November

Peter, Jones, and Neal walked down the hallway of a chemical manufacturer, following an administrator who was going to show them the lab where their suspect had worked. Neal was badgering Jones behind them, as Peter talked to the administrator, Davis.

"So Jackson was the last person to study this formula?" Asked Peter.

The woman leading them down the hall nodded, "it was his baby, and when we were denied approval it really hit him hard."

Neal and Jones caught up as the woman flipped through keys on a ring to open the lab. Neal got up close to the glass door, looking into the lab. The administrator opened the door. There was a pop, and yellow liquid sprayed out onto her and Neal, and Peter. Neal and Davis got the brunt of it, Peter got a splash across his chest. Jones was further back, untouched.

Peter stood there for a second, eyes wide. Neal was covered, eyes shut tight as it dripped from his face.

"Decontamination shower, this way" yelled Davis.

Peter looked back at Jones, "call Hughes."

Jones nodded, "go. I've got you."

Peter grabbed Neal's hand, towing him along with his eyes still shut. Neal tried to keep up.

"Hurry," said Davis, though Neal was already clearly struggling. They finally reached them, two plastic cubicles behind a door marked with a shower icon.

Davis turned to look at them, "you'll turn the water on, wash off, remove your clothes, and then rinse–"

Peter shooed her into one of the showers, "we'll figure it out."

She stepped into one of the cubicles and closed the plastic sheeting. Peter pulled Neal into the other shower. Neal was panting, in pain from the run. Peter turned on the water, which sprayed at them from all directions. Neal jerked, taken by surprise, slipping and almost falling. Peter grabbed him by the shoulders, "easy, easy. Hold still."

Neal nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands as the water soaked both of them through their suits. Neal took his suit jacket off, Peter pulled Neal's tie undone, started pulling his shirt untucked. Neal unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, his fingers seemed stiff and uncooperative in the cold spray, Peter pulled it off him. Neal's undershirt clung to his skin, he peeled it off himself.

Peter knelt and undid Neal's belt, Neal held onto Peter's shoulder, finally opening his eyes, "did it get you?"

"Only a little."

Neal hung on to the frame of the shower, while Peter yanked his pants off.

"Buy a guy dinner first," joked Neal, voice tight with pain.

"Haha," said Peter, and stood, starting on his own clothes while Neal took off his boxers. Neal moved a little to the edge of the stall, giving Peter room to maneuver, still holding tight to the pole that held up his corner of the shower.

When Peter was done stripping, he put his hand on Neal's ribs, steadying the younger man, who was clinging to the frame and shivering violently. Neal's body was hot to the touch, despite the cold spray.

Neal tried to lean down to get his socks and shoes off, and ended up slipping, landing on his behind. Peter knelt, and got them off for him. Neal sat there, arms around his chest, body shaking, as he watched Peter. Embarrassment was clear on his face.

Peter tried very hard not to look at his naked CI, which was essentially impossible from his current position. He couldn't help noticing that he was thinner than he had been when Peter had seen him shirtless in the past, a little less buff. That did not, however, stop him from being problematically attractive. And naked.

Peter got the handheld sprayer from the wall, and knelt behind Neal, rinsing his hair. When that was done Peter hung the sprayer back up, and sat on the floor beside the younger man. He put his arms around Neal, and Neal immediately pressed himself to Peter's chest, shivering.

Peter rubbed his back, trying to warm him up, as water continued to pour over them, "are you okay? Did it get in your eyes?"

Neal lifted his head from Peter's shoulder, and spoke through chattering teeth, "I think I'm okay. How long do we have to stay in here?"

"I don't know."

Neal buried his face in Peter's neck. Peter moved so that he could get Neal between his legs, trying for more contact between their upper bodies. Peter was sure now, Neal was as hot against him as he had been the weekend they had shared a bed in the cabin upstate. Far too hot for the situation.

"Do you have a fever?" He asked, softly.

Neal nodded into Peter's neck, "yeah. Won't go away."

Peter pressed his face to the top of Neal's head.


Eventually the water shut off, and Davis called to them, "okay, it's finished the cycle. Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine," called Peter, Neal was chattering too hard to answer, "pretty cold though."

"There's towels out here. I'm going to step out."

"Okay, thanks."

Neal peeled himself away from Peter, Peter stood, and he reached down, offering Neal his hands. Neal took them, and slowly, painfully got to his feet. He stood there, hugging himself, soaking wet, shivering. Peter put his arm around Neal, and steadied him as he stepped out of the shower.

Neal snatched a towel out of an open drawer, wrapped it around himself. Peter dried himself off, tied the towel around his waist, and got another one to dry Neal's hair.

Neal seemed truly miserable, as Peter rubbed the towel over his head, resulting in his hair being drier but also tousled and wild. He wouldn't meet Peter's eyes.

"I don't think Jones needs to find out that we had to use the same shower, do you?"

Neal finally looked at him, relief on his face, "nope."


They left in scrubs with the chemical company's logo embroidered on them. Peter went and got his car. He pulled up and got out.

Neal tried to keep his shivers under control, as he stood next to Jones, outside with damp hair, running a fever.

Jones met Peter's eyes, Peter could only give him a small shrug. Neal made to get in the back as usual, Jones grabbed his arm, "hey, front seat is heated. Why don't you take that one today."

Neal shook his head, flashing a huge smile, "that's okay. Thanks though."

Jones didn't let go of his arm, "Caffrey, you're not fooling anyone."

Neal sat down in the front seat, sheepishly.

Jones went to the trunk where he had stashed his work bag. He pulled out an FBI jacket and handed it to Neal in the car, "I know this may be a novel concept, but if you actually tell your friends what's going on, you don't have to go through it alone."

Jones shut the door, and got in the back seat.