|Addicted to the Streets
Author: visionaria48 PM
Neal is a 15 yr old street kid. He loves the streets, it gives him freedom and a thrill that nothing can replace. He doesn't want a family or a home, but none the less he's adopted, along with his close friend Mozzie, by the Burkes. Can Peter and Elizabeth show the reluctant Neal what being a family really means, or will Neal be forever a street kid? R & R PLEASE!Rated: Fiction T - English - Family - Neal C. & Peter B. - Chapters: 9 - Words: 11,448 - Reviews: 135 - Favs: 85 - Follows: 170 - Updated: 04-10-13 - Published: 08-06-12 - id: 8402181
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yay! Starting a White Collar fic!
A fifteen year old boy sat looking out a window. The blue eyed teen was once again trapped in the stupid adoption agency. This was the eighth time he had been brought back. The first few times he came back the adoption agent just thought the homes weren't a good fit for him. Neal wasn't sure when exactly they realized it, but eventually they did. Neal didn't want a home or parents. He was happy without one. What Neal really wanted was to live on his own, on the streets. Neal felt free when he was out there. Sure there was danger, but that only added to the thrill of it. Picking pockets, knowing he might get caught was electrifying.
"Neal?" The brunette didn't turn around; he knew the voice. It was his oldest friend. He did, however, slightly incline his head, letting the other know he was listening. "When did you get back?" The elder boy asked him, taking the seat beside him.
For a long while, he didn't answer Mozzie. Instead the scene from barely a few hours ago played in his mind.
It was early morning and Neal was making his way back to the Newtons' house, his 'new' parents. When Neal arrived at the house he immediately saw a light on in the living room. He barely stifled his grimace. Now he was going to be 'disciplined' for sneaking out. Not that the teen hadn't heard it many times before. He gave a small sigh before opening the back door.
"Where the hell have you been?" The gruff question came as soon as Neal shut the door. Mr. Newton, he couldn't remember the man's name, stood there, practically shaking with anger. His squinty black eyes narrowed even more. Neal couldn't help but compare him to a rodent, what with his small eyes and angular features, the man practically embodied a mole.
"Out." Was Neal's short response. He moved to go around the man, but was stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. Okay, so the man was a very BIG mole.
"Boy, I told you the rules when you got here. And you know what I said the punishment would be for disobeying me." The hand tightened. Neal felt himself tense, his instincts from living on the streets flaring up, warning him about the possible danger of that hold.
"And I told you before you could stuff your rules." When the man was momentarily shocked by Neal's disrespect, he broke away.
"This is how you repay us boy? By disrespecting us and throwing away the good hospitability we had by bringing you into our home?"
Neal pretended to think about his answer. "Yeah that's about it." Neal threw in his trademark smile, just to further anger the man.
From the couch behind the man, Neal saw Mrs. Newton sobbing. "Why couldn't we be graced with a good obedient son? That's all we wanted." Neal barely felt anything for the woman, what her and many women seemed to want was some kind of puppy or a kid that will hang on their every word. Neal had seen too much in his short life to listen to these ignorant people.
"Guess you chose the wrong kid then." Neal told them, shrugging.
The mole pointed a beefy finger at him. "Gather your things; we're taking your ungrateful attitude back to the adoption agency."
Neal turned and walked to 'his' room, seeing the regular monotone walls. The rooms back at the agency had more color than this one. In no time, Neal had his duffle and backpack ready to go. "Glad I never unpacked then."
"Neal?" Mozzie's concerned voice drew him back out of the memory.
"Yeah sorry. I just got back this morning." Mozzie sighed at him. The seventeen year old was his brother in everything but blood. Neal knew Mozzie wanted the best for him, find a home and family and all that. But Neal couldn't help it, the freedom compelled him.
"Neal, these last few years are your last chance. Once you're almost eighteen, no one wants to adopt you." The elder teen informed him, shaking his shaved head. Neal felt for his friend, if he could, he would gladly change places with Moz. Moz was the one who craved a family, he didn't want anything to do with the streets.
The two friends smiled sadly at each other. Both knew what the other was feeling, no words were necessary. Neal and Mozzie both stared out the window, watching children run around innocently, without a care in the world.
"I think you'll find many children here you'd love, Mr. and Mrs. Burke." The adoption agent told them, showing them around the building.
"Please call us Peter and Elizabeth." The light haired brunette told the woman. Peter wasn't one for formalities. Right now he just wanted to be Peter, the man who desired a child, not the federal agent or Mr. Burke, he was Peter. The woman nodded, but didn't seem to take his suggestion.
"Now what age were you looking for?" She asked, stopping before a door.
Elizabeth answered first. "We were looking for an older child; both our schedules aren't conducive to a youngster. But we weren't thinking any specific age."
The woman nodded. "Yes, well I'd recommend around thirteen then. At that age, they're young enough that there's not much attitude but old enough to fend for themselves." The couple silently agreed, following the woman's suggestion. Once the agent opened the door, Peter and Elizabeth were bombarded with the noise of children, yelling, crying, small feet running. Both were a little taken aback by the sound, neither of them used to the sheer intensity of it. The agent, however, was unfazed by it. "There is one boy you might like, his name is Cody. He's a little rambunctious but…" The two hopeful parents listened to the woman's droning as they looked all around them. They saw children of all ages; some looked to be toddlers and others almost adults.
Eventually the couple met s few children but none of them resonated with the couple. When the woman was talking animatedly about another child, Peter felt his wife look into another room. Curious, Peter turned as well and was quite surprised. Two teens, one with a full head of hair and the other with none, were watching a history special on Renaissance painters. Peter couldn't believe two teenagers would willingly watch what most would consider boring. He glanced down to his wife, both smiled at each other.
"And who are those two?" Elizabeth asked, gesturing to the teens. The woman paused, seemingly annoyed to be interrupted. Shock replaced the annoyance when she saw who they were talking about.
"Oh no, you wouldn't like them. Such troublemakers, especially Caffery. Although Mozzie isn't bad, he's too glued to Neal for my comfort. But you wouldn't like them." She said, trying to get the couple to move on.
"And why wouldn't we like them?" Elizabeth asked. Peter heard the anger in his wife's voice and felt pity towards the woman who had inspired it.
"They just- well-" The woman paused. "They were street kids, criminals. You wouldn't want them in your home."
"And how would you know that? Do you tell all the possible adopters that? It's no wonder they aren't adopted yet." Peter told her, his own anger rising. Yes, these kids may have done some not so good things, but that didn't make them bad people. If anything it just made Peter want to help them more.
The adoption agent stared at them in shock, before sighing in defeat. Peter felt triumph rise in both him and Elizabeth's face. Together, they followed the agent into the room.
Well? Tell me your thoughts! Should I keep writing?