elrhiarhodan

Title: These Things Are Important
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R, MMOM (yes, R for MMOM)
Characters: Peter Burke, OMC
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 1500
Summary: An Adult Conversation

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Peter didn’t hear the knock on the door. He was too busy jerking off. Playing the meat flute. Choking the chicken. Strangling the snake. It felt too good to stop. Lately, almost anything make his dick get hard, and it would probably be easier just to list the things that turned him soft...brussels sprouts, Isabelle, Mom’s meatloaf, Communion.

“Peter, do you…” James Burke popped his head into his son’s bedroom.

“DAD!” Peter pulled the sheet up, stuffed his dick back into his shorts and wanted to die from mortification.

He couldn’t believe that his dad was still standing there - but at least he turned his back.

“Peter, wash up and meet me in the garage. Ten minutes, max.”

Peter wasn’t sure what was going to happen. His dad was normally a cool guy, he taught American history, coached one of the Little League teams, all the kids at school thought he was the best teacher. Peter usually agreed - his dad never hit him, he didn’t drink a lot (not like some of the other fathers in the neighborhood) and when Peter did something wrong, Dad would get that sad, disappointed look, and then they’d have To Talk About It.

If Dad had said to go to the study, then Peter would be on firm ground - because that’s where they would always Talk About It. The garage was another story altogether. A few summers back, they had turned it into a rec room - with wood panelling, bookshelves, a piece of shag carpeting, a old fridge and some old lounge chairs that Grandma had given them. It was supposed to be a hangout for “the kids” but Dad sort of made it off limits. Isabelle said that there was beer in the fridge and the parents smoked in there, but Peter didn’t believe her. Mom hated the smell of cigarettes and Dad had quit cold turkey when the price of a pack went up to seventy-five cents. Isabelle said they weren’t smoking cigarettes - at least not the kind that you got from the machine at Kresgee’s.

Peter dragged his feet, using every second of those ten minutes. The garage door was opened halfway, and he could see that Dad was inside. He ducked his head and blinked a bit as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

“Dad, I’m sorry.” Peter hung his head, feeling slightly nauseous.

“About what?” His dad seemed genuinely surprised. “You did nothing wrong. I should apologize, really.”

“You should?” Peter was astonished. Dad caught him jerking off and he was apologizing?

“I shouldn’t have walked in on you. You’re old enough to be entitled to your privacy.”

Peter was relieved. “Okay, so we aren’t going to have to talk about it?”

Dad smiled. “Well, yeah, we are.”

“Oh.”

“Listen -- I know you’ve gotten the basic ‘birds and bees’ lecture.”

“Yeah, we saw the film in fifth grade.” Peter felt his face turn beet red.

“So I don’t have to go into that, but there are a few things you should know - or at least hear from me.”

Peter bit his lip. This was going to be AWFUL.

“Have a seat.” Dad patted the back of the green leatherette lounge chair. Peter immediately obeyed. What he didn’t expect was for Dad to reach into the fridge and grab not one, but two cans of Heisler Gold Ale, and hand him one.

“Don’t tell your mom I’m giving you beer.”

Peter ducked his head. “No, sir.”

“Sir?”

“No, Dad”

There was a few minutes of quiet as they opened the cans. Dad watched him take a sip, then another.

“There’s more to being a man than making that thing between your legs go off like a water pistol.”

Peter spit the beer out. “DAD!”

“Sorry”

Peter could hear the laughter in his voice. “It’s not FUNNY.”

Dad waited a few moments for Peter to collect himself. “I’m serious. That stick you were yanking on -- it can get you into all sorts of trouble.” Dad paused for a bit. “There any girls at school you like?”

Peter shook his head - this was not something he wanted to discuss with Dad. Ever.

“Well, you will meet a girl - and you’re going to want to have sex with her.”

“What! - No. Never.”

“Peter - come on, now. Just because I’m your old man doesn’t mean I haven’t done things. Think about it -- I’ve had sex with your mother, at least once. You and Izzy are living proof of that.”

Peter wanted to put his fingers in his ears and start singing la la la, something he hadn’t done since he was 6 years old. Then he remembered that he was sitting in the rec room, with his dad and he was holding a can of beer. This is important.

“As I was saying, you’re going to want to have sex. Make love. Get to home plate. Whatever you want to call it. But you’ve got to be careful.”

Peter nodded, as if he understood.

Dad continued. “By careful, I mean a few things. If the girl says no, she means NO. She says stop - you stop. No matter how badly your penis hurts, no matter if you’re both naked. Even if she’s had her hand on your dick. YOU STOP.”

Peter nodded again, and took another sip of beer.

“This is what it means to be a man. You’ve got to be in control of yourself.”

Peter swallowed. “I understand. No means no, and stop means stop.”

“Good, good.” Dad took a sip and got up to retrieve something from one of the bookshelves, which he handed to Peter. It was a small cardboard box with a picture of Greek soldier on it.

“Know what those are?”

Peter nodded and swallowed, his mouth completely dry. “Condoms.”

“If your girl does say ‘yes’ - and she means ‘yes’ -- you’re going to need to use one of those.”

Peter licked his lips. “What about The Pill?” He wasn’t a complete ignoramus - one of the older guys on his baseball team had bragged about going all the way and that his girlfriend was on The Pill so she wouldn’t get pregnant.

“Well, Peter -- that’s a good question. Some girls might be on the Pill, some might not, but tell you they are on it anyway. You don’t want to get caught. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, and you don’t need to be having kids while you’re still a kid yourself.”

Now, Peter was terrified. He was only fourteen years old.

“Also, you don’t want to get VD.”

Peter wanted to just melt into a puddle of shame. He never wanted to look Dad in the eyes again.

“Peter, look at me.”

Well, so much for that resolution. Peter looked at Dad.

“This kinds of brings us full circle.” Dad paused, smiled and gave a little huff of laughter. “I interrupted you when you were doing something important.”

NOW Peter was sure he was going to die of humiliation.

“You know you’re not going to get hairy palms or go blind or grow warts, right?”

Peter shook his head yes. “They told us that in the film.”

Dad paused, almost a bit unsure of how to go on. “You’re going to want to do it a lot. But you can’t let it get in the way of your school work, and if you do it too much, you’ll get sore.”

“Coach said that it’s bad to do before a game.”

“Well, that may be, but you’re old enough to use your own judgment.”

Peter took another sip of beer. The can was getting warm and he wasn’t sure if he liked the taste. “Dad?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you...ummm… jerk off?”

Peter watched Dad turn bright, bright red.

“Well, your mom and I have a good marriage.”

Peter wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Then he realized what Dad was telling him.

“So, you don’t need to do it?”

Dad sighed and considered the beer can in his hands. “There are times when your mom and I aren’t in sync. But I don’t have to do it. A good man has control of himself, his urges. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them, it means that he doesn’t have to indulge himself as soon as the urge strikes.”

Peter understood that. “You’ve got to work for things. You’ve always said that.”

Dad looked at him. “I’ve raised a smart kid.”

Peter blushed again, this time pleased at the compliment. “Can I go?”

“Yeah -- and don’t spend all day in your room.”

“No Dad, I won’t” Peter thought he’d never touch himself again.

FIN