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Peter Burke wasn’t classist. Really, he wasn’t. It wasn’t like he came from a wealthy family or anything. It’s just that… well, in White Collar, he was used to seeing a certain type of people come into the office, and usually not in large groups.
Eight people – who didn’t even look old enough to be considered adults – dressed in overalls and hand-me-downs with straw stuck in their hair did not fit White Collar’s usual visitor profile.
Hell, these people didn’t even fit the usual New Yorker profile, let alone FBI White Collar. They looked like they’d just stepped off a tractor on a farm, not an elevator of an office building in one of the biggest cities in the world.
There were three girls and five boys in the group. The first to step forward was a bulky teen in a dark grey shirt and suspenders hooked to faded jeans. He wore black cowboy boots and a matching hat, cocked over his brow.
Black Boots had his arm slung over a petite girl’s shoulder. She wore a blue and white checkered dress that reminded Peter of a picnic blanket. Her boots were off-white and matched the flowers braided into her bun.
Completing the trio at the front of the group was another girl. This one was blonde, while all the boys and Picnic Girl had dark hair. Two long braids hung over her shoulders and she wore light grey overalls with a lavender shirt underneath that matched her boots and the band on her dark grey cowgirl hat.
Behind Black Boots, Picnic Girl, and Lavender Lady were three of the boys. The eldest wore a brightly colored flannel shirt, faded jeans, a neon green cowboy hat, hot pink boots, and the largest belt buckle Peter had ever seen.
The youngest of the group – a child, really – wore blue overalls over a black shirt. Like the others, he wore cowboy boots, and his matched his shirt.
The one between Neon Boy and Overall Kid was dressed in dark pants, a denim shirt, a vest, and matching brown hat and boots. Peter decided to call him Vest Guy.
Bringing up the rear was an older girl and a boy who was probably in the middle of the group age-wise. The girl sat in a wheelchair in a plain white blouse and a floral-patterned shirt, her red hair twisted simply to the side. The boy wore faded jeans, a western cowboy-looking shirt, and tan boots with a matching hat. He looked the most like a cowboy.
Peter mentally dubbed these last two Red Hair and Cowboy Hat, even though most of them were wearing cowboy hats.
The group stepped through the doors, looking around curiously. Peter watched as Diana stood and approached them warily.
“Hello, I’m Agent Berrigan. Can I help you?”
“Why, howdy, Agent Berrigan!” Black Boots beamed, voice booming in the strongest southern drawl Peter had ever heard. “It’s mighty fine to make your acquaintance. We could use some help, now, couldn’t we, fellas?”
The boy looked back to the others, who all nodded. Lavender Lady spoke up next, “We came all the way to the Big City to look for someone, ya hear?”
“Uh, yes… I hear,” Diana blinked. “Does this someone have a name?”
“Sure does,” Lavender Lady grinned. “But we ought ‘a introduce ourselves first! That’s the polite thing to do, ain’t it?”
“Of course!” Neon Boy leaned forward, “It’s the polite thing to do, and our pappy raised us right, now, didn’t he?”
By now, the group had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, though they didn’t seem to notice.
“Name’s Basin,” Black Boots introduced himself, then nodded down to Picnic Girl. “And this here’s Lassie.”
“I’m Jeff,” Lavender Lady added.
Neon Boy’s smile widened, “My name’s Lizard.”
“Fluke,” Vest Guy added.
“Hay Bale,” Cowboy Hat piped up.
Red Hair nodded, “I’m Jabs.”
“Mamie,” Overall Kid drawled out last.
“Those are, uh… some unique names,” Jones cut into the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, I’m Agent Jones, and I, uh, I didn’t mean that as a, uh…”
“Oh, don’t you mind, now,” Lizard waved him off. “They are very unique names. We get that a lot. Our Ma is a bit eccentric and Pa’s a real artsy type, ya know?”
“You’re all siblings?” Diana asked.
“Sure are!” Jeff skipped a bit closer, “Well, except Jabs. She's married to Lizard. He's the oldest. One of Pa’s friends dared him to name Lizard the first thing he saw after the baby was born, and whatya know – a lizard scuttled by Ma’s bed right after she pushed him out.”
“Lassie and I are next,” Basin cut in. “They named Lassie after their German Sheppard that died just before we were born, and well… Ma dropped me in a basin in the barn when they were tryin’ ta think of my name.”
“Then there’s me,” Jeff took over again, “Ma was convinced I’d be a boy and she was so set on the name; she wouldn’t change it when she found out I was a girl. It was the same with Mamie, except the other way around.”
“Pa had an obsession with paintin’ hay bales when Ma was pregnant with Hay Bale, so that's where they got his name,” Fluke spoke up. “As for me, well… I’ve got two white parents and I ain’t white, so you see the joke there. An’ ya already heard about Mamie. Our young ‘un.”
“Not that this isn’t all fascinating,” Peter stepped in, deciding enough was enough. “But, who are you all looking for?”
“Oh, of course! Excuse us for gettin’ off track. We’re looking a man named Neal Caffrey.”
“Neal?” Peter blinked.
Unbeknownst to them, the man in question had returned from the bathroom just as the kids began explaining their names. He’d gone unnoticed by the agents so far, and he’d frozen in surprise when he saw his kids in the office.
At least he’d been around to hear what they’d named themselves. Honestly, where did they think of these things?
Before anyone could notice him just standing there, Bruce walked further into the room. “What are you kids doing here?” He asked tiredly.
The kids all turned to look at him, letting out simultaneous cries of “Pappy,” “Papa,” or “Pa.”
Bruce’s friends all stared at him in shock, as did pretty much everyone in the room. “What?”
Jeff – or Steph, as Bruce knew her – grinned. “This is our Pa we were tellin’ you about. He works here and ain’t he just the greatest?”
“You’re a… a father?” Peter stared.
“And these are your kids?” Jones added.
“We came to get ya, Pa.” Basin – Jason – looked at him with a serious expression. “It’s almost harvest season and the farm can’t get along for another year without ya.”
Bruce looked between his kids for a moment, then sighed, giving in to their plan. “Oh alright,” he sighed, dropping into a thick accent like theirs. “Why don't y’all just go on back to the elevators and I’ll be with ya in a minute. Just gotta get outta this fancy FBI jewelry. Go on, now, git!” He shooed them away.
Jason grinned and flipped his own hat onto Bruce’s head before following the others back to the elevator. Bruce put his foot up on a chair and easily unlatched his tracking anklet, tossing it aside. The agents were so shocked they didn’t even react.
“See ya around, Peter.” Bruce tipped his hat toward his friends before going to catch up with his kids.
“Wait! Neal!” Peter called just as the elevator doors closed behind them.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sent his kids a tired look, returning to his normal voice – not his Neal voice or the one he’d just put on. “Was that really necessary?”
“Of course it was!” Dick exclaimed, “And I am totally keeping this outfit.”
“It was time for you to come home, and we all wanted to have a bit of fun with it,” Barbara said.
“Plus, you’ve gotta admit it was funny,” Jason smirked.
Cass laughed, signing rapidly, the looks on their faces were priceless.
Bruce rubbed his temple, though his lip did twitch upward for a second. “They’re going to be in such a panic.”
Duke shrugged, “Well, you were gonna come clean with them once you finished all your reports on the case, right? At least about the undercover thing. That means they only have a few days of panic to deal with.”
“Besides, thanks to Jabs and Hay Bale, there will be no record of Neal Caffrey in about five minutes,” Stephanie nudged Barbara and Tim as they exited the elevator on the top floor and moved towards the hidden zeta access there.
“I still think Hay Bale is a stupid name,” Damian huffed.
“I was trying to be different!” Tim defended, “and it made sense to me! My name is Timothy. Timothy is a type of hay. So, Hay Bale. At least it’s better than Lizard.”
Damian rolled his eyes, but conceded that it was better than Lizard.
“Where did that come from, anyway?” Bruce asked. “Tim explained Hay Bale, and I get that the rest rhyme. Babs, Jabs. Jason, Basin. Cass used Cassie for Lassie. Steph, Jeff. Duke, Fluke. And Dami, Mamie. Where does Lizard come in?”
Jason snorted, “Dick says ‘Lizard’ and ‘Richard’ rhyme in his head.”
Bruce knew better to question that, so he simply shrugged it off and stepped into the zeta beam.
He might take a bit longer to write those reports than usual if it gave him more time to figure out how to explain this whole situation. He loved his kids, but they did have a habit of making a mess of things.