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elrhiarhodanTitle: Torch Song – Part Four of Seven
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Artist:kaylashay
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, June Ellington, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Elizabeth Mitchell, Mozzie, Julian Larsen, Garrett Fowler, Reese Hughes, Kyle Bancroft, Evan Leary, Chloe Woods, Amanda Callaway, Phillip Kramer; Peter/Neal, Elizabeth/Mozzie
Word Count: ~56,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Expressions of homophobia, transphobia, past reference to a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Please see more extensive notes in the Master Post on my Journal.
Summary: An alternate universe partially based on the characters and location in "Upper West Side Story", but with a twist - of the "Victor/Victoria" kind. Neal Caffrey teaches European History, but has an interesting and potentially career-damaging gig at his godmother's nightclub. Enter Peter Burke, talent agent and an old friend of June's, who plays the fairy godmother role to the hilt.
__________________
Although it was Friday, it wasn't the thirteenth, but the day seemed cursed. No, not seemed. The day was cursed. First Neal overslept – which was his own fault. Talking and sexting with Peter until four AM wasn't exactly a mistake, but it wasn't really the wise thing to do when he had to get up two hours later.
Neal couldn't forgo a shower, which meant he missed the express train, and the local was jammed. A less than smooth stop at 128th Street resulted in an elbow in his kidneys and half a cup of someone else's coffee spilled across his back. At least he was wearing a raincoat, which saved his wardrobe.
But he'd forgotten his umbrella, and while the rain washed away the bad coffee, he arrived at the school with a soaking wet head. At least it was early enough for him to dash into his office and dry off with the towel he kept in the gym bag he'd stashed there.
Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was because it was Friday, but his students were restless and unfocused. No one in his first European Studies class was prepared for discussion and even when Neal threatened them with a pop quiz, they didn't settle down.
The second and third classes of the morning was a little better, but only marginally so. By the time the bell rang, Neal just dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand, forgoing his usual door-side ritual. His temper was uncertain and it was best not to engage with the kids in this mood. He hoped he'd be in a better frame of mind by the time lunch ended.
But what happened next was so far beyond the realm of petty annoyance and spring fever that Neal still couldn't wrap his brain around it.
He was caught up in a crowd of students – among them, Evan Leary and Chloe Woods – when he spotted Amanda Callaway, carrying, of all things, a bullhorn and a small step ladder.
Callaway climbed to the top step, turned on the bullhorn and spoke. "Charles Woods!"
Neal's heart sank.
Everyone in the hallway stopped moving, but no one seemed to understand what was going on. Neal heard a few of the kids mutter, "Who's Charles Woods?"
"Charles Woods. Stop walking and face me."
Evan grabbed Chloe by the wrist and tried to pull her away, but Chloe turned towards Callaway. Neal could read the fear on her face. But there was courage, too.
"I am not Charles Woods."
"Yes, you are, that's the name on your school records."
"My name was legally changed to Chloe last summer, when I turned sixteen. Your records are out of date." Chloe stared at Callaway.
"The school wasn't notified."
Neal watched the interchange in fascinated horror. So did everyone else; even kids and teachers already in their classrooms had stepped out into the hallway. Callaway was still using the bullhorn.
"I hand-delivered copies to the records office, I suggest you take this up with them." Chloe turned to leave, but Callaway wasn't finished with her.
"You are not excused, Mr. Woods."
"It's Ms. Woods, ma'am."
"No, it's Mr. Woods. You are a boy, despite what you choose to call yourself."
"No, I am not." Neal wanted to applaud when Chloe stuck her chin out and threw back her shoulders.
"Yes, you are – you've got a penis. That makes you a boy, despite whatever sickness is in your head." The words rang through the hallways, but as the echoes from Callaway's augmented voice faded, the hallway was dead quiet. No one said a word, as if they were all frozen in shock.
Chloe stood there, and Neal could see her fighting the tears. She was icy pale behind the blusher and bright lipstick she used.
Neal knew what it was like to be a victim – to be the focus of someone else's need to show their dominance through cruelty, and he was not going to stand by and let anyone do that again. Especially not to a student.
"Principal Callaway, you are out of line." He went up to her and yanked the bullhorn out of her hand. "What you have just done is beyond my comprehension – no educator should ever deliberately humiliate a student. And at Manhattan Prep, we do not equate gender with genitals. All students, however they chose to identify, are to be treated with the same respect and dignity accorded to every other human being. And to accuse a child of mental illness where none exists? How dare you? How dare you?"
Callaway stepped down from her perch and grabbed the bullhorn back from him, but she didn't use it. "For your information, Reese Hughes' precious 'Dignity for All' policy is about to be rescinded. The Board of Governors will be voting on it next month." Callaway marched over to Chloe and wagged a finger in her face. "You, Mr. Woods, will report to classes in the uniform appropriate for your grade and your sex. If you show up in a skirt, you will be expelled. If you use the girls' room, you will be expelled."
Neal stepped between Chloe and Callaway. "No, she will not. Even if – as you say – the 'Dignity for All' policy is up for repeal by the Board, until that happens, it is still in effect. Ms. Woods will continue to dress and use school facilities in accordance with that policy until it is formally rescinded. Any attempt to prevent her from doing so, any attempt to discipline her for doing so, is going to open you – and Manhattan Prep – up to a major lawsuit. And a mass revolt."
Neal turned to Chloe. "Are you okay?"
She whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Caffrey."
"Can you make it through the day or do you want to go home?"
She peered around him, staring at Callaway. "I think I can handle the rest of the day."
Neal nodded. "If you need anything, come find me, okay?"
"Okay, I will."
The bell rang, the sound piercing in the still-shocked silence. Chloe and Evan headed off to the student cafeteria, the rest of the students and teachers jolted into action – either going to class or going to lunch.
Neal didn't move as the bodies flowed around him.
"You've made a big mistake, Mr. Caffrey. You don't want to take me on. Not if you want to keep your job."
Neal turned around. "Are you threatening me, Ms. Callaway?"
"You may be a popular teacher – but even popular teachers have skeletons in the closet. I don't think you'd like yours to see the light of day."
Neal didn't blink. Callaway had to be bluffing. What Vincent had done to him happened in Europe, and there was no way she could possibly know about "Nicole" – which barely rose to the level of an embarrassment, let alone a "skeleton".
"Watch yourself, Mr. Caffrey. I make a powerful enemy."
Callaway marched away. Instead of heading to the teacher's lunchroom, Neal went back to his classroom. He'd get some peace and quiet there.
Except he didn't.
Fifteen minutes after he shut the door behind him and settled down at his desk, someone knocked. Worried that it was Chloe and that she needed him, he got up and opened the door. Only to find the entire Manhattan Prep track team looking at him hopefully. The team captain, Mitch Lewis, had been his student last year. History hadn't been his strong suit, but Neal liked him.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Lewis?"
"Can we come in, sir?"
Neal stepped back and gestured for them to enter. A dozen or so boys crowded through the door. Mitch spoke, "We saw what Principal Callaway did."
Neal wondered where Mitch was heading; the boy seemed nervous.
"I – we – we're really glad that you stood up for Chloe."
Neal breathed a little sigh of relief, but he didn't want this to be about him. "I was only doing what I thought was right."
"I should have said something."
Someone else – Neal didn't know all the kids who were with Mitch, echoed that sentiment and said, "I should have said something, too."
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. "My older brother is like Chloe – only my folks really don't understand him. Her." Mitch shook his head at the gender-pronoun confusion. "And she had a really hard time."
"What happened to her?" Neal was afraid he was going to hear something terrible.
"She ran away. She's in San Francisco now, she works at a law firm and she's saving up for surgery, but she went through a lot of rough stuff. My folks are trying to wrap their heads around her, but it's really difficult for them. I don't care – Rob's my brother – my sister, whatever. She's a good person, she's not sick or mental or anything. It's just who she is."
The kid who chimed in earlier added, "My brother's gay."
One of the other boys said, "I'm gay."
And another added, in a small, quiet voice, "So am I."
Neal swallowed hard, fighting against the tears. This wasn't the time or the place to add his voice to the disclosures; that would dilute the courage these kids were showing.
Mitch, the voice of the team, said, "We wanted to thank you for sticking up for Chloe – and for us, even if you didn't know it."
"Like I said, I was doing what I know is right. And I'd do the same for each of you."
"Thanks, Mr. Caffrey – that really means a lot. But we want to know what we can do, too."
"What do you mean?"
"We want to show everyone that we stand with Chloe. But we're not sure how. We thought maybe you could help."
Neal leaned back against the desk and gave the idea some thought. He had to be careful – whatever the boys did, it couldn't boomerang back at them or at Chloe. Or even worse, give Callaway ammunition. He got a germ of an idea. "What would you think about wearing skirts?"
"Like school uniform skirts?"
Neal nodded.
The boys stepped back and huddled together. Neal could hear them discussing the idea.
Mitch again spoke for the team. "We like it – and we're going to get tee-shirts made too, we'll wear them during training."
"Tee-shirts?"
"Yeah – with something like 'Just because I have a penis doesn't mean I'm a boy'."
Neal laughed, but cautioned them, "Don't go over the top – you don't want to get in trouble. How about 'Genitals don't equal Gender' – with the cool slash through an equals sign? And maybe on the back, 'We stand with Chloe Woods'?"
The boys seemed to like that.
Neal hoped he wasn't digging a hole for himself, but he had to ask, "Can you all afford a uniform skirt?"
The kids looked at each other and gave a collective shrug. Mitch offered, "We'll go up to the big uniform place in the Bronx – I've got my birthday money and I'll help out if anyone can't pay."
Neal pulled out his wallet and handed Mitch a hundred. "Consider this my contribution. You're good kids, and I'm proud of you."
"We're proud of you, Mr. Caffrey. It took guts to stand up to that bit-, excuse me, that witch. I wish Principal Hughes was still headmaster. This wouldn't have happened if he was."
"No, it wouldn't have. But it's important that you show Chloe and the other students that you won't stand for bullying – whether it's by a student or by a teacher."
"Right."
"One more thing – you might want to make sure that Chloe's okay with your plans."
Mitch nodded. "Good idea."
"If you can't find Chloe, look for Evan Leary – they're best friends. You know Evan?"
"I think so – junior, curly hair, kind of a geek?"
"Bingo."
"Cool, I'll check with him – he's got the same lunch period as us."
Mitch held out his hand, and Neal shook it. The other boys did the same and once again, Neal was almost moved to tears. He shooed them out. "Go, and do good."
He had a few more minutes before his students arrived and Neal sent a quick text to Elizabeth, telling her he didn't want to meet for coffee this afternoon, but he'd call her tonight and they could talk about what happened. Neal didn't want to become the rallying point for the large percentage of the faculty who were having trouble with the Callaway administration, but he knew that come Monday, he wasn't going to be able to avoid the blowback. He wanted – no, he needed – the coming weekend to prepare himself for the inevitable.
The bell rang and the students took their seats – Evan and Chloe racing in at the last minute. Almost all of them seemed subdued, and most of them stared at him in awe. Neal wondered just what a mess he might have created.
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
Evan never thought of himself as a crusader, but he wasn't the type of person who could stand by and let his friend – his best friend – get hurt. He couldn't shut Callaway up, he didn't have the faintest clue how to do that, but he could gather evidence. When the headmaster started shouting at Chloe through the bullhorn, he acted on instinct and pulled out his phone to record it. He hoped his hand stayed steady as he zoomed in first on Callaway's ugly face and then on Chloe's. He wanted to cheer when she stood up for herself, telling Callaway just what was what. But when Callaway demanded that Chloe start dressing like a boy and using the boys' facilities because she had a penis, Chloe looked like she was about to shatter, and Evan thought he'd break apart, too.
Then Mr. Caffrey came to the rescue. It was like something out of a superhero movie – the way he stepped in and saved Chloe and everyone.
Evan wasn't sure how he made it through the rest of the day, but he did. Everything seemed kind of surreal. At lunch, he and Chloe were surrounded by a bunch of kids they normally didn’t hang, but they were really interested in Chloe. And Chloe, for her part, didn't get flustered. She was totally confident in a way that Evan had never seen before.
When one of the girls in the group kept staring at her, Chloe stared back before saying, "I'm not an animal on exhibit in a zoo, you know."
"I didn't know you were a boy."
She sighed. "I'm NOT a boy. Just because I have the parts doesn't make me a boy."
"So – it's like you were born in the wrong body?"
Chloe nodded. "Yeah – that's it."
"And your folks are okay with that?"
"My mom's gone – she took a huge chunk of my dad's money and left to find her bliss or whatever. My dad's cool with it. He says a daughter's better than a son any day – something about being more dependable. Maybe he thinks I'll take care of him when he's old and decrepit."
Everyone laughed and Chloe answered a bunch more questions. Some were really rude, but none of them were mean. One of the girls, someone that Evan had always thought was really shallow and full of herself, said, "I love your makeup – I always thought you did your face really great. You've got such a fantastic eye for color."
That was the only comment that really threw his friend, and Chloe blushed when she admitted she practiced a lot and there was a really great bunch of videos she used as tutorials. The conversation turned to fashion and girly stuff and Evan kind of tuned it out. Chloe was good, at least for now.
About five minutes before the bell, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. A senior was standing there, and there was a bunch of guys behind him. Evan vaguely recognized this guy from a few of his elective classes – Mitchell Lewis. A jock, kind of, but not the mean or stupid kind. "Yeah?"
"I need to talk to you – you got a sec?"
The guy didn't seem threatening, nor did the posse backing him up. Evan got up from the table and walked a few feet away, but remained close enough to make sure that if Chloe needed him, he'd be there. "Got a few before the bell rings. What's up?"
"What Callaway did to Chloe was really wack."
Evan nodded. "Yeah. She's a real – " He looked around to make sure no teachers were in earshot. "Bitch."
Mitch and the guys behind him nodded. "We talked to Mr. Caffrey – because he stood up for Chloe – and he gave us an idea. We want to stand up for her, too."
Evan wasn't expecting that. "That's awesome – really."
"Mr. Caffrey suggested that all of us on the track team wear skirts to school. Callaway wouldn't dare kick us out – we're going to the division championships. And we're going to have tee-shirts made, too – 'We Stand With Chloe' or something like that. But we wanted to make sure that Chloe would be cool with that. You two are really tight, so we wanted to ask – do you think she'll be okay with this?"
Evan was pretty sure that Chloe would be more than okay with this show of support, but he'd check with her anyway. "Can I get your number? I'll send you a text if there's a problem."
"Sure." Mitch rattled off a number and Evan put it into his phone. "If I don't hear from you, we're a go for Monday?"
Evan grinned. "Yeah. And thanks."
"No problem. We gotta stand together and do the right thing, right?"
"Right."
The bell rang and Mitch and the track team scattered. The kids at the table with Chloe took off, too. Chloe picked up her bag and joined him, shaking her head. "I'm like the shiny new thing."
"You okay with that?"
"Yeah – it'll blow over. And if worst come to worst and Callaway gets her way, it won't be until next year. My dad will get tutors for me, and I'll home school if I have to."
"I hope you don't have to – I'll miss you."
"Maybe you can do the home schooling with me, too." Chloe bumped her shoulder against his. "You're my best friend and I don't think I'd want to spend a whole year without seeing you every day."
Evan ducked his head, embarrassed. "Me, too."
As they headed to class, she asked, "What did those kids want?"
Evan shrugged and told her. "You cool with that?"
"They'd wear skirts – like a show of solidarity?"
"Yeah. And something about tee shirts, too. You're good?"
Chloe stopped walking, and Evan did, too. "I am. I never wanted to be anything more than a girl. I wanted to fit in, not stand out, not be 'special' or different. But every day I read about other trans kids who are bullied and get kicked out and I know that I'm super lucky. I have my dad, I have you, and until today, I've had this school as a safe place. And maybe this still can be my safe place – if other kids are going to stand up for me. And maybe I can make a difference for those other kids."
"I made a video of what happened." Until this moment, Evan wasn't sure what he was going to do with it. "I can edit it, add subtitles and post it on YouTube. If you want, I'll keep your name off it, but if you think that it's important to be counted, to stand up and do what's right, I'll put your name on it."
"And maybe I can say something at the end?"
"You'd want to do that?"
"Yeah, I think so."
The second bell rang and they bolted for Mr. Caffrey's classroom. They'd talk about this later.
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
To say that Peter was looking forward to spending the weekend with Neal was a huge understatement. He spent much of Saturday morning in Whole Foods, searching for the perfect ingredients. He fussed over the recipes – abandoning one idea after another. One dish was too complicated, another too stinky. Peter wanted to impress, but he didn't want it to seem like he was trying too hard.
Which was ridiculous, since they'd already spent an entire weekend together.
He could just imagine what Clinton and Diana would say if they saw him dithering over melons, rubbing the skins to find a rare ripe one this early in the season, spending a fortune on Parma ham. And let's not mention the wine.
With everything ready, Peter showered and dressed in his usual Saturday night attire – black wool-silk slacks tailored to highlight his ass and his long legs, white French cuffed shirt – open at the collar, and a vest with a patterned silk back. The last was as close as he came to a sartorial affectation. But he knew he looked good in it, and that was all that mattered.
A little past seven-thirty, the doorman called to announce Neal's arrival and Peter waited impatiently for him to arrive, issuing strict orders to himself not to overwhelm the other man as soon as he walked in the door.
If he was in the military, he just might have been court-martialed, because he pulled Neal into his arms and kissed him as if his life depended on the air from his mouth. But Neal was far from unwilling. Whatever he was carrying – and it sounded like a bottle of wine – hit the rug with a definite thunk as he threaded his fingers through Peter's hair. The light scratch of Neal's nails against his scalp was as erotic a sensation as he'd ever felt and all he wanted to do was pull Neal into the bedroom and spend the rest of the night and most of the weekend making love to him.
But he didn't. He managed to gather the frayed fibers of his self-control and slowly broke the kiss.
Neal looked up at him, his pupils dilated, his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed. "Hi, there."
Peter rested his hands against Neal's waist and they were joined at the erection. But he just smiled back and said, "Hi."
Neal licked his lips and Peter groaned. "Do that again and our plans for this evening are cancelled, in favor of sex."
Neal's tongue – just the tip – peeped out and his eyes glowed with mischief, but he didn't rise to Peter's dare. Instead, he carefully extricated himself from Peter's hold and bent to pick up the bottle he had dropped. Peter closed his eyes and prayed to all the saints he never believed in for the strength to resist the power of that perfect ass.
Neal stood up and asked, the picture of innocence, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, just trying to resist temptation. That's all."
Neal chuckled and handed him the wine. "This probably should rest for a few days, given the jostling."
Peter looked at the label and raised an eyebrow; it was a 2007 Brunello, an excellent and pricey vintage. "Yes, this does need to rest. We'll enjoy it another night."
"Good." Neal gave an audible sniff. "Whatever you're cooking smells delicious."
"Chicken Marbella, with an asparagus and mushroom risotto. Since we're going out later, I thought I'd keep the starter simple – melon and prosciutto. But there's a lemon ricotta torte for when we get back."
"You are a man of many talents, Peter."
Peter shrugged at the compliment and retrieved the platter of ham-wrapped melon from the fridge, putting it in front of Neal, along with a small plate and a napkin. "I don't get the chance to cook much, but I enjoy it. I'm not really the creative type – can't sing, can't act, and my artistic talents are rivaled by your average three year old, but the kitchen gives me an outlet." He led Neal into the kitchen. "Can I get you something to go with that?"
Neal smirked as they both remembered the last time Peter offered Neal something.
"No, that's for later. After the dessert."
Neal laughed, the sound ringing through the room. "Okay, if you'll have one with me, I'll have a glass of wine."
"That, I can do." Peter had opened a bottle of Shiraz last night with dinner – it was almost full and fully rested. He poured a glass for Neal and one for himself. "I need to get started on the risotto."
"Go right ahead. Is there anything I can help with?"
"Nope – everything's done but the actual cooking." He had the stock on a light simmer, the mushrooms and asparagus were already cooked and just needed to be added when the rice was ready and there was a dish of grated parmesan waiting. Peter could feel Neal's eyes on him as he measured out the rice and added a finely diced shallot to an oiled pan. Was this how performers felt on stage?
Peter pushed aside the butterflies and made small talk, telling Neal about the acts they were going to see tonight. "But I don't think any of them will hold a candle to Nicole. I told you about her, right? She's the best thing I've seen in a long, long time."
Behind him, he heard Neal choke and start to cough, and he turned around, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine – fine." Neal held up a hand but he was still coughing. Peter handed him a napkin and reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. Neal waved it off as the choking subsided. "Sorry about that, must have swallowed wrong." He smiled but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"Your rice is bubbling."
Peter turned back to the stove, distracted by the risotto, which was just a few seconds from ruin. He kept adding stock until it was tender, taking it off the flame before checking on the chicken, which was finished. He managed to create the pan sauce for the chicken and finish the risotto without ruining either dish. "Shall we?" Peter tilted his head towards the dining room.
Neal took the rice and Peter brought the chicken. A bottle of Barbaresco was open and breathing on the sideboard.
"Shall I pour?"
"Please." Peter took the opportunity to plate the food. The conversation was light as they ate, but he could see that something was troubling Neal. "What's the matter?"
Neal shook his head. "Nothing."
"I know we haven't known each other long, but I can see that something's bothering you." Peter remembered Neal complaining about the administrative politics, and asked, "Did something happen at the school?"
Neal took a sip of wine and swallowed. He looked Peter in the eye and asked, "Were you out in high school?"
Peter shook his head. "No. I didn't fully realize I was gay until I was in college."
"Ah."
"Did a student come out to you?"
"No, I wish it was that simple."
Peter had to chuckle. "How the world has changed, when coming out is a simple thing."
Neal replied with some heat, "No – it's not a simple thing, not even now."
"Sorry – you're right. It isn't. The world – at least here in New York – is a better place for gay adults, but teens still have a lot to deal with. I should know better."
Neal took another sip of his wine. "I'm sorry I snapped but, well, how much to you follow the news about Manhattan Prep?"
"Not as much as I'd like. I read the alumni newsletter and like I said when we had dinner with June, I've turned down a seat on the Board of Governors because I don't have the time."
"So you don't know that a few years ago, Philip Kramer made a very large donation to the school."
"Philip Kramer, conservative douchebag and self-styled five-star general of the culture warriors intent on saving America from homosexuality and other deviant behaviors?"
Neal nodded. "The same."
"Why would he be interested in Manhattan Prep?"
"I'm not really sure – but he's gotten his claws into the school and he's doing his best to destroy it. He was the reason Reese Hughes was forced into retirement. Just before Kramer made his donation, Reese had the Board pass the 'Dignity for All' policy."
Neal looked at him as if he expected Peter to know what that was. "Sorry – I must have missed that edition of the alumni newsletter."
Neal explained, "It's a policy that guarantees equal treatment for all students and provides for accommodations for transgender students. There are strong anti-bullying principles in the policy, too. I think that Kramer was so offended by the idea that an elite private school would not only tolerate, but would protect its gay and transgender students that he decided to try to take over the school. Basically, he bought a seat on the Board of Governors and is now trying to make Manhattan Prep into his version of Liberty University."
Peter was flabbergasted.
But it didn't end there. "He even said, on one of his radio shows, that unless something happens, Manhattan Prep was going to destroy American culture and American values. The school is a stepping stone for future leaders in business and politics and just imagine a future where we have a transgender president." Neal wiped his mouth.
Peter felt just as nauseated. "So he's been using his money to influence the Board?"
"Exactly. The gym gets a planned refurbishment, and copies of Our Bodies, Ourselves disappear from the school library. Classrooms are going to be equipped with digital whiteboards, but the school cuts funding for health education. And that's just for a start."
"That isn't right." Peter felt helpless to say anything more meaningful.
"No, it's not. And you want to really know why I'm upset?"
"As if that's not enough?"
Neal gave him a sour smile. "Yesterday, the new headmaster, Amanda Callaway, stood in the middle of the main hallway just as lunch was about to begin, and started berating a transgender student – with a bullhorn."
"What?" Peter wasn't sure he heard Neal correctly. "She did what with a bullhorn?"
"One of my students has openly identified as female since she was in eighth grade. Her mother is out of the picture, but her father – bless him – has supported Chloe fully. Even though she's too young for hormone treatments, she's been wearing a girl's uniform, and has had full use of the girls' facilities since she was fourteen. Last summer, she legally changed her name from Charles to Chloe. Most of the kids in her class know – but they don't seem to care. The other girls are pretty indifferent to her, and she is to them, too." Neal laughed and shook his head.
"What's so funny?"
"Your new intern, Evan Leary – he's Chloe's best friend. They've been inseparable since seventh grade. I think he's in love with her." Neal gave him a sharp look. "Is that a problem for you?"
"Why? Why would it?"
"Some guys – some gays – are freaked out by trans people and people who love them."
"I'm not." Peter reached for the wine, topping off both glasses. "So, this Callaway – she outed Chloe?"
"More than that – she called her 'Charles' and said that she was a boy – 'despite the sickness in his head' – was how she put it. She demanded that he wear a sex-appropriate school uniform and use the boys' facilities." Neal buried his face in his hands.
"But the policy – the 'Dignity for All' policy that you just told me about. How could she do that?" It was beyond his comprehension that an educator could so abuse a student.
"I told her she couldn't. She said that the policy was going to be rescinded at the next Board of Governors' meeting. God knows what Kramer's promised. But I told Chloe that she was safe, that until the meeting is held – which won't happen until after the end of the school year – nothing had changed. Callaway didn't like that."
"She threatened you?"
Neal shrugged. "She said she was going to start digging for skeletons in my closet. But I don't care. I'll do what Reese did – I'll leave if she and Kramer have their way. I couldn't work in a place where you're only entitled to dignity if you meet someone else's bigoted standards."
"It's not going to come to that."
Neal seemed to think otherwise. "Kramer and his checkbook are very powerful."
"Has he gotten anyone else a seat on the Board?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but that's probably not going to last. People can be induced to leave. A big fat check can go a long way. "
Peter thought about what Neal told him. "You said that the gym was going to be refurbished, that the classrooms will be equipped with digital boards – but this hasn't happened yet?"
"No, not yet. Why?"
"I wonder if Kramer's just farting in the wind, or if he's actually made those donations."
"You think he's been lying?"
"I don't know – but it's worth taking a look at."
"How?"
"Watch and listen." Peter reached for his phone and dialed. The phone rang and someone picked up. "Kyle Bancroft, how are you?"
"Peter Burke? Why are you calling me on a Saturday night? Is everything all right?"
"I'm not sure. I have you on speaker, and I have Neal Caffrey in the room with me."
"Caffrey? The history teacher from Manhattan Prep?"
"Good, you know who he is."
"Of course I do. Why is he with you on a Saturday night? Or shouldn't I ask?"
"We were introduced by an old friend – but that's not relevant. Neal's brought me up to speed on what's been happening with the school."
"Ah – so he told you about Kramer …if only you'd taken the seat on the Board when Woodford stepped down." Bancroft sighed audibly. "But I stopped asking, you were too busy building your business."
"And maybe I shouldn't have been. Is it too late?"
"Actually, no, it's not. That weasel, Haskley, is retiring. Kramer's been pushing his own candidate as a replacement – some rightwing blowhard from Fox – and making not-so-subtle hints about incentives if the Board selects her."
"It seems that some of his incentives are working. Neal's told me that the school's made cuts in health education, removed some 'objectionable' books from the library. And worse – that Reese retired because of pressure from Kramer."
"Yeah – that wasn't our finest hour."
"What are my chances?"
"On your own, as a former student who's made a fortune, and is committed to maintaining the school's legacy, about fifty-fifty."
"And if I write a big fat check, with a lot of zeroes to the left of the decimal point?"
"If I have the check in hand before the next meeting, and I have a chance to work the Board, about ninety-five percent."
Peter caught Neal's eye and smiled, but Neal didn't smile back.
"One more thing, Kyle. The 'Dignity for All' policy. Neal tells me that Callaway says it's up for repeal at the next Board of Governors' meeting."
"What?"
Neal spoke up. "She told a transgender student that she's sick in the head and that she'll be expelled if she doesn't stop wearing skirts and using the girls' bathroom. That she has a penis and that makes her a boy. She said that the policy was being rescinded."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, but Peter could feel Bancroft's rage. Finally, he spoke, "That must be why Andy Woods has been calling me. I was about to return his calls when you rang."
Peter asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Unfortunately, I can’t just fire her on your say-so. I'll have to conduct an investigation. Mr. Caffrey, I'll need a statement from you on Monday morning."
"Certainly. There were a few hundred students and dozens of teachers in the hall when it happened. Callaway used a bullhorn – I'm sure that everyone in the building heard her," Neal added.
"I don't believe this. I had reservations about her – but if this is true – Woods could take us to court and wipe the school off the map."
"Listen, Kyle – that's the least of our worries. I'll bring over the check early next week. And I'll have your promise that Dignity for All is not under review, and will not be raised at the next Board meeting."
"As Chairman of the Board of Governors, I control the agenda. It is not on the agenda, it will never be on the agenda. And I'll put my own pressure on Haskley – get him out before the meeting. You'll be presented as the preferred candidate and seated before the rest of the business is discussed."
Peter sighed, knowing that his well-ordered life had just been upended. He ended the call with Bancroft and looked at Neal, who seemed stunned. Peter smiled and that seemed to coax an answering smile from Neal.
Somehow, everything was going to work out just fine.
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
Neal smiled back at Peter, who was all but glowing with triumph. “I didn’t expect you to rescue me.”
“I’m not – I’m rescuing the school. Manhattan Prep means a lot to me – I’d be a completely different man if it wasn’t for the school.”
“Okay.” That made Neal feel a bit better. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to see him as helpless and unable to fix his own problems. He needed to change the subject. “Do we really have to go out tonight?”
“Do you still want to?”
“Truthfully, no.”
“Do you want to go home?” Now Peter seemed upset.
“No – not at all. I just don’t think I’m up for hitting the clubs.”
Peter nodded. “Neither am I. Hold on.” He pulled out his phone and called someone – this time, he didn’t put the call on speaker. “Diana? You still at loose ends tonight?”
Of course, Neal couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.
“I'm sorry to hear that. My own plans have changed. Amongst other acts, I was supposed to go hear ‘Burgundy Brass’ tonight at Webster Hall. Yes – yes, I know you were pissed that I grabbed the tickets – but now’s your chance. They take the stage at ten, so you have plenty of time to swing by and pick up the tickets.” Peter looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “And yes, you can meet him. But I’ll fire you if you scare him off.”
Neal smiled broadly and mouthed Not possible. Peter smiled back.
“Okay – great. See you in twenty.” Peter hung up. “Diana’s one of my best agents at the firm, she has a great eye for nascent talent.”
Neal wondered if Diana had been in the audience when Nicole sang but wasn't going to ask. “Has she been with you long?”
“About eight years. She was one of the first college interns at Burke Premier and the only one I've ever offered a full-time position to. She’s tough and aggressive and utterly fearless. You'll like her.”
Neal didn't see why he wouldn't, but it was more important that she liked him. He had the feeling that Peter considered his employees his family, and family opinion mattered.
As they cleaned up, the conversation inevitably returned to the events at Manhattan Prep and Peter asked him what the other students thought.
Neal told him about what the track team was doing, and Peter was impressed.
"They sound like good kids."
"They are – but I think the big push came from the team captain. His brother is trans and went through a difficult time. Seeing what Callaway did to Chloe made him angry – and he was ashamed that he hadn't done anything to stop her and protect Chloe. He wanted to make things better."
"Have you thought about media exposure?"
Neal almost dropped the dishes he was carrying. "What?"
"Calling in the local news. This is New York, not Alabama. Public outcry against a principal who bullies and tries to shame a student can go a long way. And with what the track team is doing to support Chloe – this story got Emmy-award winning Human Interest Report written all over it."
"I don't know." Neal put the dishes down and leaned against the counter. "I think you're right about the track team, but I don't know if Chloe would want that. I don't know if I'd want that." He shook his head. "Actually, I know I don't want that."
"We could keep your name out of it."
"No – that's not going to be possible. You're talking about teenagers here – and a lot of them. And teachers. It's inevitable."
"I know you have a past, Neal – if that's what you're worried about…"
"It's not just that. What happened to me, what I did – it was a long time ago and in Europe. I don't think it will come out. I know I might sound like I'm full of myself – but I don't want the story to be about what I did. And I don't think media exposure is good for Chloe. She's had an easier time than most trans kids, but that doesn't mean she can't be hurt. Manhattan Prep is its own little world, you know that."
"I do – but this might be inevitable. Are cellphones banned on campus?"
"No – but kids can't use them … shit." Neal closed his eyes and remembered something. Evan holding his cellphone, pointing it at Callaway. There were other kids, too. And some of the teachers. "It's out there already, isn't it?"
Peter nodded. "I think so. Do you want to check?"
Neal pulled out his own cellphone, which he'd set to mute. There were dozens of messages – texts and alerts and emails – scrolling across the phone's lock screen. "Shit, shit, fuck, shit. Fuck." He dropped into a chair and stared at the phone. Peter sat down next to him.
"What do you want to do?"
"Right now, nothing." Neal shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Tomorrow will come soon enough. And Monday will be hellacious."
"Listen to me, Neal – let me help you get ahead of the story. I have friends in the media. They'll interview you and you can do it anonymously – behind a screen – if you'd prefer and you can explain that you want to remain anonymous because the story isn't about you. You tell the world that you are a teacher and you're only coming forward because you believe that every person, especially a child, is entitled to be treated with dignity."
He sighed. "Okay – but tomorrow. Let's just have tonight? Please?"
Peter put his arm around him, drawing him close. "Of course."
Neal rested his head against that broad chest, listening to that steady heartbeat, and wondered how he got so lucky.
Peter rubbed a soothing hand down his back and they might have sat there forever, but the phone rang.
"That must be Diana." Peter picked up and gave permission to the doorman to send her up. Neal scrubbed at his face and wondered if he could hide in the bathroom until she left.
"Don't be nervous."
"I'm not."
"Liar." Peter smiled and kissed his forehead.
Of course, it was inevitable that the proximity of Peter's lips to his skin made everything bad go away. "How about doing that again – only five inches lower."
Peter laughed. "If I did, I'd never get to the door – or worse, I'd be greeting Diana with a rather unseemly bulge. And just so you know, Diana doesn't like bulges."
"Huh?" Neal was a little confused.
"Sorry – old joke." The doorbell rang, cutting off any explanation Peter was about to give.
Neal fought against the urge to hide as Peter opened the door.
A tall African-American woman with cheekbones like knives entered. "Hey, boss."
"Di – I'd thank you for taking the tickets, but I know I'm really doing you a favor."
She laughed and cast her eyes around the room, zeroing in on Neal. "Of course you are – I'm the one who discovered Burgundy Brass and those tickets should have been mine in the first place."
"Boss' prerogative."
She lightly swatted Peter on his arm and walked over to Neal, hand out-stretched. “You are the reason for my good fortune?”
Neal shrugged. “I guess.”
Peter stood behind Diana and playfully rolled his eyes. “Di – this is Neal Caffrey, Neal – Diana Berrigan.”
Neal took Diana’s hand and wasn’t surprised at the firmness of her grip.
“Let me go get those tickets.” Peter disappeared into another room, leaving him alone with Diana.
Of course, the interrogation began immediately. “You’ve known Peter long?”
“A few weeks. But we have a long-standing connection. June Ellington’s my godmother.” Neal wasn’t sure why he told Diana that.
But it seemed to count for something. Diana relaxed a bit and her smile was a touch less predatory. “So she introduced you?”
“Yeah. You’ve met June?”
“A few times. Peter’s very protective of that relationship, and I’m not allowed – no one’s allowed – to poach from Ellington’s.”
Neal wasn’t sure what that meant, and he didn’t get a chance to ask – but at least he now knew that Diana hadn't seen him perform. Peter came back, holding a small white envelope. “Here you go, and now you can go.”
Diana chuckled. “Eager to get rid of me?”
“Yes.” Peter was blunt as he went to open the door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yes, you will, boss.” She looked over her shoulder at Neal and smirked. “I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ but that’s kind of pointless, given the situation. Have fun, boys.”
Peter locked the door behind her and turned back to Neal with a sheepish grin on his face. "Hope she didn't scare you."
"I have the feeling that I was ninety seconds away from getting the 'if you hurt him, I'll make you regret ever being born' speech."
"Yeah, Diana's a bit protective."
"Why? Did you go through a bad breakup?"
"Nope – like I told you, I haven't really dated in years. She's just a little fierce. It's her nature, I guess. And it's really kind of silly – I can take care of myself."
"Yes – I think you certainly can." Neal went over to Peter and kissed him slowly. "Now, how about taking care of me?"
Peter kissed him back and steered them both towards the bedroom. "Oh, yes, I'm definitely going to take care of you."
END PART FOUR
GO TO PART FIVE
Author:
elrhiarhodanArtist:
kaylashay Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, June Ellington, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Elizabeth Mitchell, Mozzie, Julian Larsen, Garrett Fowler, Reese Hughes, Kyle Bancroft, Evan Leary, Chloe Woods, Amanda Callaway, Phillip Kramer; Peter/Neal, Elizabeth/Mozzie
Word Count: ~56,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Expressions of homophobia, transphobia, past reference to a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Please see more extensive notes in the Master Post on my Journal.
Summary: An alternate universe partially based on the characters and location in "Upper West Side Story", but with a twist - of the "Victor/Victoria" kind. Neal Caffrey teaches European History, but has an interesting and potentially career-damaging gig at his godmother's nightclub. Enter Peter Burke, talent agent and an old friend of June's, who plays the fairy godmother role to the hilt.
Although it was Friday, it wasn't the thirteenth, but the day seemed cursed. No, not seemed. The day was cursed. First Neal overslept – which was his own fault. Talking and sexting with Peter until four AM wasn't exactly a mistake, but it wasn't really the wise thing to do when he had to get up two hours later.
Neal couldn't forgo a shower, which meant he missed the express train, and the local was jammed. A less than smooth stop at 128th Street resulted in an elbow in his kidneys and half a cup of someone else's coffee spilled across his back. At least he was wearing a raincoat, which saved his wardrobe.
But he'd forgotten his umbrella, and while the rain washed away the bad coffee, he arrived at the school with a soaking wet head. At least it was early enough for him to dash into his office and dry off with the towel he kept in the gym bag he'd stashed there.
Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was because it was Friday, but his students were restless and unfocused. No one in his first European Studies class was prepared for discussion and even when Neal threatened them with a pop quiz, they didn't settle down.
The second and third classes of the morning was a little better, but only marginally so. By the time the bell rang, Neal just dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand, forgoing his usual door-side ritual. His temper was uncertain and it was best not to engage with the kids in this mood. He hoped he'd be in a better frame of mind by the time lunch ended.
But what happened next was so far beyond the realm of petty annoyance and spring fever that Neal still couldn't wrap his brain around it.
He was caught up in a crowd of students – among them, Evan Leary and Chloe Woods – when he spotted Amanda Callaway, carrying, of all things, a bullhorn and a small step ladder.
Callaway climbed to the top step, turned on the bullhorn and spoke. "Charles Woods!"
Neal's heart sank.
Everyone in the hallway stopped moving, but no one seemed to understand what was going on. Neal heard a few of the kids mutter, "Who's Charles Woods?"
"Charles Woods. Stop walking and face me."
Evan grabbed Chloe by the wrist and tried to pull her away, but Chloe turned towards Callaway. Neal could read the fear on her face. But there was courage, too.
"I am not Charles Woods."
"Yes, you are, that's the name on your school records."
"My name was legally changed to Chloe last summer, when I turned sixteen. Your records are out of date." Chloe stared at Callaway.
"The school wasn't notified."
Neal watched the interchange in fascinated horror. So did everyone else; even kids and teachers already in their classrooms had stepped out into the hallway. Callaway was still using the bullhorn.
"I hand-delivered copies to the records office, I suggest you take this up with them." Chloe turned to leave, but Callaway wasn't finished with her.
"You are not excused, Mr. Woods."
"It's Ms. Woods, ma'am."
"No, it's Mr. Woods. You are a boy, despite what you choose to call yourself."
"No, I am not." Neal wanted to applaud when Chloe stuck her chin out and threw back her shoulders.
"Yes, you are – you've got a penis. That makes you a boy, despite whatever sickness is in your head." The words rang through the hallways, but as the echoes from Callaway's augmented voice faded, the hallway was dead quiet. No one said a word, as if they were all frozen in shock.
Chloe stood there, and Neal could see her fighting the tears. She was icy pale behind the blusher and bright lipstick she used.
Neal knew what it was like to be a victim – to be the focus of someone else's need to show their dominance through cruelty, and he was not going to stand by and let anyone do that again. Especially not to a student.
"Principal Callaway, you are out of line." He went up to her and yanked the bullhorn out of her hand. "What you have just done is beyond my comprehension – no educator should ever deliberately humiliate a student. And at Manhattan Prep, we do not equate gender with genitals. All students, however they chose to identify, are to be treated with the same respect and dignity accorded to every other human being. And to accuse a child of mental illness where none exists? How dare you? How dare you?"
Callaway stepped down from her perch and grabbed the bullhorn back from him, but she didn't use it. "For your information, Reese Hughes' precious 'Dignity for All' policy is about to be rescinded. The Board of Governors will be voting on it next month." Callaway marched over to Chloe and wagged a finger in her face. "You, Mr. Woods, will report to classes in the uniform appropriate for your grade and your sex. If you show up in a skirt, you will be expelled. If you use the girls' room, you will be expelled."
Neal stepped between Chloe and Callaway. "No, she will not. Even if – as you say – the 'Dignity for All' policy is up for repeal by the Board, until that happens, it is still in effect. Ms. Woods will continue to dress and use school facilities in accordance with that policy until it is formally rescinded. Any attempt to prevent her from doing so, any attempt to discipline her for doing so, is going to open you – and Manhattan Prep – up to a major lawsuit. And a mass revolt."
Neal turned to Chloe. "Are you okay?"
She whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Caffrey."
"Can you make it through the day or do you want to go home?"
She peered around him, staring at Callaway. "I think I can handle the rest of the day."
Neal nodded. "If you need anything, come find me, okay?"
"Okay, I will."
The bell rang, the sound piercing in the still-shocked silence. Chloe and Evan headed off to the student cafeteria, the rest of the students and teachers jolted into action – either going to class or going to lunch.
Neal didn't move as the bodies flowed around him.
"You've made a big mistake, Mr. Caffrey. You don't want to take me on. Not if you want to keep your job."
Neal turned around. "Are you threatening me, Ms. Callaway?"
"You may be a popular teacher – but even popular teachers have skeletons in the closet. I don't think you'd like yours to see the light of day."
Neal didn't blink. Callaway had to be bluffing. What Vincent had done to him happened in Europe, and there was no way she could possibly know about "Nicole" – which barely rose to the level of an embarrassment, let alone a "skeleton".
"Watch yourself, Mr. Caffrey. I make a powerful enemy."
Callaway marched away. Instead of heading to the teacher's lunchroom, Neal went back to his classroom. He'd get some peace and quiet there.
Except he didn't.
Fifteen minutes after he shut the door behind him and settled down at his desk, someone knocked. Worried that it was Chloe and that she needed him, he got up and opened the door. Only to find the entire Manhattan Prep track team looking at him hopefully. The team captain, Mitch Lewis, had been his student last year. History hadn't been his strong suit, but Neal liked him.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Lewis?"
"Can we come in, sir?"
Neal stepped back and gestured for them to enter. A dozen or so boys crowded through the door. Mitch spoke, "We saw what Principal Callaway did."
Neal wondered where Mitch was heading; the boy seemed nervous.
"I – we – we're really glad that you stood up for Chloe."
Neal breathed a little sigh of relief, but he didn't want this to be about him. "I was only doing what I thought was right."
"I should have said something."
Someone else – Neal didn't know all the kids who were with Mitch, echoed that sentiment and said, "I should have said something, too."
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. "My older brother is like Chloe – only my folks really don't understand him. Her." Mitch shook his head at the gender-pronoun confusion. "And she had a really hard time."
"What happened to her?" Neal was afraid he was going to hear something terrible.
"She ran away. She's in San Francisco now, she works at a law firm and she's saving up for surgery, but she went through a lot of rough stuff. My folks are trying to wrap their heads around her, but it's really difficult for them. I don't care – Rob's my brother – my sister, whatever. She's a good person, she's not sick or mental or anything. It's just who she is."
The kid who chimed in earlier added, "My brother's gay."
One of the other boys said, "I'm gay."
And another added, in a small, quiet voice, "So am I."
Neal swallowed hard, fighting against the tears. This wasn't the time or the place to add his voice to the disclosures; that would dilute the courage these kids were showing.
Mitch, the voice of the team, said, "We wanted to thank you for sticking up for Chloe – and for us, even if you didn't know it."
"Like I said, I was doing what I know is right. And I'd do the same for each of you."
"Thanks, Mr. Caffrey – that really means a lot. But we want to know what we can do, too."
"What do you mean?"
"We want to show everyone that we stand with Chloe. But we're not sure how. We thought maybe you could help."
Neal leaned back against the desk and gave the idea some thought. He had to be careful – whatever the boys did, it couldn't boomerang back at them or at Chloe. Or even worse, give Callaway ammunition. He got a germ of an idea. "What would you think about wearing skirts?"
"Like school uniform skirts?"
Neal nodded.
The boys stepped back and huddled together. Neal could hear them discussing the idea.
Mitch again spoke for the team. "We like it – and we're going to get tee-shirts made too, we'll wear them during training."
"Tee-shirts?"
"Yeah – with something like 'Just because I have a penis doesn't mean I'm a boy'."
Neal laughed, but cautioned them, "Don't go over the top – you don't want to get in trouble. How about 'Genitals don't equal Gender' – with the cool slash through an equals sign? And maybe on the back, 'We stand with Chloe Woods'?"
The boys seemed to like that.
Neal hoped he wasn't digging a hole for himself, but he had to ask, "Can you all afford a uniform skirt?"
The kids looked at each other and gave a collective shrug. Mitch offered, "We'll go up to the big uniform place in the Bronx – I've got my birthday money and I'll help out if anyone can't pay."
Neal pulled out his wallet and handed Mitch a hundred. "Consider this my contribution. You're good kids, and I'm proud of you."
"We're proud of you, Mr. Caffrey. It took guts to stand up to that bit-, excuse me, that witch. I wish Principal Hughes was still headmaster. This wouldn't have happened if he was."
"No, it wouldn't have. But it's important that you show Chloe and the other students that you won't stand for bullying – whether it's by a student or by a teacher."
"Right."
"One more thing – you might want to make sure that Chloe's okay with your plans."
Mitch nodded. "Good idea."
"If you can't find Chloe, look for Evan Leary – they're best friends. You know Evan?"
"I think so – junior, curly hair, kind of a geek?"
"Bingo."
"Cool, I'll check with him – he's got the same lunch period as us."
Mitch held out his hand, and Neal shook it. The other boys did the same and once again, Neal was almost moved to tears. He shooed them out. "Go, and do good."
He had a few more minutes before his students arrived and Neal sent a quick text to Elizabeth, telling her he didn't want to meet for coffee this afternoon, but he'd call her tonight and they could talk about what happened. Neal didn't want to become the rallying point for the large percentage of the faculty who were having trouble with the Callaway administration, but he knew that come Monday, he wasn't going to be able to avoid the blowback. He wanted – no, he needed – the coming weekend to prepare himself for the inevitable.
The bell rang and the students took their seats – Evan and Chloe racing in at the last minute. Almost all of them seemed subdued, and most of them stared at him in awe. Neal wondered just what a mess he might have created.
Evan never thought of himself as a crusader, but he wasn't the type of person who could stand by and let his friend – his best friend – get hurt. He couldn't shut Callaway up, he didn't have the faintest clue how to do that, but he could gather evidence. When the headmaster started shouting at Chloe through the bullhorn, he acted on instinct and pulled out his phone to record it. He hoped his hand stayed steady as he zoomed in first on Callaway's ugly face and then on Chloe's. He wanted to cheer when she stood up for herself, telling Callaway just what was what. But when Callaway demanded that Chloe start dressing like a boy and using the boys' facilities because she had a penis, Chloe looked like she was about to shatter, and Evan thought he'd break apart, too.
Then Mr. Caffrey came to the rescue. It was like something out of a superhero movie – the way he stepped in and saved Chloe and everyone.
Evan wasn't sure how he made it through the rest of the day, but he did. Everything seemed kind of surreal. At lunch, he and Chloe were surrounded by a bunch of kids they normally didn’t hang, but they were really interested in Chloe. And Chloe, for her part, didn't get flustered. She was totally confident in a way that Evan had never seen before.
When one of the girls in the group kept staring at her, Chloe stared back before saying, "I'm not an animal on exhibit in a zoo, you know."
"I didn't know you were a boy."
She sighed. "I'm NOT a boy. Just because I have the parts doesn't make me a boy."
"So – it's like you were born in the wrong body?"
Chloe nodded. "Yeah – that's it."
"And your folks are okay with that?"
"My mom's gone – she took a huge chunk of my dad's money and left to find her bliss or whatever. My dad's cool with it. He says a daughter's better than a son any day – something about being more dependable. Maybe he thinks I'll take care of him when he's old and decrepit."
Everyone laughed and Chloe answered a bunch more questions. Some were really rude, but none of them were mean. One of the girls, someone that Evan had always thought was really shallow and full of herself, said, "I love your makeup – I always thought you did your face really great. You've got such a fantastic eye for color."
That was the only comment that really threw his friend, and Chloe blushed when she admitted she practiced a lot and there was a really great bunch of videos she used as tutorials. The conversation turned to fashion and girly stuff and Evan kind of tuned it out. Chloe was good, at least for now.
About five minutes before the bell, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. A senior was standing there, and there was a bunch of guys behind him. Evan vaguely recognized this guy from a few of his elective classes – Mitchell Lewis. A jock, kind of, but not the mean or stupid kind. "Yeah?"
"I need to talk to you – you got a sec?"
The guy didn't seem threatening, nor did the posse backing him up. Evan got up from the table and walked a few feet away, but remained close enough to make sure that if Chloe needed him, he'd be there. "Got a few before the bell rings. What's up?"
"What Callaway did to Chloe was really wack."
Evan nodded. "Yeah. She's a real – " He looked around to make sure no teachers were in earshot. "Bitch."
Mitch and the guys behind him nodded. "We talked to Mr. Caffrey – because he stood up for Chloe – and he gave us an idea. We want to stand up for her, too."
Evan wasn't expecting that. "That's awesome – really."
"Mr. Caffrey suggested that all of us on the track team wear skirts to school. Callaway wouldn't dare kick us out – we're going to the division championships. And we're going to have tee-shirts made, too – 'We Stand With Chloe' or something like that. But we wanted to make sure that Chloe would be cool with that. You two are really tight, so we wanted to ask – do you think she'll be okay with this?"
Evan was pretty sure that Chloe would be more than okay with this show of support, but he'd check with her anyway. "Can I get your number? I'll send you a text if there's a problem."
"Sure." Mitch rattled off a number and Evan put it into his phone. "If I don't hear from you, we're a go for Monday?"
Evan grinned. "Yeah. And thanks."
"No problem. We gotta stand together and do the right thing, right?"
"Right."
The bell rang and Mitch and the track team scattered. The kids at the table with Chloe took off, too. Chloe picked up her bag and joined him, shaking her head. "I'm like the shiny new thing."
"You okay with that?"
"Yeah – it'll blow over. And if worst come to worst and Callaway gets her way, it won't be until next year. My dad will get tutors for me, and I'll home school if I have to."
"I hope you don't have to – I'll miss you."
"Maybe you can do the home schooling with me, too." Chloe bumped her shoulder against his. "You're my best friend and I don't think I'd want to spend a whole year without seeing you every day."
Evan ducked his head, embarrassed. "Me, too."
As they headed to class, she asked, "What did those kids want?"
Evan shrugged and told her. "You cool with that?"
"They'd wear skirts – like a show of solidarity?"
"Yeah. And something about tee shirts, too. You're good?"
Chloe stopped walking, and Evan did, too. "I am. I never wanted to be anything more than a girl. I wanted to fit in, not stand out, not be 'special' or different. But every day I read about other trans kids who are bullied and get kicked out and I know that I'm super lucky. I have my dad, I have you, and until today, I've had this school as a safe place. And maybe this still can be my safe place – if other kids are going to stand up for me. And maybe I can make a difference for those other kids."
"I made a video of what happened." Until this moment, Evan wasn't sure what he was going to do with it. "I can edit it, add subtitles and post it on YouTube. If you want, I'll keep your name off it, but if you think that it's important to be counted, to stand up and do what's right, I'll put your name on it."
"And maybe I can say something at the end?"
"You'd want to do that?"
"Yeah, I think so."
The second bell rang and they bolted for Mr. Caffrey's classroom. They'd talk about this later.
To say that Peter was looking forward to spending the weekend with Neal was a huge understatement. He spent much of Saturday morning in Whole Foods, searching for the perfect ingredients. He fussed over the recipes – abandoning one idea after another. One dish was too complicated, another too stinky. Peter wanted to impress, but he didn't want it to seem like he was trying too hard.
Which was ridiculous, since they'd already spent an entire weekend together.
He could just imagine what Clinton and Diana would say if they saw him dithering over melons, rubbing the skins to find a rare ripe one this early in the season, spending a fortune on Parma ham. And let's not mention the wine.
With everything ready, Peter showered and dressed in his usual Saturday night attire – black wool-silk slacks tailored to highlight his ass and his long legs, white French cuffed shirt – open at the collar, and a vest with a patterned silk back. The last was as close as he came to a sartorial affectation. But he knew he looked good in it, and that was all that mattered.
A little past seven-thirty, the doorman called to announce Neal's arrival and Peter waited impatiently for him to arrive, issuing strict orders to himself not to overwhelm the other man as soon as he walked in the door.
If he was in the military, he just might have been court-martialed, because he pulled Neal into his arms and kissed him as if his life depended on the air from his mouth. But Neal was far from unwilling. Whatever he was carrying – and it sounded like a bottle of wine – hit the rug with a definite thunk as he threaded his fingers through Peter's hair. The light scratch of Neal's nails against his scalp was as erotic a sensation as he'd ever felt and all he wanted to do was pull Neal into the bedroom and spend the rest of the night and most of the weekend making love to him.
But he didn't. He managed to gather the frayed fibers of his self-control and slowly broke the kiss.
Neal looked up at him, his pupils dilated, his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed. "Hi, there."
Peter rested his hands against Neal's waist and they were joined at the erection. But he just smiled back and said, "Hi."
Neal licked his lips and Peter groaned. "Do that again and our plans for this evening are cancelled, in favor of sex."
Neal's tongue – just the tip – peeped out and his eyes glowed with mischief, but he didn't rise to Peter's dare. Instead, he carefully extricated himself from Peter's hold and bent to pick up the bottle he had dropped. Peter closed his eyes and prayed to all the saints he never believed in for the strength to resist the power of that perfect ass.
Neal stood up and asked, the picture of innocence, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, just trying to resist temptation. That's all."
Neal chuckled and handed him the wine. "This probably should rest for a few days, given the jostling."
Peter looked at the label and raised an eyebrow; it was a 2007 Brunello, an excellent and pricey vintage. "Yes, this does need to rest. We'll enjoy it another night."
"Good." Neal gave an audible sniff. "Whatever you're cooking smells delicious."
"Chicken Marbella, with an asparagus and mushroom risotto. Since we're going out later, I thought I'd keep the starter simple – melon and prosciutto. But there's a lemon ricotta torte for when we get back."
"You are a man of many talents, Peter."
Peter shrugged at the compliment and retrieved the platter of ham-wrapped melon from the fridge, putting it in front of Neal, along with a small plate and a napkin. "I don't get the chance to cook much, but I enjoy it. I'm not really the creative type – can't sing, can't act, and my artistic talents are rivaled by your average three year old, but the kitchen gives me an outlet." He led Neal into the kitchen. "Can I get you something to go with that?"
Neal smirked as they both remembered the last time Peter offered Neal something.
"No, that's for later. After the dessert."
Neal laughed, the sound ringing through the room. "Okay, if you'll have one with me, I'll have a glass of wine."
"That, I can do." Peter had opened a bottle of Shiraz last night with dinner – it was almost full and fully rested. He poured a glass for Neal and one for himself. "I need to get started on the risotto."
"Go right ahead. Is there anything I can help with?"
"Nope – everything's done but the actual cooking." He had the stock on a light simmer, the mushrooms and asparagus were already cooked and just needed to be added when the rice was ready and there was a dish of grated parmesan waiting. Peter could feel Neal's eyes on him as he measured out the rice and added a finely diced shallot to an oiled pan. Was this how performers felt on stage?
Peter pushed aside the butterflies and made small talk, telling Neal about the acts they were going to see tonight. "But I don't think any of them will hold a candle to Nicole. I told you about her, right? She's the best thing I've seen in a long, long time."
Behind him, he heard Neal choke and start to cough, and he turned around, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine – fine." Neal held up a hand but he was still coughing. Peter handed him a napkin and reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. Neal waved it off as the choking subsided. "Sorry about that, must have swallowed wrong." He smiled but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"Your rice is bubbling."
Peter turned back to the stove, distracted by the risotto, which was just a few seconds from ruin. He kept adding stock until it was tender, taking it off the flame before checking on the chicken, which was finished. He managed to create the pan sauce for the chicken and finish the risotto without ruining either dish. "Shall we?" Peter tilted his head towards the dining room.
Neal took the rice and Peter brought the chicken. A bottle of Barbaresco was open and breathing on the sideboard.
"Shall I pour?"
"Please." Peter took the opportunity to plate the food. The conversation was light as they ate, but he could see that something was troubling Neal. "What's the matter?"
Neal shook his head. "Nothing."
"I know we haven't known each other long, but I can see that something's bothering you." Peter remembered Neal complaining about the administrative politics, and asked, "Did something happen at the school?"
Neal took a sip of wine and swallowed. He looked Peter in the eye and asked, "Were you out in high school?"
Peter shook his head. "No. I didn't fully realize I was gay until I was in college."
"Ah."
"Did a student come out to you?"
"No, I wish it was that simple."
Peter had to chuckle. "How the world has changed, when coming out is a simple thing."
Neal replied with some heat, "No – it's not a simple thing, not even now."
"Sorry – you're right. It isn't. The world – at least here in New York – is a better place for gay adults, but teens still have a lot to deal with. I should know better."
Neal took another sip of his wine. "I'm sorry I snapped but, well, how much to you follow the news about Manhattan Prep?"
"Not as much as I'd like. I read the alumni newsletter and like I said when we had dinner with June, I've turned down a seat on the Board of Governors because I don't have the time."
"So you don't know that a few years ago, Philip Kramer made a very large donation to the school."
"Philip Kramer, conservative douchebag and self-styled five-star general of the culture warriors intent on saving America from homosexuality and other deviant behaviors?"
Neal nodded. "The same."
"Why would he be interested in Manhattan Prep?"
"I'm not really sure – but he's gotten his claws into the school and he's doing his best to destroy it. He was the reason Reese Hughes was forced into retirement. Just before Kramer made his donation, Reese had the Board pass the 'Dignity for All' policy."
Neal looked at him as if he expected Peter to know what that was. "Sorry – I must have missed that edition of the alumni newsletter."
Neal explained, "It's a policy that guarantees equal treatment for all students and provides for accommodations for transgender students. There are strong anti-bullying principles in the policy, too. I think that Kramer was so offended by the idea that an elite private school would not only tolerate, but would protect its gay and transgender students that he decided to try to take over the school. Basically, he bought a seat on the Board of Governors and is now trying to make Manhattan Prep into his version of Liberty University."
Peter was flabbergasted.
But it didn't end there. "He even said, on one of his radio shows, that unless something happens, Manhattan Prep was going to destroy American culture and American values. The school is a stepping stone for future leaders in business and politics and just imagine a future where we have a transgender president." Neal wiped his mouth.
Peter felt just as nauseated. "So he's been using his money to influence the Board?"
"Exactly. The gym gets a planned refurbishment, and copies of Our Bodies, Ourselves disappear from the school library. Classrooms are going to be equipped with digital whiteboards, but the school cuts funding for health education. And that's just for a start."
"That isn't right." Peter felt helpless to say anything more meaningful.
"No, it's not. And you want to really know why I'm upset?"
"As if that's not enough?"
Neal gave him a sour smile. "Yesterday, the new headmaster, Amanda Callaway, stood in the middle of the main hallway just as lunch was about to begin, and started berating a transgender student – with a bullhorn."
"What?" Peter wasn't sure he heard Neal correctly. "She did what with a bullhorn?"
"One of my students has openly identified as female since she was in eighth grade. Her mother is out of the picture, but her father – bless him – has supported Chloe fully. Even though she's too young for hormone treatments, she's been wearing a girl's uniform, and has had full use of the girls' facilities since she was fourteen. Last summer, she legally changed her name from Charles to Chloe. Most of the kids in her class know – but they don't seem to care. The other girls are pretty indifferent to her, and she is to them, too." Neal laughed and shook his head.
"What's so funny?"
"Your new intern, Evan Leary – he's Chloe's best friend. They've been inseparable since seventh grade. I think he's in love with her." Neal gave him a sharp look. "Is that a problem for you?"
"Why? Why would it?"
"Some guys – some gays – are freaked out by trans people and people who love them."
"I'm not." Peter reached for the wine, topping off both glasses. "So, this Callaway – she outed Chloe?"
"More than that – she called her 'Charles' and said that she was a boy – 'despite the sickness in his head' – was how she put it. She demanded that he wear a sex-appropriate school uniform and use the boys' facilities." Neal buried his face in his hands.
"But the policy – the 'Dignity for All' policy that you just told me about. How could she do that?" It was beyond his comprehension that an educator could so abuse a student.
"I told her she couldn't. She said that the policy was going to be rescinded at the next Board of Governors' meeting. God knows what Kramer's promised. But I told Chloe that she was safe, that until the meeting is held – which won't happen until after the end of the school year – nothing had changed. Callaway didn't like that."
"She threatened you?"
Neal shrugged. "She said she was going to start digging for skeletons in my closet. But I don't care. I'll do what Reese did – I'll leave if she and Kramer have their way. I couldn't work in a place where you're only entitled to dignity if you meet someone else's bigoted standards."
"It's not going to come to that."
Neal seemed to think otherwise. "Kramer and his checkbook are very powerful."
"Has he gotten anyone else a seat on the Board?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but that's probably not going to last. People can be induced to leave. A big fat check can go a long way. "
Peter thought about what Neal told him. "You said that the gym was going to be refurbished, that the classrooms will be equipped with digital boards – but this hasn't happened yet?"
"No, not yet. Why?"
"I wonder if Kramer's just farting in the wind, or if he's actually made those donations."
"You think he's been lying?"
"I don't know – but it's worth taking a look at."
"How?"
"Watch and listen." Peter reached for his phone and dialed. The phone rang and someone picked up. "Kyle Bancroft, how are you?"
"Peter Burke? Why are you calling me on a Saturday night? Is everything all right?"
"I'm not sure. I have you on speaker, and I have Neal Caffrey in the room with me."
"Caffrey? The history teacher from Manhattan Prep?"
"Good, you know who he is."
"Of course I do. Why is he with you on a Saturday night? Or shouldn't I ask?"
"We were introduced by an old friend – but that's not relevant. Neal's brought me up to speed on what's been happening with the school."
"Ah – so he told you about Kramer …if only you'd taken the seat on the Board when Woodford stepped down." Bancroft sighed audibly. "But I stopped asking, you were too busy building your business."
"And maybe I shouldn't have been. Is it too late?"
"Actually, no, it's not. That weasel, Haskley, is retiring. Kramer's been pushing his own candidate as a replacement – some rightwing blowhard from Fox – and making not-so-subtle hints about incentives if the Board selects her."
"It seems that some of his incentives are working. Neal's told me that the school's made cuts in health education, removed some 'objectionable' books from the library. And worse – that Reese retired because of pressure from Kramer."
"Yeah – that wasn't our finest hour."
"What are my chances?"
"On your own, as a former student who's made a fortune, and is committed to maintaining the school's legacy, about fifty-fifty."
"And if I write a big fat check, with a lot of zeroes to the left of the decimal point?"
"If I have the check in hand before the next meeting, and I have a chance to work the Board, about ninety-five percent."
Peter caught Neal's eye and smiled, but Neal didn't smile back.
"One more thing, Kyle. The 'Dignity for All' policy. Neal tells me that Callaway says it's up for repeal at the next Board of Governors' meeting."
"What?"
Neal spoke up. "She told a transgender student that she's sick in the head and that she'll be expelled if she doesn't stop wearing skirts and using the girls' bathroom. That she has a penis and that makes her a boy. She said that the policy was being rescinded."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, but Peter could feel Bancroft's rage. Finally, he spoke, "That must be why Andy Woods has been calling me. I was about to return his calls when you rang."
Peter asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Unfortunately, I can’t just fire her on your say-so. I'll have to conduct an investigation. Mr. Caffrey, I'll need a statement from you on Monday morning."
"Certainly. There were a few hundred students and dozens of teachers in the hall when it happened. Callaway used a bullhorn – I'm sure that everyone in the building heard her," Neal added.
"I don't believe this. I had reservations about her – but if this is true – Woods could take us to court and wipe the school off the map."
"Listen, Kyle – that's the least of our worries. I'll bring over the check early next week. And I'll have your promise that Dignity for All is not under review, and will not be raised at the next Board meeting."
"As Chairman of the Board of Governors, I control the agenda. It is not on the agenda, it will never be on the agenda. And I'll put my own pressure on Haskley – get him out before the meeting. You'll be presented as the preferred candidate and seated before the rest of the business is discussed."
Peter sighed, knowing that his well-ordered life had just been upended. He ended the call with Bancroft and looked at Neal, who seemed stunned. Peter smiled and that seemed to coax an answering smile from Neal.
Somehow, everything was going to work out just fine.
Neal smiled back at Peter, who was all but glowing with triumph. “I didn’t expect you to rescue me.”
“I’m not – I’m rescuing the school. Manhattan Prep means a lot to me – I’d be a completely different man if it wasn’t for the school.”
“Okay.” That made Neal feel a bit better. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to see him as helpless and unable to fix his own problems. He needed to change the subject. “Do we really have to go out tonight?”
“Do you still want to?”
“Truthfully, no.”
“Do you want to go home?” Now Peter seemed upset.
“No – not at all. I just don’t think I’m up for hitting the clubs.”
Peter nodded. “Neither am I. Hold on.” He pulled out his phone and called someone – this time, he didn’t put the call on speaker. “Diana? You still at loose ends tonight?”
Of course, Neal couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.
“I'm sorry to hear that. My own plans have changed. Amongst other acts, I was supposed to go hear ‘Burgundy Brass’ tonight at Webster Hall. Yes – yes, I know you were pissed that I grabbed the tickets – but now’s your chance. They take the stage at ten, so you have plenty of time to swing by and pick up the tickets.” Peter looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “And yes, you can meet him. But I’ll fire you if you scare him off.”
Neal smiled broadly and mouthed Not possible. Peter smiled back.
“Okay – great. See you in twenty.” Peter hung up. “Diana’s one of my best agents at the firm, she has a great eye for nascent talent.”
Neal wondered if Diana had been in the audience when Nicole sang but wasn't going to ask. “Has she been with you long?”
“About eight years. She was one of the first college interns at Burke Premier and the only one I've ever offered a full-time position to. She’s tough and aggressive and utterly fearless. You'll like her.”
Neal didn't see why he wouldn't, but it was more important that she liked him. He had the feeling that Peter considered his employees his family, and family opinion mattered.
As they cleaned up, the conversation inevitably returned to the events at Manhattan Prep and Peter asked him what the other students thought.
Neal told him about what the track team was doing, and Peter was impressed.
"They sound like good kids."
"They are – but I think the big push came from the team captain. His brother is trans and went through a difficult time. Seeing what Callaway did to Chloe made him angry – and he was ashamed that he hadn't done anything to stop her and protect Chloe. He wanted to make things better."
"Have you thought about media exposure?"
Neal almost dropped the dishes he was carrying. "What?"
"Calling in the local news. This is New York, not Alabama. Public outcry against a principal who bullies and tries to shame a student can go a long way. And with what the track team is doing to support Chloe – this story got Emmy-award winning Human Interest Report written all over it."
"I don't know." Neal put the dishes down and leaned against the counter. "I think you're right about the track team, but I don't know if Chloe would want that. I don't know if I'd want that." He shook his head. "Actually, I know I don't want that."
"We could keep your name out of it."
"No – that's not going to be possible. You're talking about teenagers here – and a lot of them. And teachers. It's inevitable."
"I know you have a past, Neal – if that's what you're worried about…"
"It's not just that. What happened to me, what I did – it was a long time ago and in Europe. I don't think it will come out. I know I might sound like I'm full of myself – but I don't want the story to be about what I did. And I don't think media exposure is good for Chloe. She's had an easier time than most trans kids, but that doesn't mean she can't be hurt. Manhattan Prep is its own little world, you know that."
"I do – but this might be inevitable. Are cellphones banned on campus?"
"No – but kids can't use them … shit." Neal closed his eyes and remembered something. Evan holding his cellphone, pointing it at Callaway. There were other kids, too. And some of the teachers. "It's out there already, isn't it?"
Peter nodded. "I think so. Do you want to check?"
Neal pulled out his own cellphone, which he'd set to mute. There were dozens of messages – texts and alerts and emails – scrolling across the phone's lock screen. "Shit, shit, fuck, shit. Fuck." He dropped into a chair and stared at the phone. Peter sat down next to him.
"What do you want to do?"
"Right now, nothing." Neal shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Tomorrow will come soon enough. And Monday will be hellacious."
"Listen to me, Neal – let me help you get ahead of the story. I have friends in the media. They'll interview you and you can do it anonymously – behind a screen – if you'd prefer and you can explain that you want to remain anonymous because the story isn't about you. You tell the world that you are a teacher and you're only coming forward because you believe that every person, especially a child, is entitled to be treated with dignity."
He sighed. "Okay – but tomorrow. Let's just have tonight? Please?"
Peter put his arm around him, drawing him close. "Of course."
Neal rested his head against that broad chest, listening to that steady heartbeat, and wondered how he got so lucky.
Peter rubbed a soothing hand down his back and they might have sat there forever, but the phone rang.
"That must be Diana." Peter picked up and gave permission to the doorman to send her up. Neal scrubbed at his face and wondered if he could hide in the bathroom until she left.
"Don't be nervous."
"I'm not."
"Liar." Peter smiled and kissed his forehead.
Of course, it was inevitable that the proximity of Peter's lips to his skin made everything bad go away. "How about doing that again – only five inches lower."
Peter laughed. "If I did, I'd never get to the door – or worse, I'd be greeting Diana with a rather unseemly bulge. And just so you know, Diana doesn't like bulges."
"Huh?" Neal was a little confused.
"Sorry – old joke." The doorbell rang, cutting off any explanation Peter was about to give.
Neal fought against the urge to hide as Peter opened the door.
A tall African-American woman with cheekbones like knives entered. "Hey, boss."
"Di – I'd thank you for taking the tickets, but I know I'm really doing you a favor."
She laughed and cast her eyes around the room, zeroing in on Neal. "Of course you are – I'm the one who discovered Burgundy Brass and those tickets should have been mine in the first place."
"Boss' prerogative."
She lightly swatted Peter on his arm and walked over to Neal, hand out-stretched. “You are the reason for my good fortune?”
Neal shrugged. “I guess.”
Peter stood behind Diana and playfully rolled his eyes. “Di – this is Neal Caffrey, Neal – Diana Berrigan.”
Neal took Diana’s hand and wasn’t surprised at the firmness of her grip.
“Let me go get those tickets.” Peter disappeared into another room, leaving him alone with Diana.
Of course, the interrogation began immediately. “You’ve known Peter long?”
“A few weeks. But we have a long-standing connection. June Ellington’s my godmother.” Neal wasn’t sure why he told Diana that.
But it seemed to count for something. Diana relaxed a bit and her smile was a touch less predatory. “So she introduced you?”
“Yeah. You’ve met June?”
“A few times. Peter’s very protective of that relationship, and I’m not allowed – no one’s allowed – to poach from Ellington’s.”
Neal wasn’t sure what that meant, and he didn’t get a chance to ask – but at least he now knew that Diana hadn't seen him perform. Peter came back, holding a small white envelope. “Here you go, and now you can go.”
Diana chuckled. “Eager to get rid of me?”
“Yes.” Peter was blunt as he went to open the door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yes, you will, boss.” She looked over her shoulder at Neal and smirked. “I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ but that’s kind of pointless, given the situation. Have fun, boys.”
Peter locked the door behind her and turned back to Neal with a sheepish grin on his face. "Hope she didn't scare you."
"I have the feeling that I was ninety seconds away from getting the 'if you hurt him, I'll make you regret ever being born' speech."
"Yeah, Diana's a bit protective."
"Why? Did you go through a bad breakup?"
"Nope – like I told you, I haven't really dated in years. She's just a little fierce. It's her nature, I guess. And it's really kind of silly – I can take care of myself."
"Yes – I think you certainly can." Neal went over to Peter and kissed him slowly. "Now, how about taking care of me?"
Peter kissed him back and steered them both towards the bedroom. "Oh, yes, I'm definitely going to take care of you."
GO TO PART FIVE
Tags:
- character: bancroft,
- character: clinton jones,
- character: daniel picah,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: garrett fowler,
- character: june ellington,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: peter burke,
- character: philip kramer,
- genre: abuse,
- genre: alternative universe,
- genre: angst,
- genre: badassery,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- genre: friendship,
- genre: hurt/comfort,
- genre: romance,
- genre: ust,
- kink: oral sex,
- pairing: elizabeth/mozzie,
- pairing: neal/adler,
- pairing: peter/neal,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- wc verse: torch song,
- written for: wcrbb,
- year: 2015
