Chapter Text
Diana only wanted a file. Aisle nine, box forty-six, tab C. Mortgage fraud. Mind numbing. Barely worth noting.
Christmas was a week away. She longed to be literally anywhere else. At home with a mug of hot chocolate, Christie across her lap and rambling about whatever she wanted, ideally.
But no. Too many people took time off, crime spiked, mortgage fraud continued, Diana pulled her hair out by the root. It was its own Christmas tradition, at this point. Every year like clockwork.
“Hey, Di,” Jones jogged up behind her, just to add another problem into the mix, “have you seen Neal? Peter’s looking for him.”
“Nope,” she responded, eyebrows furrowing. “You think he took lunch early? And didn’t tell anyone?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jones grumbled, falling into step with her. “I’ll gladly play cat and mouse with Caffrey if it means not having to do more paperwork.”
“I just hope he brings back coffee for us. From that place down the street.”
“Fuck, that place is good. You think he would?”
“What else could he be doing?”
“It’s Caffrey, Diana. I shudder to think about the possibilities.”
Diana laughed, opening the door to the filing room. “Ladies first.”
Jones shook his head before slipping inside. “You’re too kind, Diana, really—”
He froze, voice cutting off abruptly. Diana looked up, concerned, before she heard it too.
Voices.
More importantly, Neal Caffrey’s voice. And a child’s. What the fuck.
“You can’t just show up here, Jason,” Neal’s voice stressed. “This isn’t—this isn’t safe.”
“For who?” the kid snapped. Diana recognized that voice from a month ago—the kid that had stormed into the office and left Caffrey quiet and hesitant for hours afterwards. The one Caffrey absolutely refused to talk about, ducking out of conversations and changing subjects with a precision that told her he was hiding something very deliberate. “You?”
“For you, Jason,” Neal said, sharper now. “Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in if B finds out you’ve been—”
“Alf knows.”
There was a pause. Diana looked at Jones, mouthing Alf? Jones shrugged.
“He dropped me off. He’s waiting outside for me right now,” Jason continued, and Diana could picture the way he was glaring. “He wants you to come home for Christmas, too.”
“Home,” Neal echoed, voice strangely disconnected. “That’s a funny word coming from you.”
“B wants you there.”
Diana and Jones crept forward together, slipping through file aisles. Neal and the kid were tucked into the back corner, near the emergency stairwell exit, standing across from each other like they were about to dual. Jason had his arms crossed, his body tense and annoyed. Neal, the complete opposite, had slipped his hands into his suit pockets, forcing a calm indifference.
Neal’s face did a weird thing. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lyin’,” the kid snapped. His hands curled tighter around his biceps, like he was struggling not to move them around as he spoke. The fingers twitched like he was prepared to drag Neal out by his tie. “Alf misses you. So does B. He just—” He stopped, lips forming a thin line. “He’s jus’ too stubborn to say it.”
Neal, for once, wasn’t smirking. His face was still, his usual easy charm stripped away by an eleven-year-old in a black puffed jacket still covered with snow. There was something sharper under that easy grace, something Diana had never seen before—something tired, maybe. Or guilty. Something weighed down by grief and love and exhaustion.
“Tell B,” Neal said, tone flat, “that if he wants to see me, he can pick up a phone.”
The kid bristled. “He won’t.”
“Then that’s his problem.”
The silence stretched too long. Diana could hear the air conditioning click on, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights.
The kid leaned forward, voice lowering but not relenting. Switching tactics. “It’s Christmas. Alfie’s been settin’ up your spot at the table for the past week. The tree ain’t got the star on it ‘cus he said that’s your job. He made those… sugar cookies ya like. The ones wit’ the jam in the middle. If ya don’t show, he’ll just… throw ‘em out. He won’t let me have any.”
Neal’s fingers twitched; his jaw clenched, and then forcibly relaxed
“You think guilt tripping me is going to work?” Neal asked finally, soft but not kind. Like a sword left in its sheath.
The kid lifted his chin, daring. “I think you care more than you want me to think you do.”
That got a laugh—short, humorless, bitter. Neal dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath that didn’t quite reach Diana’s ears. When he looked up, the Neal Caffrey mask was still there, but it was crooked. Frayed. Like an actor who had worn a costume one-too-many times and was desperately trying to keep the pieces from falling apart.
His hand rubbed across his mouth, his eyes sharp but… tired. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, kid.”
“I do,” the boy insisted, with all the confidence of a child. “You keep actin’ like you don’t give a shit, but you do. You would’ve told me to get lost the second you saw me if you didn’t.”
Neal raised an eyebrow. “I tried.”
“Not good enough. You care.”
Neal’s expression flickered, just a bit. Twisted into something angry and longing before he smoothed it over with indifference. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m askin’ for you to come to the Manor. Not forever. Not even for a week. Just… for Christmas. You don’t gotta fight or fix B or solve a case. You just gotta sit at the table and eat your cookies and put the star on the tree like you’re ‘posed to.”
“Jason—” Neal’s voice caught. Quiet. Warning.
His expression flickered, just for a second. His eyes softened, his mouth opening like he had the words but just couldn’t form them. Like he wanted to say something but wasn’t ready for it to be known.
Diana was, for lack of a better word, invested.
Because this was personal. This was raw. This was nothing like the Neal Caffrey she knew. Always collected, always calm, always three steps ahead of the game or playing a different board all together. This was something deeper. Something that made Neal drop his act and show the edges of someone else entirely.
Whatever Neal Caffrey was hiding about this kid—about Jason—wasn’t criminal. It was just closer to his past than he ever wanted anyone else to see.
“Jason,” Neal repeated finally, his voice almost pleading. “I can’t just—”
“You can.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “You will. Or I’ll just stay here ‘til you do. I’ll even ask B real nice not to start a fight. I’ll tape his mouth shut if you wanna. It’s just…”
Neal sighed, like he already knew he’d lost. “It’s just what?”
And suddenly, Jason shifted. Shoulder’s drawing in and head ducking like he didn’t want to say it. Like he was ashamed, but clearly Neal coming to Christmas was bigger than his insecurity. “I didn’t… Know what to get B for Christmas. And, like, he’s rich and has everything and I have nothin’ so I—I asked him ‘n all he said is that he wanted to spend time with his family, so I figured if I could get you to come, it could, like—”
“Repay him for taking you in?” Neal finished, tone a shade softer than it had before. “He would hate to know you feel like you owe him, y’know.”
Jason frowned, eyes darting up. “But I feel it anyway.”
Neal had no response to that.
He shifted topics, steering them into something he knew. Something he could control. “Using me as a bargaining chip and not planning to tell me is also wild. Been spending too much time with the rogues?”
“Maybe,” Jason grinned, boy-ish and daring. “Come for Christmas.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t.”
Diana could hear the way he was caving.
“I’ll stand here forever.”
“Peter would kick you out.”
A considering silence.
“I could take him.”
Neal laughed, a high, amused thing. A sound Diana had never heard. “You’re impossible,” he said at last, voice raw.
Jason’s grin cracked through, crooked and real. “Runs in the family. Does that mean yes?”
Neal closed his eyes for a second, like he was weighing something heavy and steadily becoming more unbalanced. When he opened his eyes, he was more resigned than defiant. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. But only for a few days.”
Jason’s face lit up—just barely, but enough for Diana to see the boy under the armor. The relief he tried so hard not to show. “Really?”
Neal raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me rethink it.”
“I won’t, I won’t!” Jason chittered, rocking on his heels in the way children do when they’re happy with no other way to let it out. “I’ll tell Alfie. Holy shit, he’s going to be so happy.”
“Language.”
Jason only grinned wider. He gave Neal a look, and whatever it was, the CI must’ve been able to decipher. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “No. No, I am not putting a bow on my head like I’m a present.”
Jason laughed outright, sharp and jagged like it hadn’t had enough experience existing to settle into a proper shape. “Blue’s your colour! It’ll compliment your eyes, trust me!”
“No, Jason!” Neal called after Jason as the boy darted to the stairwell, eager to report his victory to whoever Alf was. “If you give me a bow when I show up, I swear to god I’ll walk right back out that door!”
His only answer was another cackled laugh as the stairwell door clicked shut. Neal slumped against the wall, dragging a hand over his face and exhaling long and hard. Jones turned to her, eyebrows raised, mouthing family?
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know.
The night of Christmas Eve, the White Collar group chat lit up with a text.
By Neal of all people.
[20:34]
Allegedly: don’t say I never get festive
Attached was a photo.
Neal was standing in front of a Christmas tree—elegant white ribbons and crystal ornaments clashing with messy crafts hung with fraying thread and a nearly alarming number of circus figures (and the batmobile with only one wheel remaining, for some reason)— wearing a vibrant blue knit Christmas sweater with a well-attempted Superman on the back holding up mistletoe saying “Super Kiss?” On his shoulders, Jason stood with his arms stretched high, leaning dangerously forward to rest a golden star on top of the massive tree. His own red Christmas sweater bore Wonder Woman on the back, swinging around what looked to be Christmas lights instead of her signature lasso.
Jason’s face was frozen in joy, the glowing star perfectly straight on its perch. Neal hands were wrapped around the little boy’s ankles, keeping him steady even as his head was tilted back in a laugh that looked so happy it shined with the tree.
The Butts Match: ???
Lady Suit: Didn’t think you were a superman fan, Neal.
Allegedly: I’m his BIGGEST fan fym.
The Butts Match: Are we all moving past the fact that Neal Caffrey—who last week nearly cried when we offered him a hoodie for the LOWKEY DON’T-DRAW-ATTENTION undercover mission—is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and looking the most joyus he’s ever been???
The Suit: I didn’t know he knew what normal clothes were.
Lady Suit: I thought he slept in a suit tbh
Allegedly: I do
Allegedly: it’s pure satin and the tie doubles as a pillow
The Butts Match: I wouldn’t be surprised.
The Butts Match: Pissed you’re somehow pulling off an ugly Christmas sweater btw. Those are notorious for, yknow, being ugly.
Allegedly: please
Allegedly: I can pull off anything
The Suit: The tree looks like it survived domestic violence
The Butts Match: Barely
Allegedly: it’s called collaboration?
Lady Suit: Please never collaborate with me.
An hour later, another photo dropped into the chat.
[21:56]
Allegedly: forgot how good Christmas cookies were omg
This time, Neal and Jason were crammed side by side on a fancy leather couch, faces covered in icing sugar and jam sticking to their cheeks. Crumbs dotted the fresh knit of their sweaters, and Neal had an arm wrapped around Jason’s neck, clearly dragging him into the shot. The front of Jason’s hair was coated in white—definitely more icing sugar—and there was a clear, white handprint on Neal’s sweater where Jason’s hand must’ve dragged down in retaliation. They were both laughing. Jason with his wide, toothy grin and chubby cheeks, and Neal—Neal, who never let his image slip—was caught mid-shot, teeth bared in a wide, unguarded smile.
Lady Suit: Who let you near sugar omfg
The Suit: You look messier than the literal child, Neal.
Allegedly: I can be trusted around sugar
Allegedly: & it was Jason’s idea, not mine
The Suit: Sure it was.
Lady Suit: Neal I once watched you pour a cup of sugar into Rice Krispies
Lady Suit: It was 7pm.
Allegedly: I’ve matured
Lady Suit: It was last week??
The Butts Match: Hey anyone notice how freakishly alike Neal and Jason look when they smile?
Allegedly: jones no one wants to listen to another one of your conspiracy theories
Lady Suit: No, I see it too.
Allegedly: what.
The Suit: Oh, wow.
Allegedly: peter tell them theyre crazy
The Suit: Are you sure you’re an only child?
Allegedly: YES???
The Butts Match: Someone lied to you
The Suit: If it wasn’t a waste of resources, I would ask for a DNA test.
Lady Suit: Just grab some hair?
Allegedly: none of you are touching Jason’s hair
Allegedly: our foster father just has a weird thing for black hair and blue eyes
Lady Suit: FOSTER FATHER??
The Suit: Called it.
The Butts Match: THEY’RE BROTEHRS I KNEW IT
The Butts Match: AND HE WILLINGLY TOLD US
Allegedly: think of it as a Christmas present
Allegedly: Merry Christmas, team
[22:44]
The Suit saved an image.
Allegedly: Peter.
Allegedly: Peter why did you save that.
The Suit: El wants to frame it
Allegedly: PETER NO
The Butts Match: HAHAHAHA