Chapter Text
Elizabeth was a few steps ahead of Peter. Peter liked to linger and watch each of the men he saw in each room for a few minutes. He could tell a lot about them from watching their mannerisms.
It was Elizabeth’s birthday in a few days and Peter had forgotten. El had gently reminded him and had convinced him not to stress.
“I think we should get someone,” she had announced, “someone who can tell you these things and keep us company.”
“You mean like a slave?” Peter had blinked in surprise, but the more he thought about it, the more he had liked the idea.
His only condition was that, as an FBI agent, he could have the final say on who they chose.
Elizabeth had agreed, on the condition that they chose a male
So that’s where they were; out choosing their new companion.
“Oh, Peter!” Elizabeth mused, standing in front of another two-way mirror. “He has a good physique.”
Peter moved up next to her.
The man inside was sitting on the chair within, leaning forward, elbows on knees and thinking. Peter looked at the poster over to the left.
“Mark Davidson,” Peter muttered, reading the information, “I don’t know, see the way he’s sitting El, he’s holding in his frustration. No, El, he’s too aggressive.”
El looked at Peter and gave a small shake of the head, “Peter, you’ve rejected everyone we’ve come across.”
Peter shrugged guiltily. “None of them are good enough. I don’t want to have to worry about you being alone with him.”
El gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s sweet, Peter, but they’re all bound to have problems. They’re slaves.”
“Conceded,” Peter nodded, “come on, there’s still a few more.”
They wandered hand-in-hand past the next few cells. One was empty, the next was flatly rejected by El and the third was too old.
The moved to the fourth and stopped.
Peter was vaguely aware that El was standing as still and as awed as he was.
Inside this one, a man was sitting on the bed and crafting a female figurine out of a cake of soap. He sat hunched, absorbed in his work, ignoring the unruly dark brown hair that fell down over his forehead. He sported a thin and lithe frame, barely hidden in an immaculately groomed two-piece grey garb.
Peter watched his movements carefully, cataloging any mannerisms and analyzing his expressions.
“Peter….”
Peter started back to awareness and he squeezed El’s hand in response.
“I don’t know El,” Peter spoke doubtfully. He did like the look of the man. Already, he could imagine having this man in his home, at work, at the park with Satchmo … and in bed between him and his wife.
He looked to the poster over to the side. “Neal Caffrey.”
El came up beside him and read the same details her husband was looking over.
“He’s a genius?” El blinked in surprise. “Peter, he’s also good looking … why?”
“Because he’s an escape risk,” Peter replied, disappointment flooding him, “more trouble than he’s worth.”
El bit her lip. “Please, Peter, I really like him.”
Peter’s heart twisted. He really liked him too.
“I suppose I could ask the bureau for a tracking anklet….”
Elizabeth smiled, knowing that the man she watched, as he carefully scraped another intricate line onto the bust of the mysterious soap figurine, was theirs.
“Neal Caffrey,” she whispered.
Peter pulled her in closer and put an arm around her, before kissing the top of her head.
Peter smiled into her sweet smelling hair. “Do you want to go find him some accessories while I do the paperwork?”
It took an hour for the paperwork to be squared away. They’d sold their second car, so with the proceeds of the sale combined with their savings they were able to buy Neal outright. Peter had managed to do some price haggling using the status of Neal being a flight risk to bring the price down. He also flashed his badge and received a government discount. As a result, most of their savings were still intact, so it was in happy spirits that Peter met his wife in the pick-up room.
Elizabeth came up and kissed Peter with excited sparkles in her eyes and she held up a large bag with a grin.
“You bought everything they had, didn’t you?” Peter groaned, good-naturedly.
“How did the paperwork go?”
Peter leaned down and whispered smugly, “half price.”
El murmured appreciatively and hooked her arm in Peter’s elbow. It was then that an employee came out through a staff door and beckoned.
“He’s ready,” the man hesitated for a fraction of a second, but continued, “We can put a disposable collar on him for you to take him home now, unless you’ve got…?”
El brought the bag up. “We’ve bought our own.”
“Right,” the man nodded, “do you want me to put the leash on him too?”
Peter nodded before his wife could reply, “he is an escape risk.”
The man nodded again and started to turn after taking the collar and leash from El, but Peter touched his shoulder.
“What is it?”
The man frowned, confused, “sir?”
Peter moved forward. “You were concerned about something before … what was it?”
The man gave a slow nod of understanding, “well … when we informed him that he’d been bought by a ‘Peter Burke’, he….”
“He …” Peter prompted, “What?”
The man shook his head. “I’m not sure, Caffrey plays things close, it’s hard to work him out—it may have been nothing.”
The man left through the staff door with an apologetic shrug.
“I wonder what that was about,” El muttered to Peter.
Peter turned to his wife and took a deep breath. “Like he said, it was probably nothing.”
Every time the door opened, Peter and El would look up from where they were sitting, hoping that this was the one, the one in which their new slave, Neal Caffrey would emerge, ready for them to take home and try out, but it was always just another staff member.
They can’t have been hiding their expectation too well. The last couple of staff members had smiled apologetically. One had even said, “I’m sure they’ll be ready soon.”
Twenty minutes had passed when the door finally opened and the same man they’d spoken to before came out … alone.
Peter and El stood up and man wrung his hands nervously.
“We’re ready now,” the man explained, “sorry, he just, he’s in a … a playful mood.”
Peter frowned. “What does that mean?”
The man put out a palm, placating. “Nothing too bad I assure you, just you know, hiding keys, taking the pens … stealing my glasses.”
Peter and El glanced at each other. El smiled. She couldn’t help it. Peter shook his head.
“Well,” Peter asked, trying to hide his impatience, “just—is he ready then, can we take him now?”
The man breathed, relieved that his customers didn’t seem bothered by the idea of a cheeky slave.
“I’ll bring him out.”
When Neal Caffrey emerged, Peter and El, almost magnetically stepped forward, eager to officially meet the man from behind the two-way mirror.
Neal on the other hand, paused a few yards from the door and scanned them. The supple leather collar that El had chosen was around his neck. On Neal Caffrey, it looked like an accessory designed to match his dark hair. The leash, hung from the collar, locked in place. The end was held by the employee who had talked Peter through the sale.
The first thought that struck Peter as he watched Neal, was that he was entirely too casual for a man who had just been bought.
Neal was standing, relaxed and seemed content for Peter or El to make the first move.
Peter glanced at his wife and back at Neal before clearing his throat.
Neal smirked, perhaps recognizing Peter’s loss at what to do next.
Finally, Elizabeth took another step forward and spoke clearly, “Hi Neal, I’m Elizabeth; this is my husband, Peter.”
Neal gave a nod, ignoring the man behind him as he was poked in the back. “Right, well nice to meet you, Elizabeth … Peter.”
Peter tilted his head, half confused at Neal’s lack of formality, and half amused.
The awkwardness melted away and he looked to the staff that flanked Neal. “Thanks. There wasn’t anything else, was there?”
The staff shook their heads and the one holding the leash held it out.
Neal made no move as Peter took the leash. He merely followed Peter’s movement with his eyes.
Peter looked back to Neal. They were standing close now. Peter looked into Neal’s eyes and couldn’t help but admire the vivid blue. They were so like his wife’s but more … complicated.
“Peter?”
Peter blinked. He’d being standing still for some time, as had Neal, each lost in a silent communication.
Peter looked at El, the staff, then at Neal again.
“Come on.” Peter started walking and took his wife’s hand, not waiting to see if he was being followed. The leash in his hands remained slack, so clearly Neal was following.
At the door, Elizabeth thanked the staff and followed the two men out, knowing that she and Peter had stumbled into something far more potent than they’d hoped.