"Neal? Does this coffee taste funny to you?" Peter asked with a furrowed face. He sure had a long day ahead. And he desperately needed that dark fuel. Especially this day! This… long… long day.

"Nope. But that's because I don't drink this coffee. I got mine across the street," Neal said. With a smirk on his face he watched the older man take another well intentioned sip, only to spit it back out again in his favorite mug. His face grimacing in progress.

"Yug. It tastes like eggs." sighing, Peter had put his mug down onto the table and looked suspiciously at his CI. "What did you do, Neal?" Neal, who was sitting on someone's desk, near the coffee machine, raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"What? You blaming me for that sordid coffee, too? Very mature," he said with a disapproving look.

Mature, Peter thought with a annoyed growl.

"Fine. You are nicely tense with your snarky comments, so. Give me yours, instead. I needed it more that you do." He snatched the paper cup out of Neal's hand and took a long sip.

"Hey! Peter! Did your mother never learn you some manners? Gee."

"Don't start with me, Caffrey. Just need another sip and you will get it back."

Caffrey? Neal blinked up at him. Why did Peter called him by his last name all of the sudden? For the first time this early morning Neal took in his boss's appearance. The older man looked dog-tired. He never looked that way. Never.

"Don't sweat it. Keep it. I don't like it when other people get their lips on my cup anyway. With all their germs and stuff. Especially when they're sick. Presuming you are. Do you feel okay?"

And Peter just shot him a stern look. Causing Neal to shrug innocently.

"Just saying, Peter. You looked like a truck run you over." Peter's face turned a little grey from exasperation. But he didn't back away when Neal inched a little closer to look deeper in his eyes.

"Seriously, Peter. My life is in your hands at all times. I need to know. Are you sick?"

There was a uncomfortable silence. Some of the agents walked by them and mumbled about a partner fight. It was very common around here. Because the work pressure was always high. Eventually Peter gave up his stern gaze. The blue deep eyes of his partner were too much.

"No. I'm not sick, Neal. But I'm getting there if you don't get back to work, now." He firmly smashed the half empty paper cup in to the trashcan and stride away through his office. Leaving a slightly stunned conman behind.

"Okay. Don't need to shout, man."

…

First of all: there was a monstrous stack on his desk made of rapport files that needed to be looked over and signed by him. And he wouldn't usually whine about that, because he simply loved his job.

And second: he didn't had a good night of sleep.

But that was all.

Really!

Peter looked at the files and gave a deep sigh. With a thud he put some files next to his desk so he could at least sit behind it. By the time he started to read he noticed that his vision was a little blurred. Blinking hard he sat back on his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Great," he muttered. "Maybe I am starting to get tired… or sick… or wathever." Sighing again he stood up from his chair and walked through the platform.

His vision was back to normal again but he still needed Dianna to help him with the huge stack. Just help him with a small amount of reading work. That's all. Hughes doesn't have to know. He wasn't even working this day, after all.

"Dianna?" he yelled. Surprised to see she still wasn't in the office yet. She never was late. All right then. Maybe Jones will help me. He is a good friend. And he isn't afraid to make an exception, even though it is against the rules.

"Jones? A help over here," he said. But Jones also wasn't at his desk, yet.

"Peter? Need a hand? I'm done with mine, so if you need a hand, or something. I would like to help, if that's okay?" Neal answered with another thick and done rapport under his arm. "Also, you need to sign this right away. Deadline." Neal smirked when he came up to his boss. Peter didn't retain him when Neal pressed the file in his chest and made his way into his office. The chair where he usually sat in was occupied with even more files and the younger man held back a chuckle.

"Nice fort you got. I can see why your so upset this morning." Peter closed his door and dropped his shoulders tiredly.

"I know. I'm sorry about that earlier. Didn't get much sleep."

"Ow I can see that," Neal nodded concerned. He had taken his place on to his chair and had put the files on his lap.

"Let me work these over, for ya. Will that help? I swear I'll only look over them and let you sign it yourself." His big blue eyes were locked on Peter's brown ones and Peter finally gave a nod.

"Deal. Only read them over and put them on this side of the table so that I can sign them." Peter was so glad he had help he almost laughed out loud. But Neal seemed to bust him.

"Let's get started then." He gave his famous smile and the both got too work.

…

A hour later, and fifty rapports away, Peter's vision started to blur again and he sat back in his chair. He even started to feel lightheaded.

"Neal… We can take a break if you want," he said, despairingly hiding his dizziness. But Neal already suspected something and took in Peter's shades of grey.

"Sure. Of course, Peter. Would you like me to get some coffee from across the street? It's no problem. I could use some fresh air. Maybe a bagel, too." He jumped up from his chair end straightened his back. Peter dropped his pencil on the desk and gave a quiet nod.

"Go ahead. Get a latté for me, this time. I'm in the creamy mood." Neal nodded and before he left he watched his partner shrink away from the bright sunlight. "Hey, you okay?" he asked nearing the door. Peter gave a uncertain nod and got back in his chair, blinking hard.

"Wow, You sure?" again Peter gave a nod. Although, his face was getting paler.

"Liar," Neal shot back. Within two paces he stood a front of him and looked Peter in the eyes. "What's going on with you? And why are you so stubborn? Are you having a fight with Elizabeth or something?" At that Peter growled at him.

"No. Of course not. She has nothing to do with it." Neal jerked back at the loud tone.

"Okay, man. Whatever you say."

"She doesn't, Neal. That's the whole point." Neal frowned. He saw in Peter's eyes that there was more.

"What do you mean?"

"I-I… Neal… Promise me that you aren't gonna laugh nor tell this to anyone!" Neal quickly made a gesture of sealing his mouth shut as a promise.

"I sometimes have trouble sleeping." Neal raced an eyebrow. "You mean like nightmares?" Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"No.. But.. Yes. Kinda." He gave a sigh and rubbed his stinging red rimmed eyes again. The older man didn't actually know how to put this. So he just went on.

"I only have them when I'm alone in bed. I dream of her getting killed or kidnapped by some mean fellow. Man. I even dreamt of you last night. Being shot and bloody. Dying in my arms, and all."

There was a weird kind of tension between them. One that almost felt like someone was about to collapse in the other ones arms, crying like a upset child. But Neal did know how he must react to ease up the atmosphere.

"Well… You know what they say about those nightmares. They are not real."

"But they sure feel like. They surely did last night."

Neal thought about what Peter said yesterday morning. Elizabeth was going out of town for a client meeting. That evening Peter came by to have a drink. Hang out like buds. Everything fell into place. Peter was afraid to be alone? Maybe the stress did a number on him. All those cases he had done with him weren't exactly easy. They hadn't got one single day off since Neal was working with him. Maybe Peter needed some relieve. From him and his work.

He didn't know how to react to this problem so he just kindly laughed at him. Peter just looked at him with a frown.

"Just get me some coffee, Neal."

And so he went.

…

When Neal got back with a tray of coffee and two bagels he found his boss sleeping behind his desk. His head leaned heavily on a pile of files and his mouth hung open while he snored peacefully. With a soft smile, Neal soundlessly took his place back to the chair and started working again. Eager to help his friend out. Of course as quit as he could.

Screw this, He even counterfeit some of the signatures also. Sometimes that's how everyone does it. No one is around on time, with the big boss free at home, anyway.

…

The end:3

A/N: Just a small one-shot thingy too kill some time. Hope you liked it. And I know. No plot or anything good. And of course: Bad grammatics. I'am Dutch and still learning to write better. Please tell me what you think. It means a lot.

X

Josie