Neal adjusted his dark gray fedora as he gingerly stepped through the fresh snow that had fallen on the walkway. The early afternoon sun seemed to make everything sparkle, as he glanced around, contemplating if it was still too late to turn back. Peter had insisted that he join them for dinner today, but Neal had to wonder how much of it had been Peter, and how much had been Elizabeth. His relationship with Peter had always been precarious, but lately it had been worse. Neal conceded that it was, truly, all his own doing this time, but that didn't change the situation. The holiday didn't help his mood either, he really dreaded the day, having spent most of his Thanksgivings alone, except for the cherished few he had shared with Kate. He shifted the bottle of wine to his left hand, as he tentatively reached out to knock on the door. It swung open before he could tap once, revealing Elizabeth, a cheerful smile on her face.

"Neal! I'm so glad you came!" She rushed out, wrapping both arms around him. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Peter wasn't sure if you would. You two aren't fighting again are you?"

"No, not that I know of." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Are you sure I'm not imposing? I know you probably have family coming, and…"

"Don't be silly." She shoved a hand through his arm and drug him towards the doorway. "You're always welcome here."

The smell of fresh baked pastries and turkey hit his nose as he walked through the small foyer. He instantly wanted to turn and run at the sight of a house full of people he didn't know.

"Elizabeth…I…" Everything in his body wanted to retreat back to the solitude of his apartment.

"Hush, Neal. Go find Peter, I think he's out on the deck." She reached out and took the bottle of wine, and stood looking at him expectantly.

Neal averted his eyes and crept through the crowd, easing his way to the back of the house. He opened the door to the yard, stepping out onto the deck, to find Peter tossing a ball for Satchmo. It was something he had seen Peter do a hundred times, but for some reason, today, the simple act just seemed unnerving. He hadn't spent much time at all with Peter outside of work in the last few weeks; Peter hadn't seemed to want him around since the Fowler incident. He quietly sat in one of the chairs that was tucked in around the wrought iron table, trying to stay out of the way. After a few more throws, Peter turned to head back into the house.

"Neal? How long have you been sitting there?" Peter looked down at the younger man questioningly.

"Not long. Listen…Peter…"

"Be quiet Neal." Peter held up a hand to stop him from talking. He pulled out a chair and sat, facing Neal. "As rocky as things have been lately, it doesn't change the fact that El and I care about you, and I'm not going to let you sit at home alone on Thanksgiving."

"If you really cared about me…" His blue eyes sparkled teasingly. "You wouldn't torture me with a house full of your relatives."

"Hey…If I have to endure it, so do you." Peter countered back playfully.

"Oh…thanks." Neal rolled his eyes and sat enjoying the comfortable silence for a moment. "So, you're hiding, then?"

"I'm not doing a good job of it am I?" Neal shook his head, and Peter chuckled lightheartedly. As if on cue, the door behind Neal opened.

"Peter, time to cut the turkey." Elizabeth smiled as she glanced between the two of them. "Come on Neal, you can open that bottle you brought."

The two men stood slowly, neither one having much desire to join the mob of people inside the house. Normally, Neal would have felt right at home in a crowd, but this was Peter's family, and he was a little unsure of what Peter had told them about him. Neal made his way into the kitchen, retrieved the bottle opener, and expertly opened the wine. At Elizabeth's request, he took it out to the dining table, and started pouring some in each glass. When he finished, he eased himself back against the wall, watching as people started taking their seats at the table, and Elizabeth carried out the last few dishes.

"Elizabeth, let me help." He offered.

"No…no…We're just about done. Take your seat." Elizabeth patted him gently on the arm before disappearing back into the kitchen. Neal stood looking at the table with dread.

"Neal. What's wrong?" Peter came out of the kitchen carrying a large platter with the carved turkey, and placed it in the center of the table.

"I don't know where you want me." Neal thought he'd kept his voice quiet, but a few of the guests turned to watch him, making him feel uneasy. Peter looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes softening just a bit.

"Where you belong, Neal." Peter pointed to the chair to the right of his. "Right here, with Elizabeth and I."