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12. Sick in front of a partner for the first time.
It wasn’t often that Neal Caffrey and Diana Berrigan got paired up to go undercover together, but the first time it happened still haunted Neal to this day. Neal had recently joined Peter’s team as a criminal informant, and less than a month after he’d gotten out of prison he’d had to go undercover with Diana to catch a fraudulent mortgage lender.
“Wait, we have to pretend to be married?” Diana didn’t particularly want to hang all over this criminal in public. Even for a case.
“Yeah. Got a problem with that?” Peter asked, slapping the case file he was reading from on the conference table in front of him.
“Um… I have a girlfriend for one,” Diana listed. “And two, he’s a criminal.”
Peter huffed a laugh. “You can’t pretend to like him for the 20 minutes it takes to meet with this guy?” He knew that Diana wasn’t very fond of their newest team member, but he was hoping that she’d warm up to him. “Neal’s like an annoying dog. He’ll grow on you eventually.”
Diana raised an eyebrow at her boss. “I doubt it.”
“You could go with Jones instead, but he’s been out sick. You’d have to be awfully close to him.”
Diana sighed. “Fine. Caffrey it is.”
On the day of the op, Neal woke with a headache brewing behind his eyes. Knowing there was no way he was getting out of going undercover, he downed three ibuprofen and went about his morning, making his coffee extra strong to get him through the day.
Everything was going smoothly until the car ride to the lender’s office. Neal’s stomach flopped and he had to swallow thickly and keep his eyes glued to the city passing by outside his window so that he didn’t lose his breakfast.
“You alright?” Diana asked from the driver’s seat. “You’re being awfully quiet.”
“Fine,” Neal muttered, not daring to say more. He sighed in relief when Diana pulled up and parked the car outside the office.
She sighed deeply before plastering on an endearing smile. “Ready to go buy our first house, honey?”
Neal smirked. “I’ve been ready. It’s about time your dad forked over your inheritance,” he joked as he got out of the car. His stomach was still doing flips inside him and he hoped that the nauseating feeling would go away so that he could focus on the case. Peter was counting on him.
They walked into the office, hand in hand, batting their eyelashes at each other. Everyone that saw them smiled, assuming that they were newly weds on their way to buy their first home. The gig was going smoothly.
“We’re here for a meeting with Mr. Stevens,” Diana told the receptionist in the lobby.
“I’ll let him know you’re here. Take a seat, and help yourself to our complementary snacks.”
Neal led Diana over to a loveseat tucked under a window and sat with her, eyeing the snack bar across the room. “Think any of that is as expensive as it looks?” Neal asked, tipping his head in that direction.
“Want to find out?” Diana asked. When Neal didn’t respond right away, she stood and sauntered over to the table. “Mmm, try this cracker and cheese,” she said, waving Neal over.
Neal had to admit that Diana was a pretty good actress. He could barely tell that this was the same agent that practically hated his guts. She played a good wife—as if he knew what having a wife was like. He stood and walked over to the table, standing next to her and resting a hand on her lower back as he scoped out the contents of the table. A cracker might not be a bad idea for his upset stomach, he thought, grabbing one that looked appealing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hewes? Mr. Stevens will see you now. Go right on up.” The receptionist was holding open the elevator door. “Thanks,” Neal said as he entered the elevator. He held out his hand and Diana took it, leaning into his body as the doors slid closed. The movement of the elevator made Neal queasy, and he closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
“Everything okay?” Diana asked, her facade falling momentarily.
Neal nodded, though he couldn’t come up with a lie to spout off to cover his moment of weakness.
He should’ve known that meant trouble.
The meeting itself was boring as hell, and Neal had to really focus on paying attention for the report he’d have to write when they got back to the office. The queasiness in his stomach hadn’t gone away, and if he didn’t know better he’d say he was going to throw up. And soon. Diana kept squeezing his hand occasionally, giving him strange looks from her seat next to him. Once they’d gotten a copy of the mortgage and promised to call with any questions, Diana practically hauled him out into the hallway.
“What’s wrong with you?” She scanned his face for a hint but got nothing.
Neal took a shaky breath and tugged at his collar. “I’m okay.” He didn’t even convince himself that he was fine with the way his voice cracked as he spoke. Clearing his throat he looked around. “Think there’s a restroom up here?”
Diana looked around too, but finding nothing. “I don’t see one.” A million thoughts were running through her mind at that moment; was Neal trying to play a fast one on her? Did he get poisoned somehow? Was he actually sick? “Want me to call it?” She knew that Peter and Jones were outside in the surveillance van listening to their every word.
“No, no. I’m okay.” Neal cleared his throat. “Let’s just leave.”
Diana frowned and hit the call button for the elevator. It felt like it took forever to show up, and by the time Neal walked into the small space he had a green tint to him and his face was shiny with sweat. From the looks of it, Neal was anything but okay.
Swallowing thickly, Neal shivered. The doors of the elevator slid closed and Neal felt a stab of panic surge through him. His mouth was suddenly filling with saliva and he had no place to run, nowhere to hide, nothing to vomit into. And he was definitely about to vomit. Taking slow, shallow breaths, Neal glanced sideways at Diana. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Neal, tell me what’s—”
Neal interrupted Diana with a harsh gag, crouching over so that he was closer to the floor.
“Oh, my god.” Diana resisted the urge to jump backwards and get as far away from Neal as she could, and instead rubbed a hand up and down his back. “We’re almost out of here. Take some deep breaths.”
Neal’s cheeks flushed and he wanted to disappear into the ground. He could feel a gag rising up within him and he was sure that there would be a mess made when it came out. Trying his hardest to avoid making a biohazard, he took some deep breaths and willed the elevator door to slide open. When it finally did, Neal bolted for the door, Diana having to run to keep up with him.
Neal made it to the sidewalk before he threw up, most of it ending up on his pants somehow. He crouched next to the street and heaved, stars blooming in his field of vision as he vomited up the cracker, the ibuprofen, and the coffee he’d had that morning. He hadn’t eaten anything else since dinner the night before, but it seemed like maybe that was going to come up too.
Diana held onto Neal’s shoulder with one hand and rubbed Neal’s back with the other, looking up and down the street for the van. “Do you think it was something you ate? Should I call an ambulance?”
Neal shook his head. “No, I think it’s just a bug. Felt bad when I woke up this morning.” Spitting as gracefully as he could, Neal stood and leaned into Diana for a moment before turning to go to the car.
Frowning, Diana stayed close behind Neal in case he fainted; his face had drained of all color and she was concerned that he might keel over. Her phone rang then, Peter calling to see what was going on.
“We’ve got a situation here,” Diana said when she answered, unlocking the car door as they approached it.
“What’d Neal do now? It was hard to hear anything once you left the meeting.”
“He’s sick, I think, though I’m not convinced he didn’t get poisoned.” Diana opened the door and let Neal sit down, his legs still out on the pavement and his head hanging between his knees.
“What kind of sick?” Peter sounded alarmed, which made Diana’s own stomach curdle.
“He threw up and I don’t think he’s finished yet.”
Neal waved a hand but didn’t move. Not at all reassuring.
“Can he get back to the office?”
Diana cringed as Neal threw up again, stepping aside a little so that her shoes wouldn’t get any splashes on them. “He needs to go home. His pants are covered.”
Neal whined at that, feeling like crying. Why did he have to get sick in front of Diana of all people? She was so badass that she probably never got sick.
“Ooookay.”
She could hear Peter talking to Jones in the background and wished they’d hurry up and make a decision.
“Alright, my house is closest. Take him there and I’ll meet you.”
“Got it.” Diana snapped her phone shut and stuffed it in her purse. “Peter wants me to drive you to his house since it’s closest. Any argument?”
Neal shook his head.
“Let me know when you think we can drive.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” Neal said once he was changed and curled up on the Burke’s couch.
Diana was spreading a blanket out over him and she smiled. “Hey, in sickness and in health, remember?”
Neal cracked a smile at that, though he was still deeply embarrassed that Diana had seen him vomit. “Any chance of going out with me for real, now that you’ve seen the type of husband I would be?”
Diana laughed. “Not a chance, Caffrey. Not a chance.”