Written for the prompt: Post Vital Signs: Peter carrying Neal. Over the shoulder would be best, but any way you want. Bonus if he's taking him somewhere to punish him for something he's done! Struggling Neal would be awesome, too!
Peter debated his options. Neal was still singing to himself, securely strapped into the passenger seat next to him. The office was clearly out. That left June's or his place.
"This torment won't be through, till you let me spend my life making love to you," Neal warbled, flailing a bit as he tried to grab at Peter's hand.
Peter groaned. There was no way he could subject anyone else to this. Neal needed someone with him and that wasn't June's responsibility. He continued on home, his private concert continuing the whole time.
He parked and went around to Neal's side. "All right, Caffrey, come on," he prodded, but Neal just kept singing. Peter leaned down, unclipped the seat belt and grabbed Neal's shoulder. "It's time to move, Neal," he said firmly.
Now Neal tried to lurch out of the car. Peter caught him and helped him out, but Neal couldn't keep his feet.
"All right, steady," Peter said, bending his knees and swooping Neal over his shoulder in a fireman's hold.
"Hey," Neal said, his voice muffled by Peter's coat. He beat at Peter's back and started wobbling around.
"Careful," Peter warned, trying to balance him. "You can't walk yet, Neal. I'm just trying to - Hey!" he said, startled, as Neal gave one big push. "Stop that," he scolded and gave into instinct: he landed a sharp smack to Neal's ass.
Neal froze and then relaxed into Peter's shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Peter raised his eyebrow, somewhat impressed. That could be worth knowing.
He carried the now compliant Neal up the front walk and let them in. "El?" he called, on his way into the living room. "I need you!"
***
"That was fun," Neal said, flipping his toy badge around his fingers and grinning at Peter. "I don't know how you'll make that stick, but that was creative." His tone implied that it was also the best thing ever.
"Some of it was fun," Peter allowed, as he drove them home. "Some of it wasn't."
Neal shot him a look out the corner of his eye. "It was a perfect ending for a case of charades."
"I wasn't talking about the ending," Peter said. "I was talking about you almost getting yourself killed."
"I think that's overstating it," Neal said.
"I disagree," Peter said. "I think it was the stupidest thing I've seen you do, and you've done some royally stupid things in the past."
"Peter," Neal started.
"I don't want to hear it," Peter said, cutting him off. "We're here."
Neal looked out the window. "It's your place."
"Yup," Peter agreed. "Out."
He met Neal on the sidewalk.
"Why are we here?" Neal asked.
"El's out," Peter said. "We need to get some things straight." He pressed his hand low against Neal's back, just above his ass. "Go."
"But," Neal began.
"I will carry you in again, if you like," Peter said. He slid his hand just a tiny bit lower. "I suggest you walk, though." He made his voice firm and Neal immediately headed up the walkway.
Peter pointed him into the living room.
"Do you remember what happened while you were drugged?"
"Some," Neal said, guardedly.
"Do you remember saying that you trust me?" Peter asked.
"Yes," Neal admitted.
"Do you remember my taking you here, me and El taking care of you?" Peter continued.
"Well, yes," Neal said. "I woke up here."
"I need you to keep both of those things in mind," Peter said. "I want to trust you, Neal. If you keep pulling stunts like this, I won't be able to trust you anymore. There are only so many ways I can officially reprimand you and I don't think any of them mean anything to you."
"Prison does," Neal interrupted.
"That's the extreme," Peter said. "If I keep threatening you with that and don't follow through, it will be meaningless. We both know I don't want you in prison any more than you want to be there. I need something that I can follow through on."
"I don't understand," Neal said, shaking his head. "Why?"
"Because there are only a handful of people I'd risk my job for, and you're apparently one of them," Peter said. "God help me, but you are. I need you safe and working clean and if that means taking you in hand myself, I will."
"In hand?" Neal repeated. "Peter, I-" he started, but Peter ignored him.
"I think I figured out what we need to do when I was bringing you back here. Remember the walk into the house?"
"I really don't think - " Neal tried again.
"Yes or no?" Peter barked.
"Yes!" Neal said.
"Then remember that you trust me and that I've taken care of you," Peter said, sitting on the couch across from him. "And come here."
They stared at each other.
Neal swallowed. "I am sorry about you having to get that tape."
"Good. Come here."
Neal opened his mouth, but Peter didn't let him start. "I said, come here. Now," he ordered.
Neal dragged himself to his feet and crossed the room. Peter tugged him down over his lap, and Neal let him.
"This is the new routine," Peter said. "You're pretty clear on the rules and what I'm really not going to like you doing. When you do them anyway, you end up right here. Understand?"
Neal nodded, silently, and grabbed the edges of the couch cushions.
Peter wasted no time, landing the first spank as soon as Neal consented. He kept up a steady stream of smacks, alternating sides until Neal finally started to sound through the pain. He delivered the last few with a little more force and rested his hands on Neal's back. Neal was breathing hard but relaxed as Peter made small, soothing strokes just above his waistband.
Neal rolled himself up and gently lowered himself onto the couch next to Peter. "I, uh," he began awkwardly.
"You acted like an idiot and scared the hell out of my wife," Peter said. "Don't do it again."
Neal offered a salute and a wry grin. "Yes, sir."
"I've got to get some work done, but I'm not kicking you out," Peter said. "Just make yourself comfortable; El will be home soon." He hesitated and touched Neal's shoulder lightly before heading out to the kitchen.
***
A few hours later, Elizabeth peeked into the living room. Neal was still on the couch, face down, fast asleep. She grinned as she walked over.
"Hey," Elizabeth said softly, shaking Neal's shoulder gently.
"Hi," he said, blinking at her. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and winced immediately.
"Aww, are you all right?" she asked, sympathetically.
Neal gave her a smile that only had a hint of pathetic in it. "I'm fine."
"Good." She crouched down next to the couch and looked him straight in the eye. "Do that again, and after Peter's done with you, it'll be my turn with my hairbrush."
Neal's mouth dropped open as she stood and touched his hair lightly. "Now clean up, dinner's ready."
Neal shook his head as he followed her out. He had a feeling the next few years were going to be very different.
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