Chapter Text
Neal pov
Peter Burke was not an idiot.
Neal knew this fact, but was relying on the hope that Neal could run this con without Peter noticing, for atleast long enough to get through the rest of the work week.
It was Thursday and Neal had been feeling run down since Tuesday. He had a slightly scratchy throat and congestion in his sinuses. He had managed to hide it and had been trying to abate it, doubling his normal caffeine intake and even getting a full 6 hours of sleep Tuesday night. However, apparently that had not been good enough for his body. Neal had woken up last night, well technically this morning as it had been at two a.m., and promptly vomited onto the floor. He had not enjoyed cleaning that up.
He had debated calling out, but knew Peter would never let him. Peter trusted him, sure, but not that much. Anytime Neal did something that strayed from his normal routine, Peter looked at him with suspicion. It was tiring, to be entirely honest. Neal had finally fallen back asleep after flopping onto his bed and pulling his blankets over himself.
Neal woke up to his phone ringing. He lifted his head to find his phone, and fumbled for it on the nightstand. His head pounded with pain from the noise. He looked at the screen and saw that Peter was calling. It was 6:32. Why was Peter calling?
“What?” Neal asked as a greeting, still feeling groggy.
“You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.” Peter said, sounding annoyed.
“What?” Neal repeated. He felt disoriented and his thoughts felt sluggish.
“The stakeout. We were supposed to be at the office at 6 and then go. Jones and Diana will be in the van and you and me will be in the Taurus, remember?”
“Shit. I forgot. I’ll be there in 20.” Neal said, rushing to sit up and having to fight down the nausea and dizziness that came with sitting up so quickly.
“I’ll pick you up. It’s pouring outside. Be ready in 10.” Peter said.
Neal grunted a noise of agreement and hung up the phone, not wanting to open his mouth when the dizziness and nausea hadn’t subsided much. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. He could do this, he thought. Totally. He could do this. He took a deep breath, pushing down the nausea and pain. He stood up and realized how cold he was. Was it cold in the apartment, or was he running a fever. It didn’t really matter though, did it? Neal swallowed anti nausea and cold and flu meds. He quickly got dressed, deciding to forego breakfast. He was heading out the door as Peter texted that he was there. Neal jogged the rest of the way to the car, getting soaked in the pouring rain. Peter gave him am assessing look when he stepped into the car.
“You’re wet.” Peter said.
“What would we ever do without your deductive skills, Peter? The FBI would fall apart without your detective expertise.” Neal sarcastically replied, clearing his throat when he realized how gravelly his voice sounded.
“Did you consider grabbing your umbrella, genius?” Peter replied, matching Neal’s sarcasm.
“I’ll be in the car most of the day. Didn’t want to lug it around.” Neal replied, knowing it was a weak lie but not having a better excuse for his lack of preparation.
“You forgot.” Peter retorted.
“Allegedly.” Neal replied, watching the rain drops dance their way down his car window.
“That should be on your gravestone. Neal Caffrey, allegedly.” Peter joked.
Neal laughed half-heartedly at Peter’s joke. The pain in his head and nausea at full strength now and was making it hard to focus on anything else. Neal tried to focus on the horizon in front of him. Peter turned on the radio and the rest of the car ride was silent, except for Peter tapping along to the music. The stakeout location was, luckily, only 10 minutes from June’s. Neal let out a small shaky sigh when Peter finally parked the car. They sat behind the van. Peter stepped out to go get coffee, and Neal was left alone. He rubbed the bridge of his nose then leaned his head back against the headrest. He closed his eyes for just a minute, trying to make the pain in his head go away. He fell asleep immediately.
Neal awoke when Peter opened the car door. He startled, jumping a bit.
“Were you sleeping?” Peter asked with a scrutinizing look at Neal.
“Just resting my eyes.” Neal said, again clearing his throat.
“Mhm. Here’s your coffee.” Peter said, handing Neal his cup. Neal took it and held it in his hands. He was grateful for its warmth, but did not want to drink the harsh liquid. Neal looked out the window while Peter messed with the radio and then brought out a crossword. Peter hummed along with the music and Neal did his best to not fall asleep again. He had set the coffee on the dashboard. About 30 minutes passed like this, until Peter finally broke the silence.
“Okay. I give in. What is it?” Peter asked. He turned towards Neal and muted the radio.
“What are you talking about?” Neal asked. He did not have the energy for Peter’s cryptic speaking.
“You! You are completely silent. I’m not sure why you aren’t drinking the coffee, but I know when you are quiet you are plotting. What is it?” Peter said, giving Neal a firm look. It was a shame Peter never became a father. He had the dad look™️ nailed down.
“Nothing.” Neal said.
“Neal..” Peter warned.
Neal was going to lose it if Peter did not drop this. Neal was tired. So tired. And Peter believed that instead of Neal having a bad day, that Neal was scheming. Once a criminal, always a criminal, right?
“I’m not plotting anything, Peter.” Neal said.
“I do not believe you.” Peter said.
“That’s too bad.” Neal said, moodily.
“Do I need to pull your tracking data for the past few days?” Peter asked in a strict tone.
Why didn’t Peter believe him? Neal felt like he might cry. He was at the end of his patience. He was either going to cry or scream, neither of which he wanted to do in front of Peter. He unbuckled, turned, and opened his car door.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked.
“Going for a walk. I need some air. I’ll be back in 10. If you don’t believe me, just pull my tracking data.” Neal snapped, slamming the door behind him and briskly walking away.