White Collar Baby, It's Cold Outside

Peter Burke, dedicated NYPD officer and consistent workaholic, normally spent his nights filling out reports to give to the commissioner the following morning. It was only a week until Christmas and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He had no one to go home to. He has his circle of close friends, but none of them make him feel at _home._ In essence, he had no one to share his Christmas spirit with. He really hated this time of year in New York because a little bit of snow falls and ice forms and _so_ many motor vehicle accidents get reported—none of them are pretty. Taking care of the aftermath of car collisions is the very last thing on his list of fun things to do as a police officer.

As per usual, he was leaving the precinct a little late. He was always the first or second to arrive and the last to leave. He preferred the quiet and stillness of the night. Everyone else went home to be with their families and sweethearts. He didn't even bother with attempting to be excited for the holidays.

He was crossing the lot, heading towards his car when he heard what sounded like a fight taking place. There were loud grunts and it sounded like someone was trying to muffle them. It was damn cold outside, so he wondered what delinquents—juvenile or otherwise—were out at this time of night in this type of weather. He sure as hell wouldn't have been fighting outside in this. He opened his winter jacket a bit, resting his hand on his gun just in case things got ugly quickly. He liked having the advantage over the situation when he didn't know what or who he was dealing with.

Upon nearing what he realized was an alleyway, he could hear heavy breathing. It sounded like at least two people were in the alley. "Here's your payment," a rough voice said.

His brows furrowed and he finally rounded the corner. "Freeze," he said. He didn't shout it because he didn't want to startle whoever was in the alley. Peter was fairly certain he could take down a hulking brute if necessary, so he wasn't frightened by the possibility that he'd meet someone who was a bit bulkier than he is. His lips parted and he could see his own breath in the freezing air. "What the hell is going on here?"

As he moved into the alley, he realized there was only one way out and he was standing in that path. There were two men in front of him. One was roughly in his mid to late thirties and the other looked much younger. Peter figured he couldn't be any older than anywhere between seventeen and nineteen. The older man moved away from the younger man who had his back to them. His hands were flat against the wall, his head was bowed, and his pants were lowered. He didn't even have a decent jacket on. "Look, man, I don't want no trouble," the older man said. He raised his hands to proclaim innocence, but Peter knew he was anything but innocent.

The younger man pushed himself off of the wall and pulled his pants up, zipping them while shivering a bit. He turned around and said, "Nothing but a friendly transaction going on here, officer."

Peter highly doubted that upon closer inspection of the younger man. His hair was mussed, his chest was heaving, and his clothes were in utter disarray. The older man looked like he was frightened, especially once he realized Peter had a badge and a gun. "Oh, yeah? And what kind of transaction might that be?"

The younger man looked at the man he'd been in the alley with. "Like I said before: friendly."

Peter saw something in the young man's face and he was concerned about his well-being since he hardly looked dressed for subzero weather. "Scram," Peter muttered to the one man. "If I catch you in this alley again, you're going to be brought in for whatever illegal thing just transpired." The man darted off without having to be told twice.

"Can I scram, too, or am I being interrogated?"

"Kid, I don't like your attitude."

The younger man raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was being respectful."

Peter made a discontented sound. "Where's your jacket?"

"I don't have one," he said quietly.

Peter's brows furrowed. He took in the younger man's physical attributes and decided that he was definitely a teenager. He most certainly couldn't be any older than twenty. "How old are you, kid?"

He glared a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. Peter thought he was being defiant, but he was rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep warm. "Eighteen."

"I'll take you home. I'd prefer it if you didn't get attacked in an alleyway again."

"You do know that what happened here was voluntary, right?" Peter didn't like how that sounded. "And I'm already home." The older man looked lost as he gazed at the teenager. "I live on the streets. This is my job right here." He shrugged and exhaled, his breath floating as a wisp of cold air. "Now, if you'll excuse me… I have to go find somewhere warm to stay tonight."

The teenager started walking past Peter, but Peter put his arm out and stopped him. "You really have nowhere to go?" The teen nodded slowly, warily focusing on the police officer. "Come with me," he said softly. He wanted to get this kid off the streets and out of the cold.

"Five bucks for half an hour, ten for an hour, twenty to spend the night."

"Excuse me?" Peter asked incredulously.

The teen raised an eyebrow. "I was assuming you were…" He trailed off as he saw something in the officer's eyes. It looked like compassion, but he didn't fully recognize it. "Where am I going with you?"

Peter frowned. "Are you opposed to spending the night with me? I have heat in my house and plenty of space for a guest." The teenager looked confused. "If you want, I'll still pay you your twenty. I'm not asking for any favors though."

"What kind of man are you?" he asked critically. "You're not sex driven like everybody else?"

Peter's expression hardened. "I don't take advantage of teenagers on the streets. I'm offering to give you a place to stay until you can find a place of your own." He shrugged. "It's just an offer. Take it or leave it, kid. I'd like to go home to my dog."

If Peter didn't know any better, he'd say this kid was never given any respect or compassion in his lifetime. That seemed impossible to Peter. This kid looked beautiful, so how could he not recognize someone trying to help him? Peter was sure he had plenty of people asking to take him home for the night. Whether it was innocent or not, he didn't know.

The teenager didn't answer right away and Peter was about ready to call it a night. He wasn't going to get charged with stalking this kid or participating in prostitution. "You're really just taking me to your place to keep me warm?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah. I hate when kids are out on the streets this late at night. In these temperatures and in the scant clothes you're wearing, you'll probably freeze to death soon and I'll end up being the one to discover or report your body." He gestured behind him. "Save me the hassle of having to do tedious paperwork?"

Peter's heart fluttered involuntarily when the teenager gave him a small smile and he felt disgusted with himself for having some kind of attraction to this kid. Yeah, he's a brunette with beautiful blue eyes, so he fits the bill for Peter's dating preferences, but he's a _kid._ "Sure," he whispered. Peter led the teen to his car and unlocked it. The teenager sighed heavily upon closing the passenger door. "This is already warmer than it is out there," he said quietly.

"I bet," Peter muttered.

The drive to Peter's house was quiet and the teenager felt a little uncomfortable with the silence. "Neal." Peter made a questioning sound. "My name's Neal."

Peter smiled a bit. "Mine is Peter."

Neal returned Peter's smile, whispering, "Thank you, Peter."

•◊•

Neal gaped at the inside of Peter's house after stepping inside. The moment Peter closed the door behind him, a yellow Lab came bounding towards them from another room. "Hey, Satch," Peter said as he knelt in front of the excited dog. He petted Satchmo a few times before returning to his full height. "He won't bite you unless you try to kill me, so I think you're safe." Neal gave him a perplexed look. "Had a break in a few years back. I locked somebody's boyfriend up and she seemed a little on the crazy side. Needless to say, she broke in and pulled a gun on me." He pointed at the ceiling in what Neal believed was the living room. "She did get a few shots off. Fortunately for me, she's a very poor excuse for a gunwoman." Peter reached down to scratch behind Satchmo's ears. "This guy attacked her on the spot. He's a very loyal and protective dog." Glancing at Neal for a moment, he added, "I'm sure he'll take a liking to you in no time at all."

"Really?" Satchmo sat, looking up at Neal expectantly as his tail wagged back and forth on the floor. He'd never been much of a pet-person, but he supposed he could get used to it. He knelt like Peter had moments earlier and scratched Satchmo's head playfully before petting him gently. Peter loved how Neal sounded as he laughed when Satchmo licked his face.

"Told ya." Neal followed Peter's movements as Peter took his jacket off and hung it up on a rack near the doorway. "Feel free to make yourself at home, kid. The bathroom is the first door on the left upstairs and your room is the second to the right if you feel comfortable using the guestroom. Otherwise, the couch is yours." Neal felt very grateful. Though Peter met him through an awkward situation, Peter seemed to like him enough to want to help him. He didn't know how to make it up to Peter though if Peter wasn't going to accept any sexual acts. "Have you eaten anything lately?"

Neal swallowed hard. "Not for a couple days, no." Peter was quiet for a moment and that made Neal uneasy. "A friend of mine brings water to me every day and occasionally leaves food for me. His water boy stopped by my corner and left the bottle the last few days, but no food."

Peter made a disgruntled sound. "Why don't you come here for a minute?" Neal bit his lip as he returned to his full height and walked towards the kitchen. He found Peter looking through his refrigerator blankly. "I don't have much, but does any of this look appetizing to you?"

The teenager's nose wrinkled at the sight of the beer. He didn't mind the occasional beer that was offered to him during his work hours, but he didn't particularly enjoy drinking it. He was more of a wine guy after spending so much time sifting through garbage in fancy and expensive restaurants. There were some really nice bottles that they'd thrown out and he wasn't hesitant in taking them. He figured they didn't want the wine, so he could definitely use it. "Uh," he said to fill the awkward silence. He moved a little closer to Peter and his legs felt like they were going to give out. He could just feel the heat radiating off of the older man. "Salisbury steak sounds good. I think I had that once."

"All right, kid." Neal was only a little bothered by the 'kid' references, but he understood. Peter was older and Neal knew he looked pretty young for an eighteen year old.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Peter turned and looked like he'd never been asked that in his life. "Um, no. It's okay. Thanks though, Neal. You go ahead and take it easy." Neal nodded, feeling a little dejected. He took a seat at the little island in the middle of the kitchen and watched Peter start dinner. Occasionally, Peter threw glances over his shoulder. Part of him wondered if Neal were just an illusion he made up in his loneliness, but Neal looked so…_real._ "So where do you go to school?" he asked, trying to be casual and make Neal comfortable at the same time.

The silence made Peter glance at him again. "I dropped out," he said quietly. "I've only been here a few months. I lived in Missouri for most of my life." The older man looked apologetic and embarrassed. "It was a reasonable question, Peter. I'm just not as smart as the others were and I got bored. I wanted to explore the world a bit."

"That's how you ended up on the streets?"

Neal shrugged as Peter came closer, leaning against the island to look at him. "More or less," he whispered.

"I take it there's more though," Peter said gently.

The teenager chuckled. "There's always more." He shook his head and sighed. "I've been dealing with a lot on my own all my life," he said quietly. "I started out here by begging anybody I saw for material things like money and clothes. Now that the winter's here, I've tried to stay warm. I spend a lot of time at a strip club." Peter raised an eyebrow. "I've considered asking for a job there, but it's run by a man who's both a friend and a brother to me. I don't think he'd let me up on the stage. He doesn't know what my current job is though."

"Why prostitution?"

Neal stared at him blankly. "Well, at least you're not the kind of guy to beat around the bush," he muttered. "A lot of reasons. I don't feel comfortable sharing them right now. I never share anything like that with anybody."

Peter nodded slowly. "You've never trusted anyone, have you?"

"Nope. For good reason, too." The older man wondered why he said that. "Can I ask you something?" Peter nodded, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Why don't you want to have sex with me?" Peter raised an eyebrow and backed up a bit. "I'm not trying to sound like an egomaniac or self-obsessed dick. I've just never met a man who didn't ask me back to his place or to an alley for a quick fuck."

Neal felt a little intimidated when Peter backed away from the island completely and went back to the stove, turning his back to Neal. "Not everybody wants to have sex with teenagers as they reach their midlife crisis." Peter closed his eyes, wishing he could've thought of something better to say. His problem was that he really did want to drag Neal upstairs to bed. The only difference between his thoughts and Neal's proposition was that he wanted to make love to Neal rather than shove him down or against something just for the sake of fucking. Whenever he's been with anyone, he made love. He didn't do one night stands and he wasn't interested in fucking for fun. He wanted something meaningful. Part of him realized that Neal, as a teenager, wouldn't care about meaningful sex. He said it himself that this is his job. "I'll pay you twenty dollars for every night you stay here," he said quietly. "Only because I know you're in need and I genuinely want to help you by giving you somewhere to stay."

"I don't want pity payments," Neal said tightly.

"It isn't pity," Peter said as he turned just enough to look at the teenager who looked frustrated. "You told me you get paid twenty to spend the night. You didn't say I had to have sex with you." He was very good at finding loopholes in situations he felt uncomfortable in. "If you spend the night, you get twenty. That's in your job description and I'll honor that."

"But no sex," Neal said, sounding disappointed.

Peter shook his head. "No sex."

•◊•

After spending four nights housing Neal, he was really beginning to bring out Neal's inner personality. He was a pretty fun kid once he realized Peter wasn't playing with him. Peter had the sense that Neal warily trusted others, but deeply trusted someone when they weren't using him as a means to their ends. He'd stayed true to his word and paid Neal every night before Neal went to sleep. Thus far, Neal had accumulated eighty dollars with the addition of another ten for helping with the dishes or laundry.

It was early in the evening on Monday when Neal approached him out of the blue before dinner. "Can you take me to a store?"

He'd set his coffee mug down and asked, "What are you intending on buying?"

"Clothes," he whispered. "My own shampoo and soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste of my own… Pretty much anything I can get for myself."

Peter gave Neal a slightly hurt look. "I really don't mind sharing my clothes with you, Neal. You could save your money and buy an apartment to live in."

"I know you don't mind," he said with a sigh. "Honestly, your pants are too big on me and I don't like sharing boxers. Even after being laundered, it doesn't feel right to me, so I've been putting them back when you've given them to me."

The older man gave him a small smile. "Oh, I've noticed." Neal looked a little surprised. "You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"Please, Peter? I appreciate that you bought me a winter jacket, hat, gloves, and boots… But I don't want to keep taking from you." Peter could see that something was deeply bothering Neal. "You've given me food, a bed, a house to stay in that has heat… Peter, you've given me things I haven't had for a while and that means so much to me, but I can't keep accepting things you're giving me."

"Why not?"

Neal's gaze drifted away from Peter's and he solemnly whispered, "I don't like feeling like I haven't paid my debt to you." Before Peter could say anything, he added, "I know you're doing this from the kindness of your heart, but I feel like I'm abusing that. You're paying me twenty dollars to eat, shower, sleep, and watch TV. Why? You're not getting anything out of this since you've denied any sexual advance I've attempted to make on you."

Peter felt a little embarrassed as he answered, "I live alone, Neal. I haven't lived with anyone I cared about in a very long time." Neal's lips parted in surprise. He hadn't been expecting such a sentimental answer. "I know you've prostituted yourself on the streets for God knows how long, but you've been alone, too. You haven't had anyone care about you or try to take care of you on a daily basis."

"You don't know my life," Neal whispered.

"No. I don't." He stood up from his recliner and turned to face Neal directly. "I like having you here," he admitted. "I have someone to talk to, someone to spend time with, someone to actually look forward to seeing at home. If you'd walked away from me that night instead of coming home with me, I'd be scouring the streets to find you, Neal." Neal's eyes watered a bit. He really didn't think Peter cared about him _that_ much. Part of him just thought he was convenient and he figured Peter would eventually start demanding sex. "I don't like thinking about some teenage boy giving his body to older men who don't care about him at all. I don't like the idea of you being out there on your own in the cold, Neal." He sighed exasperatedly. "Knowing that you're here, safe and sound with me, puts my conscience at ease. I don't have to wonder if you're still alive or if you're suffering because I can see you right here when I come home from work every night."

Neal bowed his head a bit, blinking back tears. "I didn't know you felt that way."

Peter laughed sadly. "I truly care about you, Neal. I've been considering asking if you wanted to get tested for any STDs or—"

"I always carry condoms," Neal interjected. "If I'm working, I'm hellbent on having them use a condom or they're not getting anything from me." Peter nodded slowly and Neal bit his lip. "I don't want to have sex without condoms unless I'm planning on being and finding someone who wants to be monogamous."

Neal lifted his head and saw the respect in Peter's eyes. "I'm glad you take responsibility for your body, Neal."

He laughed. "I'm a street whore, but I do know how to take care of myself."

Peter nodded. "Neal," he whispered.

"Yeah?" The teenager grew slightly nervous at the tone in Peter's voice. He wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. Peter may actually think of him as a street whore and may be considering kicking him out. This was the longest he'd lived somewhere safe and secure in months _and_ it was with someone he was learning to trust. If he'd just ruined all of that, he'd probably just let himself become a popsicle outside.

Peter walked past him, saying, "I know it's three days until Christmas and you've only been here for four days, but I…" He stopped in front of a cabinet and bit his lip as he glanced at Neal. "I bought you a few gifts. I don't think it can wait until Christmas because I get the feeling that you don't believe you're worth something and that someone can actually care about you." He pulled a box out of the cabinet and whispered, "I want to prove to you that I care and that you're worth so much more than you'll ever believe."

He brought the box back into the living room and passed the gaping teenager to set the box down on the couch. "That looks like you bought stuff for me to make me feel like I've officially moved in."

Peter laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Just…" He gestured at the box before taking his seat in the recliner again.

Neal tentatively neared the couch and sat down beside the box. It was rather intimidating because he'd never been given a gift—and from a man he barely knew at that. He shifted the flaps of the box and pulled out a few things that were wrapped beautifully in wrapping paper. He unwrapped the first gift and his heart melted. He looked at Peter and Peter was watching him like he was just waiting for Neal to throw it all back at him. "You bought me a sketchbook," he whispered. Peter nodded and gestured at the other gifts, silently asking Neal to keep going. He unwrapped the next gift and was awed by the sight of colored and graphite pencils, ballpoint pens, and charcoal sticks. Neal couldn't help the fact that he'd begun to cry. This was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for him and it meant a _lot_ because it showed him that Peter actually listened to him. Before he could say anything to Peter, Peter nodded at the last gift. Neal rubbed his eyes and eagerly unwrapped the last gift.

Just watching Neal open and love his gifts made Peter feel like a good man. He did want to prove that he cares and he didn't know what else would prove it if this didn't work. "You said you like taking specific shots of scenery," Peter said softly. His last gift to Neal was a beautiful camera. He set it down in his lap with the sketchbook and drawing utensils. He pressed his left palm against his eyes and breathed shakily as he cried. "Neal?" Peter asked, sounding concerned. He got up and moved closer to Neal, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Neal, what's wrong?"

Neal laughed while he continued crying. "Nothing is wrong. This is perfect," he whispered thickly. Peter's heart fluttered when Neal shifted his gifts to the side and stood up to pull Peter into a tight embrace. "You don't know what this means to me," he said into the crook of Peter's neck. "Thank you so much."

Peter was a little taken aback by how moved Neal was by his gifts. He hadn't been expecting Neal to cry and that hadn't been his intention. He must have been really sheltered, abused, or isolated if something as simple as this had him in tears. Either way, he loved that Neal was thrilled. "You're welcome, Neal," he whispered as he rubbed the teenager's back. He wanted to press a gentle kiss against Neal's neck in that moment, but he knew Neal was vulnerable. He'd let his walls down the moment he opened his first gift and Peter could see it clearly. Neal tried to keep to himself and didn't talk much about things other than hobbies or interests. Peter didn't have much to work with, but he'd seen how passionately Neal talked about wishing he could have his art supplies. He actually told Peter that he'd had some pretty nice things that he used for artistic dabbling before coming to New York.

The smile on Neal's face was well worth the search for the best of the best in Peter's opinion. He hadn't known if Neal would resent or appreciate the gifts, but he was glad it was the latter. Neal's company meant so much to him and he wanted Neal to know and believe that.

•◊•

"Whatcha working on?" Peter asked. He was sitting on the couch and Neal was on the floor in front of him, turned at an angle. He'd gotten so wrapped up in his crossword puzzles and hadn't realized he'd totally and unintentionally ignored the teenager who seemed content with the quiet, which was unusual in itself.

Neal smiled as he continued to draw. "It's been a while since I actually sketched. I'm just drawing at random for the moment. If it actually becomes something, I'll show you."

Peter chuckled, tilting his head to adore the teenager. "I'm looking forward to it, Neal."

What Peter didn't know was that Neal was scrambling to wrack his brain for some idea as to what he could get Peter for Christmas. He had about two hundred dollars he could spend, but he didn't know what to spend it on. Peter was very reserved and Neal hated him for that. He was pissed because Peter paid so much attention to him and he'd hardly paid attention to the older man. Now, he was feeling like a major asshole because he had no idea what Peter liked aside from working a lot, the Yankees, some hockey, and beer.

Neal was drawing Peter with his charcoal sticks and he'd managed to smudge it all over his cheek as well as his shirt. He thanked God that he'd worn one of Peter's old sleeveless shirts that Peter didn't care for because he'd absolutely wrecked it and would only continue to make it worse as he worked more and more over time.

The moment Peter announced that he was heading to bed, Neal jumped at the opportunity. "Peter, how do you feel about me?" Peter stared at him blankly, uncertain as to whether or not Neal was looking for a certain answer. "I mean, uh…" He cleared his throat as his cheeks heated up. "Can I sleep with you? Like, actually sleep. Not sex."

Peter looked cautious as he carefully responded. "I don't know if that's a good idea. We've only known each other for about five days now, Neal."

Neal shrugged. "I've gotten to know more about you in five days than I did with my first boyfriend of two years." Peter looked stunned. "We had problems and didn't work hard enough to fix them, so we split up," Neal murmured. "Anyway... Can I or would you prefer it if I didn't?"

"Is this some kind of test?"

Neal's eyes widened. "Not at all. I promise."

"No articles of clothing are to be removed," Peter said firmly. "If you're spending the night in my bed, you're going to have to learn to become a human being rather than an octopus." Neal chuckled. "Oh, I've walked by your room and I've seen you all sprawled out."

"I'll keep to myself—and stay completely dressed."

Peter asked Neal to go clean his face and hands as well as change into something comfortable for sleep. He needed a few minutes to rush around his bedroom to make sure it was appropriate and tidy. He had pictures of Neal while Neal was sleeping and he felt like a pervert. He hadn't done anything to disturb Neal's sleep when he'd taken the pictures, but he wanted to remember how peaceful Neal looked when he wasn't thinking about whatever was bothering him from his past.

"Better?" Neal asked nervously as he came into Peter's room. He was charcoal-free and looked really comfortable in a clean, black sleeveless shirt with flannel sleep pants.

Peter had to blink repeatedly to remind himself that Neal's more than half his age. "Much." He was sitting on the end of his bed, waiting for the young man. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

Neal's cheeks heated up. "It's your bed. Where are you comfortable?"

"Anywhere."

Neal chuckled nervously, nodding. He moved towards the right side of the bed and got underneath the blanket. He stared at Peter expectantly and Peter finally moved to lay down on his side of the bed. "You don't seem like you want me here," Neal said quietly. "I can leave if you want me to, Peter. It won't hurt my feelings if you tell me to go sleep in my own room."

Peter wanted to kiss Neal fiercely in that moment. "Lay down, buddy," he murmured. "We can sleep in one of three ways: facing each other, spooning, or with our backs to each other."

Neal worried his lip and Peter desperately wanted that kiss now. "I've never been spooned before." Peter guided Neal into laying down comfortably on his side and then he curled up against him, draping an arm over Neal's waist. Neal's heart was pounding, thrilled to be this close to Peter. "Peter?" The older man made a sound of acknowledgement, his fingers ghosting over Neal's stomach. "Do you see a future for us?" he asked quietly.

"As in...?"

"Romantically," he whispered, shutting his eyes as he prepared for an outright rejection.

Peter could feel how tense Neal had gotten after asking his question and it made him really think about what he wanted to say. His word would make or break Neal. "I'm forty-one and you're eighteen," Peter said. "If you do the math, you're…a little over twenty years younger than me."

"Age is but a number," Neal replied, sounding like he was in pain. "I'm just asking. You can just say no and I'll…give up this fantasy. I can try to redirect my feelings. Don't make a declaration unless you plan on standing by it."

Peter breathed slowly, thinking about the young man's feelings as well as his own. Putting their ages into perspective, he had no idea how this would work. Neal wasn't going to finish high school and Peter doubted that he'd plan on attending college even if he managed to get his GED—or if he wanted to for that matter. Peter didn't know how Neal felt about his education and Peter decided he wouldn't push it.

Finally making up his mind, he decided that he could love Neal. A large part of himself believed Neal could easily find someone to love that was his own age, but Neal's prostitution spoke volumes. He hadn't been looking for a long-lasting relationship because he hadn't found someone who wanted more than just sex from him. Peter would take care of Neal. He'd treat Neal like a young adult instead of making Neal feel like a son to him. If they were going to get into anything, Peter wanted Neal to know that they were on equal ground.

Neal felt terrible for even asking. Peter had gotten too quiet and his hand stopped moving over Neal's stomach. "Neal," he whispered softly. Neal opened his eyes for a moment before feeling Peter's lips against his neck, pressing gentle kisses over his skin. Peter eventually moved a bit so he could tentatively capture Neal's lips for a short and sweet kiss. "I want to," he said a few moments later. "I don't want to rush into this though. You need to be sure that I'm what you want. If you're planning on cheating on me at some point down the road because I'm so much older than you, then please don't even attempt to start something here."

"I'm a whore," Neal whispered, "but I have a heart." Neal turned over to face Peter. "I want to be with you, Peter. No one has ever made me feel this good in my life."

"You're eighteen," Peter said for what felt like the fiftieth time to Neal. "You have yet to experience the world beyond the streets, hookers, and assholes who pay you for sex." He pulled Neal closer, staring into his eyes. "I think you need to look at your options. When you're thirty years old, do you want to be taking care of a grandpa?"

Neal frowned at him. "Why do you have to do that?" Peter's brows furrowed. "I want to be with you and you want to be with me, but you have to throw age into this repeatedly." He pushed himself away from Peter and Peter could see tears glistening on Neal's cheeks. "If you don't want me because I'm too young, just say it."

Peter stared at him, searching his eyes and face. "I want this to be a lifelong commitment, Neal. I really care about you. My heart craves your smile and laugh." He rubbed Neal's thigh. "I don't want to lose you. I feel desperate because I'm forty-one and I grabbed you, literally, right off of the streets. I don't know if this is some psychological problem of mine, but… I like being with you."

"I'm in this for the long run," Neal whispered, resting his hand atop Peter's. He gave the older man a tiny smile, trying to convey with his eyes and expression that he was being sincere. "I may be the one with psychological problems. My friend would call this a daddy-complex." Peter chuckled. "I don't need someone my age, Peter. All that'll bring is a bunch of drama. I'm not saying there won't be drama between us, but I know I want to be with you."

"I sincerely hope so, Neal, because I don't think I could try to find someone else to love this late in my life."

Neal leaned closer to the older man, pressing his lips against Peter's. "Trust me."

•◊•

"Hon, are you planning on joining us at any point?"

"I'm going to throw something at you." Neal came downstairs after spending several hours wrapping gifts at the very last moment rather than sleeping with Peter. "You have no idea what I've been through."

Peter tilted his face towards Neal and Neal kissed him without hesitation. "I can only imagine."

"Nicky," Neal said softly, nudging the four year old in his arms. The little boy groaned and smacked Neal's hand away moments before pushing himself up enough to look at Neal's face. "Hey, you."

"Hi, daddy," he said sleepily with a goofy grin on his face.

Peter smiled up at Neal and their son. "Do you know what today is?" Neal asked animatedly.

It took the little boy a few moments to think about it and then his eyes locked onto the presents around the Christmas tree they'd put up earlier in the month. "Christmas!"

"And do you know who came last night?"

Nicky giggled, yelling, "Santa!" at the top of his lungs.

Neal laughed beautifully and Peter was mesmerized. He was so glad that he'd given himself a chance to love the young man. They've been together for eight years and have been married for four. Peter loved the man in front of him, especially as he kissed Nicky's cheeks and acted so much like a child himself. That was one thing he loved about Neal. He's still so very young. Even at twenty-six, Neal was happy where he was and content to be there and to be himself.

Peter rubbed his silver wedding ring as he watched the two loves of his life. "Wanna open some presents, baby?" The boy squealed and Neal chuckled, crouching to set his son down. Nicky darted towards the mountain of gifts near their Christmas tree.

"Come on, poppa," Neal said, reaching out for Peter once he returned to his full height. "Sit with us, please?"

Peter smiled and laughed lightly, getting up. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered.

Nicky was grabbing multiple gifts in front of him, trying to decide which one he wanted to open first. With their son distracted for the moment, Neal decided to be a little promiscuous. He wrapped his arms around his husband, whispering, "The moment you have trouble getting it up, we'll officially call you 'too old.' Until then, you are just as young and active as I am, babe." Peter kissed his husband passionately, chuckling. "If you're unable to screw me into the bed, you're 'too old,' my love."

"Must we do this on Christmas, darling?"

Neal nodded while pressing his lips against Peter's. "Daddy's exhausted from having to chase a four year old through Wal-Mart last night and from having to wrap a bunch of presents poppa forgot about," he whispered. "And poppa was too tired from working to make love to me, so poppa owes me some playtime, I think."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Lots of foreplay or handcuff-play?"

"Surprise me," Neal said as he pulled back and winked at the older man.

"Daddy! Poppa!" Both men focused on their son. "Presents!" he screeched excitedly.

Neal chuckled. "You gonna sit with him for a minute or turn the Christmas music on?"

"You walk out there and save my old, frail bones the trip."

Neal smacked Peter's chest and shook his head. Nicky giggled as he stared at his fathers. He watched Neal leave the room for a moment. "Where daddy go?" Nicky asked, staring up at Peter as though he were on the brink of tears.

"Daddy's putting music on," Peter said softly as he took a seat beside his son. "You know how much daddy likes dancing and singing." Peter kissed Nicky's hair just before Nicky started to rip into a present. "Hey, little man!" Peter said with a small laugh. "Wait for daddy. He wants to see what Santa got you, too."

"Daddy!" the four year old whined.

Peter smiled, watching his son glare at the room Neal wandered into to find their disc of Christmas music that they put together themselves so they weren't listening to versions of songs they didn't like. Nicky kept whining for his daddy to hurry up until Neal finally came back with their disc, murmuring, "Okay, okay. Daddy's here, Nick. One more second and then you can start." As he passed Peter to put the disc in the CD player, he set the camera in Peter's lap so Peter could record Nicky opening his gifts. Peter watched his husband finally put the disc in and grinned when Neal hit the play button. He turned as _Jingle Bells_ began to play and caught his husband's expression, smiling softly at the older man. "Camera ready, poppa?" he asked as he moved towards Peter. Peter chuckled and turned it on. After a moment, he nodded and turned towards Nicky.

Peter shifted to sit on the couch so he could get a better view of their son and Neal took a seat at his feet. He was just within Nicky's range if Nicky needed help and Neal was just out of range of the camera unless Peter actually moved. He knew after four years where not to sit if he didn't want to be on camera. "Can I go?"

Neal smiled. "Yes, baby. Go ahead."

Both men watched their son tear into the presents. He looked awed as he opened each one. They'd gotten him a couple different LEGO sets, a train set with tracks, and a bunch of miniature cars Nicky could play with on the kitchen floor while one of them cooked dinner rather than constantly tugging at their pants, telling them that he's hungry. If Nicky had something to play with in the kitchen, they were set.

Peter caught every little giggle, every little smile, and all of the excitement in the recording. He'd even tilted the camera a bit to get Neal on camera and the sight of his husband made him smile. Neal had his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms around them, and he looked so happy as he watched their son intently. "Hey, beautiful," Peter said quietly.

"Yeah?" Neal looked up and groaned immediately upon seeing the camera on him. "Peter Michael Burke," he said, shielding himself from the camera.

"Oh, come on, honey."

Nicky giggled and got up, darting over to his daddy. He jumped at Neal and Neal was forced to move his hands away from his face to wrap his arms around his son and sit cross-legged to make himself more comfortable. Nicky snuggled against Neal and grinned up at the camera Peter had directed at them. Neal heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine," he murmured, looking up at the camera. He stuck his tongue out at Peter and Peter laughed.

"You're _so_ mature," Peter commented sarcastically.

Neal winked at him. "You're the one who asked me to marry you," he teased. "You knew what you were getting into when you met me, love."

Peter wanted to say something about that, but he didn't want it on camera or in front of Nicky. None of their circle of friends knew about Neal's past on the streets. That was between the two of them and Peter was hellbent on making sure it stayed between them. He wasn't ashamed of Neal's past, but he knew Neal didn't want to flaunt it. He'd grown up since he was eighteen. He had a real job that didn't include turning around and dropping his pants. He'd settled down with Peter for a few years before Peter felt like it might be a good time to propose. At twenty-two, he believed Neal could make rational choices for himself. Neal always had the option of leaving prior to that point and he'd stayed. They hit a few rough patches over the years, but managed to make it through them together.

"Doggy!" Nicky cried out as Satchmo came into the living room. Peter turned the camera to Satchmo and recorded Nicky holding his hand out towards Satch. The Lab licked Nicky's hand before lying down beside Neal, resting his head on Neal's thigh. Neal chuckled, petting their dog.

"All right, boys. I'm turning the camera off now. Say bye bye."

Nicky looked sad for a moment and then he perked up again. "Bye bye!"

Neal smiled at the camera and said, "Leaving a message for your future self when you watch this again," he said with a light laugh. "I love you, Peter. I love you now and I'll love you years from now." He blew a kiss at the camera before meeting Peter's eyes.

Peter shut the camera off and set it down on the couch before sliding onto the floor to sit beside Satchmo. He caught Neal staring at him and gently nudged Satchmo so he could scoot closer to Neal. Satchmo whined, but was content with shifting around enough to rest his head on Neal's leg. "I love you," Peter said quietly, leaning forward just as Neal did the same. They gave each other a very tender kiss before parting. They knew when to show restraint and when to totally have at it. Right now, with their son, they needed to act appropriately. Neal always tried to and he would always smack Peter if Peter did something inappropriate with Nicky nearby.

Nicky played with his toys for about half an hour before telling his fathers he was tired. Neal woke Peter up at six in the morning by accident and the two of them had been up since. It was nearly ten now and Neal figured they could all use a little more sleep. Neal carried their son upstairs with a couple of stuffed animals he passed on to Nicky. Over the four years he and Peter had together, Peter would occasionally buy him stuffed animals because Neal commented that they were really cute and he'd never had one before, which surprised the hell out of Peter at the time. Neal was nineteen, nearing the midway point to twenty, and Peter couldn't believe he'd never had a stuffed animal in his life. From that moment on, he'd taken to buying Neal random animals every so often and he tried to spread it out a bit so Neal was always surprised.

Peter watched Neal tuck their son into bed, promising him that they'd go look at Christmas lights around the city in a little bit. That had been Nicky's fascination since the beginning of December and Neal always promised that the three of them would go out for a ride to see the lights at night.

Satchmo followed them into Nicky's bedroom and plopped down beside the boy's bed once Neal backed away. He smiled and met Peter in the doorway, pulling the door nearly to a close. "He should be out for at least an hour or two and then he'll be a ball of endless energy once again. Are we going to use this time wisely?"

Peter chuckled and nodded, taking his husband's hand. Intertwining their fingers, he led Neal down the hallway to their bedroom and nearly shut their door as well. They wanted to hear if Nicky woke up so they could get up with him.

They spent several hours exploring each other's bodies, planting soft kisses across skin and caressing each other tenderly. They hadn't had this much time to themselves in quite some time, so they took that time to really enjoy each other. Peter worshipped Neal's body and Neal wanted to make Peter feel amazing since Peter believed his body was inadequate at times. By the time night rolled around, Peter and Neal were truly surprised that Nicky slept as long as he did. The little guy was usually up and completely energetic after only a few hours, but it was nearing seven o'clock at night now. They decided that they were going to wake Nicky up in a moment, so they'd gotten dressed. Peter got the impression that Neal wasn't expecting any gift this year even though Peter always tried to do something for his husband. "I have something for you."

Neal gave the older man an exasperated look. "Babe, I thought we agreed that we weren't going to spend money on each other. It was _your_ idea."

"I didn't say I spent money on it, did I?" Neal sighed and sat on the edge of their bed, watching his husband head over to their closet. He shifted a few things around before turning back to Neal with what looked like a shirt to him at first. Peter unfolded it and held it out for Neal to look at and Neal smiled softly at it. "What do you think?"

"I think you stole my idea, lover," Neal murmured. It was a white shirt that said _Go to Burke_ with an ironed on picture of the two of them playing baseball together in ripped up jeans and sleeveless shirts during the summer seven years ago.

Peter smirked. "No. Nothing will beat your idea. I just found this picture on my laptop recently and felt like it would be something nice to do for you." Neal got up and eagerly removed his shirt, reaching out for the shirt Peter was holding. "You look so damn good without a shirt on though."

"You think I look good without anything on. I want to wear my Christmas present from my husband. Are you going to deny me that?"

The older man just chuckled in response. "If you give me a kiss and say please, I may consider giving it to you."

Neal put on his best and most seductive smile, sidling right up to Peter, resting a hand on his chest. He batted his eyelashes at the older man and Peter wanted to stop playing games and throw the younger man onto the bed to make sweet love to him. "Oh, please, Officer Burke, can I have that wonderful shirt you're holding? I'm awfully cold." Peter rested a hand on Neal's hip, feeling harder than he could bear without lovemaking.

"I suppose since you asked so nicely."

The younger man grinned when Peter handed the shirt over to him. He gave Peter a sweet kiss after pulling it on and whispered, "I love you."

Peter inhaled heavily, taking in the scent he recognized as his husband. Neal had this sweet vanilla and French aroma about him that Peter loved. Cuddling with Neal was always great for that reason among several others. "You'll never know how much I truly love you," Peter said softly, resting his forehead against Neal's. Even after eight years, he still loved this man, but he had this fear that Neal would grow up and lose interest in him. He wasn't sure if Neal felt trapped now that they had a son together, but he was always preparing himself for the day when Neal told him he wasn't in love anymore.

As a forty-nine year old man, he knew what he wanted even if it seemed wrong in the public eye. Who were they to judge him? It wasn't like he'd forced Neal to stay or to fall in love with him. All he'd done eight years ago was bring a young, distraught man into his home to save him from the bitter cold of the winter and the egocentric men out there who used Neal's body. He respected Neal a great deal and didn't want to make it seem like he wanted free sex that involved no love whatsoever. He could see that Neal was attracted to him and he wasn't the type of man to exploit someone's feelings. He treated Neal like a human being and refused to make love with him for the first year that they were together. After the year had passed, he'd asked Neal to make a decision as to whether or not he wanted to leave. Peter wanted to know where Neal was on the happiness scale and was surprised when Neal just hugged him and told him he was a fool to think Neal would leave him.

He blinked a few times when Neal stroked his hair. Upon looking at Neal's face, he saw concern. "You okay? You kind of zoned out for a minute there."

Peter tried to force a smile and Neal saw through it. He led Peter to their bed and sat down in front of him. "I was just thinking. It's nothing to worry about, honey."

Neal shook his head. "I've been with you for eight years. I've picked up on your habits and quirks. When you zone out around me, you're usually telling yourself I'm not really in love with you." He frowned and reached out to rub Peter's thigh. "Were you?" Peter sighed and nodded. "Babe, why do you doubt me?"

"I don't doubt you," Peter said hurriedly, taking Neal's hands in his. "I mean, I guess I kind of doubt you, but I doubt myself more." Neal squeezed his hands, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "You know I love you, Neal. I just… I wake up to you curled up against me every morning. We argued a lot in our first four years together, then we got married and adopted a son. We—"

The younger man's brows furrowed. "Peter, we didn't argue a _lot._ You and I disagreed on a few things. They weren't things that would make-or-break our relationship." He gazed at his husband for a moment before lowering it to their hands again. "Eventually, we figured things out. After eight years, do you think I want to leave you?"

Peter sighed. "It's… Baby, you're so much younger than I am."

"I really hate when you say that."

"It's true, baby." Neal took his hands away from Peter's and rested them on his own knees, looking away from Peter completely. "I love you and our son so much, Neal, honey. My constant problem is that—"

Neal shook his head. "Do you really care if people look at us like we're crazy? I've never cared if people were disgusted by the fact that I _want_ to kiss you or hold your hand in public. I've never cared if people made comments about us when we've gone out for walks with Nicky." He looked really upset now that Peter was observing the younger man closer. "Are you ashamed of me? Do you want to leave me and find someone _your_ age?"

Peter whispered, "That thought never crossed my mind. I love being with you and with our son. I love holding your hand and kissing you no matter where we are."

"Then what is it, Peter? This has been an ongoing problem with you for the last eight years. If you're in love with me, why do you constantly depress yourself and make it seem like I'm self-centered?"

The older man sighed again. "Do you remember that time in Wal-Mart when someone thought I was your father?" Neal gave him a slight nod in response. "I do look like I could be your father and, in all honesty, our age different suggests that I _could_ be your father." Neal gave him a look that screamed _what the hell?_ "You are twenty-three years younger than me, Neal. When you were born, I was already in a relationship and I was a college graduate. I was training to become a police officer." Neal bowed his head slightly, looking defeated. "By the time you were five years old, I was considering tying the knot with my boyfriend at the time since we'd been together for six years. It wasn't legal then, but I would have proposed to make it seem and feel official."

"I know I have daddy issues," Neal said tightly. "I never knew my father. I never had a father of any kind in my life." He met Peter's eyes for a split second before his gaze darted away again. "When you found me, I was a whore. Hell, I was propositioning you within the first ten minutes of meeting you." He laughed mirthlessly. "I was a stupid teenager who wrecked his life by dropping out of school and refusing to go back. I work in an art gallery now, but I have no educational background to speak of. You tried to get me to at least shoot for my GED and I barely wanted to do that." He felt like an idiot because his eyes were beginning to water. "My life changed when I met you. After you took me home, I never sold myself to another man. The only man I've had sex with in the last eight years is _you._" He rubbed his eyes and sighed in frustration. "I love you, Peter, and I'm happy with you. I'm always happy, especially when we're spending time with Nicky as a family. The only thing that's really depressed me or pissed me off is this, Peter. I'm starting to feel like you don't trust me because you're always questioning whether I'm in love with you or not. I don't know what you're thinking sometimes and I just assume you're happy."

Peter whispered, "I am happy. I love—"

"Then stop thinking I'm going to walk out on you. If I wanted out, I wouldn't have married you or gone through with adopting Nick." He held his left hand up and showed Peter the silver ring on his finger. "This is proof that I love you and that I want to be here. If you feel like a father instead of a husband, then that's pretty much you asking to divorce me so you don't feel like you're fucking your son."

"Stop that," Peter said quietly, reaching up to stroke the side of Neal's face. "Neal, I'm sorry."

Neal groaned and slid off of the bed. Peter watched Neal pace along the side of the bed, hands on his hips. "Do you want to be with me or is your guilty conscience winning?" he asked, pausing to face Peter.

"I want—"

"Daddy."

Neal turned towards the door immediately, relaxing. "Hey, Nick. What's up, baby?" he asked, nearing their son. He knelt in front of the boy and Nicky leaned towards him, wrapping his arms around Neal's neck.

"Lights, daddy?"

The younger man laughed lightly. "You have to ask poppa."

"Poppa?" Nicky said, sounding like he was pleading.

Neal glanced over his shoulder to look at Peter. "Yeah. We can drive around a bit, Nicky." Nicky giggled and cried out excitedly as he darted out of his parents' bedroom and headed downstairs to put his boots on. Neal stood up and frowned. He didn't know where he stood with Peter right now and their relationship would affect Nicky entirely. He startled a bit when Peter's arms slid around him. "I want to be with you," he whispered. "I'm not ashamed to be your husband and I don't feel like a father figure when I'm alone with you. I feel like Nicky's father and you're Nicky's other father." He kissed Neal's jaw gently. "I'm just thinking about our future. I'm twenty-three years older. I know this is something really shitty to talk about on Christmas, but—speaking bluntly—I am going to die so many years before you do." Neal tensed against him. "I know you hate that, too, but you know I'm right. You know I'm leaving everything to you and Nicky when I'm gone."

"I really don't want to talk about this anymore," Neal said, prying Peter's arms off of him.

Peter mentally smacked himself as Neal left their room and headed downstairs after their son. "Daddy! Daddy!" Neal helped his son pull his boots on and then went into the closet to grab Nicky's winter jacket and hat. Neal was pissed off, so he was trying not to speak in order to keep himself in check. He'd _never_ lash out at their son, but Peter really struck a nerve this time. "Where poppa?" Nicky asked him.

"He should be down in a minute," he said through his teeth. He knelt in front of Nicky, putting the hat on him first. He helped Nicky get into the jacket and zipped him up. Breathing deeply for a moment, he asked, "Where did poppa put your gloves?"

"Here, honey," Peter said quietly as he came down the stairs. Neal turned and saw the apology in his husband's eyes. He handed the gloves to Neal and Neal put them on Nicky's hands. He gave Peter his jacket before grabbing his own. "Am I driving or are you?"

Neal glanced at him. "I am."

The drive was quiet with the exception of Nicky's excited cries in the backseat and Neal acting animated as he responded to his son's reactions. Peter just kept his eyes on Neal, wishing he could take back all of the ridiculous things he said. Watching Neal and their son, he knew Neal wouldn't leave. Neal was devoted and he _is_ happy.

After almost fifteen minutes of Neal driving through neighborhoods he knew plenty of lights would be up in, Neal changed their course. Peter's brows furrowed. "Where are we heading?" Neal didn't answer him. He just reached over and took Peter's hand in his right, intertwining their fingers. Peter glanced into the backseat to see Nicky drifting off. He leaned forward and turned the Christmas music down a bit while keeping his hand locked with Neal's. "Neal, where—?"

"We're almost there," Neal said softly.

Peter was trying to figure out where _there_ was and he was clueless up until Neal made a certain turn. "Neal," he whispered.

The younger man was still quiet even as he pulled up to an isolated, circular pavilion. He parked the car and just glanced out of his window for a few moments before turning towards his husband. "This is my Christmas gift to you. No money was spent. I used stuff around the house."

He got out and Peter slowly got out as well. Neal was opening the back door and unbuckled Nicky, pulling their son out. The sleepy child who really shouldn't have been all that sleepy after his nap clung to his daddy tightly as Neal walked towards the pavilion. Peter didn't understand what Neal's gift to him was, but he remembered this place very well. He'd always remember this place.

Neal set Nicky down after asking him if he wanted to walk. Nicky held onto his daddy's hand and Peter watched Neal turn something on. In mere seconds, the pavilion, which had been enshrouded in darkness with the exception of the headlights shining on it from the car, lit up. Beautiful white lights were wrapped around the columns and across the outer, waist-high wall. "Oh, baby…"

Neal cleared his throat and met Peter's eyes. "Seven and a half years ago, you brought me here for our first official date. We had dinner, listened to music on your phone, and you taught me how to dance." Neal looked like he was getting lost in those memories and Peter was joining him in them. "Five years ago, you proposed to me in this spot," Neal said softly as snow slowly drifted in through the pavilion's openings. "Four years ago, you married me here with our intimate group of friends. That was the happiest day of my life because I vowed to stand at your side for the rest of our lives and you did the same." He glanced down at Nicky, chuckling. "Shortly thereafter, our little boy was adopted and we brought him home with us. The moment you set him in my arms, I melted." Nicky didn't know what his parents were doing. He was preoccupied with watching the snow fall though. "Today, I wanted to recreate our first date with our son." He paused for a moment. "But I changed my mind. I want to do something just as important to me, but much more special."

"Daddy," Nicky whined. "It's cold."

Neal laughed lightly. "I know, baby. We'll leave in a few minutes," he whispered. He gently shifted Nicky to stand at his side, standing in front of Peter with a little bit of space between them. Neal inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. He smiled at Peter before taking Peter's hand, dropping to one knee. Peter's heart fluttered. "Peter Michael Burke," he whispered so softly, "I have loved you since you gave me a home and someone worth changing my life for. When you met me, I was at a very low point in my life, but you gave me a chance and you really pulled me through that rough patch." He rubbed Peter's knuckles gently. "I know you have your doubts about us at times, my love, but I want you to know that you make me happier than I ever was before you came into my life. I've been so happy with you for these past eight years and we have our little boy here as the physical proof that we're happy and devoted." He closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head. Peter saw Neal's shoulders shake a bit and his lips parted when Neal looked up at him with tears in his eyes. "I brought you here to ask you to be something more than my husband and it'll probably sound really juvenile of me," he whispered. He laughed nervously when he asked, "Peter Michael, will you be my soulmate?"

Peter was floored. This was so much better than recreating their first date. "Yes," Peter whispered. He gently tugged on Neal's hand until Neal rose to his full height. Peter lifted his hands to wipe Neal's tears away as Nicky hugged his waist. Neal loved when Nicky attached himself to Peter because he rarely did that. He always went to daddy instead of poppa and Neal knew that bothered Peter at times. When Neal's cheeks were cleared of tears, he stroked Nicky's hair and caressed Neal's cheek. "Beautiful, don't cry," he said softly. He kissed his husband, rubbing Neal's cheekbone with his thumb. When they parted, he rested his forehead against Neal's. "I won't doubt you again," he whispered. "Neal, this was…so much better than my giving you a shirt."

Neal laughed and Peter smiled. "The shirt was great, Peter," he said. "I just thought a lot more about what I wanted to do for you tonight and this felt necessary. We've been together for eight years, babe. After all this time, there's no one I want to be with more than you."

At Nicky's insistence, the trio returned to the car. Peter said he would drive them all home and told Nicky they'd go see some more lights beforehand. He listened to Neal breathe for a moment before glancing over at him. Neal looked genuinely happy and it made butterflies flutter in his stomach. All of his worries and doubts were for nothing. Neal was really in love with him.

The moment they were back in the warmth and comfort of their home, the older man kissed his husband again and pulled him into a brief embrace, whispering, "Merry Christmas, my sweetheart." He looked down at his son while holding onto Neal. "Merry Christmas, little buddy."

Nicky grinned up at them as Neal kissed Peter's neck. "Merry Christmas, my one true love."


End file.

White Collar, Friendship, Romance