Work Text:
It was a Tuesday afternoon and Peter was deep in thought. Something was troubling him, poking at his brain to try and get his attention. There was no challenging case that was occupying his mind, nothing that he needed to get to the bottom of; and yet he had an inkling that he was missing something.
He looked out into the bullpen. All was as it should be in the white collar division, his underlings attending to their work. His gaze zeroed in on one person in particular. Neal was at his desk hard at work, for once, and didn’t seem to notice Peter’s piercing stare.
Something about Neal…What about him? Was his instincts telling him that Neal was up to no good?
Diana entered his office. “Here’s the reports you wanted, boss.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, taking them. “Hey, do you notice anything about Caffrey?”
Diana thought about it for a second. “Now that you mention it, he seems quieter than usual.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Peter didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not.
“You suspect him of something?”
“Don’t know yet.” Peter rose from his desk. “But I’m going to find out.”
He descended the stairs and sidled up to Neal’s desk.
“How’s that mortgage fraud coming along?”
Neal barely glanced up from his paperwork, giving him a thumbs up in response. He was munching on an energy bar, which gave him the perfect excuse as to why he didn’t respond verbally. However, Peter suspected that was intentional.
“Why don’t you walk me through it?” He leaned against the desk, giving the impression that he wasn’t going anywhere until he received an answer.
Neal set down his pen and reached for his glass of water, clearly stalling. Then, he gathered his papers and stacked them neatly into a pile. Peter continued to wait patiently.
Finally, Neal sighed and faced Peter head on.
“You can’t, can you?” Peter’s suspicions were correct. “What is it? Cat got your tongue?” he joked.
Neal glanced to the side, all the proof Peter needed.
Now that he was faced with the confirmation, Peter could reflect on the morning’s events with context. He remembered having a conversation on the way to work; but thinking back, it had been more of a one-sided discussion. Peter had been highly engrossed with his topic of choice and Neal had expertly responded in a way that had led Peter to believe he was engaging. It was such a smooth con that Peter hadn’t noticed until now that Neal had not spoken a single word to him.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had lost your voice?”
Neal pulled out his phone and typed out a message. Two seconds later, Peter’s phone dinged. He opened up the text.
*You still would have made me come into work.*
“Fair enough,” Peter admitted. It’s not like Neal needed a voice to flip through files. “But I’m not a slave driver, Neal. I know you’ve been battling a cold. If you’re feeling lousy you can always call in.”
Neal seemed to consider this, as if the idea had never occurred to him.
“ Are you feeling bad?” Peter asked.
After a moment, Neal shook his head. There were only a few more hours left in his work day. He could power through.
“Ok, but if you change your mind, let me know.” Peter rapped the desktop as a way of goodbye and headed back up to his office.
Jones, who had definitely not been eavesdropping, said, “A Neal Caffrey without his silver tongue is like a cat without his claws.”
Diana joined in. “How ever will he woo the ladies now?” she teased.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a way. If there’s one thing Caffrey’s good at it’s turning a handicap into a strength.”
Neal just grinned suggestively and waggled his eyebrows, making them both laugh.
He returned to his work and was overcome by a coughing jag. He winced, his throat feeling dry and gritty. He took another sip of water and carried on.
He managed another few minutes before repeating the motions. His cold was growing worse the later in the day it became. But he was determined to stick it out. Why, he couldn’t say. Some kind of misplaced pride, an insistence to prove he could pull his weight; or maybe because his temporary ailment was making him feel insecure in a deeply rooted sense that he wasn’t eager to dive into.
A steaming mug was placed in front of him. He looked up to see Diana innocently walking back to her desk. He picked it up and took a sip. It was peppermint tea. He hadn't been aware that they had anything beyond the sludge they called coffee on hand.
Then a handful of cough drops appeared. This time Jones was the one nonchalantly returning back to his desk.
Neal gave his coworkers each a confused look in turn.
“Your coughing was grating on my nerves,” Diana said with no real heat behind it.
“Yeah, it’s hard to concentrate with you hacking every five seconds,” Jones added.
Neal smiled a soft, grateful smile and popped a cough drop in his mouth. Honey flavored. It cooled his irritated throat. He could continue on unencumbered.
Peter watched the whole interaction from his office upstairs. It pleased him to see his team getting along. He knew the inclusion of Neal as their C.I. had been a change in the office dynamic. But it seemed as if friendly relations were brewing.
And when the next day Neal called in sick, Peter was only too happy to give him the day off.