Work Text:
Neal had always been good at listening without being noticed.
It was, arguably, one of his more marketable skills.
It was also, as it turned out, a terrible habit.
He hadn’t meant to overhear Peter. Not really. But the door to Peter’s office had been ajar, and Neal had been halfway up the stairs when...
“--he’s lying.”
Neal stopped. Peter’s voice, firm and certain. A second voice - Hughes, maybe - murmured something low.
Peter didn’t hesitate. “I don’t know about the rest of it yet, but that part? He’s lying.”
Something in Neal’s chest tightened. There were a lot of “he”s that this could apply to. A lot of liars in their line of work. But Peter didn’t talk about most of them like that.
Neal didn’t remember stepping back from the door. Didn’t remember the walk to his desk, or sitting down, or opening a file he didn’t read.
Just that sentence, on a loop.
He’s lying.
*****
“Neal.”
Neal looked up, expression already in place - easy, charming, just a touch amused. “Hey, Peter. If this is about the missing evidence file, I can explain...”
“It’s not.”
Neal stilled.
Peter stood on the other side of his desk, watching him in that way he had. Too observant, too careful. Dangerous. “Come with me,” Peter said.
Neal tilted his head. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not.”
“Those are historically famous last words.”
Peter didn’t smile.
*****
The door to the conference room shut behind them with a quiet click.
Neal leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. “All right. You’ve got me alone in a room with no witnesses. Either I’m about to be recruited for something wildly illegal, or--”
“Neal.” The tone of Peter’s voice shut him up immediately.
Neal straightened slightly. “Yeah?”
Peter studied him for a long moment. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Neal smiled, an automatic response to potential danger. “That depends. Are we talking professionally, or are you finally asking about my tragic backstory?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Peter’s jaw tightened. “Neal...”
“Who told you that?” The question slipped out before Neal could stop it.
Peter blinked. “What?”
Neal pushed off the table, stepping closer. “Who told you I was lying?”
Silence. Peter’s expression shifted, just slightly, and that was the confirmation Neal hadn’t wanted. “You heard that.”
Neal huffed a quiet laugh. “Hard not to, when you say it like a verdict.”
“That wasn’t--”
“Sounded pretty definitive to me.”
Peter exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Neal, you weren’t supposed to hear that conversation.”
“Yeah, well,” Neal said lightly, though his chest felt too tight. “I’m full of surprises.”
Peter stepped closer. “Then let’s not play games. Are you lying to me?”
Neal held his gaze. There were a dozen answers he could give. A dozen ways to twist this, to redirect, to charm his way out of it. But that was the problem. Peter knew all of them. “About what?” Neal finally just asked.
Peter didn’t break eye contact. “About the Degas lead.”
Ah. That.
Neal’s smile faltered, just for a second, just for a tiny bit. But Peter saw it anyway.
“Neal.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s not,” Peter replied sharply. “You either are, or you aren’t.”
Neal looked away first. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? Then again, was it lying when you just happened to not tell the whole truth? Like the fact that Neal had recognized the name before Peter had even finished saying it. Like the fact that it connected to people Neal had spent years pretending didn’t exist anymore. Like the fact that telling Peter would drag all of that back into the light—and maybe, just maybe, ruin the one good thing Neal had managed to build. “I’m handling it,” Neal said quietly.
Peter went very still. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
Neal swallowed. “I can’t.”
Peter’s expression hardened, something closing off behind his eyes. “Then I guess I have my answer.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair,” Peter shot back, “is you standing here and asking me to trust you while you keep secrets that could compromise an investigation.”
Neal flinched. It was a small reaction, but Peter saw it. “That’s not what this is,” Neal whispered.
“Then what is it?”
Neal hesitated. Because the truth was dangerous. Because the truth would change things. Because once it was out, there was no taking it back. “I’m trying to protect you,” he argued helplessly.
Peter’s expression didn’t soften. “From what?”
Neal let out a hollow laugh. “From me.”
Peter stared at him. “Neal...”
“I know what it looks like,” Neal cut in, sounding desperate. “I know how this plays out. I’ve been on the other side of it, remember? You start pulling threads, and suddenly everything’s unraveling, and then...”
“And then what?” Peter demanded.
Neal met his eyes. “Then you realize you never actually knew me.”
The words hung between them like a threat. Peter took a long moment to process them. When he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly soft. “I know you.”
Neal shook his head, a faint, broken smile tugging at his mouth. “You know the version of me that fits in your world.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Peter stepped closer. “Who told you that?”
Neal blinked. The question threw him. Because there wasn’t an answer. No single person. No single moment. Just years of experience. Of being exactly what people expected...until they didn’t. Neal looked away. “Everyone,” he said quietly.
Peter didn’t accept that. Neal could tell. But he also didn’t know how to argue with it. The silence between them became uncomfortable. Finally, Peter just said, “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”
Neal’s throat tightened. “Maybe not.”
“Then stop trying to.”
Neal hesitated. And for a second - just a second - he looked like he might actually give in, tell the truth, and let Peter in. But then something clenched in his chest. Old habits. Old fears. “I’ll fix it,” Neal said instead.
Peter’s expression fell. “Neal...”
“I’ll fix it,” Neal repeated, softly but firmly. “Just... Trust me.”
Peter stared at him.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Trust only worked when there were no secrets.
THE END