"Uuurrrrggghhhh…" Neal rolled over in bed and groaned, not from having a hangover, that sour feeling had all but dispersed, but from sheer embarrassment. Why couldn't he be one of those drunks that never remembered anything? Why couldn't he be one of those drunks that was too wasted to even speak when he'd had too much to drink? Why couldn't he be one of those drunks that was too wise to pick up the glass in the first place? Wait! He was one of those! Past experience had taught him that while a glass or two of red wine with dinner was fine, a single glass of scotch or bourbon went straight to his head. Why? Why had he done it? Again! The last time…well, the last time was supposed to be exactly that…The…Last…Time! "Uuuuurrrgggghhhh," he groaned again while pulling a pillow over his head. Perhaps he could hide…for the rest of his life! What was Peter going to say? What was El going to say? What was Peter going to do? Sadly, he remembered all to well at one point during the car ride home he suggested Peter give him a spanking! "Uuuuuuurrrrggghhhh!"

###

Neal climbed out of the shower and collected the sweats and t-shirt El must have left on the dresser for him to change into. He held the Ole Miss Rebels tee up to his chest, looked in the mirror and sighed. What a mess! Then again, he'd only himself to blame! He slipped on the shirt, which turned out to be a surprisingly good fit. Either Peter had owned the shirt from when he was…'smaller' or someone had shrunk it in the dryer. He pulled on the sweat pants and reached out to open the door, but instead, he planted his forehead on the back of the door and moaned. Why! Why had he said what he had? How many times had he told El he loved her? And the kiss! Oh unreal! Could he have been any more outstanding in the total screw up department than kissing the boss's wife! Talk about a train wreck! This was why he was never going to touch another drop of alcohol again as long as he lived. How was he to face Elizabeth after last night? When she'd come in this morning around six to make him drink some horrible concoction, insisting it was for his own good and would have him feeling better in no time, nothing had been said about the ride home in the car. And as it turned out, the evil concoction she made him drink had actually worked. Physically he felt fine. Mentally, well that was a whole other ball game. Unfortunately, he couldn't stand behind the door all day. Sooner or later he'd have to face El again, and worse still, Peter. The only saving grace about his utter embarrassment was that it had distracted his thoughts from what had got him into this mess to begin with - disobeying Peter's explicit directions and having a gun pointed at his head. Unfortunately, it hadn't distracted him nearly enough. Neal groaned as he headed out the door, accepting the reality that he'd messed up on so many levels!

###

"Good morning sweetie," El greeted the young man with a kiss on his cheek as he strolled without an ounce of confidence across the living area and into the dining room.

"Morning Elizabeth," he replied without lifting his eyes. Dare he say it, "Morning Peter."

The agent lowered his paper and picked up his coffee. "Morning Neal. You sleep okay?"

"Uh, yes thank you." Neal allowed himself to relax slightly, so far so good.

"Sit down sweetie," El pulled out a chair and gently shoved the young man down into it. "We've both had breakfast but I saved you a bagel. What would you like on it?"

"Oh, no, please don't go to any trouble, I'm fine-"

"He has cream cheese El." Peter turned to Neal and shrugged. "You know you're going to have to eat it eventually so why bother."

"Fair point." Neal took the plate as El passed it across the table. "Thank you Elizabeth."

"You're welcome sweetie."

Neal looked down at the bagel feeling like even the smallest bite would be a monumental task. Somewhere between escaping the clutches of an armed thug and stealing a hug from Mrs Burke on the front lawn, he'd lost his appetite. "Elizabeth…" Neal forced himself to look her in the eye.

"Yes sweetie?"

"I uh, I need to apologize for my behavior last night during the car ride home. I'm sorry for the things I said and…ah… did."

"It's okay sweetie. No need to apologize. You had a bit too much to drink, nothing more. But thank you for your apology anyway." El began to pack up the breakfast dishes on the table like there was nothing left to discuss.

Neal smiled with gratitude and relief and considered he should return one good deed with another. Picking up the bagel, he forced himself to take a decent man-sized bite. After swallowing the mouthful, with great difficulty, he took a deep breath before moving onto apology number two. "Peter, any chance it's going to be that easy with you?"

"Not on your life."

"Can I at least apologize for you having to come out and get me on a Friday night when you were supposed to be at home enjoying the evening with your wife?"

"You can." The agent drained his coffee mug and gave the younger man his full attention.

"I'm sorry Peter, sorry for causing you all that trouble last night."

"Thank you Neal. Apology accepted."

Neal blinked, several times. Perhaps he was still dreaming. That was way too easy. "Soooo, that's it? I'm off the hook? End of story." He could hope, couldn't he?

"For getting plastered and ruining my Friday night? Yes. You're 'off the hook.' But El's right kiddo, you drank too much. Don't do that again by the way, for your own sake really. I could have asked you to confess to every crime you'd ever committed and you would have told me. Someone like you who lacks a single ounce of self-control when they've had too much to drink should steer clear of whatever it was that got you inebriated in the first place."

"Yeah thanks, good advice Peter," Neal was unable to control the sarcasm. "I'll take that on board. Not sure why I didn't think of it earlier." He bit into his bagel and looked across at the older man. No way was that the end of it! He swallowed hard. For some reason his mouth was ridiculously dry. "Peter…"

"Yeah?"

"Can I apologize for disobeying your directions and going out to collect evidence after you told me not to?"

"You can…"

"But?"

"But we are still going to discuss it in my study after you're done with breakfast."

Neal started choking on the bagel, before remembering he didn't even have any left in his mouth. "Uh, excuse me? In your study?" Oh great! Why oh why had he brought up Arthur Phissal! "Y-you don't even have a study Peter." The kid was beginning to pale as he unhappily acknowledged the can of worms he had carelessly opened.

"Yes sweetie, we do. Down in the basement. Where else would we keep all our bills and paper work?" El patted the boy on the back as she walked past on her way to the kitchen.

"Huh? Where?" Neal was confused. He'd been in the basement before. He'd helped Peter carry down their old TV when they bought the new plasma. There was no study!

"Down in the basement Neal." Peter stood, collecting the remaining dishes from around the table. "Now, finish your bagel and then please wait for me in the study. You and I are going to have a little chat."

Neal watched the older man head into the kitchen before dropping his head onto the table. He was sooooo dead!

###

Neal walked down the stairs with great hesitancy, like a young child trying to navigate down on their own for the first time. He was still reeling from the fact that here he was, being sent to the study to await what was certain to be a rather stern lecture by 'father' followed with what was appearing to be more and more likely… a spanking? Oh why on Earth had he ever brought it up in the first place! He almost deserved to have his butt kicked for being so monumentally stupid!

The young CI reached the last stair tread and looked for that elusive study. There was a small bathroom around under the stairs and the rest of the room was a casual living area, a graveyard for the Burkes 'no longer needed' furniture. There was a nasty colored green velour couch that may have seen better days, but Neal couldn't possibly imagine when. Its lounging companion, a light-brown leather easy recliner, wasn't in any better shape. Neal was certain Peter had spent many an hour in that 'little beauty' watching the football. Without too much imagination, he envisioned the agent's butt print permanently indented into the seat cushion. The young man looked around for 'The Study', but decided it had to be Peter's twisted sense of humor at work and a way of putting him off his game. It was working! Neal walked on through past the lounge furniture and made his way to the back where there was a storage cupboard. Opening the door, more to distract his nerves than out of curiosity as to what might be inside, he startled in fright.

"Oh Crap! He cursed out loud because before his very eyes – a study, and a grand one at that. He stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him. No cardboard boxes or old winter clothing in this 'storage cupboard.' Sitting in the middle of the rather large room was a magnificent mahogany oak desk. Neal ran his fingers across the smooth solid surface mesmerized by its beauty. He then noticed the floor to ceiling book shelves, the ones like you'd see in an old time movie about some wealthy baron who lived on his own in a mansion with large gates at the front to keep out unwanted visitors. Neal half expected the butler to come in at any moment with his feather duster. On the opposite wall to the bookshelves, there was a black leather chaise lounge that ran under the elevated fixed glass window, and in the center of the room, a tasteful Persian rug covering a good portion of the Berber carpet. Peter had not decorated this room! His particular style shone through clearly on the other side of the door. Neal sat down on the chaise and took a deep breath. He was under no misconception as to why he had been sent down here in the first place. For sure he wouldn't have to wait long for Peter to arrive so they could have their 'little chat. How the hell was he going to get himself out of this one!

Soon enough, Neal heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs and swallowed hard, watching the door intently as it opened while following Peter out of the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to begin the process of worming his way out of this predicament but froze in mid thought as his eyes locked onto the object the agent had folded in his left hand – a rather thick, brown leather belt. Neal continued to track the object as Peter walked across the room and placed it onto the fine mahogany surface of the study desk. The agent then turned, rested his butt against the desk and snapped his fingers, pointing to an imaginary spot on the Persian rug. Neal slowly pushed himself up, and in a haze of autopilot walked the couple of steps required to meet Peter's demands.

At a loss to know what charmingly sweet excuse could get him out of the trouble he was in, Neal crossed his arms and dropped his gaze, gradually coming to terms with the fact that maintaining his innocence may just prolong the inevitable.

"Neal," Peter reached out and lifted the kid's chin so he could make eye contact. "Last night after I put you to bed," Neal rolled his eyes at that comment, "El and I had a long chat about what we were going to do with you."

The younger man looked quite offended that they had been talking about him like he was some type of incompetent child.

Peter caught the look. "Neal, this of course came about after you revealed how ineffectual it is for you to learn from the way in which I normally handle your consequences."

"But Peter! I was drunk. You can't hold that against me!"

"Well I can, but that's not the point. It was an honest evaluation. It spoke volumes about how you don't consider the repercussions I impose on you to be any type of deterrent."

"Peter, that's not-"

"Please don't add to your misdemeanors by lying to me Neal. We both know it was the truth. The fact that it came out while you were hammered is irrelevant."

"Fine," Neal pouted, clearly unhappy that Peter was going to use a drunken confession against him.

"Good, so we can move past that?"

"Whatever."

Peter ignored the insolent tone and pushed himself up off the table to begin pacing the room. "Now Neal, on Wednesday, you came to me with your idea of going undercover to expose the extortion racket and I said… what?"

There was no response. Neal had stopped listening. His eyes fixated on the thick leather strip sitting atop of the study desk that came into view when Peter moved away.

"Neal!" The agent slammed his hand down on the desk, effectively snapping the young man out of his trance. "What did I say?"

"Uh, you said no. It was a good idea but…"

"But what?"

"But it was too dangerous. There was intel to say that the suspects may be in possession of illegal weapons. Peter, do we have to-"

"Yes Neal, we do. On Thursday you came to me with the same grand plan. I said what?"

"You said, 'No Neal. It's not safe. It's not worth the risk of putting you into a situation that could very likely turn out to be life threatening. We will find a better solution.' Peter, please," Neal whined, fully prepared to resort to begging if need be. "I don't want to be…" He pointed to the belt. "Please, I know I was irresponsible and blatantly disobedient, but can't we find some other way to deal with this?"

Peter returned to stand in front of the younger man, placing his hands on the kid's shoulders and smiling caringly. "You know what else El and I talked about last night?"

"I could probably guess."

"We realized that with the exception of Arthur Phissal, you've never had anyone in your life that's held you accountable for your actions like a parent normally would. You've grown up without that support for most of your life."

"Until now?"

"Yep, until now kiddo…. El and I, we think of you as so much more than just a work colleague. Hell, El would kill me if she knew I allowed you to skip lunch every other day, let alone find out that I let you come into work a couple of weeks back with a sore throat and low grade temp."

"I could tell her," Neal threatened.

"Yeah you do that and see which of us ends up in a greater world of pain!"

Neal held up his hands. Peter had a point. "No, there's no need to bring that up. You were saying…"

Peter gave the boy a pointed look before continuing. "We've decided, in light of your behavior last night, that from now on, any time you recklessly put your life at risk, any time you chance your freedom through irresponsible shenanigans, or any time you pull boneheaded stunts that I have specifically ordered you not to, we will deal with it like we would if you were our own son."

"Your own…son," Neal's voice caught.

"Yes Neal. El and I, we never had a biological child of our own, but ever since you came into our lives, we feel like we're all but playing the role of your parents. For sure we couldn't possibly be more exasperated or exhausted keeping up with your misadventures than if you were our own flesh and blood." Peter wiped at a lone tear that had made its way down the young man's cheek. "From now on, you go off the reservation, expect to face the music with 'Mom and Dad'."

"Can I call you mom and dad?" Neal asked tongue in cheek.

"Well, I believe you called El, mom, several times last night," Neal cringed, "and if you want to call me dad while you're weeding the front and back gardens during the next two weekends, I guess-"

"Peeeeter!"

"What?"

"The next two weekends? When am I going to have any free time to do, you know…something, anything, if I'm stuck here being your slave?"

"Well, that's the whole point Neal. You won't have any time for, 'you know', so hopefully I won't have to you know," Peter picked up the belt, "do this again any time soon."

"Peter," Neal stepped back involuntarily towards the door. "That thing hurts. I remember."

"Listen kiddo, it did shock El and I last night when you brought up about being spanked, but the more the idea sunk in, the more we agreed it was the only way deal with you that may make a difference."

"So it's my stupid fault for opening my big mouth last night." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, it is your fault, but not for opening your mouth. It's your fault because you were reckless enough to almost have a bullet put through your head. I watched the video Neal."

"Oh."

"Yes oh." Peter patted the top of the mahogany desk and folded the belt carefully in his hand. "You've more that earned this young man. Let's go."

Neal's shoulders slumped as he stepped dejectedly over to the desk. Taking one final pleading look at the agent, and not seeing any eleventh hour reprieve, he bent forward, crossed his arms and cradled his head in the crook of his elbow.

Once in position, Peter patted the younger man on the back and spoke firmly, "I'm giving you twenty, Neal."

"Yes sir," Neal's muffled reply could barely be heard.

With that said, Peter lifted his arm and swung the strip of leather firmly across the kid's backside.

Neal sucked in a breath and braced himself for the next whack. Peter raised the belt in the air and brought it down three times in quick succession - once across the butt, once across the under-curve and once across the top of the young man thighs. With each stinging stroke, Neal reacted with a muffled cry, buffered by his arm and shirt sleeve. Peter brought the belt down three more times, same pattern as before, butt, under-curve, thighs. But as he prepared himself for another round, Neal's hand shot back to rub the sting from his tender rear.

"Neal…move your hand please."

The young man continued to rub and shook his head. No.

Unperturbed, Peter put down the belt and took a hold of Neal's wrist. He then gave the offending hand one almighty swat across the back of it.

"Owwww!" Neal cried out and lifted his torso off the desk before realizing he couldn't do that effectively while Peter still held his wrist behind his back. He also tried without success to yank his hand free, but Peter held tight.

"Now Neal, that was with my palm. Do you really want to find out what it feels like to have the belt whack the top of your hand?"

"No sir."

"I didn't think so. Keep your hand out of the way please." Peter gave the hand another painful whack before letting go.

Neal whipped his hand back and tucked it safely under his head, sorely tempted to kiss it better.

Satisfied, Peter picked up the belt, brought back his arm and continued with the hiding. Butt, under-curve, thighs, butt, under-curve, thighs, butt, under-curve, thighs.

Neal, who had developed his own pattern of squirming left, squirming right, squirming left, soon gave up on that useless strategy. No matter how he tried, the belt painfully found its target. Left with no other choice, Neal reached back once again to stall the onslaught.

Peter shook his head. Didn't the boy ever learn anything? Figuring the slaps on the wrist hadn't achieved the desired result, Peter stepped back and delivered the final three strokes across the back of Neal's legs, on the lower thighs, well out of hand's reach.

Neal squealed as his feet bent up to offer protection, but thankfully it was all over anyway. Peter put the belt down, patted the boy once again on his back, and waited patiently for him to gather himself together.

It took a little while, but eventually Peter heard what sounded like the last of a series of sobs being sniffled away.

"Peter…" Neal's voice broke through his arms that remained folded on the desk.

"Yeah buddy?"

"Last night my head was a bit hazy."

Peter laughed, "No kidding!"

"Yeah, wish it was now so I could have more success in ignoring the fire blazing across my butt." Neal pushed himself up off the desk and turned to face the older man, not knowing what to rub first, his wet, swollen eyes or his smarting backside. Peter pulled Neal in for a hug where he settled the boy's head against his chest. "Anyway, last night at one point when I was trying to describe to El how I saw our relationship, I said it often felt like you were more than boss or my partner but I couldn't think of the right way to describe it." Neal lifted his head to look Peter in the eyes.

"And now, in the light of day, any more luck?"

Neal nodded and leaned back into Peter's shoulder, resting his head against the larger man's chest. "Yes. I've felt it for a long time now but I thought maybe I was just hoping for something that wasn't really there. Then when you and El came and got me last night, and you carried me up and tucked me in bed and forced me to drink that glass of water, and came back to check on me in the early hours of the morning-"

"And when I took my belt to your backside," Peter grinned.

"Mmm," Neal considered. "No, not so much that, but everything else, I started to realize you and Elizabeth were on the same page as me." The young man spoke softly. "You're so much more than my boss Peter, more than my partner, even more than my friend. For the second time in my life, I seem to be fortunate enough to have acquired a 'father.'"

Peter kissed his 'son' on top of his wavy black hair. "And a mother – we come as a team you realize."

"Yeah, guess that means I'm going to have to be twice as mindful."

"And the rest." Peter's tone turned serious. "Neal, no more stupid stunts please or you'll find yourself straight back down here. Am I clear?"

"Yes Peter. I'm never, ever going to disobey you again." Neal replied earnestly while rubbing at a particularly tender spot on the back of his left leg. "I've got to ask, have you done this before, Peter? You seem surprisingly confident and thorough."

The agent smiled, "Yes, lots of experience has taught me well."

Neal raised his eyebrows, confused.

"You get strapped enough times, you have a pretty good idea how to dish it out yourself."

"Your dad? You got a spanking or two?"

"Yep, but more than a just a few. Let's just say I got into my fair share of mischief when I was younger."

"Peter," Neal grinned from ear to ear, despite the uncomfortable pain ablaze across his behind. "You were a bad boy?"

"No, not even close. But my dad was strict too. Sounds like he and Arthur had a lot in common. You know Neal, when dad gave me a dose of the belt, he always gave it to me on the bare."

Neal's face paled as he gulped audibly, "Peter?"

The older man chuckled, "Don't worry kiddo, not going to happen. Remember, you're never, ever going to disobey me again."

Neal moaned wondering how long he could possibly stay trouble free.

Peter laughed, ruffling the boy's hair and turning them both towards the stairs. "Now, do I need to talk to you 'son' about kissing 'Mom'?"

"Uh," Neal grimaced at the mention of his truly embarrassing behavior. "Um, n-no sir. No more kissing mom."

"Good, cause next time you kiss his wife on the lips, Daddy's going to get very upset."

Neal shuddered at the thought before making a mental note and adding it to his every growing list of news rules he was about to impose upon himself.

- No more hard liquor – ever

- Never ever ever disobey Peter again

- And, this one should have been at the top of the list, NO kissing Elizabeth passionately on the lips, no mater how fantastically wonderful it had felt the first time around.

Neal followed the older man up the stairs wondering realistically, which rule he was going to break first!