle breeze moved through.

Peter and Elizabeth had set up a few games on the grass - a mix of things designed to get everyone involved and working together. There was a three-legged race, a tug of war rope, and even a giant Jenga tower that teetered precariously in the shade of a tree.

Satchmo wandered between them, tail wagging and occasionally stopping for a good scratch. Neal stood off to the side, hands shoved into his hoodies pockets, watching the others with a detached interest. Elizabeth had insisted he join in, but he was still struggling with the idea of working as a team. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him, not when everything he’d been taught had been about being self-sufficient. Work alone, don’t trust anyone, and you won’t get hurt. It had always been that way.

Peter approached him, his usual easygoing smile in place. "Hey, Neal, you’re gonna join us for the three-legged race, right?"

Neal raised an eyebrow. "Three-legged race? That’s not really my thing. Also, who does that outside of movies?"

Elizabeth chimed in from across the yard, holding up a water bottle. "Come on, you’ll have fun! We’re all doing it. It’s about teamwork."

Neal hesitated. "I don’t know..."

Peters smile softened, understanding gracing his face. "Well, you don’t have to be perfect, Neal. It’s not about winning. It’s about figuring it out together. You know, working as a team."

Neal looked at the others, weighing his options. Satchmo trotted over to him, his tongue lolling out happily, and nudged his leg.

"Fine," Neal muttered, half smiling as he scratched Satchmo behind the ears. "But don’t expect me to make it easy on you."

Peter chuckled. "That’s the spirit."

The race was awkward, to say the least. Neal and Peter fumbled a bit as they tied their legs together, the coordination feeling more like a battle than a friendly competition. Neals impatience was clear - he kept trying to move faster, his legs awkwardly pulling Peter along as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"You’re trying too hard," Peter said, chuckling. "Just relax. We need to work together."

"I am trying," Neal snapped, frustrated, but he took a deep breath and adjusted his pace. "I just don’t get it. Why should I slow down for anyone else? Why can't they keep up?"

Peter paused, glancing at Neal with a thoughtful expression as they managed a small stride forward. "Because sometimes, Neal... sometimes, you don’t need to be fast. Nothing’s coming for you. You don’t have to run from anything."

Neal looked up at Peter, confused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Peters smile faded a little, his tone more serious. "I mean, the world isn’t chasing you, kid. It’s okay to take your time. Even if someone slows you down, you don’t have to always be ahead. Sometimes you just need to enjoy the moment and let others help you along the way."

Neal blinked, the words hitting him harder than he expected. He had never thought about it that way. He’d been taught to move fast, keep going, never stop. But Peters words made him pause.

Satchmo jumped happily between them, oblivious to the deeper conversation happening. Neal reached down to give him a quick pet, the dogs joyful presence a brief comfort.

Peter slowed down to match Neals pace, keeping their stride steady. "I know you’ve been through a lot, Neal. And I know your parents taught you to take care of things yourself. But you don’t have to do that here. You’re not alone anymore."

Neal wasn’t sure how to respond. For a long time, the idea of relying on anyone else felt like a weakness, like a risk he couldn’t afford. But Peters words lingered, quietly pushing at the walls Neal had built up. He looked over at Peter, seeing the genuine care in his eyes, and something inside him shifted.

"I’ll try," Neal said quietly, glancing away, his voice barely audible.

Peter smiled warmly, squeezing Neals shoulder. "That’s enough for me."

After a few more attempts at the three-legged race, followed by a surprisingly close tug-of-war match (including Satchmo), Neal started to feel something he hadn’t expected: a sense of belonging. He wasn’t the fastest, or the strongest, but he was part of something. The others didn’t judge him when he made mistakes. They just kept trying, kept laughing, and kept encouraging him, and for the first time, Neal wasn’t entirely convinced that doing everything on his own was the best choice.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the backyard, Neal found himself laughing along with the others, even if just a little. Maybe Peter was right - maybe he didn’t always have to be in control, and maybe that was okay.

Chapter Text

The smell of buttered popcorn filled the Burke household as Elizabeth adjusted a tower of cozy blankets over the couch. Neal was perched cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through a tablet. Peter leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching his wife turn the living room into what he called "movie night central."

“Diana and Jones should be here any minute,” Peter said, glancing at his watch.

Neal glanced up, grinning. “You know, popcorn was first introduced to movie theaters in the 1930s. It helped cinemas survive the Great Depression.”

Peter shook his head with a chuckle. “And here I thought you were looking up the movies we picked, not more trivia.”

Elizabeth carried a tray of sodas into the room, setting them carefully on the coffee table. “Neals trivia is half the entertainment,” she said, tossing a pillow onto the couch for good measure.

The doorbell rang, and Neal jumped to his feet, his face lighting up. He darted toward the door, nearly tripping over a throw Elizabeth had laid out.

When he swung it open, Diana stood there holding a six-pack of root beer, with Jones beside her carrying two bags of chips and a container of dip.

“You ready for some cinematic masterpieces?” Diana teased, stepping inside.

“Or maybe just Peters questionable picks,” Jones added, grinning as he handed the snacks to Neal.

“Hey, I have excellent taste!” Peter called from the living room, making his way toward the door to greet them. “You two are lucky you’re even invited.”

“Thanks for the invite, boss,” Diana shot back with a grin as she slipped off her coat. “We brought snacks, so don’t give us too much grief.”

With everyone pitching in, the setup became a bustling but cheerful affair. Neal darted between the kitchen and living room, arranging the chips and dip neatly next to the popcorn bowls while Diana stacked the sodas on the side table. Jones helped Peter untangle the extra string of fairy lights Elizabeth had insisted on, giving the room a warm, festive glow.

“You know, this is starting to look like a Hallmark set,” Jones said as he stepped back to admire their work.

Elizabeth beamed. “Exactly the vibe I was going for!”

Neal, balancing a bowl of pretzels, looked thoughtful. “Did you know the first Christmas movie ever made was in 1898? It was only about a minute long.”

Diana snickered as she plopped onto the couch. “Do you ever run out of random facts?”

“Not really,” Neal replied, grinning as he handed her the pretzels.

Peter stood in front of the TV, remote in hand, muttering under his breath. “I swear this thing worked fine yesterday.”

“Famous last words,” Diana teased, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. “Need help, boss?”

“I’ve got it,” Peter replied, but his furrowed brow said otherwise. Jones stood to inspect the cables, crouching down beside Peter.

Elizabeth handed Neal a glass of water as she sat beside him on the floor. “This might take a minute,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“That’s okay,” Neal said, hugging his stuffed leopard closer to his chest. The plush had been tucked under his arm since Diana and Jones arrived, a quiet companion he hadn’t yet set down. As the adults continued troubleshooting, Neal shifted onto his stomach, letting the leopard prowl across the floor.

“I think you’re going to find the treasure first,” Neal murmured softly to the leopard, his voice taking on a lighter, playful tone. He glanced up as if noticing Diana for the first time. “But you’ll need a strong team. Maybe a detective?”

Diana raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “A detective, huh? Think I’m up for the job?”

Neal nodded, the smallest smile creeping across his face. “Leopards are really smart, but even they need help solving puzzles.”

“Well, I am pretty good at solving puzzles,” Diana replied, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “What kind of treasure are we after?”

Neals eyes lit up at the participation as he moved the leopard closer to her, his voice gaining confidence. “Ancient gold hidden in a jungle. But there’s a map with secret codes, and we need to figure them out before anyone else gets there.”

Peter glanced back from the TV, his expression softening as he watched the interaction. Elizabeth’s hand gently touched his arm, signaling him to stay quiet.

Diana played along seamlessly, asking questions about the treasure and pretending to examine invisible clues Neal described. Jones, done fiddling with the TV, joined in by declaring he’d spotted traps up ahead. Neal laughed, his eyes bright as he gave Jones and Diana new “missions.”

For Peter and Elizabeth, it was a moment of revelation. Neal wasn’t just sharing his thoughts or knowledge he was playing, truly playing, the way a child should. It was a rare, tender glimpse of the boy beneath the layers of Neal.

Elizabeth leaned her head against Peters shoulder, her voice quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

Peter nodded, his gaze never leaving Neal. “Me neither.”

Neal was now fully immersed in his imaginary world, his stuffed leopard leading the charge. Diana crouched beside him, tapping the coffee table as if decoding a map. “Okay, we’ve figured out the first riddle. What’s next, Neal?”

“We have to cross the crocodile river,” Neal said with dramatic flair, crawling over to the rug, which he declared was “infested with crocodiles.” He set the leopard carefully on a pillow, whispering, “You’ll be safe here.” Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, “But the bridge is broken. We have to jump!”

Jones folded his arms, a playful smirk on his face. “You sure we’re going to make it? I’m not great at long jumps.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “It’s pretend, Jones. You’ll be fine. Just don’t fall in, or-” He made a chomping noise with his hands.

“Oh no!” Diana said with mock alarm, pulling back her foot. “Better not risk it.”

Peter, still fiddling with the remote, glanced over his shoulder. “The crocodile river’s getting a lot of action over there.”

“Maybe you’d like to join us, Peter,” Diana called out with a teasing smile. “Since you’re clearly not fixing the TV.”

Peter sighed dramatically. “You know, the TV isn’t the only thing broken in this house. My pride’s taking a hit too.”

Elizabeth smirked. “Don’t worry, honey, it’s been broken for years.” She handed Jones another soda. “How’s it going?”

“Give it another try,” Jones suggested, pointing at the HDMI port he’d just reconnected.

While Peter tested the remote, Neal turned his attention back to Diana. “We need a plan to get across. Maybe we can distract the crocodiles with...” He trailed off, grabbing an empty popcorn bowl. “With treasure!” He placed the bowl on the rug and pretended to toss invisible gold into it.

Diana played along, pretending to hurl the “gold” into the water. “That’s it! They’re distracted. Quick, everyone jump!”

Neal scrambled across the rug, giggling as Diana pretended to leap dramatically behind him. They landed on the couch, breathless and victorious. “We made it!” Neal declared, holding up his leopard in triumph.

Elizabeth couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across her face as she watched. “I think this adventure might be more fun than the movie.”

“I think you’re right,” Peter replied softly, still watching Neal.

With a triumphant click, the TV finally flickered to life. The movie’s title screen appeared, accompanied by a cheerful chime.

“There we go!” Peter exclaimed, holding up the remote like a trophy. “Movie night is saved.”

“Just in time,” Jones added, leaning back. “I was getting tired of being chased by crocodiles.”

Neal gave him a false serious look. “The crocodiles were your fault, Jones. You were too loud.”

Diana laughed, ruffling Neal's hair as he slid off the couch. “Guess you’ll just have to teach him how to sneak better, huh?”

“Maybe next time,” Neal said with a grin, hugging his leopard as everyone found their places for the movie.

Elizabeth dimmed the lights, and the opening credits began to roll. Neal nestled between Peter and Elizabeth, his leopard snug in his lap, ready for the next adventure, this time on screen.

Jumanji started, its cheerful score filling the room as the group settled in. Neal hugged his stuffed leopard tightly, his gaze fixed on the screen, though he shifted occasionally to glance at everyone else.

Elizabeth noticed first, giving him a soft smile. “Comfy, Neal?” she asked gently.

He nodded quickly but shifted again, tucking his legs beneath him on the couch. A few minutes later, he adjusted once more, leaning slightly toward her but pulling back just as fast.

Peter glanced over, catching the movement. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Neal said, though his voice was quieter now. He focused intently on the movie but couldn’t seem to sit still, shuffling closer to Elizabeth before leaning slightly toward Peter on his other side.

Elizabeth exchanged a knowing glance with Peter, then scooted just a bit closer to Neal, resting her arm lightly along the back of the couch. “You can relax, sweetheart,” she said softly.

Neal hesitated for a moment, then leaned against her side, his head just brushing her shoulder. He let out a tiny, contented sigh, but after a while, his gaze shifted toward Peter again.

Peter chuckled under his breath. “What? Am I next?”

Elizabeth smirked. “You’re part of the cuddle squad now, hon. It’s not optional.”

Neals cheeks turned slightly pink, but Peter reached over and gently pulled him closer, draping an arm over his legs. Neal nestled between them, his leopard snug in his lap, and finally stopped fidgeting.

“This okay?” Peter asked, his voice low.

Neal nodded, resting his head lightly on Peters chest. “Yeah, thanks,” he murmured.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the sounds of the movie and occasional burst of laughter. Neal, warm and safe between the two people he trusted most, felt a sense of peace he didn't think he would experience.

Elizabeth smoothed a hand over his hair, whispering, “I think you’ve finally found your spot, huh?”

Neal hummed softly, his eyes growing heavy as the movie played on.

As the movie progressed, Neal grew more comfortable, shifting slightly in Peters embrace. Bit by bit, he leaned further into him until he ended up sprawled across Peters lap, his leopard still tucked close. One of his legs stretched out over Elizabeth’s lap, and she chuckled softly, gently resting a hand over his ankle.

“Enjoying yourself, huh?” she teased, her voice warm.

Neal nodded, his eyes glued to the screen, but his hand began tapping lightly on the leopards paw. He traced small circles against its fur and hummed under his breath, a soft, repetitive sound that made Peter glance down curiously.

“What’s that, Neal?” Peter asked quietly.

Neal paused for a moment, as if just realising he’d been doing it, then shrugged. “Nothing. Just happy, I guess.”

Peter smiled, his hand resting lightly on Neals shoulder. “Happy's good.”

The tapping continued, and Neals free hand found the seam of the couch cushion, his fingers gliding over it while his legs swung slightly. Soon, he added small, gentle flaps of his hands, his movements light and rhythmic as if they were an extension of the hums leaving his lips.

Diana, sitting in the chair beside them, watched with a soft smile. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen him,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with affection.

“Me too,” Elizabeth replied, brushing a hand gently over Neals calf.

Neal peeked up at Diana, his cheeks coloring faintly. “You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked hesitantly, his hands stilling for a moment before he tucked them close.

“Are you kidding?” Diana said with a grin. “It’s adorable. You’re adorable. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Neal blinked at her, a little surprised, then smiled - a small, shy curve of his lips. He resumed tapping on his leopard, his hums returning as he flapped his hands slightly, the motion unrestrained and full of quiet joy.

Peter looked down at him, his heart swelling at the sight of Neal so at ease. “You doing good?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Neal said, leaning into Peters chest. “I’m good.”

Elizabeth and Peter shared a look over Neals head, their smiles saying everything.

The movie played on, the room bathed in soft light from the screen. Neals movements gradually slowed, his tapping turning into gentle rubs as his body relaxed against his guardians. His hums became quieter, trailing off entirely as his eyelids grew heavy.

Elizabeth glanced over, her hand brushing gently over Neal’s leg. “I think someone’s getting sleepy,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” Neal mumbled, though his voice was barely audible, and his eyes were already fluttering closed.

Peter smirked. “Sure you’re not.” He adjusted slightly, leaning back to give Neal more room to rest against him. The movement didn’t seem to bother Neal, who nestled deeper into Peters chest with a contented sigh.

Diana smiled from her spot, watching the scene unfold. “That’s it, he’s out. Didn’t even make it to the climax of the movie.”

“Can you blame him?” Jones said softly. “Kid's had a busy day with all those crocodiles.”

Elizabeth chuckled, her gaze warm as she took in the sight of Neal curled up, his stuffed leopard still clutched tightly in his arms. “He looks so peaceful.”

Neal let out a small noise, his face scrunching slightly before settling again. One hand twitched briefly, still tucked against the leopards fur.

Peter glanced down at him, his voice quiet and full of affection. “He really does.”

Diana leaned forward, her tone teasing but gentle. “You two are going to spoil him rotten, you know that, right?”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth replied with a soft laugh. “But I think he deserves a little spoiling.”

The group fell into a comfortable silence, letting the movie play on. Neal didn’t stir, his breathing slow and even as he drifted deeper into sleep.

By the time the credits rolled, Diana and Jones stood to stretch, careful not to disturb the cozy scene.

“You want us to carry him to bed?” Jones offered with a grin.

Peter shook his head. “Nah, we’ve got it. Thanks for coming tonight, though.”

Diana smiled, slipping on her coat. “Wouldn’t miss it. He’s a special kid, Peter. You’re doing good by him.”

Peters expression softened as he glanced down at Neal, his voice quiet. “We’re trying.”

With a few more quiet goodbyes, Diana and Jones headed out, leaving the Burkes alone with their sleeping boy. Elizabeth leaned against Peter, resting her head on his shoulder as she watched Neal.

“We should probably move him,” she whispered.

Peter nodded but didn’t move right away. Instead, he wrapped his arm more securely around Neal, savoring the quiet moment. “In a minute.”

Elizabeth smiled, leaning into him as they both stayed there a little longer, soaking in the warmth of their little family.

Peter looked down at Neal, the weight of how much he cared for the small human who had appeared in his life a month ago pressing down on him. He carefully shifted Neal in his arms, making sure not to wake him. Elizabeth helped adjust the blanket that had been tucked around his body.

“Let’s get him to bed,” she murmured softly.

Peter nodded, his heart full. As they moved toward the stairs, he couldn’t help but pause for a moment, overcome by the depth of emotion he felt for the boy in his arms.

Neals soft, even breathing, his hair tousled and his face relaxed in sleep, made Peters chest ache in the best way. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Neals head, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

“I love you,” Peter whispered, his voice full of unspoken affection.

Elizabeth gave him a soft, knowing smile, her hand resting on his back. “He knows, Peter. He really knows.”

They made their way upstairs, frantically muffling their laughter when Peter nearly hit Neals head on the banister, and carefully settled Neal into his bed. Elizabeth tucked the covers around him, and Peter stood quietly at his side for a moment, watching over him.

After a few minutes, Peter joined Elizabeth at the door, casting one last glance at Neal. The boy was safe, peaceful, and loved.

“Goodnight, Neal,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

Peter smiled softly, his heart still full. “Goodnight, buddy.”

And with that, they left the room, closing the door softly behind them as the house settled into a quiet, contented silence.

Chapter Text

Peter was working through case notes at his desk when his office phone rang. The number flashed as restricted, but that wasn’t unusual in his line of work. He picked up.

"Agent Burke speaking."

"Agent Burke, this is Officer Rodriguez from Bedford Correctional Facility," a firm voice announced. "I have an inmate here, Katherine Bennett, requesting to speak with you."

Peters eyebrows shot up. Katherine Bennett. Neals mother. His grip on the receiver tightened. "Put her through," he said, his tone controlled, though his mind raced.

A moment later, a different voice came on the line. "Agent Burke, this is Katherine."

Peter leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Mrs. Bennett. This is unexpected. What can I do for you?"

There was a brief pause, then a sigh. "I heard Neal is in your custody now," she said, her voice measured but strained. "I’d like to see him. To talk to him."

Peters jaw tightened. "Neal hasn’t said anything about wanting to see you."

"I know," she admitted, the crack in her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "But I need to explain some things to him. I need him to hear me out."

"Mrs. Bennett," Peter began, carefully choosing his words, "after everything Neals been through, I need to be sure this is in his best interest. Why now?"

"Because I don’t want to lose him completely," Katherine said, her voice breaking. "I’ve made mistakes, Agent Burke. Big ones. But I need him to know I love him."

Peter sat in silence for a moment, weighing her words. Neal had rarely spoken about his parents, but when he did, it was always with a sharp edge of pain and betrayal.

"I’ll talk to Neal," Peter said finally, his voice steady. "But it’s his decision whether or not he wants to see you."

"Thank you," Katherine whispered. "He's a clever boy, he can decide what he wants."

Peter ended the call and stared at the phone in his hand. The image of Neal putting together puzzles in the living room with Satchmo at his side, the familiar scene as Neal settled into an after school routine, lingered in his mind. This conversation wasn’t going to be easy, but Neal deserved to know.

Peter stepped into the house, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. The comforting scent of Elizabeth’s cooking wafted from the kitchen, and he followed it, finding her at the stove stirring a pot of something that smelled like heaven.

“Hey, hon,” Elizabeth greeted him with a smile, glancing over her shoulder. “How was work?”

“Eventful,” Peter replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Where's Neal?" His tone must have given him away because Elizabeth turned, spoon in hand, her brows knitting in concern.

“He's reading in his bedroom. What happened?”

Peter sighed, crossing the kitchen to sit at the counter. “I got a call today... from Bedford Correctional.”

Elizabeth froze for a moment, then set the spoon down carefully. “Bedford? That’s where Neal's parents are, isn’t it?”

Peter nodded. “His mother wants to see him. She asked the guards to contact me.”

Elizabeth’s expression shifted, her concern deepening. “What did she say?”

“She said she wants to explain herself to him. Apologise.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “I told her I’d talk to Neal, but it’s his decision whether he wants to see her.”

Elizabeth moved to sit beside him, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “How do you think Neal will take it?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about her all that much, but when he does it’s clear there’s a lot of trauma there. I don’t want to push him into something he’s not ready for, but I also don’t want to keep this from him.”

Elizabeth’s hand tightened slightly on his arm. “You’re doing the right thing, Peter. You’re giving him the choice.”

Peter sighed again, his gaze drifting toward the stairs as a thump of a book falling could be heard. “I just wish I knew what the right choice is.”

Elizabeth smiled gently. “You’ll know when you see how Neal feels about it. And if he’s upset, we’ll help him through it.”

Peter met her eyes, his tension easing just a little. “You always know what to say.”

Elizabeth leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “That’s my job.”

They exchanged a look as they stood in the living room, the weight of the conversation ahead heavy in the air. Peter exhaled and called up the stairs, “Neal! Can you come down for a minute, bud?”

There was a pause, then the sound of light footsteps. Neal appeared at the top of the staircase, holding his stuffed leopard tightly under one arm. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked cautiously, his pale blue eyes darting between them.

“No, not at all,” Elizabeth said gently, offering him a warm smile. “We just need to talk to you about something important.”

Neal hesitated, then made his way down the stairs, clutching the bannister with one hand. He climbed onto the couch and hugged the leopard close, looking at them expectantly.

Peter sat down across from him, resting his elbows on his knees. “Neal,” he began carefully, “I got a call today... from your mom.”

Neals eyes widened, his grip on the leopard tightening. “My mom?” he echoed, his voice soft.

“She’s at Bedford Correctional,” Peter continued. “She asked to see you. She said she wants to explain some things and apologise.”

For a moment, Neal didn’t say anything. He stared down at the toy, his small hands fidgeting with its tail. “She... she wants to see me?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, moving to sit beside him. “But it’s completely up to you, sweetheart. If you don’t want to see her, that’s okay. If you do, we’ll be right there with you.”

Neals brows furrowed, his expression a complicated swirl of emotions. “She never came back before,” he said quietly. “They told me that I needed to stay with Ellen if something happened, and that they would come back for me later.”

Elizabeth reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back. “I know that must have been so hard, Neal. And it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling right now.”

Neal bit his lip, his eyes glistening as he looked up at Peter. “Do you think she really wants to apologise? Or is she just saying that because she’s in trouble?”

Peters heart ached at the maturity behind Neals question. He leaned forward, his voice steady. “I don’t know, Neal. But what I do know is that this is your choice. If you want to see her, we’ll make sure you’re safe, and if you don’t, that’s completely okay.”

Neals gaze dropped again. “What if I say yes, and she just makes me feel worse?” he whispered.

Elizabeth pulled him gently into her side. “Then we’ll be right here for you, Neal. We won’t let her hurt you, not in any way.”

Neal sniffled, nodding slightly as he processed their words. After a long moment, he looked up, his expression both hesitant and hopeful. “I think I want to see her. Just to hear what she has to say.”

Peter nodded, his voice soft. “Okay. We’ll set it up, and we’ll be with you the whole time.”

Neal leaned into Elizabeth, letting out a small sigh as she held him close.

For a moment, he seemed smaller than he must have been as a newborn.

----------------------

The sterile, gray walls of the visiting room loomed around them, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence as Peter, Elizabeth, and Neal stepped inside. Neal clutched Peters hand tightly, his other arm wrapped around the stuffed animal he hadn’t let go of since the conversation two days ago.

“Are you ready, cowboy?” Peter asked gently, crouching down to Neals level.

Neal hesitated, his wide eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. Katherine sat at one of the tables, her dark hair pulled back, her face pale but composed. She looked older than Neal remembered, the lines around her mouth deeper, her shoulders weighed down by guilt and regret.

“I think so,” Neal whispered, his voice trembling.

Elizabeth knelt beside him, smoothing a hand over his hair. “We’re right here, okay? If you want to leave at any point, just say the word.”

Neal nodded, releasing Peters hand reluctantly before taking slow steps toward the table. Katherine looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from apprehension to something softer akin to relief.

“Hi, baby,” she said, her voice quiet but warm.

Neal sat down across from her, clutching the leopard tightly. “Hi,” he replied, his voice barely audible.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Katherines eyes roamed over him, taking in his small frame, the way he fidgeted. “I think you’ve grown,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile.

Neal didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the table.

“I’m glad you came,” Katherine continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Why did you want to see me?” Neal asked bluntly, his small voice steady despite the hurricane of emotions swirling in his chest.

Katherine took a deep breath, folding her hands on the table. “Because I owe you an apology. For everything.”

Neal looked up at her then, eyes sharp and questioning.

“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” Katherine said, her voice cracking. “Your father and I... we believed that we were preparing for the world, and we wanted you to follow in our steps and become successful. But it wasn't right. We made so many mistakes, Neal. And you paid the price for them.”

Neals grip on the leopard tightened. “You left me,” he said, his voice breaking. “You told me you’d come back, but you didn’t.”

Tears welled in Katherines eyes, and she reached out as though to touch his hand but stopped herself. “I know,” she whispered. “I told myself that staying away would keep you safe. That if I stayed in your life, I’d only drag you down with me. But I was wrong. I see that now.”

Neal stared at her, his face a mix of anger and confusion. “Why didn’t you write to me? Or call?”

Katherine swallowed hard. “I was scared. Ashamed. I didn’t know how to face you, how to explain everything we’d done. But I never stopped thinking about you, Neal. I never stopped loving you. Every night I close my eyes, I see your little face. I miss your random facts, I miss your noise, I miss having my baby in my arms.”

Neals lip quivered, and he looked down at the leopard in his lap. “You really love me?” he asked softly.

Katherines tears spilled over then, and she nodded. “More than anything in the world. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope- I hope you’ll give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

There was a long silence as Neal processed her words. Finally, he looked up at her, his expression guarded but not closed off. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. Not yet.”

Katherine nodded, her shoulders trembling. “That’s okay,” she said. “Take all the time you need. I just wanted you to know the truth. And how sorry I am.”

Neal nodded slowly, then glanced over his shoulder at Peter and Elizabeth, who were watching from a distance.

"Are you happy? I see Peter is taking good care of you." Katherine tried to talk casually, ignoring her trembling hands.

Neal nodded. "I like them a lot. They even put me in school, I'm in grade four."

Katherine gasped with a smile. "You're in school? That is fantastic. I regret not taking you earlier, you are far too clever to be kept at home. Do you have any friends?"

"Yes, I like a boy called Ryan, and another girl named Sarah likes to talk to me. We also have a dog, his name's Satchmo - like the jazz singer."

"A dog is a very good pall to have with you. You know, you used to beg for one every time you a picture, you made presentations on why it would be a good idea." More tears welled up in her eyes at the memory of little Neal making hand drawn images and backing his evidence with resources.

"I remember. Dad got angry a lot about that." Neal murmured, unsure if he should talk about the man.

"Your father is a hot headed man, he didn't understand that you were a kid. To him, you were another person to take care of." Katherine hesitated before continuing. "If I knew the parent James would be, I wouldn't have married him, you know. I think that may be my biggest regret."

Neal stared with wide eyes at the confession. "But you always worked with dad, you guys were really good together. Save for the arguing."

Katherine nodded along. "You didn't see a lot of it, I tried to keep calm as not to upset you. I know I didn't do a great job at it, but I wanted you to be kept in the dark at least a bit."

"Why hasn't dad called me? It's been a month." His question was so delicate that Elizabeth had to turn away so they didn't see her teary eyes.

"Truthfully," Katherine said. "I don't know. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Maybe he is scared or worried, sort of like me." Neither her nor Neal believed the words. It went unspoken, but Neal understood that his father wasn't interested in him.

"Dad only liked me when I helped." Something came over Neal in that moment, his face shifting into something guarded and unreadable. He turned his gaze to Elizabeth and Peter. "I think I'm ready to go now."

He got up and walked into Peters waiting hold. A question made him stop.

"Love, is that Oliver?" Katherine gestured to the stuffed animal, recognising its appearance now that she had a clear view of it. "I thought you lost him in France?"

"No, Elizabeth got him for me. I liked that he looks like Oliver. I don't call him that though, that's disrespectful."

"He's just as beautiful as you, Neal."

As they turned to leave, Neal glanced back at Katherine one last time. She offered him a tearful smile, and he gave her a small wave before stepping out of the room with Peter and Elizabeth.

Chapter Text

Neal woke up with a groggy head and a heavy chest. His throat burned, and every swallow felt like trying to gulp down shards of glass. He sniffled, but his nose was so stuffy that it didn’t help. The soft light of dawn filtered through his bedroom window, making the stuffed leopard perched by his pillow look almost alive.

He hugged the toy closer, rubbing his sore throat with his other hand. He didn’t feel like getting up, but his body ached too much to stay still.

Sliding off the bed, Neal shuffled toward the door, dragging the blanket with him. The hallway felt unusually cold, sending a shiver up his spine. His small hand knocked quietly against the Burkes' bedroom door.

“Peter? Elizabeth?” His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. He poked his head through the crack and cleared his throat to try again, louder this time. “Peter?”

There was a rustling sound, and a moment later, Peter opened the door wider, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his expression groggy. The sight of Neal standing there, wrapped in his blanket with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, snapped Peter fully awake.

“Neal? What’s wrong?” Peter crouched down to look him in the eyes.

“I feel bad,” Neal mumbled, his voice cracking. He sniffled again, the sound pitiful.

Peters hand hovered uncertainly before landing gently on Neals forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Elizabeth appeared behind him at the noise, tying her robe. She took one look at Neal and placed a calming hand on Peters shoulder. “Let’s get him to the couch,” she said, her tone soothing but practical.

Peter scooped Neal up before she could finish her sentence, the boys head flopping against his shoulder. “We need to call a doctor. What if it’s something serious? Fever, congestion, those could be signs of-”

“Peter.” Elizabeth cut him off with a light laugh. “It’s probably just a cold. Don’t overreact. Kids get sick all the time with all the viruses they contract at school.”

Peters brow furrowed as he glanced down at Neal, who had already closed his eyes, his head nuzzling against Peters shirt.

“Just a cold,” Peter repeated, as if trying to convince himself.

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, and lucky for you, I know exactly what to do.”

Peter gently placed Neal on the couch, tucking the blanket around him while Elizabeth fetched a thermometer. Neal let out a small whine as she stuck it in his ear, rubbing at his eyes with a balled-up fist.

"101 degrees, definitely got a temperature." She smiled sadly as she smoothed out Neals rumpled hair.

“I’ll stay home with him,” Peter announced firmly, straightening up.

Elizabeth paused mid stroke, giving him a look. “Peter, I can handle this.”

“Hon, you’ve got that big event today, you’ve been prepping for all week. You can’t miss it.”

She hesitated, clearly torn, but Peter pressed on.

“I can work from home. Besides, I have no important meetings and plenty of paperwork I brought home - nothing that can’t be rescheduled or done later. I’ll take care of him.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across her face. “Are you sure? You tend to panic over the smallest cough.”

Peter crossed his arms. “I do not panic.”

She tilted her head, her smile growing. “Really? Because last time you hovered around your niece so much that she faked being better just to get you to stop.”

“That was different,” Peter grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “This time I’ve got it under control.”

Elizabeth chuckled, stepping closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But if you need help, don’t hesitate to call. And remember, fluids, rest, and don’t hover too much.”

“I know, El,” Peter replied, though the determination in his voice was slightly undercut by his worried glance at Neal, who was now staring off into space.

Elizabeth grabbed her bag, pausing to ruffle Neal's hair lightly. “Feel better soon, sweetheart,” she murmured before heading out the door.

As the door clicked shut, Peter let out a breath, looking down at Neal.

“Well, kid, looks like it’s just you and me today. Let’s make sure you’re comfortable, okay?”

Neal stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before curling up tighter under the blanket.

Peter smiled softly, then pulled out his phone to email Hughs. Work could wait, taking care of Neal was more important.

He set his phone aside and turned his attention back to Neal. The boy looked impossibly small under the blanket.

“Alright, buddy,” Peter said softly, crouching next to the couch. “Let’s get you all set up so you can rest properly.”

Neal peeked one eye open, his cheeks flushed and his nose pink. He mumbled something that sounded like a mix of “okay” and “mmph.”

Peter smiled and set to work. He brought out an extra blanket from the hall closet, along with the softest pillow he could find. After gently rearranging Neal to sit up slightly, he tucked the pillow behind his back and draped the second blanket over him. Neal sighed contentedly, snuggling into the warmth.

While Peter was adjusting the blankets, Satchmo ambled into the room, tail wagging. The dog sniffed Neal, then immediately flopped down on the floor beside the couch, resting his big head on the edge.

“Good boy, Satch,” Peter murmured, giving the dog a quick pat.

Next, Peter set up a nest of things Neal might want. He brought over a deck of playing cards that Neal had come to enjoy fiddling with and shuffling, a few art supplies, his stuffed animal, and a stack of books he knew Neal loved. The collection grew until the coffee table was practically bursting with options.

“Anything else you want?” Peter asked.

Neal blinked up at him, his voice raspy but clear. “Can I watch a movie?”

“Of course.” He sighed, bracing himself for what was to come. "But first, you need to take some medicine."

Neal immediately let out an annoyed cry, Peter trying not to succumb to it in favor of raiding the medicine cabinet.

"I know, I'm sorry." After discovering they had pediatric syrup, Peter sat next to Neal on the couch. "How about this, if you take all of this, I'll let you know some details about our art recovery case when you feel better." Peter bargained. Neal had taken an interest in sneaking case files and skimming them for anything about art, leading to an agent snatching them away immediately.

The kid considered his options, and with a massive whine, folded arms, and a grimace, Neal swallowed the syrup down. Peter had cheered, handing some water over to cleanse his mouth.

"Alright now," Peter grabbed the remote and started flipping through the streaming apps. “How about The Lion King? Or maybe Toy Story?”

Neal nodded sleepily. “Lion King.”

Peter smiled, selecting the movie and setting it to play. The familiar opening music filled the room as Neal settled deeper into his blanket cocoon, his head leaning slightly against the armrest.

Satisfied that Neal was comfortable, Peter sat down on the edge of the coffee table, watching for a moment. Satchmo gave Neals hand a soft nudge, earning a small, tired smile from the boy.

“Thanks, Peter,” Neal mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

“You’re welcome, kid,” Peter replied, his voice warm. He reached out to gently comb Neal's hair. “Now just relax, okay? You’ve got everything you need.”

As Neals breathing slowed, Peter sat back, his gaze lingering on the cozy scene he’d created.

An hour passed quietly. Neal was bundled up on the couch, half watching the movie while occasionally flipping through a book or doodling on a sketchpad.

Peter had moved to the dining table, his laptop open as he tried to focus on emails and reports. Every so often, he glanced over at Neal to make sure everything was okay.

The soft sound of sniffles broke his concentration. Peters head snapped up, and he saw Neal sitting upright, his face crumpling as tears began to stream down his flushed cheeks.

“Neal?” Peter was at his side in seconds, crouching next to the couch.

Satchmo was already there, his head frantically nudging Neals lap and his body pressed protectively against the couch. Neal clutched the blanket tightly, his shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Peter asked gently, his hand resting on Neals knee. “Does something hurt?”

Neal shook his head, burying his face in his hands. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke. “I- I just…” He hiccupped. “I miss mom and dad.”

Peters heart clenched. He hadn’t expected that. “Oh, Neal...”

“I’ve never been sick without them before,” Neal whispered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Even when they were busy, they’d- they’d always take care of me.”

Peter sat down on the edge of the couch, his hand rubbing small circles on Neals back. “I know it’s hard. It’s okay to miss them.”

Neal sniffled, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Mom always got me a book and read it to me, and Dad would let me sit with him in his office. Even if he was working.”

Peter nodded, his voice soft. “That sounds really nice. Do you want me to do that for you? I can read to you, if it’ll help.”

Neal hesitated, then gave a small nod, wiping his nose with the edge of the blanket.

“Alright, let me grab a book.” Peter reached for the stack of books on the coffee table and picked one Neal had been flipping through earlier called The Monuments Men.

He scooted closer, Satchmo still pressed firmly against Neals side as if refusing to budge. Peter opened the book and began to read, his voice steady and warm. Slowly, Neals tears subsided, and he leaned against Peter, his head resting against Peters arm.

By the time Peter had finished the second chapter, Neals breathing had evened out, and his small body had relaxed completely.

“Good boy, Satch,” Peter murmured, giving the dog a pat. Satchmo huffed softly, as if in agreement, his big eyes fixed on Neal.

Carefully, Peter adjusted the blanket around Neal and leaned back against the couch, letting the boy sleep. Work could wait.

------------

Neal had been asleep for about an hour, Peter being able to slip away, when his phone buzzed on the dining table. He glanced over to make sure Neal was still out before answering the call.

“Hey, hon,” he said softly, stepping into the kitchen to keep his voice low.

“How’s Neal?” Elizabeth asked. “Any updates?”

Peter sighed, leaning against the counter. “He’s sleeping now. But, uh, there was an incident earlier.”

Elizabeth’s voice softened. “What happened?”

“He just suddenly burst out crying,” Peter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said he missed his parents. Said this is the first time he’s been sick without them.”

“Oh, Peter...”

“I didn’t know what to do at first,” Peter continued, his voice tinged with guilt. “He looked so small and sad, and I could tell he was really hurting. I just... I froze for a second. I don’t know. It scared me. I ended up reading to him which worked.”

“You didn’t freeze,” Elizabeth reassured him. “You’re taking care of him, Peter. You’ve already done so much. That’s what he needed.”

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I just wish I could do more. I mean, this kid’s been through so much already, and I hate seeing him upset like that.”

“You’re doing everything right,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You’ve given him a safe place, and you’re showing him he can count on you. That means more than you know.”

Peter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Thanks, El. I just- it hit me, you know? How much he’s gone through. He’s just a kid.”

“He is,” Elizabeth agreed. “But he’s also a kid who’s starting to trust you. That’s huge. And it’s because you’re showing up for him.”

Peter glanced toward the living room, where Neal was still curled up under the blanket, his chest rising and falling steadily. Satchmo had settled at the foot of the couch, keeping a quiet vigil.

“I guess,” Peter said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It helps having you to talk me down when I start spiraling.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “That’s what I’m here for. You’re going to be fine, Peter. And so is Neal. Just keep doing what you’re doing. He’s lucky to have you.”

Peters smile grew. “We’re lucky to have him, too.”

“Exactly. Now, if you need me to pick anything up on my way home, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Will do. Thanks, El.”

“Anytime. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Peter said, ending the call and slipping his phone back into his pocket.

With renewed determination, Peter returned to the living room, ready to keep doing everything he could for Neal.

Neal stirred on the couch, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. Peter, who had been quietly working at the dining table, immediately noticed and came over.

“Hey, kiddo,” Peter said softly, crouching beside him. “You’re awake. How’re you feeling?”

Neal mumbled, “Hungry...” but then frowned, placing a hand on his stomach. “But my stomach feels weird.”

Peters brow furrowed. “Weird how? Like it hurts?”

Neal shook his head, his flushed face scrunching up. “Like I want to eat, but I might throw up.” His voice was small, and he slumped back against the couch, his blanket pulled tightly around him.

Peters chest tightened. “Okay, let’s take it slow. Let me make a quick call and then we'll figure it out, alright?”

Neal gave a tiny, reluctant nod but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he started fidgeting, his fingers tapping against his blanket and the couch in an erratic rhythm. His other hand absently flapped, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull his legs under him.

Peter hovered for a moment, watching him carefully. “Hey, Neal, you’re okay. Just stay cozy, and I’ll be right back.”

Neal sniffled but didn’t protest as Peter got up to grab his phone. Once he was in the kitchen, Peter quickly dialed Elizabeth.

“Peter?” she answered. “How’s Neal?”

Peter exhaled sharply, keeping his voice low so Neal wouldn’t overhear. “He woke up and said he’s hungry, but he also feels nauseous. He’s miserable, El. He’s tapping and flapping - and not the usual amount. I don’t know what to do.”

Elizabeth’s voice was calm and steady. “Okay, take a deep breath. Did you offer him something to eat?”

“I was about to, but what if he doesn’t eat? Or what if he throws up? Or what if-” Peter hesitated, lowering his voice further, “what if he never eats again?”

There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Peter! He’s not going to stop eating forever.”

“You don’t know that,” Peter said defensively.

“Sweetheart,” Elizabeth said, her voice filled with amusement, “kids get like this when they’re sick. Offer him something plain. Start with crackers or dry toast. And water - not too much at once, just little sips. He’ll eat a little when he’s ready.”

Peter sighed. “Okay. But what if-”

“Nope,” Elizabeth cut him off gently. “No more ‘what ifs.’ You’ve got this. Just go take care of him. And maybe take a breath yourself.”

Peter grumbled but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto his face. “Alright, fine. Thanks, hon.”

“Anytime. And let me know if you need me to come home early.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, drama queen.”

Peter ended the call and grabbed some salted crackers and a glass of water before heading back to Neal.

“Okay, kiddo,” Peter said, sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “I’ve got some snacks. Just a little, and you can stop if it doesn’t feel good.”

Neal took the crackers hesitantly, nibbling on one and sipping the water. He managed a couple of bites and a few sips before shaking his head and pushing them away.

“No more,” he murmured, his voice tired.

“Alright, that’s okay,” Peter said, taking the plate and cup away. “You did good, Neal. Now, why don’t you rest some more?”

Neal nodded and slid back down onto the couch, curling up under the blanket. Peter reached out to ruffle his hair gently, earning a small hum from the boy.

As Neal relaxed into the couch with his eyes glued on a book in his lap, Peter glanced at Satchmo, who was still glued to the boys side. “Alright, Satch,” he muttered. “Looks like we're doing pretty good.”

Satchmo wagged his tail slightly, his eyes fixed on Neal as if to say, I’ve got this.

By two in the afternoon, Neal was noticeably restless. He squirmed on the couch, shifting positions every few minutes with a frustrated sigh. He kept shuffling through watching the TV that now played a home renovation show as white noise, flipping through his books, and sketching in his notebook. None of them seemed to satisfy him.

Peter looked up from his laptop at the dining table, watching as Neal attempted to sit up and then flopped back down with an exaggerated groan.

“Alright, cowboy,” Peter said, closing the laptop and walking over. “What’s going on?”

“I’m tired of lying down,” Neal complained, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “But when I try to sit up, everything feels heavy.”

Peter knelt beside him, gently brushing a hand over Neal's hair. “Your body’s still fighting off the fever. It’s okay to be tired.”

Neal gave him a pouty look. “But I want to do something. This is boring.”

Peter chuckled softly. “How about we get some fresh air? Sitting outside might help. It’s not too cold out today.”

Neal blinked at him, considering. “The garden?”

“Yeah. We can take Satchmo out, too,” Peter suggested.

At the sound of his name, Satchmo perked up from his spot on the floor, his tail wagging eagerly.

“Okay,” Neal agreed, his voice perking up a little. “But you have to help me.”

“Deal,” Peter said, scooping Neal up carefully, blanket and all, and carrying him toward the back door.

Once outside, Peter set Neal down on a cushion on the grass near the patio table, wrapping the blanket snugly around him like a cocoon. The cool air was refreshing but not too chilly, and the garden looked serene in the winter light.

Satchmo bounced around the yard, chasing leaves and sniffing at bushes, his energy infectious. Neal smiled faintly as he watched, his fingers playing with the edge of his blanket.

“This is better,” Neal murmured.

“Good,” Peter said, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. “See? Fresh air works wonders.”

They sat quietly for a while, the sound of Satchmo's playful snuffling filling the air. Neal eventually looked at Peter with a small grin.

“Did you know,” Neal began, his voice still soft but gaining a bit of excitement, “that in the Renaissance, artists used crushed beetles to make red paint?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Crushed beetles?”

Neal nodded. “Yeah. It was called carmine. They’d dry the beetles, crush them up, and mix it with stuff to make the pigment. Gross, but cool, right?”

“Gross is right,” Peter said, laughing. “Where’d you learn that?”

“From one of my books this morning,” Neal said, sitting up a little straighter. “Oh, and there’s this other thing - Michelangelo hated painting the Sistine Chapel. He was more into sculpting, but the pope made him do it. He even wrote a poem about how much he hated it.”

Peter grinned. “I can’t believe you can remember all that.”

Neal shrugged, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “I like art. It’s interesting.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to share your knowledge with a peasant like me,” Peter teased, reaching out to squeeze Neals hand. “Keep ‘em coming, kid. You’re like a walking encyclopedia.”

Neals cheeks flushed, this time from a mixture of pride and lingering fever. Satchmo trotted over then, dropping a stick at Neals feet, his front feet stretched in front of him and wagging his tail enthusiastically.

Neal chuckled and looked at Peter. “He wants to play fetch.”

Peter stood, grabbing the stick. “Alright, but only if you promise to keep spitting out more facts, I'll shock the team when I go back to work.”

“Deal,” Neal said, leaning back in his chair and watching as Peter threw the stick across the yard, Satchmo tearing off after it.

For the first time all day, Neals smile lingered, bright and unguarded.

---------------

Elizabeth stepped through the front door at five, setting her bag down quietly. The house was warm and calm, a comforting contrast to her busy day. She peeked into the living room and couldn’t help but smile.

Neal was curled up on the couch, a history textbook clutched against his chest alongside his leopard. Satchmo lay on top of him, his head resting protectively on the boys chest, his tail thumping softly when he noticed Elizabeth.

Peter appeared from the kitchen, a finger pressed to his lips. “He’s been out for about thirty minutes,” he whispered, gesturing toward Neal. “Satchmo’s been glued to his side all day.”

Elizabeth walked over, brushing a gentle hand through Neal's hair. “Poor kid,” she said softly, her heart warming at the sight of him so peaceful.

Peter motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of wine and handed it over.

“So,” Elizabeth said, leaning against the counter, “how was your day as Nurse Burke?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was a rollercoaster. He had a rough morning. But we got some fresh air and I learned many new things about art. Dead insects were used as paint back in the day."

Elizabeth let out a chuckle. "I'm sure he didn't say it like that."

"Maybe not," Peters expression faltered. "I don't think I'll ever forget this day. He's so- he's so fragile and small and- he has been through way too much. What if that emptiness and hurt he has never goes away?"

Elizabeth set her glass down and took both of Peters hands in hers. “Peter, listen to me. You’re doing an amazing job. Neal feels safe with you. That’s why he cried - because he knew you’d be there to comfort him.”

Peter met her gaze, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Parenting isn’t about always having the answers,” She continued. “It’s about showing up and doing your best. And you’ve been two for two for Neal every single time.”

Peter let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know how you’re so calm about all of this. I called you earlier because I was convinced he’d starve to death.”

Elizabeth grinned. “Oh, I remember. I also remember telling you that kids bounce back.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced,” Peter joked, though his voice held more warmth now.

Elizabeth leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good dad, Peter. Whether you realise it or not.”

Peter blinked, caught off guard by her words. “I guess I’m trying,” he said, his voice a little gruff.

“You’re not just trying,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You’re doing.”

Peter smiled, pulling her into a hug. They worked around the kitchen as they cooked up a simple meal for dinner, the quiet hum of the house engulfing them.

From the living room, Neal stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Satchmo shifted closer to the boy, his protective presence a silent reassurance.

Elizabeth walked back into the living room forty-five minutes later and crouched beside the couch, brushing a hand gently along Neals turned back. “Neal,” she murmured softly. “Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up. Let’s try and get you to eat a little dinner.”

Neal stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, and he let out a tiny groan, still half-dreaming. “Mmm... don’t wanna...” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Come on, kiddo,” Elizabeth coaxed, her tone soft and warm. “You’ve been sleeping all day. You need something in your tummy. It’s some lovely spaghetti, I promise.”

Neal blinked slowly, his gaze not quite focused as it met hers. His mind was still caught in the haze of sleep. Without warning, he shifted closer, wrapping his arms loosely around her neck, burying his face into her shoulder with a soft sigh. “’Lizabeth,” he mumbled, his voice thick with drowsiness.

Elizabeth’s heart softened as she felt the warmth of his small body in her arms. “Yes, Neal?”

“Carry me?” he asked, his words slow and soft, almost childlike.

She smiled, her fingers running gently through his messy hair. “Of course, honey. Let’s get you up and moving a bit.”

Satchmo hesitantly lifted himself, and with a careful movement, Elizabeth lifted Neal into her arms, adjusting the blanket that still clung around him like a protective fort. He felt light, fragile even, and her arms instinctively tightened around him to make sure he was safe. Neal let out a content sigh as he settled against her, his head resting on her shoulder, one of his hands clutching at her shirt like a security blanket.

She began to rock him gently out of some motherly instinct as she walked toward the dining table. Neals eyes fluttered closed again, but he stayed relaxed in her arms, his breathing slow and steady. Satchmo trotted along beside her, tail wagging happily as he followed them once realising he would be getting food.

Peter looked up from where he was setting the table. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw Neal nestled in his wife's arms. “Well, isn’t that a sight,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection as he watched her carry the boy so naturally.

“Shh,” Elizabeth whispered with a playful smile, shaking her head. “He’s still half asleep. Let’s not jolt him awake completely just yet.”

Neal gave a soft murmur as Elizabeth sat him down gently in the chair at the table. He blinked slowly at the plate of food in front of him, his groggy mind catching up with reality. His stomach gave a loud grumble, and Neals eyes widened, finally realizing how hungry he truly was.

“Oh,” Neal said in surprise, eyeing the pasta. "I’m really hungry.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “That’s good to hear. Let’s try and eat something, yeah?” She sat beside him, ready to help if needed.

Neal hesitated for a moment, his fork hovering over the plate, before he finally poked at the pasta. His first few bites were slow, cautious, but once the warmth and flavor hit him, his appetite seemed to return in full force.

“This is so good,” Neal said between bites, a wide grin spreading across his face as he dug into the meal. He almost forgot how sick he’d been earlier as he continued to devour the food, each bite making him feel more like himself.

Peter watched in amazement. “Well, that’s a turnaround. An hour ago, you were barely touching crackers, and now you’re eating like it’s your last meal.”

Neal shrugged between bites, tearing off a chunk of bread. “Wasn’t hungry then. Am now.” His voice was muffled as he shoveled more pasta in. “Can I have more bread?”

Elizabeth smiled, offering him a second piece. “Take it easy, Neal. You’re going to make yourself sick if you rush through it.”

Neal shot her a playful look, a gleam in his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, continuing to eat as if he hadn’t seen food in days.

Satchmo, who had been lying on the floor nearby, trotted over and dropped his favorite chew toy at Neals feet, offering it as if to say, I’m glad you’re eating too. Neal grinned at the dog, but didn’t stop his eating.

Elizabeth brushed her hand over his hair as he finished the last bite of pasta, his plate completely clean. “How do you feel?”

Neal leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “Better,” he said with satisfaction.

Peter grinned. “You’ve got a little more color in your cheeks. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

Neal gave a sleepy nod, his eyelids drooping. “Can I go back to the couch now?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Elizabeth said, standing up. “Let’s get you settled back in.”

Neal let out a small, contented sigh as he let Elizabeth lift him again. “Thanks for carrying me, ‘Lizabeth,” he said sleepily, his voice soft and full of gratitude.

“No problem, Neal,” she replied with a warm smile. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As she carried Neal back to the couch, Satchmo trotted behind them, his tail wagging in delight. Neal let out a yawn as he curled back into the cushions, with the dog immediately nestling beside him, as if making sure he was okay.

“Alright, buddy,” Peter said, sitting down beside him. “You get some more rest. You earned it.”

Neal nodded, already drifting off again, the weight of the day finally catching up with him. “Goodnight, Papa… ‘Lizabeth…” he mumbled softly.

Elizabeth smiled, brushing her hand gently through his hair as he relaxed into sleep once more.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a quiet glance, the love and care for Neal visible in their eyes as they sat with him, ensuring he was comfortable and safe.

Chapter Text

The classroom was quiet, save for the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional sniffle or cough or heaven forbid a metal water bottle clatter to the floor again.

Neal sat at his desk, math test in front of him, and his stomach twisted in a way he didn’t like. He stared at the first question. Then the second. Both seemed like they were written in a language he didn’t understand.

He tapped his pencil against the desk, a steady rhythm that almost drowned out the nagging voice in his head. You have to get this right. You have to pass. You can’t mess this up.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. Neals fingers slipped into his pocket, pulling out a tiny piece of paper he’d prepared the night before. He unfolded it carefully beneath the desk, his heart pounding but his expression a constructed calm. The formulas and shortcuts he’d scribbled there were neat, precise, and completely against the rules.

But rules didn’t matter when failure wasn’t an option.

Neal glanced down at the cheat sheet, copying the formula onto his test paper. He didn’t think about the consequences, not really. His parents’ voices still echoed in his mind. You’re only as good as your success. If you fail, what good are you? He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t.

The pressure in his chest eased slightly as the answers began to fill the page. He could almost convince himself that this wasn’t wrong. It was survival. It was what he’d always been taught to do. Do whatever it takes to win.

But his relief was short lived.

“Neal?" Ms Harper's voice cut through the silence like a blade. Neals head jerked up, his wide blue eyes meeting her stern gaze. She was standing at the front of the room, her arms crossed. “What are you doing?”

He froze. The cheat sheet was still in his hand, hidden beneath the desk. For a second, he thought about slipping it back into his pocket, but the weight of her stare pinned him to the spot.

“I- nothing,” he stammered, his voice small.

“Stand up,” she said firmly.

Neals cheeks burned as he slowly stood, the cheat sheet crumpled in his fist. He hesitated, glancing around the room. The other students were staring, some whispering, some snickering.

“Hand it over,” She said, holding out her hand.

For a moment, Neal considered refusing. He could try to talk his way out of this, couldn’t he? But there was no use. She’d already seen enough. Slowly, he placed the crumpled paper in her palm.

The weight of her disappointment hit him harder than he expected. She sighed and shook her head. “We’ll be talking about this after class, Neal.”

He sank back into his seat, his ears burning and his hands trembling. The rest of the test was a blur. He couldn’t even focus on the questions anymore.

What would Peter and Elizabeth think?

The thought made his stomach churn. They weren’t like his parents; they wouldn’t yell. But they’d look at him with those sad, disappointed eyes, and somehow, that was worse.

Still, a part of him clung to the lessons his parents had drilled into him: It doesn’t matter how you get there, as long as you succeed. But sitting there, under the watchful gaze of Ms Harper and the whispers of his classmates, Neal wasn’t so sure anymore.

It was early afternoon when Elizabeth's phone rang, its cheerful chime breaking the quiet rhythm of her work-from-home day. She glanced at the screen, expecting it to be a client or Peter, but instead, the name Ms Harper flashed across the screen.

Elizabeth’s stomach tightened. She quickly picked up, her tone polite but edged with worry. “Hello, this is Elizabeth Burke.”

“Mrs. Burke, this is Ms Harper, Neals teacher,” the voice on the other end said, calm but firm.

Elizabeth straightened in her chair. “Yes, hello, Ms Harper. Is everything all right?”

There was a slight pause before the teacher replied. “I’m afraid I’m calling about an issue with Neal. He cheated on his math test today. I caught him with a cheat sheet.”

Elizabeth blinked, sure she must have misheard. “I- I’m sorry, did you say Neal cheated?”

“Yes, Mrs. Burke. I understand this might be unexpected, but unfortunately, we had to address it in class. Neal admitted to it after being caught. I'd like to meet with you and Mr. Burke after school to discuss how we can move forward.”

Elizabeth’s mind raced. Neal, sweet and clever as he was, had cheated on a test? Her immediate instinct was disbelief. Neal had been through so much already; he wasn’t a troublemaker by nature. Why would he risk doing something like this?

“What time would work for you?” she asked after a beat, her voice steady despite the storm of questions building inside her.

“Does 3:30 work for you and Mr. Burke?”

“Yes, that works. We’ll be there,” Elizabeth confirmed, her words firm, though her heart was anything but.

“Thank you, Mrs. Burke. I'll see you then,” Ms Harper said before hanging up.

Elizabeth set her phone down on the desk and pressed her fingers to her temples. She sat in silence for a moment, replaying the teachers words in her mind.

Neal had cheated. Not a misunderstanding or an exaggeration - he had been caught red handed.

It didn’t make sense. Neal was brilliant, always so quick with numbers when they played games at home or simply was reciting statistics and probability about art works and history.

But then again math wasn’t his favorite subject. Elizabeth remembered a few quiet complaints he’d made about how frustrating his previous assignments had been, how the numbers never seemed to make sense to him.

Her heart sank further as a new thought surfaced: What if this wasn’t just about math? What if it was something deeper?

She picked up her phone again and called Peter. He answered almost immediately.

“Agent Burke,” he said, his voice brisk as usual.

“Peter, it’s me,” Elizabeth said, her voice carrying a tremor she couldn’t quite mask.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, his tone instantly shifting to concern.

“It’s Neal,” she said, taking a deep breath. “His teacher just called. He... he cheated on his math test, Peter.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end before Peter spoke, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Cheated? Neal? Are you sure?”

“Yes. his teacher caught him with a cheat sheet during the test. She said Neal admitted it. She wants us to meet with her after school to talk about it.”

Peter exhaled sharply. “Why would he do that? He’s smart enough, he doesn’t need to cheat.”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted, her voice softening. “But, Peter... this isn’t like him. It’s not about laziness or rebellion. There’s something more going on here.”

“I know,” Peter said after a moment. His voice held the familiar steadiness she always found comforting. “I’ll leave the office early and meet you at the school. We’ll figure this out together.”

Elizabeth nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay. 3:30. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t. El, we’ll handle this. Neal’s been through a lot, but we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Peter said, his tone resolute.

As she hung up, Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, her thoughts a whirlwind. She felt a mix of sadness and worry. Neal had come so far since he moved in with them. He was thriving - or so she’d thought. What could have driven him to cheat?

And more importantly, how could they help him understand that he didn’t need to cheat to prove something?

She glanced at the clock. A few hours until they’d have to face Ms Harper and Neal. Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her temples again. Parenting was always a challenge, but this felt like uncharted territory.

------------------

The school building was quieter than usual, the usual hum of students replaced by an almost oppressive silence.

Peter and Elizabeth walked side by side, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Neal had been kept after school and was waiting for them in Ms. Harper’s classroom.

Peters expression was a mix of concern and frustration, his jaw tight as he glanced at Elizabeth. “He knows better than this,” he muttered under his breath.

Elizabeth gave him a gentle nudge. “We don’t know the whole story yet, Peter. Let’s keep an open mind.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying, El. I really am.”

When they reached the classroom, Ms. Harper was standing near her desk, sorting through some papers. Neal sat in a chair near the window, his small frame tense, his head down as he fidgeted with the hem of his blazer.

Ms. Harper looked up and gave them a polite but serious nod. “Mr. and Mrs. Burke, thank you for coming,” she said, gesturing for them to sit at the round table in the corner.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a brief glance before walking over, settling into the chairs. Neal didn’t move from his spot, his gaze fixed on the floor, though his shoulders hunched slightly when Peters gaze landed on him, the only proof that he recognised their presence.

“Neal, come sit with us,” Elizabeth said softly.

Reluctantly, Neal slid off his chair and trudged to the table, sitting in the chair farthest from his teacher. He still didn’t look up, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Ms. Harper sat down and folded her hands on the table. “I appreciate you both coming. I know this isn’t an easy conversation to have.”

Peter nodded. “We’re here to understand what happened.”

Ms. Harper glanced at Neal, who didn’t lift his head, before returning her gaze to Peter and Elizabeth. “Neal was caught with a cheat sheet during todays math test,” she said, keeping her voice gentle but direct. “He was attempting to use it to answer several of the questions.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly, but she quickly composed herself. Peters brows furrowed deeper.

“I understand this might come as a surprise,” Ms. Harper continued, “but Neal admitted to it when I confronted him. We’ve kept him after school to wait for this meeting because we felt it was important to address this with all of you together.”

Peter leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but calm. “Neal, is that true?”

Neals fingers twisted in his lap, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Neal,” Elizabeth said softly, “can you tell us why you did it?”

For a moment, there was silence. Neal’s lips trembled as he hesitated, his voice small and strained when he finally spoke. “I didn’t want to fail.”

Elizabeth’s heart clenched.

Ms. Harpers tone remained kind but steady. “Neal, you’re an amazing student. I know math isn’t your strongest subject, but failing a test isn’t the end of the world. Cheating, however, is a serious matter. Do you understand that?”

Neal nodded again, but his gaze remained glued to his lap.

Peter sighed, running a hand down his face before turning to Ms. Harper. “What happens now?”

Ms. Harper leaned back slightly. “Neal will need to retake the test. The original score will be voided, and his retake will count toward his grade. I’d also recommend we work together on strategies to help him feel more confident in class.”

Peter nodded tightly. “Thank you, Ms. Harper. We’ll talk to Neal about this at home and make sure he understands the seriousness of his actions.”

Elizabeth added gently, “And we’ll work on helping him with his math, too. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Ms. Harper smiled softly. “Neal’s a good kid. I know this isn’t about laziness or mischief. I suspect there’s more to why he felt he needed to do this.”

Elizabeth glanced at Neal, her heart aching at how small and ashamed he looked as he kicked his scuffed shoes against the tile. “We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.

Ms. Harper stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Neal. We’ll talk more about the retake then.”

Neal nodded one more time, barely glancing up as they left the classroom.

The car ride home was tense.

The hum of the engine filled the silence, broken only by the occasional sound of Peter clearing his throat or Elizabeth shifting in her seat. Neal sat in the back, his small frame pressed against the door, his eyes fixed on the passing streets outside.

Peters grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles pale as his thoughts churned. He couldn’t shake the image of Neal sitting there, looking so small and guilty, admitting to cheating.

The act itself wasn’t what gnawed at him the most - it was the why.

Finally, the overwhelming silence became too much. Peter glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Neals reflection. “Neal,” he said, his voice firm, “what were you thinking?”

Neal didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to his lap yet again.

“Cheating, Neal? Do you have any idea how bad that is?” Peter pressed, his voice rising slightly. “You’re lucky Ms. Harper is understanding. If this had been someone else, there could’ve been harsher consequences.”

“Peter,” Elizabeth said softly, her tone carrying a note of warning, but he didn’t stop.

“What if this becomes a habit?” Peter continued, his words spilling out in a rush. “You can’t just go through life cutting corners, Neal. That’s not how the world works. It’s-”

“I’m sorry!” Neal burst out suddenly, his voice cracking.

The outburst made Peter slam on the brakes at a red light harder than necessary, jolting everyone in the car. Neal pressed himself further into the corner of his seat, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. His small hands clutched the seatbelt across his chest as though it might shield him.

Peter froze, his heart lurching at the sight. “Neal, I didn’t-”

“Peter,” Elizabeth interjected, her voice sharp now. She reached over and touched his arm, her calm but firm gaze pulling him back. “Take a breath.”

Peter exhaled slowly, his grip loosening on the wheel. He looked over at Elizabeth, guilt written all over his face.

Elizabeth turned in her seat to face Neal, her voice gentle. “Sweetheart, you’re not in trouble anymore, okay? We’re going to work through this. You don’t need to be scared, we aren't going to do anything to harm you.”

Neals lower lip trembled, but he nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

The light turned green, and Peter eased the car forward again, his voice softer this time. “Neal, I’m not angry at you. I’m just worried.” He swallowed hard, his words slower now, carefully chosen. “I’m new at this whole parenting thing, and I messed up back there. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Neal glanced at him in the mirror but said nothing, fingers drumming rhythmically on his thighs.

Elizabeth picked up where Peter left off. “We know you’re sorry, Neal. And we know you’re not a bad kid. This was a mistake, and we’ll help you learn from it, okay? That’s what this is about - helping you, not punishing you.”

Neal blinked, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Okay,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Peters chest ached at the sound. “We’ll figure it out together,” he added, his voice still tinged with regret.

The rest of the drive was quieter, but less tense. Neal leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past. Elizabeth’s hand stayed on Peter’s arm, a silent reminder to let go of his guilt and focus on what mattered: Neal needed their guidance, not their frustration.

When they arrived home, Neal slipped out of the car before Peter had even turned off the engine. He headed inside, his backpack slung low on his shoulder, and muttered something about changing before disappearing up the stairs.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance as they followed him inside.

“He’s stalling,” Elizabeth said softly, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter.

Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. He’s probably waiting for us to cool off or hoping we forget.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Well, he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that.”

Upstairs, Neal stood in the middle of his room, his school uniform still on despite his claim. His backpack was propped against the wall, untouched. He fiddled nervously with the buttons of his shirt, his gaze darting between the bed, the door, and the window.

His stomach churned with unease.

He’d messed up, big time. Peter had been upset, and even though Elizabeth had calmed things down, the thought of facing them both again made his heart race like a horse.

What if they were disappointed? What if they didn’t want him anymore?

Neal sank onto the edge of his bed, his feet swinging just above the floor. Maybe if he stayed up here long enough, they’d forget about the whole thing.

But after ten minutes of silence, he heard footsteps on the stairs. His heart thudded in his chest as the sound grew closer.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Neal?” Elizabeth’s voice was gentle but firm. “Can we come in?”

Neal hesitated, glancing toward the door. “Um... okay.”

The door opened, and Elizabeth stepped in, Peter following close behind. They both looked calm now, which somehow made Neal feel worse.

Elizabeth sat on the bed beside him, giving him a warm but expectant look. Peter leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed but his expression softer than before.

“You’re still in your uniform,” Elizabeth noted, her tone light but knowing.

Neal shrugged, fiddling with the bed spread. “I was gonna change.”

“But you didn’t,” Peter said gently.

Neal didn’t reply, avoiding meeting either of their gazes.

Elizabeth leaned in slightly. “Sweetheart, are you stalling because you’re nervous about talking to us?”

Neals head shot up. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he gave a small nod, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh, Neal,” Elizabeth said softly, her heart clenching for him. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “You don’t need to be scared of us, okay? We’re not mad. We just want to help you understand why what you did wasn’t okay and figure out how to make it better.”

Peter stepped closer, his voice calm but serious. “Neal, we’re not disappointed in you. You’re not in trouble because you messed up - we’re here to teach you how to make better choices. That’s all.”

Neals lips trembled as he looked between them. “You’re not mad?” he whispered.

Peter crouched down so he was at eye level. “I was frustrated at first because I didn’t understand why you did it. But now I do, and no, I’m not mad. I’m just- I’m just trying to figure out the best way to help you.”

Neals shoulders sagged with relief. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he said quietly.

Elizabeth smiled gently, pulling him into a hug. “We know, sweetheart. And we’re going to get through this together.”

Peter ruffled Neal’s hair lightly as Elizabeth held him. “Why don’t you get changed now, and then we’ll all sit down and talk about how we’ll handle this, okay?”

Neal nodded against Elizabeth’s shoulder, the knot of tension in his chest beginning to loosen.

After changing into his home clothes - a soft t-shirt and sweatpants that hung loose on his small frame - Neal hesitated at the top of the stairs before making his way down.

Peter and Elizabeth were seated on the couch, waiting for him. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table, a silent peace offering that made Neal's chest flutter.

Elizabeth patted the cushion between her and Peter. “Come sit with us, sweetheart.”

Neal shuffled over and climbed up, sitting cross-legged while he tied and untied the strings of his sweatpants, unsure of where to start.

Peter spoke first, his voice kind. “Neal, can you tell us what happened today? What made you feel like you had to cheat on the test?”

Neals fingers tightened around the string. He glanced at them both, his pale blue eyes wide and unsure. “I- I didn’t know how to do it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Didn’t know how to do what?” Elizabeth asked softly.

“The math,” Neal admitted, his cheeks flushing with shame. “I tried to figure it out, but the numbers got all jumbled. It’s like they don’t make sense when they’re in those big, long equations.” He waved his hands as if trying to show how overwhelming it felt.

Elizabeth nodded, her expression understanding. “That must have been really frustrating.”

“It was,” Neal said, his voice rising slightly with emotion. “And... and I thought if I didn’t get it right, you’d be mad. Or you’d think I wasn’t smart.”

Peters chest tightened. “Neal, we’d never think that,” he said firmly. “Why would you think we would?”

Neal hesitated, his gaze darting between them. “Because- because that’s how it was with my parents,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “They said I always had to do good. That I couldn’t mess up, or...” He trailed off, biting his lip.

Elizabeth leaned in closer. “Or what, sweetheart?”

Neal swallowed hard. “Or I’d be worthless,” he whispered.

The room fell silent, the weight of Neals words hanging heavy in the air. Elizabeth reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, Neal,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “That’s not true. You are worth so much, no matter what. It doesn’t matter if you make mistakes or don’t know something. That’s what learning is for.”

Peter nodded, his tone more measured now. “Neal, we don’t expect you to be perfect. Nobody can be. It’s okay to not know things. It’s okay to ask for help.”

Neal blinked up at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Peter said firmly. “And as for the math, we can work on that together. Numbers can be tough, but once you break them down, they start to make more sense. You said you like numbers, right?”

Neal nodded hesitantly. “I do. When they’re simple, I like how they fit together, like a puzzle. I can do anything simple in my head, in a flash, I like statistics and facts. But when they get all big and complicated, it’s- it’s too much.”

“That’s normal,” Peter said. “A lot of people feel that way, even adults. But I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll take it step by step, and I promise it won’t feel so overwhelming.”

"I mean, I failed high school math three times," Elizabeth smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Neals face. “And remember, Neal, we’re proud of you for trying your best. That’s all we’ll ever ask for.”

Neal looked at them both, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re sure you're not mad at me?”

“We’re not mad,” Peter said, his voice soft but steady. “But there are still consequences for cheating, so you can learn from this.”

Neal nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Elizabeth gave his hand another squeeze. “We’ll talk more about that in a bit. But first, let’s have some cookies, and then maybe we can figure out what part of math feels the hardest. How does that sound?”

Neals lips curved into a small, shy smile. “That sounds okay.”

Peter reached for the plate of cookies, handing one to Neal. “See? We’re already off to a better start.”

Neal took the cookie, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time that day.

As Neal nibbled on his cookie, the atmosphere in the room grew a bit more relaxed. The weight of the conversation had started to lift, but Peter and Elizabeth both knew there was still more to address.

Peter exchanged a glance with Elizabeth before turning his attention back to Neal. “Alright, kiddo,” he began gently, “Cheating isn’t something we can just let slide, because it’s not about the math or the test, it’s about how we handle problems. You can’t just take shortcuts when things get tough.”

Neals eyes dropped to his half eaten cookie.

Elizabeth softened her tone. “We know this is hard, but there has to be consequences so you can learn from this. So, for the weekend, no TV or iPad. We’ll take it away for a bit to help remind you about doing things the right way, even when they’re tough.”

Neals face fell, and his shoulders sagged. He didn’t protest, though, knowing it was fair.

Peter continued, “And don’t worry, it’s just for the weekend. You’ll have your usual fun again on Monday after you finished re-sitting the test. But we think it’s important to help you remember why doing things honestly is so important.”

Neal gave a small nod, his lips pressed tight.

Elizabeth smiled softly, giving Neal a reassuring pat on the knee. “We love you, Neal. And we want you to grow up knowing that it’s okay to make mistakes, but it’s also important to own up to them and learn from them.”

Peter leaned forward, his voice warm but serious. “And as part of that, I’m going to spend some time with you every evening to help with the math, okay? Twenty minutes each school night. We’ll break it down together, and I’ll be here to help you understand it.”

Neals eyes lifted, a flicker of relief in them. “You’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Peter said with a smile. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Elizabeth nodded, brushing her hand through Neal’s hair. “And remember, Neal, we’re here for you no matter what. That’s what family is for.”

Neal smiled faintly, the weight of the day still lingering but now tempered with warmth.

With that, they settled into a more comfortable quiet, the evening continuing on with a sense of unity. Neal may have made a mistake, but with their guidance, he was learning that it didn’t define him. It was just part of growing up.

Chapter Text

Peter sat at his desk, a stack of paperwork in front of him. It was late, and the office was nearly empty. He was flipping through files related to the latest cases, reviewing details, when one in particular caught his attention - Neals file. He hadn’t seen it in a while, and as he scanned the contents, something caught his eye in the personal details section.

There, in the small corner of the page, was Neals date of birth.

It took a moment for the significance of the date to settle in. Neals birthday. Peter blinked, the realization creeping up on him.

It was next week. Neal would be turning eight.

Peter leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had no idea that Neals birthday was coming up. The kid had never mentioned it, and Peter found it strange. The Burkes had been spending more and more time with him recently, and Neal had gotten more comfortable around them, but there were still gaps in his life that he kept hidden. Peter could only imagine what kind of memories Neal might have, if any, attached to the day.

With a soft sigh, Peter stood and stretched. He felt an overwhelming need to make this birthday something Neal could cherish, something that would feel like love and warmth instead of the cold emptiness of neglect. He wouldn’t be able to take care of this alone, not without discussing it with Elizabeth. She would understand exactly what they needed to do.

As Peter set the file down, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth settle over him. Neal had never had a chance to experience a true birthday celebration before, but that was about to change. This year, he wouldn’t be alone.

--------------------------

Peter walked through the front door, shaking off the chill of the evening air. The house was warm, the comforting hum of daily life settling around him. As he kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat, he heard the familiar sound of Elizabeth tapping away at her keyboard.

He smiled to himself. It was a small sound, but it meant everything.

Neal was in the dining room, sitting at his usual spot with his homework spread out in front of him. Elizabeth was nearby, working on her laptop in the living room. The scene was peaceful, domestic, and everything Peter had hoped for when he first started this journey with Neal.

“Hey, hon,” Peter greeted Elizabeth, walking over to kiss her on the cheek. She looked up from her work, her fingers pausing on the keyboard.

“Hey, you,” she replied, giving him a warm smile. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old.” Peter leaned in closer, lowering his voice so Neal wouldn’t overhear. “I was looking through Neals file, and I found something... his birthday’s next week.”

Elizabeth’s brows furrowed slightly. “His birthday? How did we miss that?”

“He hasn’t mentioned it. But the date’s right there.” Peter glanced over at Neal, who was too absorbed in his work to notice the conversation. “I don’t think he’s ever really celebrated it.”

“Poor kid,” she murmured, her voice laced with sympathy. “It makes sense though, given everything he’s been through. I’m glad you found out.”

Peter nodded. “We need to make it special. I don’t care if it’s a little late, but we can’t let this go by without doing something for him.”

Elizabeth put her laptop down, her hands coming to rest on her lap as she turned toward Peter. “I’m with you. We can make it big, right? A party? Decorations? Gifts?”

“Yes. It’ll be everything he never had. I’m thinking we could have a small celebration, just us. Maybe invite a couple of his friends from school over, too, if he’s up for it. No pressure, just fun.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I love it. We’ll make sure he feels like it’s all about him, a day just for Neal. And, Peter - don’t stress too much. He’s going to love it, even if we keep it simple.”

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “You’re right. It’s not about the stuff; it’s about making him feel safe. I just want him to know he’s wanted, that he matters.”

“I know, honey. We’ll do it. It’ll be perfect.”

Peter grinned, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "I knew you'd be on board. I’ll keep it under wraps for now, though."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “I’ll get to work on the details. You keep him distracted.”

With a nod, Peter turned back toward the dining room, his heart swelling with excitement for the surprise that was about to unfold.

Neal, oblivious to the plans already in motion, looked up from his homework as Peter approached. “Hey, kid,” Peter greeted with a smile. “How’s it going?”

Neals eyes narrowed slightly, the familiar wariness creeping into his expression. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, glancing back down at his math problems.

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Need some help?”

Neal hesitated, chewing on his lower lip as he assessed Peter. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Alright.” Peters voice was light, casual, though his mind was still buzzing with ideas for Neals upcoming birthday. “You sure? I’m really good at math,” he added, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"Okay, what are you doing? What's up?" Neal set his pencil down to fully face him.

Elizabeth ruffled his hair with a grin. "Well, we stumbled upon some interesting information," She raised a brow, but Neal wasn't catching on. "Why didn't you tell us it's your birthday next Saturday?"

Realisation visibly rushed to the boys face, eyes widening. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

Peter let out a laugh, "You just 'forgot'? I thought you had perfect recall?"

"Yeah, well," Neal tried to defend himself, but nothing came. He wasn't used to needing to mention his birthday - his mother would usually start reminding him about a month before.

Peter grinned at his stumbling, and chose mercy. “Well, we didn’t know before, but now we do, and we’re going to make it special.”

Neals eyes widened again, and for a brief moment, Peter saw something like panic flash across his face. “You don’t need to-“

“Oh, yes we do,” Elizabeth interrupted gently. “You matter to us, Neal. And you deserve a birthday that’s all about you.”

Neal hesitated, his gaze flicking between them, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I don’t need a big deal,” he muttered, clearly unsure how to handle their warmth. “Just... don’t make it weird.”

Peter chuckled softly, walking over to sit beside him. “I promise, no weirdness. Just a little something. A cake. Some friends, maybe.” He grinned. “Definitely no clowns. Unless you want clowns, of course.”

Neals face scrunched up at the mention of clowns, his mouth twisting into an expression of mild horror. “No clowns. Please. No clowns.”

Elizabeth laughed, the sound light and easy. “No clowns, then. But we’ll still make it fun. You can help us pick out whatever you want.”

Peter leaned forward, resting a hand on Neal’s shoulder. “How does that sound, huh? A day that’s yours. No stress. Just fun.”

Neal didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at the table, fingers tracing the edge of his notebook. Peter could see the wheels turning in his mind, the hesitation clear. Neal wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of things like this - especially things that were as big as a birthday. The silence stretched between them for a few seconds, and then Neal looked up, his eyes uncertain but with a hint of hope.

“Okay. I’ll go along with it... but only if there’s cake. Really good cake.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Peter said with a grin, ruffling Neal’s hair.

Neals lips twitched at the corners, a hesitant smile forming. It wasn’t much, but for Peter, it was everything. It was the first sign that Neal might be starting to trust in the simple joys of life. Birthdays, parties, cake - all things Neal had never truly had the chance to experience.

“I’m gonna finish my homework,” Neal said, as if to brush off the subject, though his tone was less suspicious than before.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance, both of them silently agreeing that the plan was already set into motion. Neal had no idea what was coming, but that would make it even sweeter.

As Neal bent over his books again, Elizabeth returned to her laptop, fingers tapping away. Peter, however, stayed where he was, watching Neal with a soft smile.

He could already imagine the look on Neals face when the party came together—the shock, the joy, and hopefully, the warmth of finally being part of something real.

It was going to be the birthday Neal would never forget.

------------------

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and the Burkes were gathered in the living room, sitting in a loose circle around the coffee table. Neal sat cross legged on the couch, his fingers idly tapping on his knee, his thoughts clearly swirling as they moved into the part of the conversation he was most uncertain about - his birthday.

The room felt cozy, a mix of warmth and familiarity that seemed to make Neal feel both comfortable and uneasy all at once. Peter was lounging in the armchair, one leg casually draped over the armrest, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched Neal carefully. Elizabeth was perched on the edge of the sofa, her laptop open on the coffee table in front of her, already flipping through pages of inspiration.

Neal had already been fairly quiet for most of the discussion, and Peter could sense he was trying to adjust to the idea of actually having a celebration.

“So,” Elizabeth began, full of energy, “I’ll handle the decorations since, you know, that’s kind of my thing.” She winked at Neal, who glanced at her for a moment before quickly looking down at his lap, clearly trying to hide the flush on his face. “All you need to do is pick a theme.”

Neals brows furrowed slightly, as if the idea of picking a theme for his birthday was suddenly the most complicated task in the world. He scratched his head, trying to think. “A theme?” he repeated, as though the word itself held some sort of mysterious weight. He leaned back against the cushions, the pressure of picking something just right suddenly feeling heavier than he expected. “I don’t know... something cool, I guess?”

Peter leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he joined in the brainstorming. “Well, cool is always good, but what do you like? What do you think would be fun?” His voice was soft but encouraging, wanting to make sure Neal felt like this was something he could control, not just something he had to go along with.

Neal blinked, his gaze drifting toward the window for a moment, his fingers tapping on the arm of the couch. “I mean... I don’t really know what would be fun for a party. I never really had parties before.” His voice trailed off, the unease creeping back into his tone, and his eyes seemed to get lost in the thought. “I don’t even know what people do for birthdays.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened, and she gave him an understanding look, sensing that this was more than just a simple party planning session for him. “You don’t have to worry about that, Neal. Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen. How about something like a favorite movie or a place you love? Something that makes you happy?”

Neal shifted slightly, looking down at his hands, clearly still unsure. The idea of having something just for him felt new, unfamiliar, and a little intimidating. “I guess I could pick a movie,” he said slowly, but then his face fell a little. “But I don’t really have anyone to invite, do I?”

Peter blinked in surprise. “What do you mean? Don’t you have any friends you’d like to invite?”

Neal shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping on his leg again. “I mean, not really. I don’t have anyone I’m close enough to for that. My school friends are just that, for school.” His words felt a little stiff, as if even acknowledging his own loneliness made it more real.

Peters heart gave a soft tug at that. He hadn’t really realized how isolated Neal had been before he came into their lives. The idea of him not having close friends, especially at his age, where all you needed to be able to do to was run fast, was something Peter wasn’t entirely prepared for.

“Well, that’s okay,” Peter said gently, trying to make it sound casual. “You don’t need a big crowd. It’s about what you want.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, her voice full of warmth. “We’ll keep it small, just the people you’re comfortable with. Maybe invite a few people you’re starting to get to know?”

Neal gave a small, almost hesitant shrug, his eyes flicking between Peter and Elizabeth. “I mean... I guess I could invite Diana and Jones. They’re nice to me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at that, a little surprised by the suggestion. Neal had always been a bit guarded when it came to the agents, but it made sense. Diana and Jones were two of the few people at the bureau who’d shown him kindness beyond the usual professional courtesy.

“Diana and Jones, huh?” Peter repeated, trying to make the idea sound as casual as possible. “That sounds good. I’m sure they’d love to come.”

Neal nodded but hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter now, bordering on shy. “But... could we also just have a day for the three of us? I mean, just you guys. I think I’d really like that.”

The room fell silent for a moment, and then both Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, their faces softening in a wave of affection. It was a small request, but it hit them both hard. It wasn’t just about a party or a surprise. It was about him wanting to be part of something real and intimate, something that no one had ever offered him before.

Elizabeth’s voice was gentle, her tone full of emotion. “Of course, Neal. Of course we can have a day just for us.” Her words were followed by a soft chuckle as she leaned over to give Neal a quick hug.

Peters eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and tenderness. “I second that. We’ll make sure you get your special day with just the three of us. But we’ll also make it a party you’ll remember, okay?”

Neal smiled shyly, the thought of a quiet day with just the three of them slowly starting to feel real. But Elizabeth’s sudden thought made him blink.

“Oh!” she startled, her eyes lighting up as an idea flashed across her mind. “Wait! I just remembered something. There’s an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art - The Age of the Impressionists - and I know they’re doing a special family day next weekend. A friend of mine recommended it to me the other day.”

Neals eyes widened, and for the first time that afternoon, his wariness seemed to fade away. “Wait, really? That sounds amazing. I’ve never really had a chance to go to a proper art museum for fun.” His voice was filled with excitement, and a glimmer of hope seemed to spark in his eyes. “Could we really go there?”

Elizabeth’s face softened, seeing that spark of joy in Neals expression. “Absolutely. We can make it our special day. Art, food, fun, whatever you want.” She turned to Peter, a gleam in her eyes. “What do you think? A day at the museum?”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head to rid the idea that Neal had gone to art museums for something other than fun. “I think Neal’s on board. That sounds like a great idea. It’ll be a perfect way to spend the day together before the party.”

Neals grin was wide, the excitement lighting up his entire face. “I can’t believe this is happening,” He shook his head, still a little incredulous, but the excitement was unmistakable. “This is really happening.”

Peter stood up, walking over to Neal and ruffling his hair again. “You bet it is, cowboy. It’s all yours. All of it.”

Neal sat there for a moment, absorbing it all - the love, the excitement, and the realization that this birthday was going to be everything he never thought he deserved.

He looked up at Peter and Elizabeth, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

Elizabeth smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “You’re welcome, Neal.”

--------------------------

The house was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon.

Neal was still at school, and the steady hum of the day was quieter now that Elizabeth had the time off. She moved around the kitchen with a practiced ease, making herself a cup of coffee before settling at the dining table, papers and plans sprawled in front of her. She glanced at the clock on the wall - Neal wouldn’t be home for another few hours. There was plenty of time.

Her mind wandered, focusing on the upcoming birthday, still several days away, but the excitement she felt for Neal was already bubbling up inside her. She’d spent the past couple of days pulling things together quietly, not wanting to overwhelm him, but she was determined to make it special in a way that felt comfortable for him.

Neal had been so tentative when he’d first mentioned the party, hesitant as if it was something he didn’t quite deserve or maybe wasn’t used to. But Elizabeth could see the little spark in his eyes when he’d named the theme - The Lion King. The movie had been one of his favorites for a while now, and it made sense. Neal had always been a dreamer, even in the most uncertain of circumstances. The idea of a story about overcoming fear, finding ones place in the world, and accepting who you are must have resonated with him more than she realized.

It wasn’t going to be a big celebration - not with too many people, no grandiose plans. Neal had been clear he didn’t want the attention. So, Elizabeth had scaled back the idea to something smaller, something cozy. A few simple decorations, maybe some animal print balloons, a few themed snacks, and, of course, the birthday cake. She had found the perfect one at a bakery in the city, not quite on theme but absolutely a love of Neals - a Starry Night chocolate cake. She hoped it would be enough to make Neal smile without making him feel like the whole world was focused on him.

Elizabeth reached for her phone, scrolling through Pinterest for some last minute ideas. She found some simple Lion King themed party decorations that would suit the vibe, nothing too extravagant, but enough to set the mood. She added a couple of items to her shopping cart. Neal would appreciate the understated effort; it was a balance between giving him a sense of normalcy while still giving him a day he could look back on with fondness.

Her fingers hovered over the purchase button, but then her thoughts drifted to something else - gifts. What would Neal want? She had a feeling he wasn’t the type to ask for much. After everything he’d been through, the idea of receiving anything tangible might have felt strange to him. But Elizabeth wanted to give him something meaningful. Something that would remind him that he was loved, that he mattered beyond his past, beyond what he’d been taught to expect.

She wrote down a few ideas. A book. Neal loved to read, firing through everything of interest in the house already. A book about adventure, about heroes - something that would inspire him. Or maybe something more personal, like a small, leather bound journal. She’d seen him scribbling notes in little notebooks before, collecting his thoughts, documenting his experiences.

Her mind kept spinning, and her heart warmed as she thought about how she could bring this all together.

When five o'clock came around, Elizabeth had a large enough plan and plenty of packages on their way.

The front door opened, and Neals voice carried through the house as he walked in, his usual energy a little more vibrant than usual. Peter followed behind him, his arms full of a few grocery bags from the mission she'd sent them on for snacks.

“Hey, hey!” Neal greeted, his eyes lighting up as he spotted Elizabeth in the kitchen. His smile was wide as he held back his excitement. “Guess what?”

Elizabeth turned, wiping her hands on a towel, and her face lit up. “What’s going on?” she asked, walking toward him with a grin.

“Diana and Jones said yes!” Neal blurted out, practically bouncing on his heels. “They’re coming to the party!”

Peter chuckled from behind him, clearly entertained by Neals enthusiasm. “He practically jumped out of the car when they confirmed,”

Neals excitement was contagious, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at the joy radiating from him. She crouched down to his level and brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “That’s amazing, sweetheart. I know they’re going to have a great time. It’ll be a great party.”

Neals face lit up even more at the praise, a sense of accomplishment in his gaze. He seemed genuinely proud, but then, as if remembering something, he quickly added, “It’ll be just... just the three of us too, right? You know, for a little while?”

Elizabeth’s heart melted. The way he phrased it, so shy and hopeful, made her want to wrap him up in a hug. “Of course, honey,” she reassured him, her voice soft. “We’ll have our quiet time just the three of us, just like you asked. No big deal, I promise.”

Neals relief was almost palpable. His shoulders relaxed, and a little bit of tension drained from his expression. He smiled shyly and nodded.

Peter cleared his throat, walking over to Elizabeth and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I think that's all settled, now, but we still have to talk about the other thing.”

Neal glanced between them, brows furrowed in confusion. “What other thing?” he asked, looking up at the agent.

Elizabeth leaned in, her eyes twinkling. “Well, Neal, now that we’ve got the party all planned, we need to think about something else. Do you have a wishlist for presents? You know, anything you’ve been wanting?”

Neals face immediately shifted into a soft blush. He fidgeted slightly, looking down at the floor like the question caught him off guard. “Oh, uhm, I don’t really need anything,” he mumbled, his voice soft as if the very idea of asking for something made him uneasy.

Peter exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, the understanding clear between them. Neals hesitation was no surprise; asking for things had probably never been easy for him, not with the way he’d grown up. They both knew they’d need to be gentle about this.

“Neal,” she said gently, “it’s okay to want things, you know. You don’t have to be shy about it. We just want to make sure you have something special for your birthday.”

Neal squirmed a little, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t need much.”

Peter softened his expression, stepping closer. “You’ve been through a lot, Neal. You deserve to have something you really want. It could be something small, something that you've seen in the stores.”

Neals gaze flicked up, his face still red, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of something excited, maybe a little embarrassed to admit it, but still eager. “Well... there’s this brand of watercolors. I’ve been wanting them for a while,” he said quietly, his voice a little hesitant, as if unsure if they’d think it was too silly.

Elizabeth’s heart did a little flip. She could hear the quiet hope in his voice, the way he’d let his guard down just a little. “Watercolors?” she repeated, smiling. “That’s a great choice. I think that would be perfect for you. You could do so much with them.”

Neals shoulders relaxed, and he gave a small, almost shy smile. “Yeah. I saw them in a shop once, but... they’re really expensive,” he admitted, as though he was still unsure if it was something he deserved.

“They’re a little expensive, but if they’re something you’ve wanted, we can make it happen,” Peter said, his voice warm and firm.

Neals face broke into a smile, a shy but genuine one, and he gave a little nod. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands, the nervousness still lingering, but the relief on his face clear.

Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder. “It’s settled, then. We’ll try and get those watercolors for you.” She smiled up at Peter. “We’ll get everything ready for Saturday. It’s going to be a great day.”

Neal seemed to relax completely then, the tension easing from his posture. “I can’t wait,” he said softly, his excitement starting to show again.

As Neal turned to head up the stairs to get changed, he cast a glance back at them, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks again,” he said, his voice a little more confident now, the happiness in his eyes unmistakable.

Elizabeth watched him go, her heart full. She glanced at Peter, her smile matching his. “We’re really doing this for him, aren’t we?”

Peter wrapped his arm around her once more, pulling her close. “We are. And he deserves every bit of it.”

---------------------

It was a rare thing for Peter and Elizabeth to be able to go gift shopping together without any interruptions.

With Neal safely at the office, under Diana's watchful eye, they had the afternoon to themselves. As they strolled through the store, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement. Neals birthday was just a few days away, and this was the moment they’d been waiting for.

“So, we’re sure that the watercolors are the correct brand, right?” Elizabeth asked as she ran her fingers over the rows of art supplies.

Peter nodded, looking over the various paints and brushes with a practiced eye. “He showed me the photos. I think it’ll be perfect for him. Plus, he deserves to have something nice.” He grinned at Elizabeth.

They continued walking through the mall, picking up a few other items along the way. Elizabeth carefully selected some premium sketchpads, knowing Neal would love having a fresh canvas for his new sketches and paintings. Peter grabbed a few art supplies, including different brushes, colored pencils, and a couple of fancier fine liners that seemed to fit Neals artistic abilities.

“Okay, now for the books,” Elizabeth said, adjusting the strap of her purse. “He’s been reading like crazy lately, so we can’t go wrong with some new titles.”

Peter nodded and led her toward the young adult section, his eyes scanning the shelves. Neal had always been a voracious reader, so it was a matter of finding something he hadn’t read yet but would enjoy. After a few minutes, they found a couple of classics - The Chronicles of Narnia and a beautifully illustrated edition of The Secret Garden. They seemed perfect for a young boy with vivid imagination.

“I’m thinking a building set, too,” Peter said as he pointed to a display of magnetic construction toys. “He’s always putting things together and effectively not breaking anything, and these look like they’d keep him busy for hours.”

Elizabeth agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Magnetic? That’s pretty cool. Let’s grab one of those.”

They continued their search, chatting happily about all the different gifts they could get. As they neared the checkout counter, Peter paused, eyes wide with realization.

“Wait,” he said, walking over to a nearby shelf with stuffed animals. Elizabeth followed him, a puzzled expression on her face.

He reached for a stuffed tiger, holding it up for her to see. The tiger was soft, with bright orange and black stripes and big, round eyes that seemed to sparkle. It was a perfect match for Neal’s current stuffed leopard - a toy he refused to leave behind at any time.

“Do you think...?” Peter trailed off, holding the tiger carefully.

Elizabeth blinked, her smile widening as she examined the toy. “It’s a perfect match,” she said, her voice full of fondness. “It’s like a best friend for the leopard, just for him.”

Peter grinned, already knowing it would be the perfect addition to Neals birthday gifts. “I think this is it. This is the one.” He gently placed the tiger into the shopping cart and pushed it toward the counter.

Elizabeth leaned in, giving him a playful nudge. “I love it. It’s going to be so cute. Neal’s going to flip when he sees it.”

They reached the checkout, where the cashier began ringing up their items. Peter paid with a smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at how well the shopping trip had gone.

Once the bags were packed, they made their way back to the car, both eager to get home and continue with the preparations.

“So, Diana’s got Neal?” Elizabeth asked, glancing over at Peter as he drove.

“Yep. She said she’d keep him busy while we were out,” Peter replied. “I think he’s enjoying the break from routine. Plus, it’s nice for him to have some time to just relax with her.”

Elizabeth smiled at the thought. Diana had been such a good friend to Neal, always looking out for him. It was reassuring to know he was in good hands while they worked on making his birthday special.

The thought of Neals smile, the quiet excitement in his eyes, filled Elizabeth’s heart as they drove home. She couldn’t wait for the surprise to be revealed.

It was going to be perfect.

Chapter Text

It was Friday morning, and the air was thick with excitement as Neal bounced around the house, practically vibrating with anticipation. His birthday was still a day away, but today felt like a celebration all on its own.

Elizabeth and Peter had taken the day off work, Neal was given the day off school, and together they were heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was Neals first visit, and the idea of exploring the exhibits was enough to make him giddy.

He was already dressed, a little bundle of energy in his fossil print shirt that Elizabeth had bought for him last month. It fit him just right, soft and loose from all the times he’d worn it. It felt like his lucky shirt, the one that made him feel special, and today, it seemed a perfect fit.

“Is everyone ready yet? Are we leaving soon?” Neals voice echoed down the hallway as he peeked into the kitchen.

Elizabeth was clicking on her heels at the entrance, already ready to go. “Almost, sweetheart,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched Neals energy repel off the walls. “We’re just about to leave. Are you sure you’ve got everything?”

Neal glanced down at his shirt, tugging at the fabric with an eager grin. “Yep, I’m ready. I can’t wait!” His voice held that unmistakable excitement only an (almost) eight year old could muster when heading to something as exciting as a museum.

Peter, who had just finished gathering the tickets and keys, looked over at the kid. “You’re not gonna wear yourself out before we even get there, are you?” he teased, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Neal shook his head furiously. “No way! I’ve been waiting for this forever!” He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, a collection of sketchbooks and pencils tucked inside for when inspiration struck.

“Well, let’s make sure we get there in one piece,” Peter replied with a smile, ruffling Neal's hair affectionately.

As the trio piled into the car, Neal was already wriggling in his seat, his eyes sparkling with impatience. The moment the engine started, his fidgeting increased. He kept twisting in his seat, tapping his fingers against the armrest, his gaze darting between the passing scenery and the clock.

“Are we there yet?” Neal asked for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last ten minutes.

Peter let out a laugh. “We’ve just left the neighbourhood, buddy. Give it a minute.”

“I know, I know,” Neal muttered, but the words were rushed, like he was on the verge of bursting with excitement. “It’s just- I can’t wait. Did you know they have a T. rex skeleton there? Like a real one?” Neal turned to look at them, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “A real T. rex!”

“I think I read something about that,” Elizabeth said, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. “It’s supposed to be massive.”

Neal nearly hopped out of his seat at the thought. “I know, right?! I bet it’s the biggest thing ever. What if we get to stand next to it?”

Peter chuckled, amused by Neals energy. “I think we’ll be a little bit further away from the T. rex. You don’t want to stand too close to a giant dinosaur, do you?”

Neal giggled, but his mind was already racing ahead to the exhibits. His hands tapped rhythmically on the car seat, his foot bouncing in time with the beat of the radio. “We’re gonna see the mummies, right? And the ancient Egypt stuff? And the art - El, you said they have famous art, like Van Gogh and Monet, right?”

Elizabeth smiled at Neals endless curiosity, her heart swelling with affection. “Yes, we’re going to see all of that. And we’ll take our time, okay? We’ll go through everything you want to see.”

With the excitement building in the car, it was clear that no matter what else happened, today was going to be a day Neal would never forget.

The moment they stepped into the museum, Neals excitement only seemed to grow.

His eyes were wide, taking in the grandiose halls decorated with towering statues, intricate paintings, and glass cases filled with ancient treasures. It was as if he had walked into a different world, and the thrill of discovery was written all over his face.

Peter and Elizabeth had to practically chase him from exhibit to exhibit as Neal pointed out every fact he knew with fervor. “Did you know that the T. rex had the strongest bite of any land animal ever? It could crush bone with a force of over 12,000 pounds!” Neal said in a low voice, as if he was sharing a secret with them.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Peter replied, smiling at the enthusiasm bubbling up from Neal.

They easily found themselves in a Greek section of the museum, appreciating the boding paintings and gorgeous statues holding centuries of meaning. Neal continued to rattle off information, both old and new, as he read the fact boards by each work.

Neal, caught up in his excitement, didn’t notice the worker nearby who had overheard his conversation. The worker, a museum docent with a friendly smile, stepped forward and addressed Neal. “Hey there, I couldn’t help but overhear - sounds like you know a lot about history. Would you like to know more about this statue?”

Neals head whipped around, his eyes lighting up. The statue in front of them was of an ancient warrior, poised and regal, holding a spear. He looked up at the docent, his brain already spinning with information.

Peter, in a playful tone, leaned toward the docent and winked. “Oh, trust me, he’s a clever clog. He’s got more facts than anyone I know.”

The docent smiled, clearly amused. “Well, I’ll take that as a challenge.” Turning to Neal, the worker asked, “Do you know who this statue represents?”

Neal, not even missing a beat, nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a statue of Achilles. It was made in the early 4th century BC, based on Greek ideals of beauty and heroism. Achilles was one of the greatest warriors of the Trojan War, and this statue likely represents him at the height of his strength and bravery. The spear was probably added to emphasize his warrior status.”

The docent blinked, clearly impressed. “That’s absolutely right,” the worker said with a smile, clearly taken aback by the boys knowledge. “You’re spot on with all the details. I’m impressed!”

Neal beamed, his chest puffing up with pride. “I've read about him in my history books. And I love Greek mythology.”

“See? I told you he knows everything.” Peter gave Neal a playful nudge, ruffling his hair.

His grin stretched wider at the praise, and he turned to Elizabeth, who gave him a proud smile. “Look at you impressing the museum staff.”

Neals cheeks flushed a little, but the smile on his face never faltered. “It’s no big deal,” he mumbled modestly, but his eyes shone with joy.

“We should start charging for your tours,” Peter teased.

They continued on through the museum, Neal happily explaining more facts about different pieces they came across. At one point, as they passed an ancient Egyptian exhibit, Neal pointed out a sarcophagus and began detailing the process of mummification, right down to the specifics of how the organs were preserved.

It was only mildly disturbing.

By the end of the visit, Neal was practically glowing, buzzing with excitement over the art, the history, and everything he had seen. The praise from the docent had only fueled his enthusiasm, and he couldn’t stop talking about what he had learned. “Did you know the Egyptians used gold to protect the dead from evil spirits? And some of their tombs had curses to keep thieves away.”

Elizabeth was practically glowing with pride, turning to Peter as they walked toward the exit. “He’s like a walking encyclopedia, isn’t he?”

Peter grinned. “That’s my boy,” he said with a hint of awe in his voice. “He’s one of a kind.”

As they made their way out of the museum after just over three hours, Neal was still high on excitement, reciting facts and eagerly recounting his favorite moments. His parents shared a quiet, satisfied glance. It was a day Neal would remember for the rest of his life - a day filled with excitement, discovery, and the joy of sharing it all with the people who loved him most.

Once they began to make their way to the restaurant, Neal started to slow down, dragging his feet as he looked up at the tall buildings around him. His energy had dulled just a little, the excitement of the museum beginning to wear off, replaced by a sudden longing to be close. He glanced up at Peter, then down at his own feet, clearly unsure how to voice what he was feeling.

“Hey, Peter,” Neal said, his voice small and uncertain.

Peter stopped walking, looking down at Neal with a raised brow. “What’s up, kid?”

“I kind of want to be carried,” Neal mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Peter smiled softly, his heart swelling. “You got it,” he said, crouching down in front of Neal. Without another word, Neal stepped forward, and Peter easily lifted him into his arms, settling him against his chest.

Neal immediately curled into Peter, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands clutching at the collar of Peters jacket for comfort. The weight of him felt familiar and right, and Peter couldn’t help but smile down at the top of his head, the connection between them as natural as breathing.

Elizabeth, walking beside them, smiled warmly at the sight. She slowed her pace, letting Peter enjoy the moment with Neal, both of them wrapped up in the quiet bond they shared. Neal, who was always insistent on being independent, was now allowing himself to be held, his trust in Peter unshakable.

“You’re getting heavy, you know,” Peter teased gently, glancing down at Neal with a grin.

Neal huffed out a laugh, though he didn’t let go. “You’re just too weak.”

As they walked, Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Peter, her smile full of warmth and love. She couldn’t have asked for a better moment - Neal, with all his brilliance and layers, still found comfort in the simplest things. And Peter always gave him the world without hesitation.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, the scent of fresh bread and rich sauces immediately making Neals stomach growl with anticipation. They were led to a quiet corner booth, and Neal was sat down next to Peter, eyes sparkling as he looked at the menu.

Peter and Elizabeth settled across from him, sharing a glance before both focusing on Neal, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

Neal murmured to himself as he scanned the menu, considering his options. "Can I have the spaghetti."

Elizabeth smiled, her voice light. "Well, you certainly know what you want."

Lunch passed with conversation flowing easily between the three of them. Neal talked about the museum visit, animatedly describing the things that had caught his attention once again. He had an endless supply of facts, but what was more important was the light in his eyes, the joy of sharing something he loved.

"I think I could stay there all day," Neal said between bites of spaghetti. "I bet there's more stuff I haven’t even seen yet."

Peter smiled at him. "Maybe next time we can make a whole day of it. I know I didn’t want to leave, either."

Neals eyes widened. "You’d take me back? Just us?"

"Of course," Peter said, nodding. "I think we all had a great time."

Neals face softened at that, and he nodded in agreement, his fork pausing mid air as he reflected on how much fun he'd had.

"Thanks for doing this for me," Neal said quietly, awkwardness flushing his cheeks. "It’s really nice."

Peters heart swelled at the maturity in his voice. "You don’t have to thank us, kid. We’re just glad you’re here with us."

The moment hung between them for a beat, warm and full of meaning. It wasn’t the grand gestures or the expensive adventures that made this day so special, it was the simple moments, the closeness they had found with each other. A family, imperfect but real, growing together.

By the time they left the restaurant, the sun began to sink below the city skyscrapers. Neal was full of stories and laughter, still holding onto the joy from their trip, while Peter and Elizabeth shared a quiet satisfaction in the way everything had come together.

They walked back to the car, Neal occasionally skipping ahead. As Peter opened the door for Neal to climb into the backseat, Neal turned back to face him with a grin.

"I can’t wait for my birthday," he said, almost breathlessly.

Peter laughed softly. "You won’t have to wait long, kiddo."

Neal buckled himself in, leaning back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "This was the best day ever."

Elizabeth, sitting beside Peter in the passenger seat, smiled at him. "We’re glad you had fun."

As they drove home, the city lights shining around them, Peter couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that all these small, everyday moments - like carrying Neal through the streets, sharing a quiet meal - were what made a family. And he wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

As soon as they walked in the door, Neal was beginning to unwind for the business the day had brought. He kicked off his shoes by the door and glanced back at Peter, who was hanging his jacket up.

"Okay, kid," Peter said, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he pulled something from behind his back. "I was gonna wait until tomorrow, but I just couldn’t hold off any longer."

Neals eyes widened as he noticed the wrapped package in Peters hands. "What’s that?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

Peter crouched down to Neals level and handed it to him. "It’s for you, for your birthday. I saw it at the museum today, and I thought it’d be perfect."

Neal carefully unwrapped the package, his fingers working carefully but eagerly as the paper came away. His breath caught in his throat as he revealed the gift - a thick, beautifully bound book. The cover was a deep burgundy with gold lettering that read: The Art of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Neals heart skipped a beat.

"A book?" he whispered, his voice catching slightly. "But it’s... it’s all the artworks from today?"

Peter nodded, his smile softening as Neals fingers brushed over the cover, tracing the intricate design. "Yep, it’s filled with all the pieces you saw today, plus more. In full detail, with stories behind them. I thought it might be something you’d enjoy."

Neal looked up at Peter, his face glowing with surprise and pure happiness. He grinned widely, his eyes practically sparkling as he clutched the book to his chest. "This is amazing!" He almost seemed overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it, his voice barely more than a breath. "You got this for me? From the museum?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, his voice warm. "I figured it would be a way to remember the day. And you can read about all the things you didn’t get to see today."

Neals eyes shone as he processed the surprise, the weight of the gesture was undeniable. "Thank you, Peter. It’s perfect."

Peter chuckled softly. "You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m glad you like it."

Neals grin never faltered as he carefully flipped open the book to the first page. "This is gonna take me forever to read," he murmured, his fingers lingering over the images, soaking in every detail. "I’m gonna learn so much."

Elizabeth has watched the exchange with a soft smile, and stepped forward to ruffle Neal's hair. "You know, Peter’s right. This can be a reminder of the best day ever," she said, her voice full of affection. "And we get to relive it every time you look through that book."

Neal looked up at her, his eyes twinkling with a kind of awe that made Elizabeth’s heart swell. "It’s the best gift ever." he said, turning the pages slowly, savoring each image.

As Neal sat down on the couch, continuing to flip through the book with fascination, Peter stood up and smiled at Elizabeth. "I think we just gave him the best gift ever."

Elizabeth nodded, watching Neal as he became completely absorbed in the book. "I think so too," she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet joy. "And it’s only the beginning. Tomorrow’s going to be a special day."

Chapter Text

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Peter and Elizabeth had been up early, sneaking around the kitchen with quiet excitement. On the counter sat a small, simple cupcake, vanilla with a swirl of frosting and a single "8" candle flickering softly in its center.

Elizabeth smiled as she carefully picked up the treat, holding it delicately. Peter grinned at her from the doorway, clearly just as eager as she was. "Ready?"

"Ready," Elizabeth whispered, carefully positioning herself beside the bed. Neal, still deeply asleep, was curled up under the covers, his tousled hair sticking up in every direction. The peaceful silence of the room was only interrupted by the quiet hum of the candles dancing flame.

Peter crept to Neals side, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. "Neal," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing. "Wake up, birthday boy."

Neal stirred, a soft groan escaping him as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His face was still full of sleep, but the moment he blinked and saw the candle flickering in front of him, his eyes shot open. He looked from the cupcake to his parents, his gaze widening in sleepy surprise.

"Happy birthday, Neal," Elizabeth cooed, her voice full of love. "We couldn’t wait to sing to you."

Neal smiled lazily, still groggy but now fully awake enough to appreciate the surprise. His lips curled into a sleepy grin, and he blinked a few times, adjusting to the early morning light. "Did you really get me a cupcake?" he asked, his voice a little rough but full of warmth.

"We sure did," Peter said with a chuckle, his hand smoothing over Neal's hair as he sat beside him. "And we got a big celebration planned for later. But first, we thought we'd start your birthday right."

Neals face lit up as he gazed at the candle. "That’s so cool," he murmured, his fingers twitching as he glanced at them. "Thanks you."

Elizabeth smiled brightly and placed the cupcake carefully on the bedside table before leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead. "You’re welcome, sweetheart. Make a wish."

Neal closed his eyes for a moment, and then blew it out with a soft puff of breath. The room was filled with a quiet moment of celebration, the weight of the morning still settling in his heart.

Peter chuckled, watching Neals eyes flicker open again. "Alright, now that you’ve made your wish, how about we all get some breakfast?" he suggested.

Neal, now fully awake and feeling the comfort of the moment, struggled to untangle himself from his bedding. "Yeah," he whispered. "I like that."

Elizabeth grinned, pulling back the blankets and lifting Neal gently in her arms, her hands supporting him as she cradled him to her chest. "Let’s get you downstairs and start the day right," she said softly, her voice soothing.

Neal snuggled into her, the warmth of her embrace making him feel secure and loved.

She smiled down at him, her heart full as she carried him down the stairs. Peter followed closely behind, a soft smile on his face as he watched his family. They reached the kitchen, where the scent of fresh coffee and warm muffins lingered in the air, and Elizabeth carefully set Neal down at the table.

"How’s the birthday boy feeling?" Peter asked playfully as he moved to the stove to grab the rest of their breakfast.

"Good," Neal replied, his voice still soft with sleepiness.

Elizabeth leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of Neals head before setting down a plate of pancakes and fruit in front of him. "Anything else you want, Neal? It's your day."

Neal beamed up at her, his eyes still sparkling with the excitement of the day ahead. "This is perfect," he said, his smile growing even wider as he settled into his chair. "I don’t need anything else."

Peter sat down beside him, and they all shared a quiet moment, the weight of love and happiness filling the space between them. The table was full of little treats, pancakes and fruit, and the birthday joy that seemed to fill every corner of their home.

As they began to eat, Neals heart swelled, and it was like a peaceful calm wrapped itself around him. There was no rush, no pressure, just the comfort of love and the quiet thrill of turning a year older. The day was just beginning, but it already felt perfect.

After breakfast, Neal was shooed outside by both Peter and Elizabeth. Satchmo was happily bouncing around the yard, tail wagging as he waited for Neal to join him in their daily game of fetch. Neal was eager to play with the dog, but he couldn’t help the curiosity bubbling up inside him. The decorations, the balloons, the streamers - he knew something was being set up for his birthday, and the temptation to peek was overwhelming.

"I’ll be back!" Neal called over his shoulder, but he couldn’t resist glancing back at the kitchen window as he stepped outside.

Peter caught him instantly. "Ah! I see you, you little rascal!" he called, a teasing smile on his face as he leaned out the kitchen door. "Go play with Satchmo. No peeking, birthday boy!"

Neal puffed his cheeks out in exaggerated frustration, then turned quickly to look at Satchmo. "Fine," Neal muttered, but his eyes sparkled with the playful glint of a child who couldn’t be distracted for long.

"Don’t let me catch you sneaking again," Peter added, wagging a finger at him, though he was clearly holding back laughter. Neal huffed, running over to Satchmo, but even as he threw the first stick, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing to slits as he tried to get a glimpse of the colorful chaos happening inside.

Elizabeth, watching from the kitchen window, caught Neals eye, and with a wink, she raised her hand in a mock warning. "No peeking, Neal!"

Neal immediately covered his eyes with his hands, dramatically closing them as if the mere sight of the house was too much to resist. He playfully staggered to the side like he’d been caught red handed, his lips curving upward in a mischievous smile. "I swear, I’m just looking at Satchmo!" he called out, his voice full of feigned innocence.

Peter couldn’t hold back his grin as he peeked out the door again. "Sure, sure. Just make sure you don’t run into anything!" He laughed as Neal tossed the stick for Satchmo, the dog bounding off to chase it with all the energy a puppy could muster.

The fresh scent of the outdoors clung to Neals pajamas as he reluctantly turned away from the dog and jogged up to the house, the familiar sound of Peters voice calling from inside.

"Neal, time to come in! It’s almost time!" Peters voice rang out, and Neals eyes widened as he straightened up, a small grin creeping onto his face.

His heart raced with excitement as he jogged to the door, Satchmo tailing right behind him, eager to keep playing. As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway.

The house was a burst of color - balloons in shades of orange, yellow, and green, twisted into intricate shapes and hanging from the ceiling. Streamers snaked around the edges of the room, and the table was adorned with a ‘Happy Birthday’ banner, just like the ones he’d seen in the movies. There were a few small treats around it - cupcakes, cookies, and even a tray of cut up fruit in the shape of jungle animals.

Neals breath caught in his throat, and his eyes shone with delight. His mouth fell open, barely able to form the words. "This is for me?"

Peter appeared behind him with a grin, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Of course, cowboy. You’re the birthday boy!"

Neal stepped deeper into the room, his hands clasped together in front of him. He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes darting from the decorations to the cake, to the little details Elizabeth had no doubt painstakingly set up.

Peter chuckled and ruffled Neal's hair affectionately, his heart swelling at the pure happiness radiating from the boy. "I’m glad you like it. Now, we need to get you ready for the party."

He finally seemed to snap out of his dazed wonderment, his eyes shining with a kind of innocence and joy that made Peter and Elizabeth’s hearts melt. "Okay, okay!" He practically skipped toward the stairs, turning back to look at the decorations one more time before heading up.

Peter followed him up the stairs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s get you all spiffed up, huh?"

In Neal's room, Peter helped him pick out the perfect outfit. Neal had his own ideas, of course. He insisted on wearing a light blue jumper that Elizabeth repeatedly told him brought out his eyes.

Peter smiled and helped him pull it over his head, adjusting it so it sat just right. "Looks perfect, but let’s see if we can add a little extra touch, huh?"

He stood still as Peter helped him slide on a pair of black jeans that were comfortable but still looked nice for a birthday party. A quick check in the mirror and Neal gave a big thumbs up, his expression one of pride.

"How do I look?" he asked, turning this way and that, beaming.

"You look fantastic," Peter replied, squatting down to adjust the fold at the cuff of his trousers. "Ready to go?"

Neals grin spread wider, and he nodded eagerly. "I’m ready!" He grabbed Peters hand and pulled him toward the door. "Can we go now? Please?"

Peter chuckled, letting Neal lead the way. "Patience, kid. We’ve got a few more minutes before everyone arrives, but you can go peek outside."

As Neal eagerly dashed toward the window, Elizabeth had finished the final touches. She smiled softly at the sight of her two boys. It was the kind of moment she cherished, the kind that made everything else fade away.

Neal peered out the window, watching as he saw the first car pull up outside. "They’re here! They’re here!" he yelled excitedly, bouncing up and down.

Peter joined him at the window, and with a grin, he said, "Yeah, looks like the party’s about to start. You ready?"

Neals face lit up even more, his excitement palpable as he bounced on his toes. "Yes! Yes, I’m so ready!"

The doorbell rang and Neal nearly jumped out of his skin, eager to start. He raced to the door, his hands flying out to open it as wide as he could manage.

Diana was the first to walk in, followed by Jones, both holding small gift bags. Diana had a bottle of wine in one hand, and she raised an eyebrow when she saw Neals wide grin. "Well, well, look who’s already beaming."

Neal beamed even brighter. "I’m glad you came!" he cheered, grabbing Diana by the arm and pulling her inside. "Look at everything! Look at everything! You have to see all of it!"

Jones looked around the living room with exaggerated interest, his eyes darting from one side to the other. "Wow, looks like someone pulled out all the stops," he remarked, setting down the gift he had brought and immediately going to admire the decorations. "I gotta say, this is a lot of work, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled as she made her way over, giving Diana a quick hug before accepting the wine from her. "Thanks, Diana," she said warmly, knowing it would come in handy later. She turned to Jones and gave him a wink. "You know, I do have a knack for these things."

"Your birthday’s already turning out pretty great, huh?" Peter nodded toward the room.

Neal nodded enthusiastically, his chest swelling with pride. "Yeah! Look at everything! It’s like the Lion King! El did all of it herself!" He beamed up at her.

"Well, we wanted to make sure your day was special," Elizabeth said, gently setting the bottle of wine on a nearby counter. "Now, why don’t you show our guests the art activities?"

Neal nodded and began tugging at their sleeves, eager to share his 'creation station'. "Come on, come on! You have to see it! We’re gonna paint and stuff! I made room for everyone." He beamed up at them, looking more like a hyperactive sunbeam than anything else.

"Alright, alright," Jones said with an exaggerated sigh, playfully rolling his eyes. "You don’t have to drag us. Lead the way."

Neal turned on his heel and led the way to the dining table, where a colorful assortment of art supplies awaited. Paintbrushes, crayons, colored pencils, and even modeling clay were arranged neatly in batches, all ready for the adults to join in. There were even empty canvases and drawing pads for them to doodle on as they pleased.

"Wow, this is like a real art studio," Diana said, raising an eyebrow. "I feel like I’m about to make a masterpiece."

Neal immediately got to work at his station, pulling a fresh sheet of paper from the pile and beginning to sketch quickly. His tongue stuck out slightly in concentration, and he ignored the adults around him for the most part, completely absorbed in his drawing.

Peter and Elizabeth settled into their own seats, ready to join in the fun. Diana poured herself a glass of wine, swirling it slowly as she eyed the table in amusement. "Alright, Peter," she said teasingly. "Let’s see what you can do with that brush."

Peter, with a look of exaggerated seriousness, picked up a paintbrush and dipped it into a vibrant shade of yellow. "I’ll have you know, I’m quite the artist myself," he declared, and began to sketch a picture of something - neither of them was quite sure what it was. He glanced at Diana's glass and added, "This is a serious piece. You might want to give me some space to create."

"Oh please," Diana quipped. "I’m sure it’s a masterpiece." She raised her glass in mock salute. "I’ll let you work your magic."

Neal, who had been half watching them from the corner of his eye, suddenly looked over at Peters canvas with a scrunched nose. "That doesn’t really look like anything," he said in all honesty, his voice completely serious. "Is it supposed to be a giraffe?"

Peter gave a dramatic gasp, mock offense in his voice. "Hey, art is subjective. You of all people should know that. I’m just expressing my feelings."

Jones had been working quietly, focused as he began to draw something that looked more like a cartoonish lion - intended, of course, to tie in with the theme. He was using bright colors, his lines bold and thick. He tilted his head to one side and eyed Peters work with a smirk. "That thing’s got more of a floppy dog look than anything else."

Peter threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Art is a journey, Jones."

Diana snickered, "Jones is right. You should really just leave the animals to Neal here." She gave the boy a playful wink. "What do you think, Neal? Should we let Peter off the hook or give him some real critiques?"

Neal, who had been intensely focused on his own work, looked up with a mischievous grin. He hadn’t said anything for a bit, but hearing their praise gave him an idea. "Yeah," he said slowly, his voice teasing. "I think Jones is right. It definitely looks like a dog."

Peters mouth dropped open in mock betrayal. "You too, really? You’re supposed to be my friend!"

Neal giggled, biting his lip to hold in the full laugh. "I’m just being honest."

"Alright, alright," Peter said, trying to stifle his own chuckles. "But just wait until you see what I really do with this giraffe." He took the brush in his hand and dramatically went back to work, though the playful glint in his eye gave away that he wasn’t too worried about his "giraffe’s" reception.

"You know, I think we’ve got a real art show on our hands here," Elizabeth joked. "The modern interpretation of animals is something else."

Meanwhile, Neal glanced over at Jones’s work and nodded. "I think your lion looks really good," he said seriously, his voice full of the kind of gravity only a young artist could pull off. "You should put it in a frame."

Jones raised his eyebrows, genuinely impressed by Neals insight. "Well, thank you, Neal," he said, giving him a little salute. "You’ve got a good eye."

Neal puffed up a little, clearly proud of the praise. "I know," he said with a small shrug, though his cheeks flushed slightly. "I’m pretty good."

The room was filled with a mix of laughter, playful teasing, and the soft sound of brushes on canvas as the adults and Neal continued to work on their art. There was no rush, no agenda, just the quiet enjoyment of being together, of the ease that came with familiar faces and shared creativity.

While Neal hummed softly to himself as he rocked side to side, completely absorbed in his work, Peter leaned back in his chair and glanced over at Elizabeth, catching her eye. There was a warmth between them - a quiet joy in the simple moments like this, where they didn’t have to worry about anything else. Just being with Neal, enjoying the day, was enough.

It was around 2 p.m. when everyone had settled in the living room, chatting, laughing, and enjoying the relaxed vibe of Neals birthday party. Neal had happily discarded his art supplies for the moment, his focus now entirely on a small collection of animal figurines that he had set up in front of him on the coffee table. He was deeply absorbed in arranging them in little scenes, creating his very own wild kingdom.

His little hands moved with expert precision, and every now and then he’d look up at the adults to share his progress with them. "Look, I made a jungle!" he’d announce proudly, waiting for the expected admiration.

The adults, scattered around the room, smiled at his imagination. Jones was lounging on the couch, nursing his drink, while Diana and Peter were sitting close by, engaged in a conversation about a recent case she’d worked on. Elizabeth, though, was doing something entirely different, she was sneakily pulling the last part of the party surprise together.

Without Neal noticing, she dimmed the rooms lights and slipped out of view, behind the kitchen door. The adults exchanged knowing glances. The party had been a success so far, and the best part was still yet to come.

Peter looked over at Elizabeth, who was returning to the room, a big cake in her hands - decorated with dark blue icing, little stars scattered across it, and a glow in the dark crescent moon on top. The cake was a prefect Starry Night, fitting for Nealss love of all things art. Elizabeth’s face held a small, mischievous grin, as if the secret had been too big for her to keep.

"Alright, everyone," Elizabeth called out, her voice warm and inviting. "It’s time!"

Neal, who had been deep in concentration, suddenly stopped, his head snapping up to look at her. The cake was so bright against the darkened room that it seemed to glow, the candles flickering gently as she set it down on the coffee table in front of him.

His eyes widened. "What’s this?" he asked, a little dazed by the surprise. He glanced around at everyone, a soft gasp escaping his lips when he realized what was happening.

"Happy birthday, Neal," Peter said with a smile, his voice full of affection.

All the adults around the room smiled, and Diana and Jones joined in, laughing softly as they began singing, their voices filling the room with warmth and love.

Neals heart swelled, the attention making him feel like the center of the universe. He sat straighter, his small chest puffing out with pride, eyes shining as he looked at everyone. The cake, with its glowing stars and soft light, was beautiful, and Neal couldn’t help but feel truly special. His birthday had been filled with surprises, and was the best one yet.

When the song came to an end, everyone gave him a cheerful round of applause. Neals face lit up, a grin so wide it nearly reached his ears. "Thank you!" he said, almost breathless with excitement.

Peter leaned down, ruffling his hair. "You deserve it, kiddo."

"Go on, Neal. Make a wish." Elizabeth added.

Neal stared at the candles, his gaze soft and thoughtful for a moment. He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on his wish. When he opened them again, he leaned forward, giving the candles a breath of air. They flickered and then went out, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and stars.

"All done!" Neal exclaimed, a little breathless from the exertion.

Everyone cheered, and Neal laughed, clearly relishing in the joy of the moment. He looked down at the cake, his eyes gleaming. "Will we eat lunch and then have cake?"

"Of course!" Elizabeth said, winking. "It’s your birthday!"

Elizabeth had prepared a cozy spread for lunch, simple yet delicious - fresh pasta, roasted vegetables, and warm, crunchy bread. The table was filled with light chatter as the adults settled into their places, Neal bouncing excitedly in his seat, his mind still on the cake and the presents that awaited him. Satchmo wandered under the table, hopeful for scraps, earning a few scratches behind the ears from Neals hand.

Peter sat beside Neal, offering him bites of pasta between their conversation. “So, cowboy,” he asked, “what’s been your favorite part of today so far?”

Neal, mouth full, smiled through the pasta. “Everything! The cake, and the stars, and the art, and- and- yeah, everything."

Elizabeth smiled warmly, brushing a stray lock of wild hair from his forehead. “We’re glad you’re having a good time, Neal.”

As the meal wound down and everyone finished their last bites, Neals excitement for the next phase of the day grew palpable. He was practically bouncing in his chair now, his feet swinging beneath him. “When do we get to do presents?” he asked eagerly.

Elizabeth grinned, standing up to clear some plates. "Patience, birthday boy. Let's enjoy lunch first."

Once the last bites had been eaten and the table cleared, Elizabeth announced, “Alright, Neal. I think it’s time for your presents.”

Neals excitement dipped slightly. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting. The idea of everyone watching him open gifts made him a little nervous, his cheeks flushed pink with a mixture of excitement and bashfulness. “I- I don’t need all this stuff,” he mumbled softly, as though unsure if it was okay to accept so much.

Peter immediately noticed his uncertainty, the gentle touch of his hand on Neals shoulder helping calm him. “It’s okay, Neal,” he said softly. “You don’t have to feel shy. We’re all here for you.”

Diana, who had been sitting back and watching, added with a teasing smile, “Besides, you can’t leave us hanging. We worked hard on these gifts!”

Jones, not one for grand gestures, gave Neal a nod. “Yeah, and you’ll enjoy ‘em, so no need to be shy.”

Neal nodded, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, his cheeks still pink. "Okay..." He gingerly reached for the first gift - a small, rectangular box wrapped in bright, colorful paper from Diana.

“Go ahead,” Diana encouraged. “I want to see your reaction.”

Neal carefully untied the bow and tore the paper off, revealing a sleek puzzle game that looked both intricate and fun. He lifted it in his hands, his eyes wide with surprise. “A puzzle?” he asked, more in awe than confusion. He quickly set it aside to hug Diana tightly, the excitement and joy in his hug more than enough thanks. “I love it! Thank you, Diana!”

Diana’s eyes softened as she hugged him back. “You’re welcome, I knew you’d like that one.”

Neals attention then shifted to Jones, who had placed a smaller, more delicate gift next to him. Neal picked it up, slightly more careful this time. He peeled off the wrapping to reveal a beautiful box of pens - sleek, shiny, and with such fine, delicate tips that Neal could already imagine the kind of art he could make with them.

“Oh!” Neal gasped, his hands trembling just a little as he looked up at Jones. “These are the pens I always steal from you!” His face flushed with delight. “I can’t believe you got me these!”

Jones smirked, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Don’t steal mine anymore, alright?”

Neal laughed softly, holding up the pens in admiration. “I won’t! I promise.”

Peter smiled, watching the exchange with soft affection. Elizabeth leaned in and kissed the top of Neals head. “See? You’re loved.”

Neal smiled back, his heart swelling with warmth. Then, with a little more confidence, he reached for his next gift, a long, flat box with a gold ribbon tied around it. His curiosity piqued, Neal tugged at the ribbon and unwrapped the box to reveal a gorgeous set of watercolors - high quality, professional grade paints, something that he’d wanted but never thought he would actually get.

His breath caught in his throat. The colors were so vibrant, and the packaging alone looked like something out of a dream. He looked up at Peter and Elizabeth, his eyes wide with shock. “These are the ones I wanted,” he whispered in disbelief.

Elizabeth’s heart melted. “We knew you’d like them.”

Neals mouth worked as if the words didn’t quite come out. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Thank you so much,” He looked at Peter, his eyes shining. “Thank you.”

Peter leaned down, brushing a hand through Neal’s hair. “You don’t have to say anything, Neal. You’re welcome.”

Neals gaze was fixed on the watercolors for a moment longer, then, as though remembering something important, he rushed to open his final gift. A box that was just the right size for something special.

He opened the lid to reveal a stuffed tiger. The resemblance to his leopard was uncanny, the toy a near twin to the one he cherished so much. His hands shook a little as he lifted it out of the box, eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s… I-” Neal said softly, his voice full of awe. The tiger in his hands almost seemed to come to life, matching the exact pattern of spots his leopard had. His heart gave a little leap in his chest. Without even thinking, he ran off, out of the room, his excitement propelling him forward.

“Neal?” Peter called after him, though there was no need, he knew exactly where Neal was headed.

Neal reappeared moments later, cradling his leopard in his arms, both the tiger and the leopard now together in his embrace. He plopped down next to the gift, the stuffed tiger now nestled comfortably next to his beloved leopard.

“Look!” Neal exclaimed, holding both of them up. “They look exactly the same! Thank you!”

Elizabeth laughed softly, her heart full at the sight of her son so happy. “We’re glad you like it, Neal.”

Neal smiled from ear to ear, his happiness contagious. “I love them all,” he whispered, holding up his watercolors, pens, and his new tiger. “Thank you. This is the best birthday ever.”

The room was filled with the warmth of their laughter and Neals joy, everyone feeling the love and connection that had made this day so special.

The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The afternoon had stretched comfortably, and now, with the evening settling in, the backyard felt like an oasis.

A light breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and the distant hum of a lawnmower faded as the world began to calm down.

The adults sat around the patio, glasses of wine in hand, enjoying the soothing sounds of nature and each others company. Laughter filled the air, and it was a sound that was beginning to feel like home for Neal, a constant, steady thing he could rely on.

Peter had set the boy up on a blanket in the grass, a safe distance from the adults, though Neal was never far from their hearts.

He was sitting cross legged on the blanket, absorbed in his new magnets. His little hands worked quickly, arranging the colorful pieces with the kind of focus that made his tongue slip out the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Each new tower he built was a delicate construction that swayed dangerously until he added just one more piece and watched it stand tall.

Neals giggles rang through the air every time a tower fell, his excitement barely contained as he quickly rushed to rebuild it.

Peter couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kid, the sound of his laughter like music to his ears.

“I think that kid could spend hours doing this and not get bored,” He said, his voice soft as he leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Elizabeth’s shoulders.

Elizabeth followed his gaze, her smile matching his. She seemed content just to watch Neal, the light catching her hair as she watched their son with a look of pure affection.

“I’m not complaining,” she replied with a soft laugh. “There’s something about how deeply he gets into whatever he’s doing. He really knows how to focus.”

Peter nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s one of his best qualities. Even when he’s being a little rascal, you can see how much effort he puts into everything.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, her voice full of warmth. “He’s amazing. It’s hard to believe how much he’s grown already.”

The conversation flowed quietly between the two of them, sharing small glances as they both watched Neal play, but their peaceful moment was soon interrupted by the sounds of singing.

Diana and Elizabeth had started a little impromptu performance of Dancing Queen, belting out lyrics they knew by heart.

Their voices were playful, full of joy and warmth. They didn’t care how off key they sounded or how silly it looked, just enjoying each other’s company.

Neal, caught in the musics spell, dropped his magnets for a moment and began to giggle uncontrollably, his eyes lighting up with delight at the silly antics of the two women.

Neal laughed so hard he nearly toppled over, his little body shaking with the kind of joy that was infectious.

“You sound like a cat!” he shouted between laughs, holding his stomach as he bent over.

“Hey!” Diana said, half laughing, half pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know that my singing is top-notch!” She waved her hand dramatically. “You’re just jealous of my talent.”

“Yeah, sure,” Neal shot back, his voice filled with teasing as he wiped his eyes, still snickering.

Elizabeth joined in the joke, shaking her head. “You’re awful, Diana. I’ll be the judge of that,” she teased, narrowing her eyes in a playful warning.

The moment stretched on, filled with lighthearted teasing and laughter, and Neal’s giggles were the loudest of all. He couldn’t stop. His small frame was shaking as he clutched his stomach, delighted by the silly performance from his two favorite women.

The adults laughed too, feeling the joy of the moment ripple through the air. They hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the light began to shift, the soft glow of the sun sinking lower and lower.

Neal, still chuckling, suddenly stopped and looked up. His face scrunched in confusion as he glanced around.

“Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I’m hungry.”

Elizabeth, noticing the time, gave Peter a small nudge. “I think he’s right. We’ve been so caught up in everything, it’s time for some food.”

Peter looked down at his watch and raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, it’s 6:00 already? I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.” He smiled at Neal. “Alright, cowboy. How about we order some pizza?”

Neals face lit up, and he practically bounced on the blanket. “Pizza! Yes, please! And extra cheese!”

“Extra cheese, of course,” Peter said, a grin tugging at his lips. “And how about some garlic bread?”

“Yeah!” Neal cheered. “Garlic bread!”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Alright, pizza it is. But first, Neal, you need to shower. You look and smell like the garden.” She stood up, holding out her hand to him. “Come on, time to clean up before dinner.”

Neal groaned in mock protest but took her hand. “Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be super fast, I promise!” He wiggled his little fingers toward Peter as he was led inside.

As Neal headed for the shower, the adults settled back into their seats, the peaceful evening continuing. The conversation ebbed and flowed between them, light-hearted chatter about everything and nothing.

Peter took a moment to order the pizza, and Diana offered her help, suggesting the best places in town for a good slice. They talked about life, the fun they’d had today, and what was coming up next.

The quiet hum of the evening was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Neals socked feet running across the floor inside, clearly in a hurry.

He scaled the stairs in quick succession, and jumped the last step to lean over the back of the couch, hair still damp from the shower. He wore his favorite space pajamas, the soft blue fabric stretching slightly over his growing frame.

“I’m ready!” he called out, his voice brimming with excitement.

Peter laughed, his eyes full of affection. “That was quick.”

Neal beamed, hopping up and down. “I’m fast! Like a cheetah! I’m gonna beat you to the pizza!”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter said, ruffling Neal’s hair. “Go pick a spot on the couch. I’ll be in with the movie soon.”

Neal dashed inside, pattering on the hardwood floors, clearly on a mission to get comfortable. Elizabeth smiled at Peter as they both moved inside to join him.

They settled in the living room, and Peter started the movie, the familiar opening song of The Lion King filling the room.

Neal practically melted into the couch, eyes wide and focused on the screen. He was a creature of habit, and he always lost himself in the story of Simba, Mufasa, and the Circle of Life.

His small hands gripped the couch cushions, his feet kicked out in front of him as he absorbed the magic of the film.

The doorbell rang just then, signaling the arrival of the pizza. Peter stood up, walking toward the door to grab the boxes, while Neal remained glued to the screen, already humming along with the opening music.

Diana and Elizabeth shared a quiet laugh, exchanging a look that spoke volumes about the joy of today. It wasn’t just the birthday celebrations - it was the simple moments, the warmth of their little family, that made everything feel right.

When Peter returned with the pizza, Neal looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “Pizza’s here! You better not take the last slice!”

Elizabeth set the plates down, and they all gathered around, getting comfortable. Neal, true to form, grabbed the first slice and dug in, his mouth already full of pizza.

As they ate, the movie continued, the room filled with the soft glow of the TV and the low hum of conversation. It was the kind of peaceful, quiet evening that felt like the perfect punctuation to a day full of joy and love.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft flicker of the animation. Neals attention was entirely captured by the movie, his hands clutching his slice of pizza, but only taking small, distracted bites every now and then.

His eyes were glued to the screen, hanging on every moment, his face a mixture of awe and concentration. Neal kept in tune woth each songx humming to himself and flapping his hands excitedly.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a soft smile as they watched him. There was something about the moment - the quiet way Neal was absorbed in the movie, the way they sat together, warm and content - that made everything feel perfect.

Peter could feel Elizabeth’s gaze on him, and he squeezed her hand, silently acknowledging the deep, peaceful love they both shared for Neal.

Elizabeth leaned back slightly, her eyes focused on Neal as he leaned against her side, cuddled up in his favorite blanket.

She could see the way he was so absorbed in the story, but she also noticed the way his tiny hand would sometimes reach for hers without thinking, as if he needed her warmth even when lost in the world of Simba and his friends.

“You know,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice quiet enough that Neal wouldn’t hear, “I still can’t believe how much he’s grown. It feels like just yesterday you brought home a scared little boy who didnt even know our names.”

Peter nodded softly, his gaze still on Neal. “It’s crazy. And to think, we almost didn’t get to have this - these quiet moments, just the three of us.” His voice dropped, filled with the weight of their past and the relief of their present. “I’m so thankful every day that we have him. That we get to watch him grow into a better person that he would've become.”

Elizabeth smiled, a soft, contented smile, her heart full. “Me too,” she murmured, squeezing Peters hand a little tighter. “He’s such a special little guy.”

Neal, oblivious to their quiet conversation, was completely engrossed in the movie. His body had relaxed now, his eyelids heavy with sleep, but the action on the screen still held his attention. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he still stayed glued to the adventures of Simba.

When the movie finally ended, Neal let out a big yawn, stretching lazily, his small body trying to stay awake for just a little longer.

His voice was soft, half-asleep, as he turned to say goodbye to Diana and Jones. “Bye, Diana. Bye, Jones. Thanks for coming! I had so much fun!” His words were slurred with sleep, but his grin was still wide, the joy of the day still present in his tired expression.

Diana smiled warmly, reaching over to ruffle Neals hair. “You’re very welcome, little man. Happy birthday again.” Her voice was affectionate, full of love for the boy she had watched grow over the years.

Jones, a bit more reserved, gave Neal a smile and a thumbs up. “Happy birthday, kiddo. You’re a pretty cool kid. Hope you had a good day.”

Neal giggled, clearly already on the edge of sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly sank into the cushions.

Peter, who had been watching the exchange, felt a wave of affection for Neal wash over him.

“Alright, cowboy,” he said softly, “Let’s get you to bed.”

Neal sighed contentedly, a soft smile crossing his face as Peter scooped him up gently into his arms. “No more movie?” Neal mumbled, his voice still groggy.

“No more movie for now, buddy,” Peter replied with a soft chuckle. “But you can have all the stories and snuggles you want.”

Neal didn’t protest. He nestled into Peters arms, his small body curling up as they made their way upstairs. Elizabeth followed behind, her heart full as she watched her two favorite people heading to bed for the night. There was something so peaceful, so comforting about it all.

Peter carefully laid Neal down in his bed, tucking him in with the blankets. Neal, still half-asleep, clung to his old and new stuffed animals. He let out a soft sigh, his face relaxed in contentment.

“Love you, daddy.” he whispered quietly, his voice barely audible as he drifted.

Peter and Elizabeth froze.

Neal had never called them mom or dad, and he didn't seem to realise he just did. Nor had he outright ever told them he loved them.

“I love you too, Neal,” Peter whispered hesitantly, brushing a few stray hairs from Neals forehead. His heart swelled as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Elizabeth sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand gently stroking Neal's hair. "So, so much."

Neals eyes fluttered shut, a soft smile still on his lips. The room was filled with the soft sound of his breathing, the rhythmic pattern of a child who had finally been given everything he deserved.

Peter sat beside Neal, his hand resting lightly on his son’s back. He looked over at Elizabeth. "He called me daddy."

She gave him a tearful smile. "Yes he did."

They sat there quietly, their hands brushing occasionally as they shared this peaceful moment together. No more words were needed - just the sound of Neal’s peaceful breathing as he finally drifted off to sleep, his face relaxed and content.

As the house quieted down, the soft glow of the night outside the window casting its peaceful light on the room, Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a quiet look. There was nothing more they needed. They had everything they could ever ask for.

And as they sat together, watching their son sleep soundly, they knew this moment, this simple, beautiful moment, was everything they had ever dreamed of. The perfect end to a perfect day.

Chapter Text

Neal had just wanted a normal day. He liked school for the most part. He liked learning, he liked getting all the answers right, and he liked the way his teachers smiled at him when he did well. Today had been a good day.

Until it wasn’t.

It started when Liam Turner brought a crumpled up newspaper to school. Liam wasn’t someone Neal talked to much. He was one of those kids who liked being in charge, and people listened to him because his dad was some fancy lawyer. Neal had never cared.

But then, during lunch, Liam's voice rang out over the usual cafeteria noise.

“Hey, check this out,” he said, grinning as he waved the newspaper. “Look who’s famous.”

Neals stomach turned the second he saw the picture. His own face, a little younger, staring back at him. The article wasn’t new - it was from last year, when everything had fallen apart. His parents trial, their sentences.

“Oh, damn,” one of the kids muttered. “That’s the little kid - Neal.”

A hush spread through the group. Neal kept his head down, poking at the mashed potatoes on his tray. Maybe if he ignored them, they’d stop.

No such luck.

“So, your parents are criminals?” Liam's voice was loud and extremely cocky. “Like, real criminals?”

Neal clenched his jaw. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him.

Another kid, Jason, laughed. “Dude, I bet his dad robbed a bank or something. What’d they do?”

Liam skimmed the article, then let out a low whistle. “Fraud. Money laundering. Damn, your mom and dad really went for it, huh? How much did they steal?”

Neals grip tightened on his plastic fork, trying to maintain composure.

“Guess it makes sense,” Liam went on. “You always act all smart, like you’re better than us. Thought you were some genius, huh? But your parents got caught. So, not that smart.”

“I wonder if he’s gonna be a criminal too. Maybe that’s why the FBI guy took him in - keeping an eye on him before he turns into a con artist.” Jason snickered.

Liam grinned. “Yeah, what’s it like having a cop for a babysitter? Bet it’s weird knowing he’s just waiting for you to screw up.”

Neals chest clenched, but he knew better than to show them they were getting to him. He took a deep breath, then slowly looked up, schooling his expression into something unbothered.

“Are you done?” he asked flatly.

Liam smirked. “Why? Gonna scam me if I don’t shut up?”

Neals heart was pounding. He knew how to con people - how to lie, how to talk circles around them. But right now, the words wouldn’t come.

Right now, all he wanted was to hit something. He had had to rely on the self-control his father had taught him.

***

Neal knew how to play the long game.

He had spent years watching his parents navigate high society, spinning lies and making people believe whatever they wanted. Words were weapons, just as much as fists, and sometimes more. If these kids thought they could back him into a corner, they were wrong.

The next day, he walked into school like nothing had happened. He held his head high, shoulders back, alluding an air of confidence to his best ability. He’d learned a long time ago that looking unphased made people uneasy.

It didn’t take very long.

Liam was waiting by the lockers, flanked by Jason and a few other of his snotty goons. Neal barely had time to open his own locker before the first remark hit.

“Look who’s here,” Liam said, grinning. “Hey, Neal, got any good scams for us today?”

Neal rolled his eyes, shoving his backpack onto the shelf. “Not really. But I could probably scam you out of your lunch money if I wanted to.” He shut his locker with a casual shrug. “Wouldn’t even be hard.”

Liam blinked. He hadn’t been expecting a retort.

Jason snorted. “Oh, yeah? You gonna forge some signatures? Launder some milk money?”

Neal turned, leaning against the lockers, his face bored. “Milk money’s not worth my time.” He glanced at Liam. “But you? You look like the type to fall for a pyramid scheme.”

One of the kids in the back choked on a laugh. Liams smirk faltered.

Neal smiled sharply. “What’s wrong?” he asked lightly. “I thought we were talking about fraud. You seemed really interested yesterday.”

Liam's face darkened. “At least my parents aren’t criminals.”

Neals heart stuttered. He could handle insults about himself, but the mention of his parents was a different kind of pain. Still, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he tilted his head.

“Yeah, they’re not criminals,” he said smoothly. “Just lawyers. Pretty much the same thing.”

Jason snickered, and a couple of kids mumbled to each other.

Liam's hands curled into fists. “You think you’re funny?”

“I think I’m right.” Neal shrugged.

Liam took a step closer, and for the first time, Neal felt a flicker of something sharp in his gut. He was smaller than the rest of them, he was at a disadvantage physically. If this turned into a fight, he wasn’t sure how well he’d do.

But he also wasn’t sure he cared.

Neal knew he had pushed too far the moment Liam’s expression shifted from annoyed to furious.

“You little-” Liam’s words cut off as he shoved Neal hard against the lockers. A sharp sting shot up Neals back, but he didn’t flinch. He just looked up at Liam with that same cocky smirk, even as the bigger boy grabbed the front of his shirt.

“Oh, you’re mad?” Neal said, feigning innocence. “Why? Because I’m right, or because everyone saw you losing to an eight year old?”

That did it.

Liam swung first, a wild, clumsy punch aimed right at Neals face. Neal barely managed to twist away, but the fist still clipped his jaw, making his head snap to the side. Pain bloomed under his skin.

More kids were watching now, forming a loose circle around them. Some were egging Liam on, others whispering in shock. A few seemed unsure if they should step in or call a teacher.

Neal barely had time to register them before Jason joined in. He didn’t throw a punch, just grabbed Neals arm and yanked him back, leaving him open. Liams second hit landed cleanly in his stomach. Neal gasped, staggering.

Okay. That hurt.

But he wasn’t about to just take it.

Neal moved fast. He wasn’t strong, but he was quick. He wrenched his arm free from Jason's grip and, without thinking, drove his fist straight into Liam's face with a sickening crack.

Liam stumbled back, hands flying to his nose. Blood gushed between his fingers.

For a second, no one moved.

Then Jason cursed and lunged at Neal. Neal tried to duck, but the boys knee caught him in the ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He hit the floor hard, breath coming in short gasps.

Liam recovered quickly. He was furious now, eyes watering from the pain. He kicked out, his foot slamming into Neals side. Neal barely bit back a pained grunt, rolling away just in time to dodge the next hit.

But he wasn’t done fighting.

Ignoring the burning in his ribs, he scrambled to his feet and swung again. His fist connected with Jason’s cheek, sending the other boy stumbling. It wasn’t enough to drop him, but it left a solid bruise forming.

More shouting. Someone was running to get a teacher.

Liam, blood still dripping from his nose, tried to grab Neal again. He twisted free, but he was outnumbered. Jason shoved him hard, and this time, Neal lost his balance completely. He hit the floor again, his head knocking against the tile.

Black dots danced in his vision. He barely registered the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Break it up!” A teachers voice rang out, footsteps pounding toward them. Hands grabbed at Liam and Jason, yanking them back. More hands lifted Neal to his feet. Everything was spinning.

His nose was bleeding, his ribs ached, and his knuckles were raw.

But as he glanced at Liam and Jason - both of whom looked just as wrecked as he felt - he couldn’t help but smirk.

Completely worth it.

***

Peter was in the middle of reviewing a case file when his phone rang. He barely glanced at the screen before answering.

“This is Burke.”

“Peter Burke?” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar. “This is Principal Dawson from Neals school.”

Peter sat up a little straighter. His mind immediately ran through worst case scenarios. Was Neal sick? Hurt? Did something happen?

“Yes?” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm.

There was a pause.

“I need you to come to the school. There was... an incident.”

Peters stomach clenched. “What kind of incident?”

Another pause.

“There was a fight,” Principal Dawson said carefully. “Neal was involved.”

Peters brain short-circuited for a second.

A fight? Neal? The same kid who liked puzzles and art and always had some smart remark ready? The same kid who had spent months walking on eggshells in his own home, terrified of making the wrong move?

That Neal?

“What?” he said blankly.

“I can explain more when you get here,” the principal said. “But I need you to pick him up.”

Peter was already grabbing his jacket. “Is he okay?”

There was another pause too long for Peters liking.

“He’s banged up,” the principal admitted. “Bloody nose, some bruises. The nurse checked him out and he doesn't need the hospital. But the other students involved didn’t walk away unscathed, either.”

That shouldn’t have been the part that made Peter freeze, but it was. He stopped mid step, the phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“...Wait. Are you telling me Neal won the fight?”

The principal sighed. “I'd rather not say someone won the fight, but he held his own.”

Peter blinked, still trying to process the information. He had a thousand questions - what happened, who started it, why the hell an eight year old had to hold his own against anyone. But Neal was hurt, and that was the only thing that mattered right now.

“I’m on my way,” He said.

He hung up and immediately called Elizabeth. She answered on the second ring.

“Hey, honey! What’s up?”

Peter took a breath. “I just got a call from Neals school.”

That got her attention. “What happened?”

“He got into a fight.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Peter ran a hand down his face as he hurried out of the office. “I don’t know details yet. But I have to go pick him up. He’s got some bruises, maybe a bloody nose.” He exhaled sharply. “I’m on my way now.”

Elizabeth was quiet for a second. Then, in a tone Peter couldn’t quite place, she asked, “How’s the other kid look?”

Peter hesitated. “Uh. Apparently, not great.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Elizabeth let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “Oh my God.”

“I know,” Peter laughed. “I don’t even- El, I have no idea what I’m walking into.”

“Well,” Elizabeth said, sounding both amused and deeply concerned, “good luck with that. Call me as soon as you have him.”

“I will,” Peter promised.

He hung up and pressed the gas a little harder.

Whatever happened, one thing was certain - someone was going to answer for this.

And God help the kid who threw the first punch.

***

Peter walked into the school with long, purposeful strides. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting, but the second he spotted Neal sitting outside the principal’s office, his stomach twisted.

Neal sat slouched in the chair, backpack on his lap, an ice pack pressed against his cheek. His nose was still bleeding enough to stain the tissue he held against it. His elbows were scraped raw, bruises already forming on his arms.

Peter felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Neal must have heard him approaching because he looked up, eyes wide for just a second before a mask of indifference slipped into place.

“Hey,” Neal muttered. His voice was slightly nasally thanks to the bleeding. “Took you long enough.”

Peter huffed, crouching in front of him. “Didn’t know I was on a timer.”

Neal just gave him a lopsided smirk, but it was dampened by how wrecked he looked.

“You okay?” Peter asked, more seriously this time.

Neal shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”

That was not what Peter wanted to hear.

He gave Neal a quick once-over, noting the way the kid was keeping his arm close to his ribs. There was dried blood under his nose, a faint red mark along his jaw, and a couple of scuffs on his hands, bruised knuckles.

Neal had fought back.

Peter sighed, standing up. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, ruffling Neal's hair lightly. “Stay put.”

He turned toward the office door, and that’s when he saw them.

Liam and Jason.

They were inside, standing stiffly in front of the principal’s desk. And if Neal looked bad, those two looked worse.

One kid had blood smeared under his nose, and it was clear it wasn’t still bleeding because it had stopped, meaning Neal had likely caused it. One of his eyes was swelling up, already turning an ugly shade of purple.

The other had a deep bruise blooming along his cheekbone. He was holding his side like it ached.

They looked terrified.

Peter had to bite back a smirk.

So, Neal had been outnumbered. Neal was the youngest, the smallest. And yet, those two were standing there like they’d just been thrown into a boxing match with someone twice their size.

Peter was a federal agent, a man of the law, a parental figure, but he couldn’t stop the flame of amusement in his chest.

He cleared his throat and schooled his face into something stern before stepping into the office.

He had some questions. Judging by the way those kids tensed when they saw him, he had a feeling they weren’t going to like his presence.

Peter took a steadying breath before stepping into the office. Neal was already beat up enough, now he had to deal with this part, too.

Principal Dawson sat behind her desk, looking tired. Liam and Jason stood stiffly in front of her, their parents flanking them. The parents looked about as Peter expected - one set embarrassed, the other defensive.

Dawson gestured for Peter to sit. “Peter Burke,” she greeted, voice measured. “Thank you for coming.”

Peter nodded, but his eyes flicked to Liam and Jason. “I’d say it’s my pleasure, but under the circumstances...”

Dawson sighed, folding her hands. “You're aware of why we called you in.”

Peter sat back in his chair. “Yeah, I got the basics. What I don’t know is why Neal was in a position where he had to fight back in the first place.”

“Oh, please. You should be asking why your son attacked our boys.” Jason's mother bristled.

Peter gave her a deadpan look. “Ma’am, with all due respect, your son is bigger, older, and he has a fully functional nose right now. So forgive me if I don’t jump to that conclusion.”

Liam’s father made a noise of protest, but Dawson raised a hand, cutting them off.

“I am aware that Neal was not the instigator,” she said. “We’ve spoken to over a dozen students who witnessed the fight.”

Peter exhaled sharply. “Then why are we even having this conversation? If he was defending himself-”

“Even if he was being bullied,” Dawson said carefully, “that does not excuse him resorting to violence. The school has a zero-tolerance policy.”

Peter barely held back an incredulous laugh. “So, what was he supposed to do? Stand there and get hit?”

Dawson hesitated. “He should have gone to a teacher.”

“Right. Because kids like that,” he gestured toward Liam and Jason, “always stop when you ask them nicely.”

Liam and Jason had the decency to look uncomfortable. Their parents, on the other hand, looked furious.

“So, what’s the punishment here?” Peter sighed, rubbing his temple.

Dawson’s expression turned regretful. “Neal is suspended for a week.”

Peter clenched his jaw. “That’s ridiculous.”

“He did throw punches, Agent Burke,” Dawson reminded him. “And we cannot set a precedent that fighting is acceptable no matter-”

“What about them?” Peter snapped, pointing at Liam and Jason. “Are they getting the same punishment? Because I’d argue theirs should be worse.”

Dawson exhaled. “I agree.”

Liam’s mother let out a scandalized noise. “Excuse me?”

“The Jason and Liam are being suspended for two weeks,” Dawson said firmly. “When they return to school, they will face a weeks detention after school. Additionally, this incident is being noted on their permanent records.”

Liam’s father scowled. “That’s outrageous! They’re children!”

Dawson’s tone didn’t waver. “So is Neal.”

Peter finally allowed himself a small smirk.

It wasn’t great - Neal still had to miss school, still had to deal with the fact that these kids had gone after him in the first place - but at least justice was somewhat on their side.

He stood, adjusting his jacket. “Are we done here?”

Dawson nodded. “Yes. You can take Neal home.”

Peter turned on his heel without another word.

He had a kid to check on. And, more importantly, he had to make sure Neal understood one thing, he wasn’t in trouble with Peter.

***

Peter unlocked the car, and Neal climbed in wordlessly. The kid winced as he adjusted his seatbelt, pressing the ice pack back to his cheek.

Peter slid into the drivers seat but didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned to look at Neal. The kid avoided his gaze, staring straight ahead like he was already bracing for whatever lecture was coming.

Peter sighed. “Neal.”

Neal didn’t look at him. “Yeah?”

Peter leaned against the headrest, choosing his words carefully. “I understand why you did what you did,” he started. “But you can’t just punch people when things get bad.”

Neal scoffed lightly. “Didn’t seem to stop them.”

Peter huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. “No, it didn’t. But that’s not the point.” He turned a little more in his seat. “Neal, I’m not mad. I just...” He exhaled. “I need you to talk to me. What happened?”

Neal was silent for a long moment. His fingers fidgeted with the ice pack in his lap.

“They found out.”

Peter frowned. “Found out what?”

“About my parents.”

Peter felt his stomach sink.

Neal let out a humorless chuckle. “Some kid recognized me from the news, I guess. Started asking questions. I didn’t answer, but by lunch, the whole school knew.”

“They wouldn’t shut up about it,” Neal continued, voice quieter now. “Kept making jokes. Saying I was just like them. That I was destined to be a criminal.” He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Guess I proved them right.”

Peters heart clenched. “Hey,” he said firmly. “That’s not true.”

Neal shrugged, not looking convinced.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “What happened today?”

Neal hesitated again. Then, after a moment, he mumbled, “Liam started saying stuff to me in the hallway, then he shoved me.”

Peter’s fingers curled around the steering wheel. “And?”

Neal sighed. “I told him to back off. He didn’t. I said something snarky. I tried to ignore him.”

Peter arched a brow. “Then why did you end up fighting?”

Neals expression darkened. “He got angry and punched me, then Jason started on me. I didn't want to fight, but I remembered yesterday - what they were saying - and I just got upset.”

That made Peter pause. “What did he say?” he asked, voice careful.

Neals hands clenched into small fists. “That you were just keeping me around until I got older and turned into a criminal. That you were waiting for it. That one day I’d be just like my parents, and you’d throw me away, too.”

Peter was shocked. Since when were twelve year olds so cruel?

Neal glanced up at him. “So, yeah. I punched him.”

Peter didn’t speak right away. He took a slow, steady breath, reining in the emotions threatening to spill over. Finally, he reached over and ruffled Neals hair gently.

“For the record,” Peter said, “you were right to tell them to back off. And you were right to defend yourself. But next time? You tell me first. You don’t have to fight alone.”

Neal blinked up at him, startled. “...You’re not mad?”

Peter shook his head. “Not mad. Just worried.”

Neal studied him for a moment like he was waiting for some kind of catch. Then, finally, he relaxed a little.

Peter sighed and finally started the car. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

***

Elizabeth was already waiting on the front porch when Peter pulled into the driveway. As soon as Neal climbed out of the car, she rushed forward, eyes wide with worry.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed, crouching to get a better look at him.

Neal tensed at first, but Elizabeth was already brushing his hair back gently, scanning his face with concern. His nose had stopped bleeding, leaving a trail of dried blood down his chin, and bruises were already darkening along his cheek and jaw.

“I’m okay,” Neal mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes.

Elizabeth huffed. “Yeah, you look it,” she said sarcastically, shaking her head before straightening. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Neal didn’t argue as she ushered him toward the door. Peter followed, setting his keys down as they stepped into the house.

Elizabeth led Neal straight to the kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet. “I know the nurse already helped,” she said, wetting a washcloth, “but I still want to check everything myself.”

Neal sighed but clambered onto one of the barstools without protest.

Elizabeth knelt in front of him, wiping away the dried blood carefully. “Your nose still hurts?”

Neal nodded.

Peter leaned against the counter, watching. “Nurse said it’s not broken,” he reassured her.

Elizabeth hummed, but she still inspected it thoroughly.

Neal sat stiffly at first, but the longer Elizabeth worked, the more he started to relax. She cleaned the scrapes on his elbows next, muttering soft reassurances under her breath.

“There we go,” she murmured as she pressed a fresh ice pack to his face. “Better?”

Neal gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Elizabeth gave him a gentle smile. “Peter told me what happened.”

“Which part?” Neals fingers curled slightly on the counter.

Elizabeth’s expression turned sad. “All of it.”

Neal tensed. “I know I wasn’t supposed to fight,” he muttered, gaze lowering.

Elizabeth sighed. “Sweetheart, I get why you did it. I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“Me too.” Neal whispered

Elizabeth pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “You’re okay now,” she promised.

Neal swallowed, nodding, looking tired and small.

Peter crossed the kitchen, squeezing Elizabeth’s shoulder as he passed before ruffling Neal's hair.

“C’mon, kid,” he said. “How about you go rest for a bit? No school for a week, might as well take advantage of it.”

Neal gave a half hearted grin. “Silver linings, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Neal slid off the barstool, taking the ice pack with him as he padded toward the living room.

Elizabeth sighed, watching him go. Then she turned to Peter, shaking her head.

Peter exhaled heavily, rubbing his face. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

They were definitely not done dealing with this.

But, for now, Neal was home.

That was what mattered.

Chapter Text

Neal awoke slowly, blinking against the sunlight that filtered through the curtains. He could hear the soft sounds of the house - Peters keys clinking as he grabbed his bag and left for work, the quiet hum of the coffee maker. His head was still heavy with sleep as he stretched, yawning, and pushed himself out of bed.

The house was still quiet, a bit of peace settling over everything after the whirlwind of the last few days. Neal shuffled toward the bathroom, dragging his feet, still not fully awake. The bathroom light flickered on, and as he splashed water on his face, he felt a slight shiver run down his spine. He hadn’t fully shaken off the tension from yesterday, but today, the weight on his shoulders seemed a little lighter.

He made his way downstairs, still wearing his pajamas, hair sticking up in all directions. As he turned the corner into the kitchen, he found Elizabeth at the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she greeted, turning toward him with a warm smile.

Neal blinked up at her, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Mornin’" he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

Elizabeth chuckled softly and set the mug down. "I was just about to get started with breakfast. Or-" she paused, her eyes brightening with an idea, "how about we go to the farmers market today? Get out of the house for a bit, grab some fresh stuff, maybe have a little fun?"

Neal perked up a bit at the suggestion, glancing at her with a faintly curious expression. "Farmers market?" he repeated, still unsure.

Elizabeth nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "Yep. It’s just down the road. You’ll get to see a little bit of the city, maybe try something new, and we can pick out some things for dinner." She grinned. "What do you say? Could be fun."

Neal paused, thinking about it. Normally, he’d be a little hesitant to get out of the house, especially after everything that happened, but the idea of spending time with Elizabeth, of doing something normal, felt good.

"Sure," he said with a small, shy smile. "Why not?"

Elizabeth smiled, pleased with his response. "Great! Let’s get ready then."

They both moved around the kitchen, Elizabeth grabbing some quick breakfast items while Neal reluctantly went upstairs to change. When he returned, he looked more awake, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. Elizabeth had already dressed casually, a light sweater and comfortable shoes.

"Ready?" she asked, holding out her keys.

Neal gave a nod, a little spark of excitement in his eyes. "Ready."

The drive to the farmers market was short, but Neal could feel his nerves slowly creeping up. The thought of being in a crowd wasn’t something he usually looked forward to. His fingers fidgeted in his lap, his gaze darting to the windows, watching as the town passed by.

Elizabeth noticed his restlessness and gave him a reassuring smile. "Hey, it'll be okay," she said softly. "We’ll take it slow. If you don’t like it, we can leave whenever you want."

Neal nodded, though his chest still felt tight. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the idea of so many people, so much noise - it just felt overwhelming. But he trusted Elizabeth. If she said it’d be okay, it would be.

When they arrived, the bustle of the crowd hit Neal almost immediately. People were chatting, laughing, and going from booth to booth, picking out fresh produce, flowers, and handmade goods. Neal stuck close to Elizabeth, trying to stay calm.

Elizabeth noticed his unease, and with a soft chuckle, she reached down and gently tugged him toward her. "Come here, kiddo," she said, offering her hand. "Let me help you out."

Neal hesitated but reached for her hand, feeling the warmth and safety of her touch. As they walked further into the market, the crowd seemed a little less intimidating with Elizabeth by his side.

Then, as they passed a particularly busy booth, Neals foot caught on someone's shoe, and before he could catch himself, he stumbled. Elizabeth’s hand shot out, quick and steady, and she scooped him up with ease.

Neals eyes widened as he was lifted off the ground, suddenly face to face with Elizabeth, her arms steady as they held him close. She chuckled softly, adjusting him so he was more comfortably perched in her arms.

"Still small enough to carry," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "You’re lucky, you know? You can still get carried around, even at eight."

Neal felt his face heat up instantly, his cheeks turning pink. "I- I’m not that small," he muttered, nuzzling into her shoulder, embarrassed by the comment. His heart was racing a little, not sure how to feel about the sudden shift in their dynamic, being held like that.

Elizabeth smiled, her voice soft and teasing. "You are, just a bit. But that’s okay. I don’t mind."

Neal didn’t respond immediately, but he let himself relax in her arms, his hands clutching onto her sweater like a lifeline. It felt nice, comforting, even though part of him still didn’t quite know how to handle it. He felt both embarrassed and safe all at once, an unfamiliar but not unpleasant mix of feelings.

Elizabeth moved through the market with him in her arms, chatting with vendors, picking out fresh fruit and vegetables, her calm presence making the chaos of the market feel a little less overwhelming.

"How about some apples?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she spotted a vendor with a beautiful display of shiny, red apples.

Neal nodded, still a little flushed, but grateful to be held as they navigated the busy stalls. "Yeah, those look good."

Elizabeth smiled and set him down gently in front of the vendor, making sure he was steady before turning her attention to the apples. "We’ll grab some for a snack later. Maybe we can make caramel apples, if you're up for it."

Neals face lit up a little at the mention of caramel apples. "That sounds good," he said quietly, almost forgetting his nerves for a moment.

As Elizabeth paid for the apples, Neal continued to watch the hustle and bustle of the market. It still made him uneasy, but with Elizabeth’s calm presence and the small, safe bubble they had created, it was starting to feel a little more manageable.

As they moved through the market, Neal couldn’t help but notice the glances being cast his way. Some people tried to hide their stares, but he could see their eyes flick to his face - the bruises on his cheek, and the scabs on his elbows. His nose, though no longer bleeding, was still a little bruised, and he hated the way people looked at him. They could see the damage, the aftermath of what had happened.

He felt himself shrink a little, his gaze dropping to the ground as they passed a group of people. His face burned, and he pulled the collar of his jacket up a little higher, hoping it would hide some of the cuts and bruises.

Elizabeth must’ve noticed, because she immediately bent down, her voice soft but firm. "Neal, hey," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It’s okay. People are just curious, but it doesn’t matter. You’re doing great. Don’t let them get to you."

Neal looked up at her, his eyes a little wide, still unsure. "But-" he began, then stopped. "I don’t like it. They’re all staring."

Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile, her voice steady and comforting. "I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got me. And none of those people know the whole story." She gave him a wink. "And besides, the only person who matters right now is you. You’re doing amazing, and you’re so strong."

Neal blinked, feeling a bit of warmth spread through him at her words. She was right. He didn’t have to care what strangers thought. They didn’t know him, didn’t know what he’d been through. And even if they did, it didn’t change anything.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice soft, but grateful.

Just then, a cheerful voice broke through his thoughts. "Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing?" an older woman called out from a nearby booth, her voice warm and welcoming.

Neal looked up, a little startled. An older woman with brown hair, dressed in a colorful apron and shiny gold earrings, was beaming at him from her stall. She was surrounded by jars of homemade jams, fresh baked breads, and baskets of herbs.

"How’s the little guy today?" she asked, her eyes twinkling as she took in Neals bruised face, but there was no judgment in her gaze, just kindness.

Neal blinked, feeling a little unsure at first, but Elizabeth gave him a soft nudge. "This is Neal. Neal, this is June" she said, introducing them with a smile. "She runs one of the best stalls here."

June reached out with a warm hand, offering it to Neal. "Nice to meet you, honey. I make these jams fresh every week, and I’m sure you’d like a taste. Would you like to try one?"

Neal hesitated for a second, but something about her kind, gentle demeanor made him feel safe. Her smile was like a balm for the discomfort he’d been feeling all day. Tentatively, he reached out, shaking her hand.

"Yeah, sure," he said softly, looking up at Elizabeth for reassurance.

"Go ahead, Neal," Elizabeth encouraged with a smile. "She makes the best strawberry jam."

Neals eyes widened slightly at the mention of strawberry jam. He hadn’t had it in ages, and the thought of trying some made his mouth water. June smiled even wider as she handed him a small spoonful of jam on a cracker.

"Here you go, dear," she said. "Taste it and let me know what you think. You can’t go wrong with homemade jam."

Neal took the cracker carefully, bringing it to his lips. As he tasted the jam, his face lit up with surprise and delight. It was sweet, tangy, and so much better than anything he’d ever tasted from a store. His eyes met Junes, and he couldn’t help but smile.

"Wow, this is really good!" he said, his voice a little more confident now, the taste of the jam giving him a moment of genuine joy.

"I am so glad you like it!" June beamed. "I put a little extra love in all my jams. But you look like you could use a little something else to brighten your day, too."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

June's eyes twinkled as she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I have a batch of freshly baked cookies in the back, and I’ve got a feeling that you two could use a treat. What do you say?"

Neal couldn’t help but giggle softly at the idea of getting more treats, especially after just tasting the jam. "I wouldn’t mind," he said shyly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Excellent!" June said with a wink, then motioned for them to come closer. "You just wait right here. I’ll be back with a batch."

Neal and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, both of them smiling at the unexpected kindness. The market may have been crowded, and the stares from others a little uncomfortable, but this was what he needed. A small moment of kindness in a sea of strangers.

As June disappeared behind the booth, Elizabeth smiled at Neal. "See? Sometimes, the best part of the day is finding the good people."

Neal nodded slowly, his mood already lifting. "Yeah," he agreed, a shy but genuine smile creeping onto his face.

After June returned with a warm batch of treats, Neal and Elizabeth decided to take a leisurely walk around the park. They made their way past the bustling farmers market and headed toward the peaceful green space nearby. The park was a quiet refuge, with tall trees casting shade over the walking paths and a serene pond reflecting the clear blue sky.

As they strolled along the path, Neals mood continued to improve. The cookies had been delicious, and Junes kindness had left a lasting warmth in his chest. The park felt peaceful, and the anxiety from earlier was slowly ebbing away.

They reached the pond, where a small group of ducks paddled around near the edge. Elizabeth smiled at the sight, then turned to Neal with a grin.

"Hey, want to feed the ducks?" she asked, pulling a small bag of birdseed from her bag.

Neals eyes widened, the idea exciting him more than he’d expected. "Feed the ducks?" he repeated, a spark of curiosity in his voice.

Elizabeth chuckled and nodded, kneeling down beside him. "Yeah. It’s easy. You just toss a little bit of seed into the water, and they’ll come right up to eat it. Here, I’ll show you."

Neal watched intently as Elizabeth took a pinch of seed from the bag and tossed it onto the water. Almost instantly, a few ducks swam over, eagerly pecking at the seeds. Neals eyes lit up with delight.

"Whoa, they’re so fast," he said, his voice full of wonder.

Elizabeth laughed softly, handing him the bag of seed. "Your turn now. Just toss a little in and watch."

Neal hesitated for a moment, then carefully took a handful of seed. With a small grin, he tossed it into the water. The ducks scrambled over, quacking excitedly as they fought for the seeds. Neal giggled, his face lighting up as he watched them.

"Look at them!" he said, his voice full of childish wonder.

Elizabeth watched him, her heart warmed by the sight of Neal so happy and carefree. He might be dealing with a lot, but in this moment, he was just a kid again - giggling at the ducks, forgetting about the weight of the world for a little while.

As Neal continued to toss more seed, his laughter ringing out, Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile softly. She stayed close, watching him revel in the simplicity of the moment, in the joy of feeding ducks and being free from everything else. She was glad to see him like this - so genuine, so happy, even if it was just for a moment.

Neal turned to her, his smile wide and infectious. "This is fun," he said, his voice light. "I’m glad we came here."

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes warm as she looked down at him. "Me too, Neal."

And as Neal giggled at the ducks, his laughter ringing out through the park, Elizabeth felt a deep sense of peace settle in her chest. He was starting to find moments of joy again, and that was all she could hope for.

Chapter Text

Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for following Neals journey so far. I wanted to take a moment to let you know that going forward, I’m planning to shift the story structure a bit. Instead of focusing on day-to-day events, I’ve decided to time-skip between chapters by years, marking Neal’s growth and development through different stages of his life.

In the next chapter, Neal will be 13 years old. We’ll be jumping ahead a bit to explore how he’s changed over the years, how his experiences have shaped him, and how his relationships with Peter and Elizabeth have evolved. Each chapter will move forward in time, giving us a chance to see where Neal is at different points in his life, and I’m really excited to dive into these new stages with you all.

Thank you for your understanding, and I can’t wait to continue sharing Neal’s story with you as he grows up!

Chapter Text

Five Years Later, Age Thirteen

Neal was sitting at the kitchen table, absently flipping through a history book, when the phone rang. It was a rare call - most of his friends would just text him, and Peter and Elizabeth weren't ones to call during their work. The caller ID blinked with an unknown number, and Neal felt a flutter of unease in his stomach.

He hesitated for a moment before picking it up, pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"

For a few seconds, there was only silence on the other end, then a faint clicking noise, followed by a voice that made Neal freeze.

"Neal?" The voice was familiar, a tone he hadn’t heard in years.

"Mom?" His heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking it. The voice, rough and strained from the phone line, was his birth mothers. His hand trembled slightly as he gripped the receiver, not sure what to say or how to feel.

"Neal, honey, I know you’re probably shocked to hear from me," Katherines voice continued, the static of the prison phone making it hard to fully understand her. "But I- I need you to listen to me. Your father and I-"

Neals breath caught in his throat, the words she was saying sounding so surreal he couldn’t wrap his head around them. His mother? After everything? After all the years of silence, the anger, the betrayal, she was suddenly here on the other end of the line?

"How did you- how did you get this number?" Neals voice was almost a whisper, disbelief flooding his words. He couldn’t fathom how she managed to get through to him after everything that had happened. They’d cut ties so long ago, yet here she was, on the phone as if no time had passed at all.

"Neal, I’m sorry," Katherine said, her tone urgent now. "I know we’ve had our differences, but I need you to understand. I'm trying to make things right. You- you have to hear me out. It’s important, please. I want to explain everything."

Neals grip on the phone tightened. His heart raced. He didn’t know what to do with the flood of emotions crashing through him. Anger, confusion, a strange flicker of hope mixed with deep, overwhelming sadness. He hadn’t wanted this. Not like this.

"I don’t know if I can do this," Neal muttered, his voice cracking. "I don’t know if I want to talk to you."

There was a long pause. For a moment, Neal thought maybe she had hung up. But then Katherine spoke again, her voice softer, pleading.

"Please, Neal. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just... I need you to hear me out. For the both of us."

His fingers twitched, and the call ended. He wanted to move, to run, to hide, but something in his chest held him there, stuck between the past and the present, between anger and the desperation to make sense of it all.

Neal was still standing by the kitchen table, the phone still in his hand as he stared down at it for a few moments, trying to steady his breathing. His heart was pounding, and the weight of his mothers voice still lingered in his ears. The thought of seeing her again, after all this time, was too much to process.

When he heard the front door open, he quickly set the phone down, wiping his palm against his jeans. Peter and Elizabeth stepped inside, their voices cheerful as they hung up their jackets.

"Hey, Neal! How was your day?" Peter called, his eyes scanning the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

Neal froze for a moment, the familiar warmth in Peters voice only adding to the turmoil inside him. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words right away. Elizabeth noticed the look on his face and immediately walked over, her expression softening.

"Neal?" she asked gently, her tone concerned. "What’s going on? You look a little shaken."

Neal swallowed hard, his stomach in knots. He shifted from foot to foot before finally speaking, his voice quieter than usual. "I- I got a call today," he said, his eyes dropping to the floor. "From a number I didn’t recognize. And it was Katherine - my mom."

Peter and Elizabeth both froze at the mention of Neal's mother, and Neal could feel the air in the room shift.

"She somehow got my number in prison," Neal continued, his hands wringing together. "She said she wanted to talk to me. She-" He hesitated, his throat tight as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions. "She said she's trying to make things right. She wants to explain everything."

Peters face hardened for a split second, but he quickly masked it with a concerned frown. "Neal..." He stepped closer, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. "I’m sorry that happened. I’m sure that must’ve been a shock."

Elizabeth, too, stepped forward, her eyes gentle as she looked at Neal. "It’s okay to be upset, honey," she said softly. "You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for."

Neals throat tightened again, and he blinked quickly to hold back the tears. "I don’t know what to do," he admitted, his voice wavering. "I- I don’t know if I want to talk to her. I mean, how could I? After everything?"

Peter met his eyes. "You don’t have to decide anything right now. You can take your time. Whatever you need, we’ll be here for you, okay?"

Neal looked at him, his eyes a little wide. The words were reassuring, but there was something about the moment that made him feel small, like a piece of him was being pulled in two directions. One toward the people who had hurt him, and one toward the family that had taken him in and cared for him when he needed it most.

“I know, Dad,” Neal said, his voice steady.

Peter gave him a small smile, his hand squeezing Neals shoulder in a quiet affirmation.

Elizabeth gave him a soft, understanding look. "We’ll figure this out together," she promised, her voice warm. "You don’t have to face any of this alone, Neal."

Neal nodded, feeling a little bit lighter despite the heaviness of the situation. "Thanks, Mom." The words flowed easily, like they always did now.

***

A few days later, Neal sat in the living room, his legs tucked under him as he scrolled through his phone aimlessly. The weight of the call from his mother still hung over him like a cloud. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and the more time passed, the more conflicted he felt. It was like an ache in his chest, a tug of war between his past and the life he had now.

The sound of the phone ringing broke through his thoughts. Neal glanced at the ID, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen. Before he could even reach for it, his pulse quickened, and he froze, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Peter, who had been sitting on the couch next to him, noticed the look on his face. "Neal?"

Neals hand hovered over the phone, his fingers trembling slightly. "It’s her," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He looked at Peter, then at Elizabeth, as if seeking permission. "It’s Katherine. She’s calling again."

Elizabeth was already moving, sitting next to him and placing a reassuring hand on his back. "You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to," she said softly, her voice full of understanding.

But Neal, despite the nerves twisting in his stomach, knew he had to face this. He’d made the decision to do it. He just didn’t know if he was ready.

He answered the call before he could second guess himself. "Hello?" Neals voice cracked slightly, but he tried to keep it even.

"Neal," his mother’s voice came through, smooth and sweet as ever. "It’s your mother. I’ve been thinking a lot about you, and I just wanted to call again. I know things ended... badly, but I’m hoping we can make things right."

Neals heart pounded, and he immediately looked up at Peter and Elizabeth. "It’s her. It’s really her," he said frantically, his voice rising as he held the phone away from his ear. "I- I don’t know what to do."

Peter leaned in, his hand gripping Neals firmly. "It’s okay. We’re here with you, Neal. If you want, we’ll talk to her together." He reached over and took the phone from his hand before Neal could protest.

Neal nodded quickly, trying to steady his breathing as Peter placed the phone back to his ear. "Hello, this is Peter Burke. Neal's... father."

"Peter Burke," his mothers' voice softened, almost as if she were trying to sound innocent, though Neal could hear the edge of something darker underneath. "I’m glad we’re finally talking. I know it’s been a long time, but I really want to explain myself to Neal. I want him to understand."

Peters jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm and level. "We understand, but Neal’s not the only one who’s been hurt by this. We need to know what your intentions are. If we’re going to consider any sort of meeting, we have to be sure this isn’t just some ploy or another way of manipulating him."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Neals stomach turned, hearing Katherine try to find the right words. "I just want to see him. Talk to him face to face. I know I’ve made mistakes... but I’ve changed. I’ve had time to think. Neal deserves to know everything."

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Peter, who nodded. "We need some time to think about it," Peter said. "But we’ll let you know. We’ll make the decision together."

There was another pause, a long stretch of silence that felt suffocating. Neal could hear her voice again, slightly pleading. "Please, Peter. Please, Elizabeth. I know I’ve hurt him, but he’s my son. He deserves to know who I am, to have the chance to decide for himself. I just want to be in his life again."

Peter looked down at Neal, his expression unreadable. Elizabeth put her arm around Neal, holding him close. Neals chest tightened, but he nodded slowly, feeling a knot in his throat.

After a long moment, Peter finally spoke. "Okay. We’ll meet with you. But it’ll be on our terms. No games, no manipulation. If this is going to happen, it needs to be in a way that’s safe for Neal."

Neals breath caught, and he felt his stomach flip. Meeting her. It was happening. But he didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted answers, but he didn’t know if he was prepared to face his past.

His mother’s voice came back through the phone, softer, almost grateful. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll be waiting. I won’t mess this up."

***

The day had arrived faster than Neal expected. It felt surreal, like the kind of moment he’d played over in his head a million times, but now that it was actually happening, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He could feel the heaviness of the situation settling in his stomach as they pulled up to the gates of the prison. His breath caught in his throat as he stared out the window, watching the high fences and barbed wire that seemed to stretch on forever. It felt like a different world, one that he wasn’t sure he still belonged to.

Peters hand was on his shoulder, a quiet reassurance, but Neal could feel his nervousness, too. Elizabeth sat next to him, her eyes soft but full of concern. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm, as if she didn’t want to push him but wanted to make sure he knew he could say if he wasn’t.

Neal nodded but didn’t say anything, his hands gripping the seat as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He wasn’t ready, but he knew he had to be. This wasn’t just for him; it was for all the pieces of himself that had been left in the dark. His past, his mother, everything he’d been running from for years. He needed to face it. Whether he was ready or not.

As they walked through the security checks and down the long hallways toward the visitation room, Neal felt a twinge of déjà vu. The last time he’d been here, he was only seven, a scared little boy surrounded by cold walls. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet the memories still lurked at the edges of his mind.

He remembered the way his mother’s voice had sounded back then, full of attempts at making a connection with him. But it never happened.

When they reached the room, they were led inside. Neals eyes immediately darted around, scanning the room, but his focus snapped to the figure sitting across from her. She was older, thinner, but still the same woman he remembered. There was a moment of silence as she took him in, her eyes widening, and Neal couldn’t help but notice how her face seemed to soften.

"Neal?" Her voice cracked slightly, as though she couldn’t believe he was actually standing there in front of her. "My God... you’ve grown so much." She stood up slowly, unsure of how to approach him, her hands hovering uncertainly in the air.

Neal didn’t move. He stayed rooted to the spot, eyes locked on hers. She looked so different to him now, the woman who had once been his entire world, now a stranger in this sterile room. She was still his mother, but everything about her felt distant. Everything about him had changed.

"How tall you’ve gotten," she said, her voice filled with disbelief. "You’re so much bigger than I remember. You look so... mature."

Neal shrugged, trying to brush off the comment. "I’m thirteen now," he said, his voice flat. "I’m not a kid anymore."

Her gaze softened even further, and Neal could see the tears welling up in her eyes. But he didn’t feel sympathy. He didn’t know how to feel about her tears, or the way she seemed so shaken by his growth. He’d spent so many years building a life without her, a life that was still in progress. A life that didn’t need her anymore.

"How’s school?" she asked, trying to bridge the gap between them. "Are you making friends? Is everything going okay?"

Neal glanced at Peter and Elizabeth, who were standing behind him, giving him the space to answer but also offering silent support. "School’s fine," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "I started high school last year. I’ve got a few friends. It’s different from when I was younger. I’ve got a new family, too."

His mother’s eyebrows furrowed. "A new family?" she repeated, her voice shaky. She looked between Neal and Peter, then Elizabeth, her face falling. "Oh, Neal... you’ve been through so much. I’m so sorry. I-"

Neal cut her off, shaking his head slightly. "I’m doing fine. I have everything I need." He didn’t want to hear her apologies. Not yet. Not after all this time.

"Neal, I know I’ve hurt you," she said, her voice full of emotion. "I know I can’t take back what I did, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’ve had so much time to think about it. I’ve changed. I’ve been trying to make up for my mistakes."

Neal stood still, his gaze unwavering. The words she was saying were the same ones she had said so many years ago, right before she had disappeared into the system. She’d told him she was sorry then, too. But it never changed anything.

"You’re sorry," Neal repeated, his voice quiet. "But it doesn’t change anything."

Katherines face crumpled at his words, and Neal couldn’t look at her for a moment. "I’m sorry, too," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But I’m asking you to give me a chance. I just want you to know that I’m sorry for everything I put you through. You deserved better than that. You deserved so much more than I could give you. I failed you."

Neals chest tightened as the weight of her words hit him. He wanted to believe her, wanted to feel something more than just anger and confusion. But it wasn’t that easy. It couldn’t be that easy.

"I don’t forgive you," Neal said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "But I can accept that you’re sorry." He met her eyes, feeling the hardness in his chest.

He wasn’t ready to forgive her, not yet, maybe not ever. But he could accept that she was sorry, and that would have to be enough for now.

His mother nodded slowly, wiping her eyes. "I understand," she said softly, her voice breaking. "I don’t expect you to forgive me, Neal. I just want you to know that I love you. Always have, always will. I know I can never be the mother you deserve, but I’m here now, and I want to try. I’ll always be here if you need me."

Neal didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure he ever would. But for the first time in years, he felt something shift. He didn’t know what it was, but it was something he hadn’t expected.

Maybe it was the start of something new, or maybe it was just the end of something old. Either way, it didn’t matter. He had his new family now. And that was all that truly mattered.

Peter and Elizabeth stepped forward, their silent presence a reminder that Neal wasn’t alone. They would help him through this, just like they always had. Neal looked at them, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.

"Thank you for coming today," his mother said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I know it’s a lot. But I’m glad we finally spoke."

Neal nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There were too many emotions swirling inside him. But he didn’t need to say anything. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

As the visit came to an end, Neal turned to Peter and Elizabeth, letting them guide him out of the room. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

Chapter Text

One Year Later, Age Fourteen

Peter sat at his desk, trying to focus on the stack of paperwork in front of him, when the phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was the school. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He picked up the phone, already knowing exactly what was coming.

"Peter Burke?" The voice on the other end was serious, the tone clipped.

"Yeah, this is Peter," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"Your son was involved in an altercation today," the voice continued. "We need you to come down here and pick him up."

Peters amusement faded a little. "Is he okay?" he asked quickly, already rising from his chair.

"Physically, yes. He's doing alright. But the other student involved is a little worse for wear."

Peter blinked, processing the information. "So Neal’s not hurt?" he asked, a little surprised.

"No, sir. But we’d like you to come in as soon as possible."

Peter rubbed his forehead, trying to stifle a chuckle. This was like déjà vu - the phone call, the visits to the school, it was like when Neal had been eight again, except this time, Peter wasn’t feeling as worried.

In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to have a hard time not laughing. Neal had always had a loud mouth that pissed people off and he wasn't afraid to not take crap from anyone.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Peter said, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket.

It took him no time at all to drive to the school. When he arrived, he made his way to the office, where he found Neal sitting in one of the chairs, looking completely unfazed. The kid was calm, collected, and if he was worried, he sure wasn’t showing it. There were no visible bruises or cuts on him.

Peter let out a relieved sigh, his shoulders relaxing. Neal looked up at him as he entered the room, and a small, almost mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

"Hey, Dad," Neal greeted casually, as if it was just another ordinary day. "Not exactly how I wanted you to see me at school."

Peter raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at his own lips. "I was getting worried," he said, walking over to Neal. He reached out, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "You okay?"

Neal shrugged, a little nonchalant. "I’m fine," he said, though his eyes flickered toward the door, clearly eager to get this over with. "But you might want to see the other guy."

Peter chuckled, his suspicions growing. "What happened?" he asked, already knowing it was probably something completely ridiculous.

Neal leaned back in his chair, clearly more comfortable now that his dad was here. "This kid named Tyler," he began. "He was picking on my friend Mozzie. He was shoving him around and trying to kick him. You know, the usual stuff." Neal rolled his eyes, looking more annoyed than upset. "Mozzie didn’t deserve that, so I stepped in."

Peter couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest. Neal had always stood up for the underdog, even back when he was younger. It was one of the things he admired most about him.

"So you stepped in," Peter repeated, his tone light, though he was still trying to understand the whole situation. "And then what happened?"

Neals grin widened, and Peter could practically hear the smugness in his voice. "He didn’t like that too much. So he tried to pick a fight with me instead."

Peters eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" He leaned against a table, trying not to laugh. "And how did that go?"

"Well, he didn’t really stand a chance," Neal replied, voice dripping with confidence. "I swung, and he didn’t know what hit him." Neal glanced at his hands as though inspecting them for any battle scars. "Guess I’m still good at it."

Peters face softened with a mixture of admiration and concern. Neal had always been able to handle himself, but he didn’t want him resorting to violence whenever there was a problem. It was a fine line, and Peter wasn’t sure he was ready to cross it. He stepped forward and lightly ruffled Neal's hair.

"I’m proud of you for standing up for your friend, Neal. But you’ve got to be careful, alright? I don’t want you getting hurt, and I definitely don’t want to get another call about you fighting."

Neal looked at him with a mix of amusement and defiance. "I’m fine, Dad. He started it."

"Yeah, but you finished it," Peter pointed out.

"Sure did." Neal gave him a knowing look, his grin widening even more.

Peter could feel his patience slipping as he stifled another laugh. "Alright, let me go talk to your principle," he said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "We’ll talk more at home."

It didn't take long, and Neal wasn't receiving a punishment outside of some detentions. Neal had already given a - very likely fake - apology to the kid and principle, so there wasn't much to say.

As he and Neal walked through the hallways of the school, Peter could hear the soft murmurs of other students, and when they passed by, Neal gave them a small, satisfied look. It was clear from the way he carried himself that the fight hadn’t bothered him. In fact, he seemed to almost enjoy the whole thing, which wasn’t exactly a shock.

When they reached the car, Peter opened the door for Neal, but before Neal could get in, Peter gave him a pointed look. "Alright, seriously, no more fighting,"

Neal paused, raising an eyebrow. "Not even when they deserve it?" he asked innocently.

Peter shook his head, trying to hold back another smile. "Especially not then."

Neal gave a dramatic sigh but nodded. "Fine," he muttered, sliding into the passenger seat. "But Mozzie’s totally gonna owe me for this."

Peter couldn’t help but laugh as he started the car. "You can remind him when we get home."

As they pulled out of the school parking lot, Peter couldn’t help but feel grateful. Neal had come a long way since the first time he’d stepped into their lives.

Sure, there were still moments when his past seemed to bubble up, but for the most part, he was settling, thriving even. And as much as Peter wanted to keep him safe from the worlds cruelty, he also knew Neal was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Still, he wasn’t about to let Neal off the hook, he had to have the talk about violence again. Maybe next time Neal could show a little more restraint. But for now, Peter was just glad to see his sons spirit shining through.

Peter started the car and drove out of the school parking lot, but as they passed the gates, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, shaking his head.

Neal shot him a confused look, clearly perplexed by the sudden outburst. "What the hell are you laughing at?" he asked, leaning back in his seat with a slight frown.

Peter wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself, still chuckling. "I just- I don’t know. I’m having this moment of déjà vu," he explained, grinning. "I’m sitting here with you, in the passenger seat, after you just beat up a bully... and all I can think about is the first time this happened."

Neal narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Peter kept his eyes on the road but couldn’t help but smirk. "Don't you remember six years ago? You got into that fight at school with those older kids who were bullying you. I had to come pick you up, and you were all banged up, sitting in that office chair just like today. Only, back then, you were so tiny back then."

Neals expression softened into something resembling embarrassment, his eyes flicking over to Peter as he slowly pieced together what he meant. "Are you saying I used to be smaller than the bullies?" he asked, sounding almost offended but mostly amused.

Peter nodded, a laugh bubbling up again. "Oh, absolutely. I remember you barely being able to reach the top of the counter, and now here you are, nearly my height, knocking out kids who are still bigger than you."

Neal folded his arms across his chest, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I’ve been training," he said, a bit smugly. "But, seriously, you’re laughing about this?"

"Yeah," Peter chuckled, "because it’s just so you. Always standing up for people, always fighting back, even when it’s not always the smartest choice."

Neal rolled his eyes but smiled, his shoulders relaxing as he joined in the laughter. "I’m just saying, I learned from the best." He gave Peter a teasing look. "You’ve got some serious lessons to teach when it comes to punching people."

They both quieted down, the sounds of their shared laughter settling into a comfortable silence as Peter drove. Neal glanced out the window, still smiling to himself.

"Thanks, Dad," Neal said after a beat, his voice soft. "For... you know, always having my back."

Peter smiled at the sincerity in Neal’s voice, his heart swelling. "Of course. Always."

Neal sighed, looking out at the passing scenery. "I just... I’m glad things are different now. Like, I don’t have to do this alone anymore." He shifted in his seat, turning slightly toward Peter. "I don’t know what I’d do without you and Mom."

Peters heart gave a little leap in his chest, and he glanced over at Neal, his voice low and sincere. "You’ll never have to do it alone. Not as long as we’re here."

Neal nodded, his eyes bright with something Peter couldn’t quite place - gratitude, maybe? Or something deeper. Either way, it made Peter feel like the weight of the world had lifted just a little, knowing that Neal was settling into his life with them.

When they finally arrived home, Peter parked the car and turned off the engine. He looked over at Neal, who had settled into a quiet, slightly amused state after their conversation. Peter let out a deep breath, feeling a familiar mix of pride and concern.

"Alright, Neal," Peter began, glancing over at him with a serious look. "We need to talk about what happened today."

Neal raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, here we go," he muttered, half grinning.

Peter gave him a pointed look. "Don’t give me that. You know the rules. You can’t just go around fighting people every time someone picks on someone. I’m proud of you for standing up for Mozzie, but you should’ve gone to a teacher or a staff member first."

Neal rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. "Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said, clearly not all that impressed by the lecture. "But you can’t punish me for that. I did what anyone would’ve done."

Peter shook his head slightly. "You’re not getting away with it that easily." He folded his arms across his chest. "You’re grounded. No phone for three days."

Neal immediately gave him a knowing look, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, don’t bullshit me. You’re enjoying the fact I beat some kids' asses, aren’t you?"

Peter’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment. He tried to suppress a smile but failed miserably. "I- I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it," he stammered weakly. "I mean, you shouldn’t have done it, but I get why you did. It’s just a little funny that, well, you're getting in trouble for something you’re actually good at."

Neal snorted, clearly entertained by Peter’s weak defense. "Uhuh, sure. You know you think it's hilarious."

Peter shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it, Neal. You’re a fighter. But next time, please get an adult involved before you do anything like that. I can’t have you fighting every time someone messes with Mozzie, or anyone else for that matter."

Neal raised his hands in mock surrender, though he still wore that confident smirk. "Fine, fine. I’ll play nice. But only because you’re threatening me with no phone and I need to text Mozzie to make sure he’s okay."

Peter chuckled despite himself, feeling a sense of relief. "Good. I’m glad you’re willing to take this seriously, even if you think the punishment is unfair."

Neal just shrugged, not looking too upset about the grounding, especially since it meant more time to mess with Peter. "I’ll survive. But really, can you just admit that you’re kind of proud of me? I mean, come on, I knocked those guys out."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "I’ll admit you did a good job, but I’m still not letting you get away with it."

Neal grinned, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. "Yeah, yeah. Just know that I’m gonna be way better than you when I’m older."

Chapter Text

One Year Later, Age Fifteen

Neal stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his graduation cap for what felt like the hundredth time. The black gown draped over him was a little long, and the tassel kept swinging in his face as he moved. He straightened it again, eyeing himself carefully. The suit he wore beneath the gown was tailored perfectly, and for once, Neal actually didn’t mind the fussing that had gone into his appearance.

Behind him, he could hear the faint rustling of Elizabeth moving around in the room, her voice high and filled with fondness.

"Neal, I swear, I can't believe how much you've grown," she said, walking over to adjust the collar of his shirt. "I feel like it was just yesterday you were running around the house in your pajamas, and now you're about to walk across that stage and graduate high school. You look so grown up."

Neal turned his head slightly to catch her eye in the mirror. "Mom, I’m only fifteen," he said, his voice a little sheepish, but there was also a hint of pride. "Not some adult."

"Well, you sure act like one," she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "But still. You’re the youngest graduate this school has ever had. It’s incredible. I’m so proud of you." Her eyes shimmered with emotion as she brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

Peter, who had been standing by the door, nodded in agreement. "She's right, Neal. This is huge. You've worked so hard, and you're already starting to make history." He walked over to give Neal a light pat on the shoulder. "But you’re still our kid, even if you are a straight-A valedictorian."

Neal let out a small chuckle at the reminder. "Yeah, sure, Dad. But I think I’ve earned the right to call myself a graduate now."

Elizabeth fussed with his collar one more time, clearly not ready to let go of the moment. "I can’t believe this day has come. You’re growing up so fast, Neal. You’ve done so much already." She took a moment to compose herself before grinning again. "Alright, I think that’s it. You’re ready, kid."

Neal took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirl of nerves in his stomach. He'd been preparing for this day for so long, but now that it was actually here, it felt surreal. He was fifteen, valedictorian, about to cross the stage, and yet, it didn’t quite feel real.

***

Peter and Elizabeth made their way to their seats in the crowded auditorium, the hum of excited chatter all around them. The lights were dimming, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. They found their seats, and Elizabeth immediately started adjusting her dress, a nervous energy in her movements.

"Alright," Peter said, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. "We’re not going to cry, okay? We can’t miss the moment because we’re too busy wiping our eyes."

Elizabeth smiled but couldn’t help the anxious energy that rippled through her. "I know, I know. I just- he’s our kid, Peter. He’s really doing this."

Peter laughed lightly, trying to distract her. "I think we’ve been through enough together by now to handle it. No tears." He chuckled. "Though I won’t be surprised if you get emotional. It’s hard not to with him."

"I’m not crying. Not yet."

The lights dimmed further, and the first group of graduates started walking out, clad in their caps and gowns. Elizabeth straightened in her seat, her hand gripping Peter’s as she took a deep breath. She had told herself she wouldn’t get emotional, but it was clear from the way her eyes were glistening that she wasn’t going to make it.

"Okay, we’re doing this. We’re fine," Elizabeth whispered, but her voice was shaky, and Peters heart melted. He knew it was coming.

When the final student took their place, Peter squeezed her hand gently. "You alright?"

She turned to him, eyes already glassy. "I’m fine, just... just look at him, Peter." She didn’t need to say more. They both watched as Neal stepped into view, standing with the other students at the front of the stage. He looked so much older, more confident than the little boy they had raised. He stood tall, his gown flowing behind him as he stood at the very front of the group. His dark hair was neatly styled, his sharp eyes scanning the room, though he couldn't help but look a little nervous.

Peter looked over at Elizabeth and, unable to hold back a small grin, saw the tears starting to spill. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. "I thought you said you weren’t going to cry."

"Shut up! I’m not!" Elizabeth sniffled, swiping at her eyes. "Oh, god, he's so big."

Peter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, he is." But even as he said the words, there was a growing swell in his chest, a mix of pride and a deep, unshakeable emotion. He looked at Neal, standing tall and looking more like a young man than the seven year old they had taken in all those years ago.

They both turned their attention back to the stage just as the principal stood up to announce the valedictorian. The whole room went silent as the principal began to speak.

"We are proud to introduce the valedictorian of this years graduating class, Neal Caffrey. This young man has not only excelled academically, maintaining straight A’s and attending multiple extracurriculars throughout his years at this school, but has also proven to be a kind and hardworking individual, constantly pushing himself and those around him to be better. He is the youngest student in this schools history to graduate, and we are excited to see what the future holds for him."

Peters chest tightened as they called Neals name, and his gaze was locked on his son, who was walking up to the podium with that same quiet confidence, his head held high. Neals eyes scanned the room briefly before he adjusted the microphone and began his speech, his voice clear and steady.

"Thank you," Neal started, giving the crowd a warm smile before he launched into his speech, filled with gratitude for his teachers, friends, and family. As he spoke, Peters eyes welled with tears. He fought them back, blinking rapidly, but it was hard to ignore the surge of emotion that washed over him. He’d seen Neal grow from a scared, uncertain boy to a confident young man, and this moment, this accomplishment, was more than he had ever imagined.

Elizabeth, beside him, sniffled again. "I’m so proud of him, Peter."

"Me too, El. Me too." Peter nodded, his throat tight.

As Neal continued to speak, his words full of hope for the future and gratitude for everyone who had supported him, Peter couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks. He wiped at them quickly, trying to hide it, but it was no use. He was so proud, so overwhelmed by everything Neal had achieved, and he couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning of something incredible for his son.

Neal finished his speech with a humble smile and a final word of thanks, and the crowd erupted in applause. Peter was on his feet before he even realized it, clapping with the rest of the crowd, unable to stop himself from grinning through the tears.

Neal caught his eye from the stage, his smile bright and genuine. Peter could see the quiet pride in Neals eyes, and that was enough to remind him that no matter what challenges the future held, Neal would always be capable of handling them, just like he had handled everything up to that point.

***

As the students began to walk across the stage to receive their diplomas, Peter could barely hold himself together. When Neals name was called, he stood up eagerly, eyes glued to him as he made his way toward the podium. The second Neal stepped up to accept his diploma, Peter’s tears started to flow, a mix of pride and overwhelming emotion he couldn’t suppress.

Elizabeth, who was already on the verge of tears, turned to Peter and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. "Oh my god, Peter, you're a mess!" she whispered, still trying to stifle her giggles.

Peter wiped at his eyes, trying to regain some composure, but it wasn’t working. "I can’t help it," he muttered, sniffling. "He’s just- look at him!"

Neal, in the middle of shaking the principals hand and receiving his diploma, glanced down at his parents. The sight of them both emotional - his dad sobbing and his mom laughing - made Neals face flush with embarrassment. He straightened up and shot them a pointed glare, eyebrows raised in mock annoyance.

Peter, between his tears, couldn’t help but laugh. Elizabeth snickered beside him, wiping at her eyes but still trying to hold it together.

Neal made his way offstage, his face a mix of amusement and slight annoyance.

After the ceremony, the gym buzzed with excitement as students and families began to filter out. Peter and Elizabeth made their way through the crowd, scanning for Neal. The moment they spotted him, they both grinned, and before Neal could even get close, they were pulling him into a tight hug.

"Congratulations, Neal!" Elizabeth said, her voice a little wobbly from the emotion. "You did it, we’re so proud of you!"

Peter squeezed him tightly. "You’ve come a long way, kid. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud we are."

Neal, a little flushed from all the attention, smiled shyly. "Thanks, guys."

Elizabeth held him at arms length, taking in his familiar features. "I still can’t believe how grown you are. You looked amazing up there."

Neal chuckled softly, his face lighting up with a modest smile. "It’s just a diploma, Mom. You two are the ones who are really making me feel like I just won the lottery."

Peter ruffled his hair affectionately. "Well, you’re our kid. We’re going to keep embarrassing you like this as long as we can."

Before Neal could reply, he noticed a few of his friends from school making their way over to him. He excused himself, giving his parents a final squeeze before stepping aside to say goodbye.

"Hey, Neal!" a short, stubby kid that they had learned was Mozzie called, walking up with a few others. "You did it, man! You were great up there."

"Yeah, congrats, Neal!" his friend Rachel added, her face breaking into a smile.

"Thanks, guys," Neal said with a grin. "It’s been a crazy few years, but we made it."

Mozzie clapped him on the back. "You’ve always had it together, Neal. Seriously. Don’t forget us when you’re off being famous or something."

Neal rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. "I’ll try not to," he teased. "Good luck with everything, guys. Don’t get into too much trouble."

Rachel laughed, giving him a playful shove. "I think we’ll manage. See you around, Neal."

Neal waved as they walked off, feeling a mixture of pride and sadness. High school was over, and as much as he was excited for the future, there was a part of him that would miss his friends. But today wasn’t about that; it was about this moment, and how far he’d come.

When Neal turned back to his parents, they were standing a few steps away, waiting for him with proud, beaming faces. He jogged over to them, a little lighter in his step now that the ceremony was over.

"I’m ready to go home," Neal said, leaning against his mom for another hug.

"Of course you are," Elizabeth said, kissing the top of his head. "Let’s get you out of here. You’ve earned some downtime."

Peter smiled at Neal, his chest full of pride. "Wherever you want to go, Neal. The day’s yours."

Neal grinned up at them. "How about we grab lunch? I’m starving."

Elizabeth laughed. "Now that’s my son."

As they walked out of the gym together, arm in arm, Neal felt a sense of peace wash over him. The future was uncertain, but with his family by his side, he knew he could handle whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Five Months Later, Age Fifteen

Neal sat at the kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him, piles of brochures and scholarship letters scattered around him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he scrolled through more information, but his mind kept drifting. There were so many options - so many incredible opportunities - and yet, none of them felt like an obvious choice. He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temples.

Elizabeth, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands, watched him for a moment before speaking up. "I can't believe how many offers you've gotten. Ivy League schools, top universities. This is insane, Neal."

Peter, sitting across from him, nodded in agreement. "You're one of the youngest people to have these kinds of offers. It's impressive, kid." He paused, glancing at the thick stack of paperwork that seemed to cover every surface of the table. "You must be feeling a little overwhelmed, huh?"

Neal didn't answer immediately. He was still scanning through the letters, his expression blank but thoughtful. "It's just... a lot," he finally admitted, his voice a little strained. "All these amazing schools, all these opportunities, and I still don’t know what I want to do. I mean, I could go anywhere. Do anything. But what if I choose wrong?"

Peter leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment. "I get it. When I was looking at college, I was stuck between so many options. It's not easy, but the good news is you have time. You don't have to decide right this second. We’re here to help however we can."

Elizabeth nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Exactly. You don’t have to figure it all out right now. And no matter where you go, we’ll support you. You’ve already accomplished so much."

Neal sighed, looking at all the names of universities. Yale, Princeton, Harvard, Stanford. The prestigious schools were all there, alongside some of the best known institutions in the country. But even with all these options in front of him, he still felt uncertain. "I want to make the right choice. But what if I mess it up?"

"Hey," Peter said gently, getting up and walking over to Neal. "You’re not alone in this, you know? You’ve got us. And you’ve already made it this far. You’ll figure it out. You’ve got your whole future ahead of you."

Elizabeth put her cup down and walked over to Neal, sitting beside him. "There’s no ‘right’ answer, sweetie. You can go wherever feels right to you. Maybe that’s one of these schools, maybe it’s something else entirely. The fact that you have all these choices just means you’ve earned them."

Neal took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just hard, you know? There’s so much pressure to pick the perfect one."

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, both of them understanding the weight of the decision Neal was carrying. They could see it in his eyes - the desire to make the right choice for his future, to live up to the expectations he had set for himself. But they knew Neal had already proven time and time again that he could handle whatever life threw at him.

"Listen," Elizabeth said, her tone reassuring, "There’s no such thing as a perfect choice. Whatever you choose, it’s going to be the right decision for you. Don’t stress about it too much."

Peter added with a grin, "And hey, if it turns out you don’t like it, you can always transfer. We’re not exactly in the dark ages anymore."

Neal cracked a smile at that, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. "Thanks," he said, his voice softer now. "I know you’re right. I just need to figure out what feels right."

"Take your time," Elizabeth said, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "No rush."

Neal smiled as she pulled away, looking at the brochures one last time before closing his laptop. "I’ll figure it out," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "I just need to think."

Peter clapped him on the back. "And when you do, we’ll be here. Whatever you decide, we’re proud of you. Always."

Neal nodded, feeling a little more at ease. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to face it head-on. With his parents by his side, he knew he could take whatever steps came next.

A few days later, Neal walked into the kitchen, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He was a little more composed than usual, but there was a quiet sense of determination in his demeanor. Peter and Elizabeth were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their coffee, and Neal could tell they were waiting for him to make an announcement. It had been a few days since they’d last talked about the college offers, and the pressure seemed to have weighed heavily on him. But today, there was a sense of calm in his posture.

"Hey," Neal started, his voice casual, though there was a slight tremor in it. "I made a decision."

Peter set his coffee cup down and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What’d you decide?"

Neals lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I’m going to Harvard. I’m going to study art history."

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, and a proud smile spread across her face. She stood up quickly, her hands moving to her mouth as if she were trying to hold back a wave of emotion. "Harvard? That’s amazing, Neal!" she said, her voice a little shaky, both proud and overwhelmed by the news.

Peter, who had been trying to hold it together, couldn’t keep his emotions in check. He grinned, his eyes misting up a little as he stood up to give Neal a tight hug. "That’s incredible, cowboy. I knew you could do it."

Neal stiffened slightly at the sudden hug, but he returned it awkwardly, his arms wrapping around Peter briefly before pulling back. He shrugged, trying to downplay the significance of the moment. "Yeah, well, it’s just Harvard. Nothing too crazy."

"Just Harvard? Neal, that’s huge! We’re so proud of you." Elizabeth chuckled softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

Neals gaze softened as he looked at them, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Peter leaned back and chuckled, wiping his eyes. "You know, I still remember when you first came into our lives. The scared, quiet kid who didn’t know what he wanted. Now look at you."

Elizabeth’s smile faded into a more thoughtful expression as she reached out to gently ruffle Neal’s hair. "You’ve come such a long way, Neal. It feels like just yesterday we were sitting in Peters office telling him the floor plan sucked, and now you’re about to go off to Harvard." She looked at Peter. "Time really does fly."

Neal blinked, his nonchalance slipping for just a moment. He shifted uncomfortably, looking away to hide the sudden vulnerability. "Yeah, I guess it does," he murmured, clearly touched but not wanting to show too much. "I mean, it’s not like I’m going away forever, right?"

Peter laughed and gave Neal a gentle tap on the shoulder. "No, we’re not sending you to the moon, kid. You’ll always have a place here. But this is a big step. We just-" His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat. "We’re proud of you, Neal. More than you know."

Neals eyes flickered for a moment, his usual defenses softening at their words. He quickly regained his composure and gave a small nod. "Thanks. It means a lot to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys."

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes still a little glossy, but she knew how to keep things light. "Well, now you’ve got the whole world ahead of you. Just don’t forget about us when you’re living the dream at Harvard."

"Wouldn’t dream of it. But hey, if you want to come visit, I’ll let you. Maybe once I’m living in a fancy dorm or something." Neals lips quirked in a grin.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Fancy dorms? You sure you're ready for that level of luxury, kid?"

Neal smirked, his gaze flicking to the side as if he was trying to hide his emotions again. "It’s Harvard, Peter. I’m sure I can handle it."

Elizabeth reached out and hugged him once more, a little tighter this time. "We love you, Neal. And whatever happens, just know that we’ll always be here for you."

Neal hugged her back, a brief but genuine squeeze, before pulling away. "I know. I’ve always known that."

They all stood in a moment of quiet togetherness, the weight of the occasion settling in. Neal had made his decision. He was going to Harvard, and no matter how nonchalant he seemed about it, there was no denying that it was a big deal. It wasn’t just about the school, it was about how far he had come since that scared little boy who had stepped into their lives. Now, he was walking into a future he had earned, and Peter and Elizabeth couldn’t be more proud.

"Alright," Peter said, wiping his eyes one last time. "Now that we’ve all been emotional, let’s go celebrate. How about dinner? Somewhere nice."

Neal grinned. "I could go for that."

As they made their plans, Neal couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest. He had a lot of decisions ahead of him, but for the first time, he felt truly confident in the path he was choosing. And with his family by his side, he knew he could take on whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Six Months Later, Age Sixteen

The drive to Harvard was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the car and the soft sound of Neal tapping his fingers nervously on the dashboard. Peter and Elizabeth sat in the front, exchanging lighthearted comments about how they’d never thought they’d be the type of parents to drive their kid to college. Yet, here they were, entering the gates of the prestigious university that Neal had spent the last few years working tirelessly to get into. It still felt surreal to them.

"Wow," Elizabeth said softly as they passed the impressive gates, eyes wide. "This place is huge. I don’t think I fully realized just how big it would be."

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, it’s a far cry from the high school we dropped him off at, huh?" His gaze flicked to Neal in the backseat, his expression somewhere between excitement and nerves. "How’re you feeling, cowboy?"

Neal shifted a little, his nerves still gnawing at him, but there was also a sense of pride in his chest. "Nervous. Excited. You know, the usual." He gave a half smile, trying to shake off the knot in his stomach. "But mostly, I’m ready."

As they neared the dorm, the sheer size of the buildings made Peters jaw drop. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dorm this big," he said with a whistle, pulling the car into the loading zone. "This is the real deal, huh?"

Neal laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess so. This place isn’t exactly like what you see in the movies. It's massive."

"I think we need a map just to find our way to the dorm." Elizabeth looked over at Peter, smiling.

The car came to a stop, and they got out, taking in the grandeur of the university. They were all a little in awe. Neal hadn’t been this far from home before, and while it had always been his dream, it was starting to hit him now—Harvard wasn’t just a name on a letterhead, it was a real place, full of other students, challenges, and endless possibilities.

Neals dorm building was massive, with wide glass windows and sleek architecture that contrasted sharply with the older, more traditional buildings around campus. As they made their way inside, Neals eyes scanned the hall, feeling a mix of anticipation and disbelief that he was actually here.

"Alright, here we go," Peter said as they reached the door to Neals ensuite. "Let’s get this place unpacked, and then we’ll leave you to your first night of freedom."

Neals lips quirked. "Yeah, freedom. I’m sure I’m going to miss you guys. A lot."

Elizabeth smiled at him, her eyes softening. "We’ll miss you too, sweetie. But we’re proud of you."

Inside the dorm room, the first thing that struck them was how neat and tidy it was - nothing like the chaos of high school lockers or crumpled papers strewn across a desk. Neal had already organized everything in boxes, eager to make this new space feel like his own. His room was simple, but it had everything he needed. A bed, a desk, bookshelves, and a window that overlooked a beautiful courtyard.

"Wow," Peter said as he surveyed the room. "My dorm was certainly not this clean. You sure you’re not trying to make us think you’re some kind of neat freak now that you’re in college?"

Neal grinned, pulling open a box of books. "Nah, just making a good first impression. You know, ‘I’m responsible, I’ve got my life together.’"

Elizabeth walked over to a shelf, picking up one of Neals books. "Art history, huh? I still can’t get over that. I’m so proud of you."

Neals face softened, but he quickly covered it with a chuckle. "Thanks, Mom. And yeah, most classes I'm taking are in art history, some in cultural studies, and a philosophy class." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "And no, I’m not joining any drama club or anything. I’m good on the extracurriculars."

Peter gave him a playful nudge as he started unpacking a box of clothes. "Well, you’d better at least find some clubs to join. You can’t just sit in your room and study all day. What about the debate club? You’d be great at that."

"I’m good. I don’t need to argue with people for fun."

Elizabeth laughed, her voice warm. "Oh, I don’t know. I think you’d be great at it. But if you’re serious about focusing on your studies, then we’re happy with that too."

As they continued unpacking, they talked about everything and nothing at all - classes, future plans, how the campus food probably wasn’t as good as they promised, and what Neals first real college experience was going to be like. There was a sense of comfort in the small, casual conversations, as if they could have been anywhere else - back home, at the kitchen table, talking about school in the same way they had done for years.

Finally, after everything was settled, they sat on the edge of Neals bed, the space feeling a little more lived in, a little more "Neal." Elizabeth looked around the room, feeling a rush of emotions she couldn’t quite place. She glanced at Peter, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. This was the moment when their little boy wasn’t so little anymore. He was about to embark on something big, something entirely on his own, and while that was scary, it was also exciting. He was ready.

Peter clapped Neal on the back, his voice light but sincere. "Well, kid, you did it. You made it here. We’re so proud of you. Just remember, no matter how far you go, we’re always here. You can always come back home."

Neal nodded, his eyes a little misty, though he tried to play it cool. "Thanks. I’m going to be okay. And I’ll come back home, just not too often. I have to have a little space, you know?"

Elizabeth reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately. "We get it, sweetie. Just don’t forget to call, okay?"

"I won’t. Promise." Neal grinned, his usual confident smirk returning.

With everything unpacked, the weight of the day finally sank in. Neal was officially a university student, ready to face the challenges ahead. And as much as they tried to hold back the tears, Peter and Elizabeth knew that this moment, this step, was one of the hardest, but also one of the most rewarding, of their lives. They had raised a son who was now taking on the world.

"Alright," Peter said, standing up. "We’ll leave you to get settled in. But if you need anything—anything at all—call us. And remember, there’s no such thing as too much laundry when you’re a college student."

Neal rolled his eyes, but there was a soft warmth in his chest. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As Peter and Elizabeth walked toward the door, Neal stood in the middle of his new room, taking in the sight of everything - his new life, his new adventure - feeling both overwhelmed and ready for whatever came next. It was time for him to grow into this new chapter, but as he looked back at his parents, who were waiting for him to take the next step on his own, he knew they would always be there.

As the moment to say goodbye approached, the air in Neals dorm room felt heavier, like there was something unspoken in the space between them. Peter and Elizabeth stood near the door, still glancing around the room one last time. The boxes were all unpacked, the desk arranged just so, the bed made up neatly. It almost felt too perfect, like Neal had somehow already settled into this life, ready to begin, but it didn’t make it any easier for Peter and Elizabeth to leave.

"Well, kid," Peter said, his voice a little more strained than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, trying to stay upbeat. "You’ve got everything, right? You’ve got all your books, your phone charger, your snacks?"

Neal gave a slight smirk, leaning against his desk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Yeah, Dad. I’ve got everything. I’m not gonna starve or flunk out of my first class."

Elizabeth smiled softly, though her eyes were already starting to glisten with unshed tears. She crossed the room and gave Neal a tight hug, squeezing him as if she could somehow hold him in place forever, even though she knew this moment had to happen. "We’re so proud of you, Neal. You’ve come so far."

Neal pulled back slightly, glancing down at the floor, his usual playful grin replaced with something more subdued. "Thanks, Mom." He hesitated for a second, before giving her a reassuring smile. "I’ll be fine. You guys don’t have to worry."

Peter walked over, his voice softer than usual. He clapped Neal on the shoulder, the way he always did when he wanted to show he was both proud and a little emotional. "You’ve got this, kid. And remember, you can call us whenever you need to. Doesn’t matter if it’s 2 a.m. or 2 p.m. We’ll be there." His voice cracked just a little at the end, but he cleared his throat quickly, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him.

Neal nodded, his throat tight but his expression calm. "I know. I will."

There was a long moment of silence, the three of them standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. It felt like there was so much more to say, but nothing could quite capture the magnitude of this goodbye.

Elizabeth wiped her eyes quickly, trying to stay composed. "Just remember, if you need anything, anything at all, just call. And we’ll come running." She gave him a playful smile, but there was a touch of vulnerability in her eyes.

Neal smiled back, though it was a little bittersweet. "Yeah, I know, Mom." He hesitated, biting his lip for a second before he added, "I’ll miss you guys."

"We’ll miss you too, more than you know," Peter said, his voice thick. "But we’ll always be right here. Don’t forget that."

With a deep sigh, Peter pulled Neal into a tight hug. Neal stiffened for a moment, not used to the rawness of it, but then he wrapped his arms around Peter, holding on for a second longer than usual. The hug felt final in a way that none of them were quite ready for, but it was necessary.

"Call us," Peter whispered into his ear, his voice shaky. "Anytime."

"I will," Neal replied quietly.

They pulled apart, and Elizabeth reached out for one last hug, holding him close. "We love you, Neal. We’re proud of you."

"I love you too," Neal said, his voice barely above a whisper, and then, as if to mask the emotion building in his chest, he pulled away with a half-grin. "Alright, you two better get going before I start crying, too."

Peter chuckled softly, though there was a catch in his throat. "Yeah, we don’t want to embarrass you in front of your roommates."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that." Neal gave a mock eye roll, but there was a warmth in his smile.

Elizabeth wiped her eyes again, grinning through the tears. "We’ll be waiting for your calls, okay? And don’t let those college kids take advantage of you. Don’t let them talk you into staying up all night and skipping classes."

"I’ll be fine," Neal assured her, finally feeling like he could breathe again. "But thanks, Mom. I promise I’ll call."

Peter and Elizabeth lingered at the door for a moment longer, reluctant to leave, but knowing they had to. With a final glance at Neal, Peter gave him one last thumbs-up and a heartfelt, "You’ve got this, kid."

Neal smiled, the nerves in his stomach settling for the moment. "Thanks, Dad. I’ll make you proud."

As Peter and Elizabeth turned to leave, Neal watched them head down the hall. It was strange to see them walking away from him, but it didn’t feel as scary as he thought it would. He was ready for this new chapter. After all, they’d always taught him that it was okay to go after what you want, even if it meant stepping out on your own.

With one last wave, Peter and Elizabeth disappeared around the corner, and Neal stood there for a moment longer, soaking in the fact that he was really here. He was starting this new adventure, and he knew that, no matter what happened, they’d always be there. He could always call.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, finally standing a little taller, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Let’s do this."

***

A month had passed since Neal left for college, and Peter and Elizabeth were sitting on the couch in their living room, phone in hand, eagerly awaiting their regular FaceTime call. They had both adjusted to the empty nest in their own ways, but it still felt strange not having Neal around, not hearing his voice echoing through the halls of the house.

When the call finally connected, Neals face appeared on the screen, looking bright eyed and more mature than ever. It was strange for Peter to see his son, the one he had watched grow from a little boy to the young man sitting before him, now living in a completely different world. Neal looked relaxed, his room behind him looking neat with the usual college dorm essentials. The background of shelves lined with books and a few quirky posters made it feel like Neal had already settled in well.

"Hey, kid," Peter said with a grin, leaning forward in excitement. "How’s it going? Everything good?"

Neal smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gave a relaxed shrug. "Yeah, it’s going really well. I’m adjusting fine. Classes are tough, but I’ve already managed to catch the eye of a couple of professors. They like my papers. I guess all that writing you made me do finally paid off."

Elizabeth laughed softly from beside Peter, always so proud of how Neals intelligence had flourished. "We’re so proud of you, Neal. That’s amazing. So, what about friends? Have you met anyone cool?"

Neals expression softened, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, actually. I’ve made a few friends, but there’s one girl - Sara Ellis. She’s really nice. She’s in one of my art history classes. We’ve been talking a lot about assignments, but she’s also been showing me around campus. I think she’s a bit of a history geek like me."

Peter raised an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. "A history geek, huh? So, what’s the deal with this Sara? You two get along pretty well?"

"I’m not getting ahead of myself, Dad. She’s just a friend, but she’s pretty cool. I’ll admit, it’s nice to have someone who knows what they're talking about when it comes to history."

Elizabeth leaned forward, her concern wrapped in a warm smile. "You’re not too busy, are you? Taking care of yourself? Eating well? You have to make sure you’re not overloading yourself, Neal."

Neal sighed, leaning back in his chair, giving them a reassuring look. "I’m fine, Mom. I’m taking it easy. I promise, I’m eating enough, and I’m sleeping too. It’s just a lot to adjust to, but I’m doing okay. I do miss you guys, though. It’s not the same without you here. But I’m good. Really."

Peter could see the subtle way Neals eyes softened when he said he missed them. Even though he was growing up and starting to find his own path, it was clear that the bond between them hadn’t changed. Peters heart swelled, a mixture of pride and love filling him.

"We miss you too, Neal," Peter said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I’m glad you’re doing well. And just remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call. We’re always here."

Elizabeth added softly, "Absolutely. You don’t have to go through anything alone, Neal. No matter how far away you are, we’re just a call away."

Neal nodded, his gaze softening as he sat up a little straighter. "I know. I promise I’ll call if I need anything." He paused, his lips twitching as he added, "I guess I’ll make sure to take breaks from studying, too. Can’t be a total nerd forever."

Peter chuckled, ruffling his hair. "We wouldn’t want that, would we?"

"Definitely not," Elizabeth said, grinning. "Just make sure you balance it out. You’ve got your whole future ahead of you."

"Yeah, I know," Neal replied, a small smirk forming on his face. "And I’ll make you proud, I promise."

Peter’s voice softened. "You already have, Neal. More than you’ll ever know."

Neal smiled back, a genuine warmth in his expression. "Love you guys."

"We love you too, kid," Peter said, his voice cracking slightly. "Take care of yourself, alright? And give Sara a high five for us next time you see her."

Neal laughed, shaking his head. "Sure thing, Dad. I’ll catch you guys later. Talk soon."

With that, the call ended, and Peter and Elizabeth sat there for a moment, still processing the conversation. Though it was tough to see Neal so far away, they both knew he was on the right path. He was growing up, and he was ready for this new chapter in his life.

"We raised a good kid," Elizabeth said softly, leaning her head on Peter’s shoulder.

"Yeah, we did," Peter agreed, pulling her closer. "And we always will."

Chapter Text

Two Years Later, Age Eighteen

The music thumped through the walls of Neals dorm room, laughter and chatter ringing in his ears as his friends crowded around him. The atmosphere was lively, and everyone seemed to be having a great time celebrating his 18th birthday. It was supposed to be the big milestone, the one that marked his transition into adulthood, and everything was supposed to feel like a success.

But as Neal stood in the middle of the room, a plastic cup of something that probably wasn’t all that great for him in his hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The excitement of being around his friends, the cheerful toasts, and the drunken dancing all made him smile, but there was a quiet tug in his chest.

It was his first birthday away from home - away from Peter and Elizabeth - and as much as he was enjoying himself, he couldn’t deny how much he wished they were there. His parents had been an integral part of every birthday, every milestone.

Neal had been looking forward to going home this weekend to celebrate with them, but the thought of being with them now, on the day of his actual birthday, suddenly felt like something he wanted more than anything. Sure, they’d talked on the phone that morning, and Peter had wished him a happy birthday with that teasing tone Neal was so familiar with, but it just wasn’t the same.

He glanced around at the group of friends, his smile tight. Everyone was so caught up in their own excitement, so full of life, that Neal almost felt out of place. Sure, he liked his friends, but the comfort of his parents home, of being with Peter and Elizabeth, felt like the thing he needed most right now.

There was no reason to wait until the weekend. No reason to keep pretending that he wasn’t already aching to be back with the people who had been there for him every step of the way.

He excused himself from the party with a quick, somewhat awkward wave, making his way out of the dorm. As he walked through the parking lot, he was still mulling it over. Maybe it was just the reality of being 18, of having made it this far on his own. Maybe it was the weight of knowing he was now officially an adult, and with that came the understanding that it was okay to still need the people who had loved him from the start.

Neal didn’t even hesitate as he climbed into his car. His fingers were already reaching for the keys, and before he even knew what was happening, he started the engine. The rhythmic sound of the motor filled the space, and he pulled out of the parking lot without giving himself a second thought.

It was a long drive, but the idea of being with Peter and Elizabeth, of sitting around their kitchen table and talking like they always did, was enough to push him forward. He missed them. More than he thought he would. And while he was proud of everything he had accomplished on his own, he wanted to share this moment with them.

He switched the radio on, the faint background music blending with his thoughts. The road stretched out ahead of him, but it wasn’t about the journey. It was about what he was heading toward.

Home.

As the familiar landmarks of his hometown began to appear on the horizon, Neal couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The party, the cake, the celebration could wait. This moment was his to embrace. And he wasn’t alone.

Neal smiled to himself as the miles between him and his friends faded. This birthday was going to be just fine. With a little help from his parents, it was going to be perfect.

***

Peter and Elizabeth were just sitting down to dinner when they heard the familiar sound of the doorbell ringing. Peter looked at Elizabeth, raising an eyebrow. It was a bit late for anyone to be stopping by unannounced.

"I’ll get it," Peter said, standing up and making his way to the door.

When he opened it, he was momentarily stunned. There stood Neal, looking a little windblown and out of breath, but otherwise perfectly fine. And then there was the wide grin on Neals face that made Peters heart skip a beat.

"Neal?" Peter asked, his surprise turning into a smile. "What are you doing here?"

Neal shifted his weight awkwardly but couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. "I, uh, drove down. I wanted to be with you guys today."

Peter blinked, processing it for a moment. His mind did a quick flip through Neals birthday plans, and then it clicked. "You drove down? For your birthday?"

Neal nodded, looking almost sheepish. "Yeah, I just- I missed you guys. I thought I could celebrate with you. If that’s okay."

Peter didn’t even need to think about it. His heart swelled. He quickly grabbed Neals shoulders, pulling him into the house and giving him a quick, warm embrace. "Of course, it’s okay! You don’t even have to ask. Come in, come in!" Peter said, stepping back to allow Neal inside.

Elizabeth was just getting up from the table when she saw Neal. Her face lit up instantly, and she rushed over to him, arms open wide. "Neal! It's amazing to see you!" She hugged him tightly, her voice full of warmth. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

"Thanks, Mom," Neal said softly, a hint of bashfulness in his voice.

"Happy birthday, kid," Peter added, having to reach to ruffle Neal's hair playfully. He pulled back slightly to look at him, taking in the sight of his son - so much taller now, so much older. The boy who had once been so small in their arms was now standing here, a young man.

"So," Elizabeth said, smiling at Neal, "What brings you home on your birthday? Not that we’re complaining, of course."

Neal shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. "I just... I don’t know. It’s my birthday, and I’ve been doing all this stuff with friends, but I realized I wanted to spend it here with you two. I miss you guys."

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a look, their hearts full at the same time. It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming sense of pride and love for this young man in front of them.

"You’re always welcome here, Neal," Peter said, his voice soft but genuine. "Of course you can stay. We’re glad you’re here."

Neal looked visibly relieved at their response. "Thanks, guys. I didn’t know if you were busy with dinner or something."

"Not anymore," Elizabeth said with a chuckle, looking back toward the table. "You’re the guest of honor now. We’ll make sure you’re properly celebrated."

Peter smiled at Neal, patting him on the back as they headed toward the kitchen. "You’ve made this birthday a lot better just by showing up. Welcome home, kid."

Neal couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his family surround him. This was exactly what he needed.

The three of them sat down at the dinner table, Peter making sure to add an extra plate and portion of food for Neal. Neal didn’t mind. In fact, he felt a comforting sense of ease in the way everything flowed. There was something so normal, so right about sitting here with Peter and Elizabeth, just like old times.

They talked casually about everything - how things were going at university, the new projects Neal had been working on, and how much he was enjoying his art classes. Neal shared some stories about his friends, the classes that were both challenging and rewarding, and even mentioned Sara.

Peter and Elizabeth listened with smiles, occasionally interjecting with questions or comments. It felt like they were in sync, as if the space between them and Neal hadn’t widened at all despite the months spent apart. The conversation flowed easily, with no awkward pauses, just comfort.

Then, just as Neal was about to ask if they’d gotten around to watching a show he’d recommended, Elizabeth’s eyes lit up with a sudden thought.

“Oh! That’s right,” she said, her expression almost playful. “I almost forgot.”

Neal furrowed his brow in confusion, looking at her curiously. “Forgot what?”

She turned to Peter, who was also suddenly grinning like he was in on a secret. "We got you a gift, Neal," she explained, “for the weekend. But we figured... well, you’re here now, so why wait?”

Neal raised an eyebrow but smiled. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, young man,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. She reached over to the side table and pulled out a small box wrapped in simple but elegant paper, tied with a ribbon. “It’s not much, but we thought it would be something you’d appreciate.”

Neal took the box with a bit of hesitation, but his curiosity soon won out. He untied the ribbon and carefully removed the wrapping paper. Inside was a sleek leather bound journal, its cover a deep, rich brown with a subtle gold embossing of a tree on the front.

Neal blinked, looking at it for a moment before lifting it out. “A journal?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

“I thought,” Elizabeth began with a warm smile, “that you might like something to keep your thoughts, your sketches, or your ideas in while you’re at school. You’ve always been such a creative soul, and we thought this would be the perfect way for you to keep track of everything you’re learning and experiencing.”

Neal ran his fingers over the cover, feeling the soft leather beneath his touch. It was beautiful, something that looked like it would last for years, something he could fill with whatever came to mind. He looked up at Elizabeth and Peter, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“This is perfect,” he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, both of you. I really love it.”

Elizabeth beamed at him. “We’re so proud of you, Neal. And we’re so glad you’re here with us. You deserve everything, including this journal, for all the hard work you’ve put in.”

Peter nodded, his smile warm but with a hint of emotion in his eyes. “You’re growing up so fast. We wanted to get you something meaningful.”

Neal looked down at the journal again, feeling a swell of emotion he didn’t often show. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this—how much he missed them. This moment, simple and full of love, was more than he could’ve hoped for on his birthday.

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice just a bit thicker with emotion than usual. “I’ll make sure to fill it with everything I can.”

After dinner, the three of them settled into the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm, comfortable light over the space. Neal still had the journal in his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the cover as they continued talking, laughing, and catching up. Elizabeth made a cup of hot chocolate for everyone, and they sat together, sipping it and reminiscing about old times, about how much had changed but also how certain things - like this bond they shared - remained the same.

They played some music, nothing fancy, just soft jazz in the background that made the atmosphere feel even more relaxed. Neal found himself caught up in a bit of nostalgia, smiling as he listened to songs that reminded him of when he first arrived at their house, back when everything had felt new and uncertain. Now, it felt like home, like it always had been.

At one point, Neal turned to Peter and Elizabeth. “So... what should we do now? I feel like celebrating... I don’t know, just this moment. Us.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but grinned. “Celebrating sounds good to me. What do you want to do?”

Neal looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging, still grinning. “How about a movie? You know, something lighthearted. I can’t really think of anything else, and I kinda just want to be here with you guys.”

Elizabeth clapped her hands together in excitement. “Movie it is! We haven’t had a movie night in so long.”

They settled on a comedy, something easy and fun, and the three of them made themselves comfortable on the couch. The flickering of the TV screen mixed with the quiet laughter from all of them, the kind that came naturally after so many years together.

As the night went on, they enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s company, the way it felt like no time had passed, the way they could pick up right where they left off no matter how much life had changed. Neal smiled, glancing between Peter and Elizabeth, and though the room was quiet aside from the movie and the soft laughter, he knew that this right here was everything he needed.

In that moment, he realized that despite all the growth, the changes, and the milestones, there would always be one thing that stayed constant: the love and support of the people who had become his family. And that, more than anything, was something worth celebrating.

And so they did. The night stretched on with laughter, movies, and the quiet joy of simply being together. That was all they needed.

Chapter Text

Two Years Later, Age Twenty

The day had finally arrived.

Neal stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his graduation cap for what felt like the millionth time. The black gown he wore hung loosely over his frame, the gold cords from his achievements and the vibrant sash denoting his status as valedictorian shimmering brightly in the reflection. He was proud, sure, but a little part of him still couldn’t believe it.

It felt like only yesterday that he was a nervous, uncertain kid, just starting to get the hang of being part of a family and figuring out what he wanted in life. And now, here he was, about to graduate from one of the top universities in the world, his future wide open in front of him.

Knocking at the door broke him from his thoughts.

“Neal, you ready?” Peters voice rang out, and a moment later, the door creaked open.

Neal turned to face his parents, his smile a little shy but genuine. Peter and Elizabeth stood there, both looking at him with expressions that could only be described as a mix of pride and disbelief. They exchanged a quick glance before Peter spoke again, his voice thick with emotion.

“Man, I can’t believe this day is here. It feels like we were just talking about what your future would be like, and now here you are. Valedictorian once again.” Peters words trailed off, and he gave a small, incredulous shake of his head, as if the reality of the situation hadn’t quite sunk in.

Elizabeth stepped forward, her eyes already glossy with unshed tears. She reached out and adjusted Neals cap, a small but affectionate gesture. “You look so grown up. I’m so proud of you, Neal. I can’t believe it’s been four years already. Four years of watching you blossom into someone amazing.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she gave him a reassuring smile. “We always knew you could do it. But still, it’s hard to believe how much you’ve achieved.”

Neal felt a warmth in his chest, a familiar feeling of love and gratitude. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The words “thank you” felt inadequate, but he knew they would understand the sentiment behind them. He just nodded, the smile on his face growing a little wider as his parents’ emotions seemed to mirror his own.

“I’m still that same kid, you know,” Neal said softly, his voice more serious than before. “I mean, I’m grown now, but I don’t feel that different. I’m still figuring things out, still learning. But I’m glad you guys have been here with me through it all. I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without you.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened even further as she brushed a tear from her cheek. “You’re always going to be our baby, Neal. And you’re always going to have us by your side. No matter what.”

Peter placed a hand on Neals shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ve watched you grow up into someone incredible. You’ve done more than just make it through school. You’ve thrived. You’ve found yourself, and you’ve done it all with the same heart and determination we saw in you from the beginning. No matter what happens after today, we’re just so damn proud of you.”

Neal could feel the lump in his throat grow, the weight of their words hitting him harder than expected. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes quickly, not wanting to make the moment any more emotional than it already was. But there was no denying it - he was proud of himself, proud of what he had accomplished, and incredibly thankful for the family who had been with him every step of the way.

“Thanks, both of you,” Neal said quietly, his voice a little hoarse. “You’ve made all of this possible.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, the soft chime of a bell in the hallway signaled that it was time for the ceremony to begin. Elizabeth’s hands fluttered nervously, and Peter gave Neal one last proud look.

“Ready, kid?” Peter asked, his voice a little steadier now, but still filled with warmth.

Neal nodded, a small, but confident smile on his face. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Together, the three of them walked out the door, ready for a day that would mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

As the ceremony began, Peter and Elizabeth found their seats in the crowd, their eyes instinctively searching for Neal in the sea of graduates. They were proud beyond words, but there was a nervous excitement in the air too. They had been waiting for this day for so long, watching Neal grow from that shy, unsure boy into the confident young man he was today.

The speakers gave their speeches, and soon enough, it was time for the graduates to walk the stage. One by one, students were called up, some smiling shyly, others practically beaming with pride.

But when Neals name was called, there was a noticeable buzz in the air. Neal stood up from his seat, his confident strides taking him toward the stage. His gold cords shimmered under the bright lights, and his valedictorian sash glimmered like a beacon.

The crowd went silent for a moment before, out of nowhere, a loud cheer erupted. It was spontaneous, but it was clear that it came from a lot of people. Several of his fellow students, sitting nearby, had begun clapping and hollering in support. It wasn’t just Peter and Elizabeth’s cheers that could be heard; it seemed Neal had gained a whole group of supporters during his time at university.

Peter grinned, his chest swelling with pride. “Look at that,” he muttered to Elizabeth. “He’s got a whole fan club now.”

Elizabeth laughed, her eyes fixed on her son as he walked across the stage, the applause ringing in her ears. But then, as Neal approached the podium, her attention was drawn to something else. At the very front of the group of students cheering for him stood a very,/em> pretty girl. She was clapping enthusiastically, her eyes locked on Neal, her smile unmistakable.

Peter raised an eyebrow, nudging Elizabeth gently with his elbow. “Look at that,” he said quietly, nodding toward the girl. “Seems like Neal's got someone special in his life.”

Elizabeth blinked, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the way Neal looked at the girl in return. There was something unmistakable in his expression—something that was both tender and knowing. It was a look she’d never seen on him before, and it made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t quite expect.

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth whispered, barely able to suppress a laugh. “He’s got a crush. Do you think that's Sara?”

Peters lips curled into a mischievous smile, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess that explains the ‘lovey eyes’ he’s making at her.”

As Neal took his diploma and gave a brief wave to the audience, Elizabeth couldn’t help but watch the exchange between him and the girl in the crowd. It was subtle, but the way they smiled at each other was so obvious now.

Neal had been so focused on his studies throughout college that she hadn’t considered he might be interested in anyone romantically. But now, as she watched the way the two of them connected in that instant, she realized she’d missed this part of his life.

“I didn’t even think about him dating,” Elizabeth mused, glancing at Peter, who raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it happens. He’s not a kid anymore.” Peter grinned, his voice low, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. “Though I don’t think I’m ready to have that conversation with him yet.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “We’re going to need to have that conversation eventually, Peter.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed. “But for now, we’ll just let him finish this whole graduation thing.”

Neal finally reached his seat again, the ceremony proceeding with cheers, applause, and laughter from his friends, but now, the proud parents had a new piece of information to process. Neal wasn’t just graduating, he was stepping into another part of his life, one that involved more than just academics and accomplishments.

Elizabeth leaned into Peter as they both sat back in their seats, watching their son with a mixture of pride and quiet understanding. "He’s growing up so fast," she whispered.

"Yeah," Peter replied, his voice soft. "But no matter what happens, he’ll always be our kid."

After the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse, but Neals friends and family gathered around him, all eager to congratulate him. Peter and Elizabeth fought their way through the throng of well wishers until they reached Neal.

“Neal!” Elizabeth cried, her voice thick with emotion as she threw her arms around him. “You did it! I can’t believe it! I’m so proud of you!” Tears welled up in her eyes, and Peter stood beside her, equally emotional, his hand on Neals shoulder.

Neal couldn’t help but smile as he hugged them back, his heart full. “Thanks, Mom, Dad. I-" His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly cleared his throat and straightened himself. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”

Peter chuckled softly, trying to hold back the tears as he pulled Neal into a tight hug. “We’re so proud of you, kid. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“I know you’ve got a million things to do, but we’ll grab dinner soon, okay?” Elizabeth added, brushing away a tear as she took a step back to admire her son.

Just as they were about to continue talking, Neals friends - those that had been cheering like hooligans for him earlier - gathered around. Laughter filled the air as hugs were exchanged, and congratulations were offered. It was clear that Neal was well liked and had made some strong connections during his time at university.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Peter noticed that one of Neals friends was lingering a little longer than the others. The girl who Peter now recognized as the one he had seen cheering so excitedly for Neal earlier. She was standing a little apart from the group, her eyes fixed on Neal, and Neal, in turn, was looking at her with a soft expression.

Elizabeth noticed too, her gaze softening as she observed the unspoken exchange between the two. It was then that Neal turned to his parents, his smile shy yet genuine. “Mom, Dad,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter, as he gestured to the girl, “This is Sara Ellis. She’s... well, she’s my girlfriend.”

Peter blinked, and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. “Your... girlfriend?” Elizabeth asked, surprised but trying to mask it with a smile. Peters mind raced, unsure of what to say, but after a moment, he cleared his throat.

Neal nodded, glancing over at Sara with a look that made Peters heart jump in his chest. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for about four months now.”

Four months. Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, their minds reeling with the new information. They hadn’t expected Neal to be involved with anyone, certainly not so seriously. But seeing the way Neals eyes softened as he spoke, and the way Sara was looking at him - as if they had been together for years - Peter couldn’t help but feel a mix of surprise, pride, and something warm.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sara, we've heard lots about you,” Peter said finally, extending his hand toward the girl with a smile. “I’m Peter, Neals... well, you know.” He chuckled nervously.

Sara smiled warmly and shook his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you both. Neal’s told me so much about you too.”

Elizabeth stepped forward next, her face beaming, though there was a hint of emotion in her eyes. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Sara. We’re so glad Neal has someone like you in his life.”

Sara’s smile deepened as she looked between them, her eyes flicking back to Neal for just a moment. “It’s an honor to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot of great things.”

Neal, his cheeks tinged pink, shifted slightly on his feet. “Yeah, I’ve been telling her about you two for a while now. She’s great. I’m really lucky.”

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a quick, proud look. Though it was all a bit unexpected, they couldn’t help but feel grateful that Neal had found someone who made him this happy.

“Well, we’re happy you found someone who makes you so happy, Neal,” Elizabeth said, her voice warm and full of affection. “It seems like you’re in good hands.”

Neal smiled at her, the warmth in his eyes undeniable. He was growing up so fast, and seeing him with Sara made it feel like the pieces of his life were all coming together.

As the conversation continued, Neal and Sara shared a few more moments of quiet exchange, and Peter and Elizabeth stood off to the side, content to watch their son and his girlfriend.

But as they did, something shifted in Peters heart - a realization that Neal wasn’t the little boy they had taken in all those years ago. He was standing on his own two feet, building his own future. And for the first time in a long while, Peter felt a sense of peace about that, knowing Neal had not only found a family in them but was also beginning to find his place in the world outside of it.

“Well, I think it’s time we all go out for some dinner, huh?” Peter finally said, clapping Neal on the back with a grin. “You, Sara, and us—we’re all celebrating tonight.”

Sara and Neal exchanged a glance, and then Sara smiled at them both. “Sounds perfect.”

And with that, the group began to make their way out of the ceremony area, ready to celebrate this new chapter in Neal’s life together.

Chapter Text

Four Months Later, Age Twenty

Neal was standing outside his very first apartment, a studio on the second floor of a building just a few blocks away from a series of renowned museums. The morning sun poured in, making the whole place feel fresh and new, much like the new chapter of his life that was beginning.

Peter and Elizabeth stood with him, helping to move in a few boxes. The trio was chatting casually, reminiscing about how much had changed since Neal first arrived at their doorstep all those years ago. Now, here he was, an adult, stepping into his future with confidence.

"Well, this place is nice," Elizabeth remarked, looking around the small but cozy studio. "I can’t believe you’re really living on your own now." She ran her fingers along the edge of the kitchen counter, admiring the modern touches and how well kept the space was. “It’s so close to everything - restaurants, galleries, and museums.”

Neal grinned as he placed a box of books onto the counter, careful not to crush anything. “Yeah, that was one of the selling points for me. It’s like a dream to live near so many places that I love. I can just walk to them.”

Peter, who had been organizing boxes of furniture, stood back and surveyed the room with a proud look on his face. “I can’t believe how far you’ve come, Neal. Seems like just yesterday we were moving you into your dorm.”

Neal chuckled, shaking his head. “I know, right? It all feels like it went by so fast. But now that I’m here, I really feel like I’m starting to build something for myself.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “You’ve worked so hard for this moment, sweetheart. We’re so proud of you.” Her voice softened with emotion. “It’s really incredible to see you settling in and starting your career.”

At the mention of his career, Neal couldn’t help but beam. “Well, actually,” he said, looking at them with a shy smile, “I’ve got some news.”

Peter and Elizabeth stopped what they were doing, both of them giving him their full attention.

Neal hesitated for a moment, his nerves making him second guess the excitement bubbling inside. “I got a job. At The Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

The moment the words left his mouth, both Peter and Elizabeth’s faces lit up. They exchanged a look of sheer joy, before turning back to Neal.

“No way!” Peter exclaimed, pulling Neal into a hug. “That’s amazing! I mean, of course you’d get a job there. You’ve always been the smartest one in the room.”

Neal laughed, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. “Well, I mean, I don’t have the job yet, but it’s pretty much mine. I’ll be starting as a historian in the art history department. I can’t believe it, honestly. It’s everything I’ve worked for.”

Elizabeth pulled him into a tight hug, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Neal. I knew you could do it.”

Neal smiled softly, feeling the overwhelming warmth of their support. “Thanks, it feels unreal, but I’m really excited about it. I’ve always dreamed of working in a place like that. And now, I actually will.”

Peter grinned, his pride evident in his voice. “I guess we’ve got a lot to celebrate now.”

“Absolutely,” Elizabeth agreed, her eyes glistening with tears. “You’re doing it, Neal. You’re really doing it.”

As they finished unpacking and getting the place settled, the energy in the apartment was one of love, support, and excitement for the future. Neal’s first apartment was a significant milestone, but it was clear that the journey ahead - working at the museum, diving deeper into his passion for art, and continuing to grow as a person - was only just beginning.

And with Peter and Elizabeth by his side, cheering him on every step of the way, Neal felt more ready than ever to take on the world.

As they started building the furniture in Neals new apartment, the lightheartedness of the moment quickly overtook any sense of seriousness. Neal had never been one for assembling things himself - usually, he’d leave it to Peter or Elizabeth, who, despite their occasional groans, were always willing to pitch in. Today, however, they had all rolled up their sleeves to help him settle in.

The first project: a bookshelf. Simple enough, right? Or so it seemed.

Peter held the instructions in one hand, his eyebrows furrowed as he studied the paper with a furrowed brow. “Okay, so, this should be easy... I think.”

Neal, perched on the floor nearby, pulled at his sleeve nervously. “Are you sure? I mean, we’re all here for moral support, right?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes playfully as she unfolded the box. “Moral support? Neal, we’re building a bookshelf. I think we can handle it.”

Peter shot her a teasing look. “You didn’t see me try to put together that coffee table last week. It was a disaster.”

“I’m pretty sure that coffee table is still upside down in the garage.”

Neal grinned at the banter between them. It was moments like this, when the silliness and warmth were so evident, that reminded him how lucky he was to have such a loving family. Not everyone got to have this kind of chaos surrounding a project, and he certainly didn’t take it for granted.

“Okay, team,” Peter said, clapping his hands together with mock seriousness. “Let’s do this.”

For the next hour, they were a mix of laughter, confusion, and a little bit of frustration. Peter would try to fit two pieces of wood together, only for them to not line up, while Elizabeth would step in and find a simple solution. Neal would either pass them screws or sit back and laugh at the whole situation, trying his best to keep the mood light.

At one point, Peter had a piece of wood in his hand and looked around in exasperation. “There’s no way this thing goes here, right?”

Neals eyes twinkled with mischief. “You sure about that, Dad? Looks like it fits just fine to me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at Neal. “Oh, you think you can just throw that back in my face, huh? That’s it, no dessert for you tonight.”

“No dessert? For me? You’d never.” Neal snorted.

Elizabeth chuckled as she adjusted a piece of the shelf. “Okay, enough with the wisecracks, kids. Let’s just finish this thing so we can sit down and actually relax for once.”

Eventually, after much twisting, turning, and more than a few wrong pieces, they finally finished the bookshelf. It wasn’t perfect, but it was sturdy enough to hold Neals books, and that was good enough for them.

As they stood back to admire their handiwork, Neal gave an exaggerated bow. “I’d like to thank the Academy... and my wonderful family for their hard work.”

Peter and Elizabeth burst out laughing, and Neals proud smirk melted into a warm, contented smile.

“I’m serious,” Neal said, a little quieter. “Thanks. For everything. I know this is just a bookshelf, but having you here, doing this with me feels right. Like, I’m home.”

Elizabeth stepped forward and gave him a hug, squeezing him tight. “You’ll always be home, Neal. No matter where you go, we’re always here for you.”

Peter gave them both a moment before stepping forward and ruffling Neal’s hair, a grin on his face. “Yeah, and now that we’ve finished this, we’re gonna need another project. How about we fix that coffee table, huh?”

Neal groaned. “Please, no more projects for today. I think I’m all ‘do-it-yourselfed’ out.”

Laughing, they made their way into the kitchen, sitting down to the meal they had prepared earlier. There was no need for grand gestures, just simple, quiet love and support. And as they ate and talked, Neal couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace settle over him, the kind he had longed for in his younger years.

This was home.

***

A few months later, Peter and Elizabeth decided to surprise Neal at work. They had been hearing so much about his role at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and how he was starting to make a name for himself as one of the youngest curators in the museum’s history.

After getting permission to visit, they walked through the museum, admiring the art around them. They couldn’t help but smile as they saw Neal in his element. He was standing in the center of a room, speaking with authority, explaining to a team of staff how to set up an exhibit. His voice was calm but firm, guiding the group through the intricacies of handling delicate pieces of art with care.

They hung back a bit, watching Neal from a distance. His presence was magnetic - he had always been confident, but now there was something deeper to it. The way he commanded the room, how the staff listened and followed his every instruction. His passion for the art, the way his hands moved when explaining things, his clear, concise direction - it was all impressive.

Elizabeth felt a lump form in her throat. Neal had come so far. Watching him now, at just 20 years old, running a team at one of the world’s most renowned museums, it was hard to believe how quickly time had passed.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Peter, a proud grin tugging at his lips, leaned toward her.

Elizabeth nodded, her voice thick. “I can’t believe how much he’s grown, Pete. Look at him, he’s leading all these people like he’s been doing it for years.”

Peter squeezed her hand. “He’s always had it in him.”

They waited a few more moments, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, Neal caught sight of them, his eyes widening in surprise. He immediately excused himself from the group and walked over, his face lighting up with a smile when he saw them.

“Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?” Neal asked, clearly taken aback but clearly pleased by the surprise.

“We came to see the genius in action,” Peter teased, his eyes sparkling with pride.

Elizabeth grinned. “We couldn’t miss it. You’re making quite the impression, Neal.”

Neal chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t expect to see you today. You guys want a tour?” He motioned toward the section of the museum where he worked as a curator.

“Lead the way,” Peter said with a grin.

As they followed Neal through the behind the scenes areas of the museum, he showed them around, explaining the process of curating an exhibit, and how much attention to detail it required. They were impressed by his thoroughness and his ability to balance both the artistic and logistical sides of the work.

Neals eyes sparkled as he spoke, proud of the work he was doing and the responsibility he had earned. “It’s a lot of pressure,” he admitted as they walked past a few pieces of artwork carefully wrapped in protective cloths, “but it’s also incredible to be part of something like this. These pieces have so much history. It’s like-” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like being a caretaker for history itself.”

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, both of them feeling the weight of his words. This was the life Neal had chosen, and it was clear how much he loved it.

Elizabeth placed a hand on Neals shoulder, her voice soft. “We’re so proud of you, Neal.”

Neal smiled, a bit shy despite his confident demeanor. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon with Neal, getting a deeper look into his world. Neal took them to the storage areas where priceless artifacts were kept, explaining the security measures in place and the precision required in handling everything.

He even allowed them to peek into the art restoration areas where delicate pieces were carefully brought back to life. The museum was vast, filled with so many treasures, and Neal’s dedication to his work was evident in every word he said.

By the time they had to leave, Peter and Elizabeth were in awe. Not just of the museum, but of how far their son had come.

“Maybe next time you can give us a VIP tour, huh?” Peter joked as they walked back toward the exit.

Neal smiled, shaking his head. “You guys are VIPs already,” he said with a wink. “You’re the ones who helped me get here.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly, wrapping an arm around Neal’s shoulders as they made their way out of the museum. “We’ll always be here for you, Neal. No matter what.”

Neal looked at them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It wasn’t just the career, or the accolades - it was the love and support that had gotten him to this point. And that, more than anything, meant the world to him.

Chapter Text

Seven years Later, Age Twenty-Seven

Neals life had taken a turn that even he had never fully imagined. From the unsure, shy kid who’d stumbled into their lives to the confident, accomplished man standing in front of them today, Neal had truly come into his own. His passion for art history had not only earned him a PhD but had also propelled him into a position of incredible responsibility at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he now co-ran the museums activities, overseeing a team and helping curate exhibits that would leave an impact for generations to come.

The celebration was small, just the four of them: Peter, Elizabeth, Sara, and Neal. They were gathered around the dining table at Peter and Elizabeth's house, with glasses of wine clinking and laughter filling the room. The lights of the city twinkled outside, but inside, it was warmth and love, a family reunited for an evening to honor the latest chapter of Neals extraordinary life.

“So,” Peter began, raising his glass in a toast, “To Neal. To his PhD, to the promotion, to the fact that we now have a doctor in the family. It’s crazy to think that when I first met you, you were just a kid who couldn’t even speak for himself, and now you’re co-running one of the world’s most prestigious museums.”

Neals face flushed slightly, the modesty he always wore about his achievements taking over, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Thanks, dad. But I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”

Elizabeth smiled, a hand on Neals arm, squeezing it affectionately. “You’ve come so far, Neal. We’re so proud of you. I remember when you started talking about art, and I honestly never imagined you’d be here one day, getting a PhD and running things at the museum.”

“Neither did I,” Neal admitted, a laugh escaping him. “It all seemed like a pipe dream, but here we are.”

Sara, sitting beside him, took his hand in hers, giving him a soft smile. “I always knew you’d do amazing things. You’ve worked so hard, Neal. It’s so inspiring.”

Peter nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You’re not just doing amazing work in the museum. I actually saw something recently that made me so proud. I was working on a case with the FBI, and your work was cited in it.”

Neal blinked, surprised. “Wait, what?”

Peter grinned. “Yeah, your analysis of a Renaissance painting came up during the investigation. Your research helped confirm the authenticity of a piece they were trying to track down. It was pretty cool to see your name in a case file, especially when I’m the one investigating it.”

Neals eyes widened, clearly impressed. “Wow, that’s- that’s amazing. I never thought my work would be referenced like that, let alone in something like an FBI case.”

“You’ve made a mark on the world, Neal. Not just in the museum world, but everywhere. We’re all so proud of you.” Elizabeth’s voice was soft, filled with pride.

Sara leaned in, kissing Neals cheek gently. “And I’m proud of you too, more than I can even say. You’ve worked so hard for everything you’ve achieved.”

Neal grinned, the warmth of their words filling him with a quiet sense of accomplishment. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Really. You’ve supported me every step of the way.”

Peter raised his glass again. “To Neal. To his continued success, his passion, and the fact that we get to watch you keep changing the world. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Elizabeth added, her voice thick with emotion, “You’ve made all of us so proud, Neal. You’ve grown into an incredible man, and we’re lucky to have you.”

Neal took a deep breath, the love and support around him nearly overwhelming. He looked at Peter and Elizabeth, then at Sara, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the family that had made him who he was.

“To all of you,” Neal said, raising his own glass, “for being there for me. I wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you.”

The four of them clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing through the warm, cozy room. It was a moment of pure celebration, of looking back on how far Neal had come and looking forward to the even greater things he would do in the future.

As the evening went on, they continued to reminisce, laugh, and share stories of Neals journey, from his first tentative steps in the art world to this incredible moment of triumph. It wasn’t just about the degrees, the promotions, or the accolades - it was about the family they had built together, the unwavering support, and the love that had helped Neal become the person he was today.

And as Neal sat back in his chair, surrounded by the people who had made it all possible, he knew one thing for sure: this was just the beginning.

As the evening wore on and the laughter and clinking of glasses filled the room, the conversation naturally shifted to more nostalgic territory. Peter, who had been sipping his wine with a reflective smile, leaned back in his chair, glancing over at Neal with a fond grin.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about little Neal,” Peter said, his tone laced with amusement. “The kid who couldn’t keep out of trouble. Remember when you got into that fight at school where you completely bashed a kid in? You were like... what, seven?”

Neal shot him a look, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “I was eight,” he corrected, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested he was far from upset. “And I didn’t get into a fight, I was defending Mozzie.”

“Oh, sure,” Peter chuckled. “Defending him by body slamming older kids into the wall.”

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. “I remember that day. You were so proud of yourself.” She grinned, joining in. “And let’s not forget the time you tried to fix the dishwasher when you were twelve. You managed to flood the entire laundry room. It took Peter hours to clean up that mess.”

Neal groaned and slouched in his chair, embarrassed but unable to hold back a laugh. “I thought I could do it myself,” he said sheepishly. “How was I supposed to know that turning the water valve the wrong way would send a tidal wave through the house?”

Peter smirked. “Oh, I remember you standing there, looking at the flood like you’d discovered a new species of sea creature. That was definitely a memorable day.”

“And then there was the time you insisted you could build a treehouse all by yourself,” Elizabeth chimed in, glancing at Neal with a playful smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack when you climbed up there with no harness, no nothing.”

Neal groaned louder this time, his face turning a deeper shade of red. “It wasn’t that bad...”

“You had to be rescued by the fire department, Neal.”

Sara, who had been quietly listening to the banter, chuckled. “This is definitely a side of Neal I’ve never seen. You were quite the little troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “But he’s grown up into a wonderful young man, despite his wild ways.”

Neal rolled his eyes but smiled warmly at the affectionate teasing. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Peter laughed softly. “Oh, we have plenty more stories where that came from. You just wait until we start talking about his teenage years.”

Neal raised a hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it, I was a handful.”

Elizabeth reached over and patted his hand affectionately. “You were the most wonderful handful. Look at you now. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

Sara leaned in closer to Neal, a soft smile on her face. “I’m starting to see a pattern here. Seems like you’ve always had a knack for making life interesting.”

Neal grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Well, someone’s gotta keep it exciting.”

Chapter Text

Three years Later, Age Thirty

Neal hadn’t called ahead, and as Peter and Elizabeth sat at the kitchen table, enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon, they heard the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing. Peter glanced at the clock, eyebrows furrowed. It was a little early for a visit, but they both knew better than to question Neals spontaneity.

“I’ll get it,” Peter said with a smile, pushing away from the table. He opened the door to find Neal standing there, a grin spread across his face, though there was a quiet, controlled excitement in his eyes that immediately caught Peter’s attention.

“Hey, kid,” Peter said warmly, stepping aside to let him in. “What’s going on?”

Neal walked in, taking a moment to look around as if he hadn’t been home in ages. His eyes softened as he took in the familiar surroundings, the same ones that had once been a refuge and sanctuary. He smiled to himself before looking back at his parents, still beaming.

“I’ve got something to tell you both,” Neal said, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone. Elizabeth, who had been flipping through a magazine, looked up, sensing the change in the air.

“What’s up, Neal?” she asked, her voice soft and curious.

Neal took a deep breath, and Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, wondering what he was about to say. They could see that whatever it was, it was important.

“I spoke with Sara’s parents this morning,” Neal continued, his smile widening as he watched their expressions shift from curiosity to anticipation. “I got their blessing...”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Their blessing for what?”

Neals grin grew as he stepped forward, his heart racing. He had been holding onto this moment for so long, and now, sharing it with his parents felt surreal.

“I’m going to propose to Sara,” he said simply, the words feeling like the most natural thing he could say, yet somehow still carrying immense weight.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. Peter let out a soft laugh of disbelief, his eyes glistening with emotion. He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face as he stepped forward to give Neal a firm, proud hug.

“Well, look at you, all grown up, thinking about spending the rest of your life with someone,” Peter murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled away slightly, ruffling Neal’s hair the way he had when Neal was younger. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy for you, kid.”

Elizabeth joined the hug, her arms tight around Neal, her tears flowing freely now. She whispered softly into his ear, “I’m so happy for you, Neal. So proud.”

Neal, touched and overwhelmed by the love surrounding him, had to blink back tears of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this grounded, this loved, this supported. It was all he had ever wanted - people who cared, who had his back, no matter what. And now, standing here in this moment, with both Peter and Elizabeth embracing him, it all felt perfect.

Pulling back, Elizabeth held Neal at arm’s length, looking him over with a tear-streaked face. “When did this happen?” she asked softly. “When did you get so... sure of things?”

Neal chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. “I think I’ve always been sure. It just took me a little while to realize it. But with Sara, it just feels right. You know?”

Peter nodded. “I know, Neal. We can see it in the way you talk about her, the way you look at her. You two make sense together.”

Neal smiled, his heart full. “Thanks,”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Elizabeth replied, her voice shaky but full of warmth. “We’re just so happy for you. You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

Peter gave a quiet chuckle. “And I’m guessing you’re planning to do this properly, right? No cheap rings and surprise proposals in random restaurants?”

Neal rolled his eyes, the playful back-and-forth as comfortable as ever. “Dad, I think I know how to propose to my girlfriend without embarrassing myself.”

“Well, if you were going to embarrass yourself, now would be the time to tell us,” Peter teased, his eyes glistening with pride. He stepped back and gave Neal a little nudge. “Seriously though, I’m thrilled for you. Both of you. Sara’s a great match.”

Neals smile softened, and he nodded, clearly feeling the weight of his next steps in the relationship. But it was a good weight - one he was ready to carry. “I’m glad you think so. She means the world to me.”

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before smiling brightly at Neal. “We’re going to be planning a wedding, huh?” she asked, her voice teasing, but also full of a warmth that made Neals heart swell. “Your father’s going to start crying at the idea of losing his little boy to a girl.”

Peter rolled his eyes, laughing softly. “I’m not that sentimental.”

Neals face lit up with laughter, and Elizabeth leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Well, we couldn’t be prouder, Neal. We’re so excited for you.”

“I’ll be the first one in line to dance at your wedding,” Peter said, still smiling through his tears. “Just make sure there’s no big embarrassing speeches. I don’t need to cry in front of all your friends.”

Neal chuckled. “No promises.”

The three of them stood there for a long moment, the weight of the moment sinking in. Neal was getting ready to take the next step in his life, to marry the woman he loved. And for Peter and Elizabeth, watching him grow up and find happiness felt like the best thing they could have ever hoped for. Neal had come so far, and now, as he took this new step, they couldn’t be happier for him.

Neal smiled softly, his gaze shifting from Peter and Elizabeth back to his hands. “I’ll keep you guys posted on the plan. But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

And as he looked up at them, their pride and love radiating in every smile and tear, Neal knew that no matter what happened next, he would always have this: a family who loved him, who had stood by him, and who were ready to celebrate his next big milestone with him.

For Neal, it didn’t matter where the road led. He was home.

***

The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in a warm, golden hue. The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythmic sound creating the perfect, serene backdrop for what Neal had been planning for weeks. He and Sara had just finished a beautiful dinner on the beach, a table set for two under the stars, the ocean breeze gently tousling Sara’s hair as they talked and laughed together.

As they finished their meal, the soft, fading light made the evening feel magical, and Neals heart was pounding in his chest. Every part of him had known, deep down, that this moment was coming. But now that it was here, everything felt so overwhelming, like the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them.

Sara, blissfully unaware of what Neal was planning, stood up, looking out at the horizon. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her jacket as she let out a contented sigh. The air was cool, but the warmth from the meal still lingered in her chest.

Neal took a deep breath. This was it.

He quietly stood up behind her, walking over to a small spot he had chosen earlier, his heart racing with every step. As he reached it, he knelt down, taking out the small velvet box he had carefully hidden in his pocket.

Sara turned around just as she heard his movement, her expression shifting from curiosity to shock when she saw Neal on one knee in front of her, a slight tremble in his hand as he held up the box.

“Sara,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve known for a long time now that you’re the one. The person I want to spend my life with. You make me better, stronger, and you’ve brought so much light into my life. Every moment with you feels like the start of something amazing, and I can’t imagine my future without you in it.”

Tears welled up in Neals eyes as he looked up at her, his heart on display in the most vulnerable way possible. This was the moment he’d dreamed of, the moment when everything he’d been working towards - the life he’d built - would change forever.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life. Sara Ellis, will you marry me?”

Sara stood frozen, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes glistening with emotion. Neal could see the mix of surprise, joy, and something else that filled her gaze. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pure happiness. “Yes, Neal, of course I'll marry you.”

A breath of relief escaped Neals lips, his heart soaring as he stood up, wrapping his arms around her. They kissed softly, their lips meeting in a gentle, tender embrace, sealing the promise of a lifetime together.

The beach around them seemed to glow even brighter as they pulled back slightly, looking into each others eyes. Neal could see nothing but Sara - the woman he loved, the woman who had become his everything. And now, they were stepping into this next chapter of their lives together.

“I love you so much,” Neal whispered, his hand gently cupping her cheek.

Sara smiled, her eyes sparkling with tears, as she stroked his jaw. “I love you too, Neal. I always have.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the final light of the day across the water, Neal knew this was just the beginning. He’d found his person—his home. And now, they were going to build a future together.

The sound of the waves in the distance was the perfect soundtrack to their moment, as they held each other close, savoring the reality of the next great adventure that had just begun.

***

Neal and Sara drove to Peter and Elizabeth’s house with a quiet excitement buzzing between them. The soft sunlight filtered through the trees as they pulled into the driveway, and Neal couldn’t help but smile. He was still on a cloud from proposing to Sara, the memory of her tear filled "yes" still fresh in his mind.

He hadn’t yet told his parents about the proposal taking place - they were expecting to just have lunch together, and he wanted to keep the moment a little more personal. But now, the thought of sharing it with them was just too tempting.

As they walked inside, they were greeted by the familiar, warm scents of a home cooked meal wafting from the kitchen. Neal felt the ease settle over him - the comfort of being with people who truly cared for him, who had watched him grow, and who had treated Sara like their own. He could already hear the laughter coming from the kitchen, and when he and Sara entered the living room, Elizabeth was the first to spot them.

"Hey, you two!" she exclaimed, her smile wide. "How was the drive? Everything okay?"

"All good, Mom," Neal answered with a grin. He always felt the warmth of being home when he saw Elizabeth, his mother, in every way that mattered.

Sara, standing next to him, looked around with a shy smile on her face. She’d grown so comfortable with Neals parents over the last ten years. They treated her like family, and she knew this was the place where they’d celebrate the next chapter of their lives together. But she couldn’t wait any longer to show them the most important part of the day.

"Actually," Sara said, catching Elizabeth’s eye. "I have something to show you." She held out her left hand, revealing the beautiful engagement ring, her fingers trembling slightly in excitement.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. Then, in the next second, she screamed, pure joy in her voice. “Oh my God!” she cried, her hands flying to her mouth as she looked between Neal and Sara. "You’re- Oh my God, Neal! You proposed?!"

Neal laughed, his cheeks a little pink with embarrassment, but his heart soaring with happiness. He had never seen Elizabeth look this excited.

"Yes," Sara said, her voice trembling with emotion. "He did."

Before Neal could say another word, Elizabeth was on her feet, rushing toward them both. She threw her arms around Sara first, hugging her tightly, then turned to Neal, pulling him into a tight embrace as well.

"You two are perfect together," Elizabeth said, her voice thick with happy tears. "I’m so happy for you both! This is just the best news."

Peter, who had been in the kitchen, appeared in the doorway just as Elizabeth pulled back from the hug. His eyes immediately caught sight of the ring, and he froze for a moment. Then, with a grin spreading across his face, he walked toward them.

"Neal, you dog," Peter said with a laugh, clapping him on the back before turning to Sara. "I’m so proud of you both. Congrats!"

Neal smiled, a little sheepishly, as Peter hugged him tight. "Thanks, Dad," Neal said, the word still feeling as natural as ever. And as Peter pulled back to look at him, his eyes were glistening with emotion.

"You really did it, huh?" Peters voice was thick with pride. "I knew you two were meant for each other."

Sara beamed, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “Thank you, both of you. You’ve made me feel so welcome. I’m lucky to be a part of this family."

Elizabeth looked over at Neal, her eyes still bright. "You’ve grown up so fast, Neal. I can’t believe you’re about to get married. I’m just... so happy for you."

Neals heart swelled. He hadn’t expected to feel this emotional today, but with his parents’ warmth and love surrounding him, he couldn’t help it. "I’m lucky to have you both," he said quietly, his voice tinged with gratitude.

They sat down to a celebratory lunch, the conversation flowing easily between them. Stories were exchanged, jokes were made, and laughter filled the house. The love that had always been a constant between them now felt even more solid, grounded in the knowledge that Neal and Sara had taken this huge step in their lives together.

Neal couldn’t help but glance at Sara occasionally, his heart full of affection. This was his family, his home, and soon, Sara would be a part of it too. And as they all sat around the table, enjoying their meal, Neal felt like everything was falling perfectly into place. His future, with Sara by his side, was brighter than ever.

Chapter Text

Seven Months Later

The sun was beginning to set behind the mountain, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the entire venue. The gentle spring breeze fluttered through the trees, carrying with it the soft scent of fresh flowers and the promise of something beautiful. The scene was almost unreal, like something out of a dream.

Neal stood at the front of the aisle, his hands nervously straightening the cuffs of his crisp suit. He was sharp, more handsome than he’d ever looked, and there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of nerves and overwhelming joy. Today was the day - his wedding day - and everything was coming together perfectly.

Peter and Elizabeth sat in the front row, their eyes glued to Neal, and Neal could see the emotion in their faces even from where he stood. Peter, who had always been the steady rock, was wiping away tears. Elizabeth, ever the soft-hearted one, had already started crying. They both looked at him as though he was still their little boy, the child they had watched grow into the man standing before them today.

Neal could feel the lump in his throat growing with each passing second. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how beautiful everything was, how surreal it felt, or because of how much love he felt for the woman who was about to become his wife. The love of his life, Sara Ellis, who had walked beside him through it all. And now, they were about to make this official.

The music shifted, and all eyes turned to the back. Neal held his breath, his heart in his throat, as he saw her.

Sara.

She was breathtaking.

Sara walked slowly down the aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. The soft lace of her white dress caught the light as she moved, every step graceful and sure, her smile radiant. Her hair was styled simply yet beautifully, a few strands framing her face, and the veil that rested atop her head shimmered in the golden sunlight. Her eyes locked onto Neal’s, and the world seemed to quiet around them.

Neal couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. His vision blurred with emotion, but he kept his eyes fixed on Sara, the woman he was about to marry, his heart swelling with every step she took toward him. When she reached the altar and her father placed her hand into Neal’s, he could barely speak.

“You look- you look perfect,” Neal whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Sara smiled, her eyes sparkling. "You’re not so bad yourself."

The ceremony began, but Neal barely heard the words. His heart was too full. Every second felt like a gift. A moment he had waited for, dreamed of, and now, it was happening.

The officiant asked the question: “Do you, Neal Caffrey, take Sara Ellis to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Neal swallowed hard. His voice came out steady but filled with awe. “I do.”

The officiant turned to Sara. “And do you, Sara Ellis, take Neal Caffrey to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Sara’s smile was as wide as it could be. “I do.”

With a simple “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant gestured for Neal to kiss his bride, and Neal wasted no time. He pulled Sara close, feeling the warmth of her body against his, and kissed her deeply, passionately, as the crowd erupted in applause.

As they pulled apart, Neals forehead rested against Sara’s, and he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, her voice soft but certain.

Peter and Elizabeth were the first to stand and cheer, their tears now flowing freely, and the rest of the guests followed suit, clapping and shouting their congratulations. Neal caught his parents’ eyes for a moment, and they shared a smile that said it all - pride, love, and so much more.

Neal, still in disbelief that this moment was happening, turned back to Sara, his heart full. This was it - his future, his life, all beginning right here. And it was perfect.

The reception that followed was just as magical, with laughter, music, and dancing. The night felt like a fairy tale, a celebration of everything they had worked for, everything they had overcome, and everything they had ahead of them.

Neal glanced around at the faces he loved - Peter and Elizabeth, who had given him everything, Sara’s family, and his closest friends. All gathered here to celebrate their love. And everything felt complete.

As the evening wore on, Neal and Sara stole a moment away from the crowd, standing together on the balcony overlooking the mountain, the stars twinkling above them. Sara leaned against him, and Neal kissed her gently on the forehead.

“This is just the beginning,” he whispered.

Sara smiled up at him. “The best beginning.”

The music softened, a slow, melodic tune that seemed to wrap around the couple as they moved. Neal and Sara stood in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by the warmth of candlelight and the soft murmur of guests watching them. The world seemed to slow down, the noise fading away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble.

Sara rested her head on Neals chest, her body gently swaying with his as they danced. Neal held her close, one hand at her waist and the other resting gently on her back. He could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the delicate fabric of his tuxedo, and the warmth of Sara's body against his, grounding him. It was so surreal, so perfect. Every movement felt like it belonged to them, like they had been dancing this dance for years, even if this was the first time.

Sara’s eyes were closed, her face peaceful as she leaned into him, finding comfort in his embrace. Neal glanced down at her, his heart full of love and tenderness. His mind raced with the thought that this was real - that they were here, in this beautiful moment, as husband and wife.

From across the room, Peter and Elizabeth sat together, watching their son, their boy, so grown up now. They were quiet, still, their eyes fixed on Neal and Sara as they shared this intimate moment. It felt like time had stretched into something entirely different. Neal, their little boy, had grown up into a man. And here he was, dancing with the woman he loved on the most important day of his life.

Peters throat tightened, his eyes slightly misty as he watched Neal hold Sara. It was a moment of deep pride, but it also came with an undercurrent of bittersweetness. There was a part of him that couldn't believe how quickly the years had passed. From the time Neal had come into their lives, uncertain and vulnerable, to this man in front of them - confident, happy, and secure in his future.

“I can’t believe it,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice thick with emotion. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Look at him. He’s so happy.”

Peter nodded, his hand subconsciously resting on hers. “He is. He’s come so far, far more than I ever imagined.”

They sat in silence for a moment, simply watching their son, who seemed to carry a light in his eyes that had only grown brighter over the years. They reminisced quietly, each memory flooding back with vivid clarity - the first time they brought him home, his quiet demeanor as a child, the mischief he got into as a teenager, and the young man who had blossomed into someone full of hope, love, and ambition.

“I still remember when he was seven,” Peter said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “So small, so unsure. I remember how badly I wanted to protect him, to give him everything.”

Elizabeth smiled gently, her eyes still on Neal. “And you did. Look at him now. He’s so strong, so confident. It’s hard to believe we’re here.”

“Yeah.” Peter sighed. “I’m proud of him. So proud.”

But there was a sadness there, too, a quiet ache in Peters chest. It was the ache of watching his son become the man he always knew he could be, but also the ache of realizing that the little boy who had needed so much from them - needed them to guide him, to show him the world - was now standing on his own. The ache of knowing that Neal had found his own way, his own family, and was about to begin a new chapter with Sara.

Elizabeth reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s a good thing. He’s happy. That’s what matters.”

Peter nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I know. I just... I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. Watching him move on, grow up. It’s a good thing, like you said. But it’s hard to let go.”

“I don’t think we ever really let go,” Elizabeth replied, her voice soft but reassuring. “He’s still our son. Always will be.”

Peter leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on Neal and Sara as they danced. His son, the young boy he had raised, the boy he had promised to protect, was now a man, standing on his own, building a life with the woman he loved.

For Peter, it was a moment of deep reflection, the weight of it settling in his chest. But there was also pride. So much pride. Neal had turned into someone incredible, someone who had taken the love and guidance they’d given him and made it his own. And that was enough.

As Neal and Sara continued to dance, lost in each other, Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a quiet glance, sharing a knowing look. This was the beginning of a new chapter, and though it was bittersweet, it was also something to be cherished. The love they had for their son, the pride they felt in his growth, would never fade.

And as the music played on, they leaned back in their seats, their hearts full, watching their son dance with the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.

Chapter Text

Six years Later, Age 37

The office was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fluorescent lights and the clicking of keyboards as Peter worked at his desk. It had been a long day, but as he sat, reflecting on the years, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. His life had come full circle. From the chaos and the unknown to this - sitting in his office, surrounded by the things that had shaped his career. But what made him smile the most was the thought of his family, how they'd come to be everything he had ever dreamed of.

The sound of a knock at the door broke his thoughts.

“Come in,” Peter called, standing up, the corners of his mouth already lifting in a grin.

The door opened, and in walked Neal, followed closely by Sara, each of them holding the hand of a child. Peters smile widened, his heart swelling with pride and joy as he looked at his son. Neal was taller now, his face more mature, but there was still that same gleam in his eyes, the same spark that had been there when he was a boy.

And beside him, holding his hand so tightly, was a little boy. Jackson, five years old. He had Neals mischievous grin, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh as the boy peeked around his fathers legs, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Behind them, a little girl skipped into the room - Ivy, three years old. Her dark hair bounced as she twirled and giggled. She was the picture of innocence, with the same sweet face as her mother.

“Look who it is,” Peter said, walking toward them with open arms, his heart full as he knelt down to greet the kids. “Jackson, Ivy, you two have gotten so big!”

Jackson grinned and ran straight into Petes arms, his tiny hands reaching up. Peter scooped him up effortlessly, his joy reflected in his warm eyes. “Hey, champ. How’s it going?” he asked, ruffling the boy's hair. Ivy hesitated a moment, then darted over and clung to Peters leg with a giggle.

Sara smiled softly as she watched them, standing next to Neal. Neal, too, had a gentle smile on his face, clearly enjoying seeing his children with their grandfather. He looked so grown up now, a far cry from the nervous, uncertain young man Peter had once met. This was a man who had found his place in the world, a man who had built a life full of love and joy.

Just then, the door swung open again, and in walked Jones and Diana, both looking surprised as they stopped just inside the doorway. Peter had mentioned Neals visit, but he hadn’t warned them about what was coming. They hadn’t seen him in person since he was sixteen, and the transformation was nothing short of remarkable.

“Whoa,” Jones said, eyes wide with disbelief. “Neal?”

Diana’s mouth hung open for a moment, her gaze darting between Neal and Sara. Then, her face softened with recognition. “Sara? Is that really you?” she asked, her voice full of surprise.

Sara gave a warm smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Diana?”

“I never would have guessed,” Diana said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You were the last person I expected to run into here. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Actually, this is my family - Neal, Jackson, and Ivy.” She introduced them with a smile, and both Jones and Diana smiled back, acknowledging the family with warmth and joy.

Peter chuckled softly. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? Time flies.”

“Tell me about it,” Jones replied, shaking his head as he looked at Neal, his expression a mixture of awe and admiration. “I thought you’d never get here, kid.”

Neal laughed. “You and me both,” he replied, though his tone was light. “But here I am.”

There was a pause as everyone soaked in the moment, the unexpected joy of seeing Neal grown up, with a family of his own. There was an almost surreal quality to it, as if time had moved so quickly, yet it felt like only yesterday that they had all been through so much together.

“So, uh, you’re really married?” Jones asked, glancing over at Neal with a raised eyebrow.

Neal nodded, an easy smile on his lips. “Yep, been married for a few years now. Sara’s amazing, and the kids, well, they keep me on my toes.”

“I’m just glad to see you happy, Neal,” Diana said, her voice warm and sincere. “And to see you’ve built a life you’re proud of. I know we didn’t always have it easy, but seeing you here now, it’s... it’s incredible.”

Peter stood up and smiled at his former colleagues. “I couldn’t be more proud of him. I’m glad you all could meet his family.”

“I’m glad to be part of it,” Sara added, her hand gently resting on Neal’s arm as she looked up at him with affection. “These guys have been like family to us, too.”

The room seemed to buzz with a sense of warmth, a reminder of how far they had all come. Neal, who had once been an uncertain, vulnerable boy, had grown into a man who was thriving, both personally and professionally. He had found love, built a family, and made his mark in the world, just as Peter had always hoped he would.

Jackson was now perched on the desk, playfully tapping on Peters computer, while Ivy tugged at Sara’s sleeve, asking questions about the pictures on the walls. Neal and Sara exchanged a look, a quiet understanding between them.

Peter looked over at Neal once more, his eyes soft with emotion. “You’ve done it, kid. You really have.”

“I’ve had a lot of help along the way.” Neal smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

Neal smiled softly as he led his kids into the office, his hand resting on Jackson’s shoulder while Ivy skipped beside him. The familiar atmosphere of the bullpen felt like a distant memory, though it was also woven into the fabric of everything he had become.

The worn desk, the bustling sound of the office, the faint hum of conversation - it all felt so much like the moment he had first set foot in this space, unsure of where his future was headed.

“Right here,” Neal said, his voice carrying a fondness as he pointed to the spot where Peter had first found him years ago. His children, curious, looked up at him with wide eyes.

“This is where it all started,” Neal continued, his gaze softening as he remembered that day. “I was just a kid back then. Lost. But Peter, he was different. He saw something in me.”

Peter, who had followed them into the bullpen, smiled knowingly at the memory. He had always known that Neal had potential, but what he hadn’t anticipated was how much the young man would change him in return.

Neal took a deep breath, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. “I was sitting right here, drawing blueprints for this office. For everything, really. I was trying to make sense of my world, you know?”

Ivy tugged on Neals hand. “What were you drawing, Daddy?”

Neal glanced down at her, his eyes bright with affection. “I was drawing a new layout for the office. It was my way of figuring things out - a way to make something chaotic feel in control.”

“And Peter said...?” Jackson asked, his voice filled with curiosity, just like Neals once had been.

Neal smiled, crouching down to their level, his tone serious. “Peter asked me why I was so worried about the exit. And I told him you should always know where the exits are. It’s important to know how to get out of any situation.”

Peter chuckled, walking over to stand beside Neal. “He didn’t just take any answer, either. Your father had a sharp mind from the start.” His eyes glinted with affection as he met Neals gaze. “You had it figured out long before I did.”

Neal shrugged slightly, a modest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just trying to stay ahead, I guess. And you, Peter... you helped me learn how to use that.”

Jackson, who had been listening intently, tilted his head. “So you were a kid just like me, Dad?”

Neal chuckled softly, glancing at Peter before answering. “Yeah, I was. Not sure what to do with myself, but trying to make something of it.”

“And look at you now. You’ve made something amazing of it.” Peter placed a hand on Neals shoulder, his voice thick with emotion.

Neal stood up, looking down at his children with a mixture of pride and tenderness. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I guess I have.” Then, with a grin, he ruffled Jackson’s hair and gave Ivy a gentle tickle. “And you guys? You’re going to do even better.”

As they continued their little tour of the office, Neals mind drifted back to that moment when Peter had first approached him. The way he had asked about the drawing, how he’d seen something beyond the surface, beyond the sharp blue eyes and guarded exterior.

Peter had always known how to see through to the heart of things, even back then.

Neal turned back to his kids, holding them close as they wandered through the office. “Everything started here. And no matter where we go, this will always be home for me.”

Ivy beamed up at him. “I like it here, Daddy.”

“I’m glad,” Neal said, wrapping his arms around her and Jackson. “This place, this life, it’s all yours now too.”

Peter watched from a distance, a smile on his face as he looked at the next generation of Caffreys. Neal's story, so full of twists and turns, had led to this moment - a full circle that was more complete than Peter could ever have imagined. And though Neal had long since left the world of cons and deception, there was still something in his eyes that reminded Peter of that first meeting.

Peter drove them all home, the car filled with the sounds of Jackson and Ivy chattering excitedly in the backseat. Neal sat beside him, a warm smile on his face as he glanced back at his children.

"Mom’s going to be so happy to see you two," Neal said, looking over his shoulder at his kids, who were practically bouncing with energy. "She’s been asking about you all day."

"I like her cookies," Ivy piped up from the back, her voice full of excitement. "Are we having cookies?"

"Definitely," Neal said with a laugh. "Cookies, and maybe a little bit of playing with Grandpa Peter."

Jackson beamed, his eyes wide. "I wanna play with the toy cars!"

As they pulled up to the house, the door opened before they had even made it all the way out of the car. El was standing there, arms wide, her smile lighting up the yard.

"Grandma!" Ivy and Jackson shouted in unison, scrambling out of the car and running to her.

El scooped both of them up, laughing as they hugged her tightly. "I’ve missed you two so much!" she said, kissing both of them on their little heads. "Come on in, let’s see what we can do with all that energy."

Peter, Neal, and Sara followed them into the house. "Everything’s in its place," Peter said with a grin as they entered the living room. He poured drinks for everyone at the small dining table.

Neal sank into a chair next to Sara, glancing over at Peter. "You ever think about the fact that you’re a grandfather now?" he asked, his tone half teasing, half thoughtful.

Peter laughed softly, taking a sip of his drink. "All the time," he said with a grin. "Guess that makes me feel a little old. But seeing you two as parents? It's incredible."

Sara, sitting beside Neal, looked at Peter and El. "You’ve both done an amazing job raising him," she said with warmth in her voice. "I know he’s not perfect, but he’s grown into someone incredible."

"I wouldn’t say ‘perfect’ either," Neal said with a wink, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But yeah, I guess I turned out alright."

El entered the dining room shortly after, joining the group with a tray of freshly baked cookies and milk for the kids. "Jackson, Ivy," she called, "I made some special cookies just for you."

The kids immediately bolted into the dining room, yelling in excitement. "Cookies!" Jackson cheered, his little legs running as fast as they could carry him.

El smiled and handed them each a plate of cookies. "There you go, sweethearts."

Neal, Peter, and Sara watched the kids with fond smiles as they ate and played. "They’re growing up fast," Neal said softly, looking at his children. "I feel like it was just yesterday when I was their age. Seems like a lifetime ago."

"Time goes by quickly when you're busy," Peter agreed. "But I think you're doing a great job."

Sara nodded, her eyes soft. "You’re amazing, Neal. I see so much of you in them already."

The room filled with the gentle sounds of laughter and play from the kids, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly in place. There were still challenges ahead - there always would be - but Neal could feel that everything he had worked for had brought him here: home. With his family, with his children, and with Sara by his side.

As they shared stories, reminisced about old memories, and laughed over glasses of wine, Neal found himself more content than he ever thought possible. The road had been long, but it had all led to this - to the family he had built, to the love and support of those who had helped him become who he was.

The table was filled with laughter as the kids joked and teased each other. Jackson, his face smeared with crumbs, leaned over to Ivy and whispered something in her ear, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. El, sitting next to them, couldn't help but laugh along, giving them both an exaggerated look of mock disapproval.

"Jackson, Ivy, you're supposed to eat your cookies, not wear them!" El said, wiping a few stray crumbs from their faces. "You’re going to make a mess."

"But Grandma," Jackson protested, "I’m just making sure I get all the flavor!"

Neal and Sara chuckled at the kids antics. Neal leaned back in his chair, watching with a fond smile. "I see we’re already raising a couple of troublemakers," he said, nudging Sara with his elbow.

"They’re definitely your kids," Sara teased, her eyes sparkling. "But it’s cute. I can’t wait for their next trick."

Peter, always one to jump into the chaos, leaned over to Neal. "You think you’re getting away easy with them? Wait until they start asking for cars. I give it ten years."

Neal groaned dramatically. "Please, don’t remind me," he said, throwing his hands up. "I’m not ready for that conversation yet."

El laughed and added, "You were barely ready for your first bike, Neal." She winked at him. "And look how well that turned out."

Everyone at the table erupted in laughter, the warmth of the moment filling the room. Jackson and Ivy continued their banter, interrupting with new jokes about cookies, cars, and mysterious creatures they had invented. The adults joined in with ridiculous anecdotes, teasing Neal about his childhood and sharing their own funny memories.

As the evening wore on, the conversations slowed, but the laughter never quite stopped. Neal glanced around the table, meeting Sara’s gaze, then looking over at Peter and El. His heart swelled with warmth — this was what home felt like. The love in the room was palpable, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch out as if the world outside could wait.

They shared stories, remembered the past, and laughed over silly jokes, knowing that no matter where life took them, this love - this feeling of family - would always be the constant.

And with that, the story ended not with a grand flourish, but with the simple, everyday magic of love, family, and home.