The first time Peter saw Neal's wings was in a picture. Something had gone wrong with a scam he'd been running and he'd been forced to reveal them. Peter didn't know the full story, but when he'd seen that surveillance picture, he'd been stunned.
Neal's wings were beautiful, like a blue jay's but with their own special pattern. No wonder he seemed to think so highly of himself. And no wonder he was so good with the ladies. With wings like that, he could go places. Well, could have. If he hadn't chosen a more mischievous path.
"Didn't know Caffrey was a Winged," Jones commented, surprised.
"Probably didn't want the attention," Peter said, not taking his eyes off the image on the screen. "Now he's got it. Let's get on this before he goes to ground again."
He had to admit, Neal Caffrey was full of surprises. Being a Winged was tough to hide yet somehow he'd managed it for almost three years now. It made the agent wonder what other secrets the con artist was harboring.
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Neal's wings were never folded, that Peter knew of. Either they were held outstretched behind his back or sprawled in a somehow neat way around him. But they weren't clumsy either. He took care to make sure they didn't touch anything or get in anyone's way.
Peter wanted to ask just how he managed it, but he didn't want to stoke the man's already inflated sense of self importance, if that was what it was behind those charming smiles.
As he approached Neal's desk, those wings drew back, making space, and Neal looked up expectantly.
"Have those things ever caused you trouble?" Peter had to ask, shaking his head.
Neal thought for a second, then responded, "Nope. Not that I can recall. Well, aside from attracting your attention."
"I wouldn't call that trouble," Peter mumbled, then gestured for his CI to follow. "Come on, we've got a case."
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Mozzie had often been jealous of Neal's wings, he'd admit it. He could only imagine what it must be like to just spread them and let the wind rush through the feathers.
Not many Wingeds could actually fly, though. Only the ones gifted with wings big enough to carry their weight and, unfortunately, Neal was not one of those few. Though he was slender and light, so were his wings. They weren't meant for flying, only display, but what a display they were.
At this moment, however, Mozzie didn't envy them at all. He smiled smugly as Neal pulled them tightly against his back in an attempt to keep them under the cover of the umbrella he was carrying.
Rain to Wingeds, was exactly what water was to cats. It got in their feathers, making them heavy and ruffled, much like what humidity did to hair.
Neal looked miserable, and he shot Mozzie an unappreciative glare when he noticed his friend's grin.
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Neal froze in place, muscles tense as he prepared to run at any second. But for the moment, he stayed put, waiting to see if his cover had truly been blown.
The three men in front of him had their wings slightly extended, but not in a challenge, only the threat of one.
Neal could see that only one of them had wings smaller than his and the leader's were huge, even half folded as they were. He wouldn't win a challenge against him if it came to that, so he needed to play his cards right and just hope that Peter was close enough.
"Do we have a problem?" he asked.
"You tell us, Caffrey," the leader sneered, coming forward just a step. "Yeah, I know who you are. And I know you work for the feds."
Peter better be on his way, Neal thought tensely. There wasn't many ways he could stall, unless...
He let his wings unfurl with a snap, stretching to their full length. The black tips fanned out aggressively and he stood his ground, trying not to show his nervousness. He kept his wings still and strong, even as the man before him outright laughed.
"Are you kidding me right now?" he snorted, "You? Challenging me?" He lifted his chin with a smirk and suddenly, his startling black and tan striped wings opened, sending of gust of air through the room.
Neal felt his wings tremble, every instinct screaming at him to fold and fold now. But he refused, keeping up his display. It was difficult, especially when the other two men joined, the three sets of wings creating an unbeatable show of strength and dominance.
Despite him, Neal felt his wings slowly begin to fold, shaking uncontrollably. He fought against it with all he had, but couldn't stop it. He stumbled back just as the door burst open and FBI agents swarmed the area, guns drawn.
Neal stopped fighting it and his wings clamped behind him securely.
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"I've never seen your wings," Neal commented, shattering the silence in the car as Peter drove them back to the bureau.
"No, you haven't," Peter said in reply. "I don't use them."
"Don't?" Neal questioned. "Are you saying you can?"
Peter shrugged, his wings shifting behind him with the movement. "They're big enough. But I prefer walking. Besides, they're nothing special. I don't have any color."
Neal looked at him curiously. "So? They're not that bad. I've seen some pretty unique browns."
Peter shook his head. "It's a life choice. I don't give a damn what they look like, I just don't care to use them."
"Sure," Neal said, "But you don't have to keep them folded all the time. Even Diana doesn't do that."
"Diana is a woman," Peter said, shooting his friend a look. "All women show off their wings."
Neal raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright. I'm just saying, if you're insecure about—"
"I'm not insecure," Peter interrupted him, "I just don't feel the need to show off, like some people." He looked at Neal pointedly.
"What, like me?" Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, exactly like you."
They parked in front of the bureau and the matter was dropped, but Neal still itched to see Peter's wings, if only to satisfy a bit of curiosity.
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"Neal?" Peter called, his flashlight illuminating the floor in front of him. The large room was empty so his voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and sounding much louder than it was.
He heard a small reply from way back in one of the darkest corners, a quiet, "Over here," from Neal.
Peter walked carefully across the area, trying not to notice the occasional speck of blood on the ground, highlighted by his flashlight.
Neal was sitting against the back wall, one wing held loosely between him and the warehouse. The other was stretched across the floor, the feathers stained with red.
"Dammit," Peter muttered, kneeling beside his CI and setting the light on the floor so he had free use of both hands. "You got shot."
Neal smiled bitterly. "That I did."
Peter sighed, pulling out his phone to make a quick call to Jones. The agent promised to bring help right away and after Peter hung up with him, Neal asked, "Roderas?"
"We got him," Peter said assuredly. "He's being interrogated now."
Neal nodded, then winced as Peter started inspecting his wing. It didn't look too bad. The bullet had missed the bones and arteries, only making a small hole through the appendage that would probably heal in no time.
He paused when Neal sighed and drew his legs up so he could bury his face in his knees.
"You okay?" Peter inquired, concerned that Neal was more injured than he let on.
His reply was, "That's gonna leave a hole..."
Peter couldn't hold back a smile. "Yeah, probably." Leave it to Neal to be so concerned with something like a blemish in his otherwise perfect wings.
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Neal grabbed Peter before the man could protest and pulled him towards the window, eyes wide. He knew what was coming, even if Peter hadn't seen it yet.
He heard Peter shout, but it was too late to stop and Neal ducked his head as he crashed headfirst through the glass, dragging the agent along with him.
Right behind them, the building erupted in a fiery explosion, the heat licking at their backs and reflecting in the shattered fragments of glass scattering through the air.
Neal's wings opened and for a second, it was all in slow motion. He could see their silhouette on the ground far below. What a sight it must have been to anyone watching.
But then the world sped back up and Neal gasped as his wings struggled to hold them both. It was impossible and he knew it, but he could at least slow their fall enough so that they didn't hit too hard.
Peter blinked in shock but Neal didn't pay much attention to that, shouting in pain as he pushed his wings to their limit.
Abruptly, Peter grabbed onto him more tightly and spun them around in the air, switching places. With a snap, his own wings unfurled and they were definitely much bigger, better equipped to handle the weight of two people.
Neal let his wings go limp, already exhausted but now he could feel their fall slow considerably and the next thing he knew, there was firm ground beneath his feet and Peter let go of him.
The agent immediately drew his wings back in and Neal did the same, if only to stop them from shaking so much.
He gave Peter a nod and said breathlessly, "Thank you."
Peter nodded in return, then looked up at the window they'd broken through. "Let's get a team up there as soon as possible."
As they walked back to the car, Neal glanced over at Peter with a slow grin. "You know you've got green in your feathers, right?"
"I do not," Peter shot back.
"You do," Neal insisted, sliding into the passenger seat. "Not so much a color. More of a slight sheen, but it's like a deep foresty color."
Peter shook his head, but couldn't hide a smile.
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Peter had never seen Neal asleep before. He paused to observe for a moment, holding off on the wake up call he'd come fully prepared with.
Neal slept on his stomach, spread eagle, with his wings curled around him for a blanket. The only actual blanket he had was pooled messily around his legs. His jet black feathertips brushed his ankles.
Peter allowed himself a small smile, but erased any trace of it before saying loudly, "Neal, wake up."
Neal grunted something unintelligible and sat up quickly, his hair somehow not even ruffled. He stretched his wings out with a yawn, one of them brushing up against the wall.
"What," he said groggily once he noticed Peter there.
"Let's go," Peter said, checking his watch. "We've got a new case."
Neal squinted at him, taking longer than usual to process words. "What time is it?" he asked eventually, rubbing his eyes.
"Almost seven."
Neal dropped his hands and gave Peter an unamused look, shoulders slumping.
Peter shrugged innocently. "Don't look at me like that. Come on. Up and at 'em." Neal made a low growly noise as he rolled out of bed and Peter tried not to smile.
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Fifteen minutes was all he got with her, really, while Peter spoke with her boss. She was beautiful and shy, a rosy red blush seemingly a permanent color on her cheeks.
Neal flashed his dazzling smile and talked to her casually, leaning against her desk while her hummingbird wings fidgeted behind her. She smiled back and what a beautiful smile it was. Neal felt his own wings twitching in a way he'd only felt them do with Kate.
Her name was Kate too, as it happened, but her hair was light blonde and her eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen, rivaling his own.
They both forgot the world around them, looking only at each other and happily engaging in conversation about topics neither of them really paid attention to, lost in the other's eyes.
Neal snapped out of it abruptly when Peter gave him a hard Pat on the back and a gruff "Let's go, Caffrey."
He drew his wings back from where they'd been curled around towards hers and she did the same, looking down as the red in her cheeks deepened.
Neal gave her a quick smile and a wink as he turned to leave and he promised himself he'd be back for sure. A silent promise, but one he somehow knew she understood.