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Neal was baffled. He stood in the drab hospital hallway, looking too intently at the beige walls and the lackluster prints hung an attempt to add cheeriness to the otherwise dismal atmosphere. He wiggled his nose, trying to shake the smell of disinfectant. It was a cliché, but he hated hospitals. He found himself here more lately than ever, following close calls in which he insisted he wasn’t hurt but Peter insisted, or watching over friends he couldn’t lose. But this was a whole new reason to hate this place.
There he stood, on the outside. Refused entry to the only place in the world he wanted to be. Because he wasn’t family. Everything had been a blur since he heard Peter’s terrified voice exclaim he had no b brakes, following by the gut-wrenching sound of scraping metal.
He rushed to the hospital, the last years flashing before his eyes. Every touch, every smile, every hug.
‘Peter, if this doesn’t work..’ Neal stated bent over the wires.
‘I know, me too Neal.’
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‘You’re the only one, Peter…the only one in my life that I trust.’
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‘Mozzie wanted to leave New York. I didn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of you...’
And now, here he stood in front of Elizabeth, the woman that he thought he considered a friend. But after last night, and after what she was asking him to do now… how could he admit that. But here she stood, eyes filled with angry tears, blatantly asking him to lie to Peter.
‘I’ve never lied to you, Peter.’
And she had every right to ask. And she was right in doing so. But how could he possibly disappoint him now?
‘I didn’t let you down, Peter.’
But after last night, everything was different.
There was a light rapping at his door, and Neal opened it with a signature smile as he greeted Peter, bag in hand.
‘Peter.’
‘Hey Neal.’
Neal stepped aside and Peter entered the room without waiting for Neal to motion him in. He closed the door and approached the counter to see what Peter had brought. He unpacked all the files he had on Sam and his previous case and the Flynns, Marshall Files on Neal’s family and Ellen.
Neal cleared some of his art supplies off of the table and began to set up the files. Peter opened the cupboard above the sink and brought down two glasses.
Neal raised an eyebrow, ‘Sure Peter, why don’t you make yourself at home.’ He made his statement with a smirk in his voice. He was actually pleased to see Peter so at ease, but surprised he didn’t carry his usual six pack.
‘You’ll be glad I did when you see what I brought.’ Peter made his way over to the table with two glasses and the bag he had entered with. He unpacked a bottle of whiskey. Not any bottle, a fifty-year old bottle which Neal had only seen once many years before.
‘Peter, you are full of surprises. Who knew you had such good taste.’
Peter liberally poured two glasses and handed one to the man across from him with an eye roll. They had both been surprised to find the other’s interest in fine whiskey on this latest undercover mission. ‘I thought it would be nice to celebrate the fact we are both completely on the same side this time, no secret moves or motives.’ Peter knew how important it was to Neal to find out the truth about his father and his past, and he was so proud that Neal trusted him enough to do this with him, not behind his back.
Neal swirled his glass, giving it a small sniff. He raised his glass to Peter. ‘To trying something new.’ Peter knew Neal meant trusting someone. But in that moment the toast seemed to hold a double meaning to him. ‘
If you really care about him, you’ll keep Peter out of this.’ Elizabeth’s statement woke Neal out of his reverie.
Neal could do nothing but nod. She walked away, but had made her point.
Did she have any idea what she was asking of him?
After a few more glasses of whiskey, Neal found the files were starting to jumble before his eyes. He was tired and frustrated, and a little bit buzzed. He placed his head into his hands rubbing his eyes. Peter placed a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
Neal sighed. ‘What if I don’t want to know?’
Peter slid his chair closer to Neal and put his arm gently around his shoulder. Instinctively he knew this was weighing on Neal more than he said. He thought the only way he could help was by solving the case, that Neal would never open up to him. But here it was happening. He was feeling the warming effects of the whiskey as he held Neal a little closer than he would have done otherwise (not that he wouldn’t want to, but he just felt a bit bolder). His touches were always more casual than he wished them to be.
‘Don’t want to know what?’ Peter knew, but felt like he should ask aloud.
Neal sighed, and looked straight into Peter’s eyes. The conman’s blue eyes reflected a lifetime of pain. ‘What if I was right and I can’t trust him? What if this all confirms I really have no family. Maybe I should have just left it alone. I was dong fine on my own.’
Peter’s heart broke a little with those words. He placed two fingers under Neal’s chin, in a motion similar to the one that normally beckoned him to his office. Instead, this beckoned his attention fully on what he was saying. He didn’t drop his fingers once he had Neal’s full attention though. ‘No matter what happens, you have family.’
Neal stood alone in the hospital hallway after Elizabeth left. He looked through the window into Peter’s room. He laid alone, still unconscious. There was no one around, and so he took the opportunity to slip into his room. He stood over the bed looking at the man in front of him, too afraid to touch him.
Their emotional moment held for a few silent minutes, before it quickly turned sensual. Neal wasn’t sure whose lips reached out first, who made the move that hung in the air, just out of reach for years. He also couldn’t tell you whose hands reached out first, but soon hands were in both men’s hair, gentle at first, but moving with more and more need. He especially wasn’t sure who moved to relocate them to the bed.
The kiss lasted forever, as both men poured their love, need, and trust into their movements. At the same time, it was over too soon.
Neal was certain it was Peter’s shaky hand that first moved to the buttons of Neal’s shirt. He took a deep breath, struggling against the weight of what was happening. Peter paused and cupped Neal’s face in his hands. ‘Trust me.’
Neal looked down at the man in front of him with a sigh. The memories of the night before, of hands and lips, and love and trust, were quickly replaced with Elizabeth’s pleading words.
How could he lie to Peter now, and risk everything?
He sighed as he placed a soft kiss on the man’s forehead and left the room as he realized with a sad sense of irony that he had to lie to him. He would have to break Peter’s trust if it meant keeping him safe.