Can't Con a Sickness. A White Collar Fic. Disclaimer. I do not own in anyway.
It was about 7 o'clock at night. The white-collar division wrapped up another big case earlier that day and peter was working on paperwork. The office was starting to shut down. Jones walked up the stairs and into his office.
"Hey, Jones. What can I help you with?"
"Peter, hey. You might want to get your CI home. He's decided to use his desk as a place of rest."
Curious as to what that looked like Peter got up and went to Neal Caffrey's desk. There he was with his face on the desk using his paperwork as a pillow. Peter felt bad for him, he had been putting in long hours at the office. He guessed it was because of the guilt he had about hiding the treasure and getting El kidnapped, however he did more than enough to make up for that in catching Keller and proving to be one of the best workers in the unit.
Wanting to be gentle, Peter tapped Neal on the shoulder.
Neal woke with a start. Peter could tell he was a little disoriented and confused for a few seconds. The man sat up straight and smiled. "Ah, sorry Peter, I guess I was a little tired."
"That's okay, buddy," The FBI agent said sympathetically, "Let's get you home. I need to head home to El anyways."
On the ride home, Neal just barely stayed awake. He didn't miss the worried glances his handler gave him. Neal hoped he didn't see how terribly he felt. Determined to convince Peter he was fine, he insisted that he could get up to his apartment on his own and didn't need to be followed. Thankfully, Peter did not get out of the car.
Neal quickly made his was up the stairs and went immediately went to the kitchen to find some medicine. For the first time in two days the con was able to let down his guard and feel what his body was trying to tell him.
He was achy, exhausted, and starting to get a headache; that was something he was trying to avoid when he fell asleep at his desk.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes Neal passed out on his bed, welcoming the comfort of home.
Caffrey woke up a few hours later sweating. He was way too warm. He was tossing and turning, praying that his body could get calm enough for him to lull back to sleep. Just as he was convinced his body would do just that his stomach rebelled.
He was able to get out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, swallowing hoping he didn't have to endure what was going to come up. As soon as his knees hit the ground and he leant over the toilet the bile came up. He was coughing and gagging. Neal was disgusted. He was convinced that this was the worst part of human existence. He spit more vomit out of his body for a few more minutes and shivered on the floor until he was convinced the bout was over.
Neal got up and rinsed out his mouth. He made the mistake of looking in the mirror and saw how pale he was. He had enough strength to get some more medicine and a bucket and slid back under the sheets, hoping the worst was over.
Peter arrived at June's house a little earlier than usual wanting to see how is CI really was after last night. When he got there, Neal looked like he just got out of bed, his hair disheveled and messy, it was very un-Neal like. "How'd you sleep?" Peter asked as he took in the view of the apartment. He saw Neal had a bucket next to his bed and decided he catalog that for later.
"I slept alright, thank you for asking." Neal said and then asked sincerely, "How was diner with El?"
"It was wonderful." Peter said with a smile. He loved quality time with his wife.
"I'll be ready in a minute." Neal said as he made his way to the bathroom.
Peter took that time to go out into the patio and take in the view that made him breathless every time he saw it.
5 minutes later, Neal was in a suit and ready to go with a smile, however, Peter saw dark circles under his eyes. "Never gets old does it?" Neal said conversationally.
"No, it does not." Peter answered back. "You ready for another day of work?"
"You know it." Neal flipped his fedora on to his head, ready to start the day. He really hoped he could continue the con of not being sick another day.
Peter didn't like how quiet his partner was on the way to work. He decided to test a theory, "Hey, you want to go and get coffee? You seem a little tired this morning?"
Neal looked at Peter, thinking for a moment and said, "No, I had some coffee before you came to pick me up." Just like Peter thought, Neal refused coffee; coffee that he willing to pay for. That was odd in his mind. Most days he was begging for it.
"Okay, your choice." The FBI agent answered back. "I hope you're able to stay awake today."
"Aww, Peter! Are you worried about me? I'll be fine. Falling asleep at your desk occasionally is just part of the job, right?" Neal said in an enthusiastic way, as one can do with a slight headache.
Neal was able to make it through lunch before he was physically sick again. He spent the morning thankfully at his desk doing paperwork and trying to stay in one spot as much as possible, hating how his limbs felt weighed down and sore. His headache was getting a little better, due to the pills he was able to take that morning. He only had a little bit of a stomachache and sipped water, hoping that would settle it. The CI was very hopeful that he could get away with this and just crash all weekend in his apartment, probably wishing for death.
Peter appeared in front of his desk and informed him that is was lunch time and asked if he wanted anything. Neal had asked for soup.
He managed to eat half of the bowl that Peter purchased for him. Neal was able to gain a little bit of energy and even banter back and forth with his team. His stomach felt a little off still, which he was trying to ignore, figuring he was still a little hungry or sore from being sick last night.
Everyone went back to their desk's ready to start the second half of their day. Neal discomfort was starting to get worse. He was starting to feel like he did the night before. He started to get hot, felt lightheaded. His mouth had a lot of saliva in it, and he had to keep swallowing. He kept focusing on his breathing, hoping for the nausea he felt would go away. He sat there breathing in and out for as long as he could. Deciding that if he got up nonchalantly, he would be able to make it look like he needed a regular bathroom break, instead of getting a second appearance of his lunch.
He got up slowly and saw jones and Diana staring at him. He managed to smile crooked and whisper "Bathroom break."
Once he opened the bathroom stall, he ran to the nearest stall and started heaving. The gags lasted on and off for a few minutes. When he was done, he did a mental once over. His stomach felt much better now. Neal decided that he would forgo food for the rest of the day, for sure. He rinsed his mouth, washed his hands, and went back out to his desk. The con could continue.
The con could not continue. Peter asked Neal if he wanted to come over to dinner that night. ALL neal wanted to do was go to bed. He felt to lethargic at this point. He wanted Peter to drop him off and leave as fast as possible. How could he tell his friend that without showing the "cracks" in the armor?
Half truths were acceptable in his book. "Peter, I'm tired. Is it okay if I get a raincheck?"
"Oh, come on, Neal. El made your favorite dish and it's a Friday night, you have all day to sleep tomorrow. Cowboy Up!"
Neal inwardly groaned. "Please, Peter," He started to plea. He felt his headache getting worse by the moment, the medicine wore off a while ago. "I just want a weekend to myself." A shiver ran through his body.
"Oh, someone is touchy." Peter grinned at him.
Peter knew Neal was sick and it bothered him to no end that he would not admit it. He didn't know what his CI was trying to prove but he was going to let it play out, not wanting to push the kid. Peter will step in when he asks for his help. But he was determined to subtly be there for him, which is why he bought Neal lunch, knowing that he is needing something in his system.
By the time 5pm rolled around, Neal really did look tired and Peter wanted to the charade to end. Knowing that the con would want to be home, like Peter would if he were sick, he decided he would pry it out of him.
"Neal, does this have anything to do with the bucket a saw next to your bed this morning? You didn't sleep much last night did you?"
"Hmmm. No, you just like to work your most valuable asset until they want to collapse on the floor." Okay now, he was getting irritable.
"Neal, be honest with me. You're feeling more than tired, right?" Peter could tell from observing the CI that he was lethargic because of the lack of usual movement he showed every day. He also noticed how pale the kid had been when he got up to "use the bathroom" earlier.
"Fine, I might be catching something, allegedly, and I would like to sleep it off okay?"
"That wasn't so hard was it?" Peter lent out his hand for Neal to take to hoist himself up. Neal took it shakily, lacking his usual strength. He collapsed in the back of the chair
"Come on, Bud. You need your sleep. I'll drive you home. Up you go" The Fed was able to get him up and about 30 minutes later, by some miracle the CI was in bed, sleeping.
Neal woke up and started gagging. He looked around for the bucket and threw up. He felt so awful. He was going on 3 days of feeling like absolute shit and was about ready to throw in the towel and just ask Peter for the day off. But the conman in him did not want to give up the façade just yet.
The façade shattered as soon as he felt a hand on his forehead. Neal guessed there was no way that the owner of the hand didn't see his eyes become 2 times bigger in fright and surprise as the person said "Hey hey hey, shhh. It's just me, Neal. You have a pretty good fever. Here let me get you some water."
Probably due to that fever that the man was talking about, Neal was able to finally register what was happening, as the man walked away, "P'ter?" He choked out and a rough sounding cough followed.
"Yes, Neal. I couldn't bare the thought of leaving you by yourself while you're not feeling well. El, would kill me." Peter smiled as he handed him the glass of water and thankfully some pills. "Here, take these. It should help with your fever."
Neal took them gratefully. When he was done swallowing, he looked at Peter and was finally able to say what he had wanted to avoid, "Peter, I'm sick."
Peter gave out a small laugh, "I know, Neal. You're not very good at being a con man when it comes to your health."
Fin