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“ Rob, let him help you with this,” Neal said. Begged.
“He’s a cop.”
“Well, he’s a fed, not a cop, but he’s also a good man, Rob.” Besides, if the teenage vigilante didn’t trust somebody, very soon he wouldn’t be able to trust or distrust anyone ever again.
Said teenage vigilante bit his lip. It spoke volumes that he hadn’t already run, discounting Neal’s suggestions outright.
“ Okay, he’s an FBI agent. That’s still a valid reason to avoid him. I think years of violent crime carries a harsher sentence than forgery.”
“You’re a minor-”
“Only just-” Rob interrupted.
“So Peter’s not going to go after you. He’s got morals, Rob.” Neal finished.
Rob pouted. Score one for Neal.
Well, shit. For now. That look on Rob’s face never brought good news.
“Okay, so I’m a minor, and you’re a felon on a work release. What’s stopping him from calling social services on me?”
“For you.”
“For me. Just as bad.”
“You’ve got a legal guardian. That’s something. And there’s no reason for us to bring any of that up.”
“That’s your solution? Hope he doesn’t mention it, and if he does, just tell him all about the guy I ran away from who doesn’t even live in the state? Whose identity you don’t know and I won’t tell him?”
“He’s not gonna call social services on you, Rob.”
“Haha, you said call them ‘on’ me that time!”
Neal hit him with a deadpan stare. They usual did a good job of getting his points across. God, there was a reason he never had kids. Sure, the reason was mostly ‘international life of crime’, but. All kids become teenagers, and all teenagers become little shits.
“He can help.”
“That’s not a great follow up argument, old man.”
“I’m barely thirty.”
“You’re older than my guardian.”
Neal was older than Batman. Well, that was- Huh. Completely besides the point, is was it was. He sighed.
“And doesn’t that guardian of yours work with the police?”
“What makes you think I want to do anything the way he does it?”
“Rob.”
“Neal.”
They both glared at each other.
“Just-” Neal took a deep, placating breath, and held his hands up in surrender. “Just talk to him. For me?”
Rob stopped glaring, but didn’t look away. Didn’t blink, even. Neal secretly added ‘not blinking’ to his mental list of ‘weird things Rob inherited from his not-dad dad’. It was a long list.
Finally, the kid looked away.
“Fine. Fine. For you and those damn puppy-dog eyes. You can set up a meet.”
“This isn’t a drug deal, you know.” Neal laughed. Score two for Neal Caffrey.
There was a knock at the door and Rob’s glare was back with a vengeance , betrayal creeping into his expression but edged out by fear.
“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t agree to this?”
Rob’s question sounded honest. He usual was, about most things. Neal suspected he was one of, if not the only person the kid could really talk to about most of this stuff. From the sounds of things, his adoptive father was more of a boss than a dad. His school situation sounded worse, what with having to hide his true self two-fold.
Maybe Neal didn’t know the kid Rob showed to the rest of the world, but maybe no one in the whole entire rest of the world had any idea who he really was, underneath all of the layers. Neal knew something about what that was like.
He didn’t really know what he’d planned. He’d planned on convincing Rob to talk to Peter. There wasn’t really anything he could do to stop him from leaving if he’d failed.
Rob, as always, seemed to read his every thought in his eyes, and shrugged.
“Fair enough. I’m not helping you cook.”
The knock came again from the door, this time followed by Peter’s voice asking him to open up. Neal glanced back to Rob as he half-jogged to the door.
“It’s either you help cook or you have no excuse not to make small talk with them.”
The teenager’s eyes went wide as Neal reached for the lock.
“I’m helping you cook.”