December

Neal started awake, as something heavy covered his shoulders. He realized he was in Peter's office, he had been working on files and had put his head down on Peter's desk for just a moment. Or, longer than a moment, as it turned out. Peter was standing beside him, looking down with concern on his face. The weight across his shoulders was Peter's winter coat. Neal moved his hands to the edges of it, and tugged it a little further around himself.

"Hi," he croaked, then cleared his throat.

"Hi," replied Peter, adjusting the coat as Neal pulled it more around himself.

"I was looking for you," said Neal, "I think I know where the next clue leads."

Peter nodded. He stood behind Neal, reached down, covered Neal's hands with his own on the edges of the coat. Neal leaned against Peter's right arm, laying his head back against Peter's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" murmured Peter.

"I don't know. I just feel like crap all the time."

"What did the doctor say?"

"I haven't gone yet."

"Why not?"

"Have you been to a doctor who works for the department of corrections?"

"You can go to any doctor under our insurance, Neal."

"When I had to go to the dentist they told me to go to a DoC dentist. That's almost worse."

"When was this?" Peter's body tensed suddenly, anger, bordering on fury entering his voice.

Neal relaxed a little more when he thought about it. He hadn't known Peter well then. He hadn't trusted him yet. He hadn't revisited the ordeal mentally in ages, preferring very much not to dwell on the experience.

"When you went to an island with El for your anniversary, not long after we started working together, now that I think of it."

"They…I…Oh, someone is in for…"

Neal leaned back against Peter's chest as much as he could in the office chair, and gazed up at him, "I'll call in the morning."

Peter shook his head. He let go of Neal's hands, wrapped one arm around Neal's chest, restraining him, and reached with the other arm, picking up his office phone, "I'll call the office El and I go to, they have someone on call."

"It's not…It's been going on for months, Peter. It's not an emergency. Write down the number and I'll call in the morning. Right now I really just want to go home and go to bed, but first I need to show you this clue."

Peter sighed, and reluctantly put down the phone. He kept his arm around Neal's chest and used his free hand to lightly finger comb Neal's hair, getting it to lay right after he had been sleeping face down.

Neal didn't respond. His head rested against Peter's clavicle, Peter's arm around his chest was solid, supportive, no longer restrictive. Neal's shoulder was against Peter's chest, he could feel Peter breathing shortly, still a little upset.

Neal was so tired, he let himself lean in just a little bit more. It lightened a load of anxiety he hadn't admitted he was holding. Neal wasn't that used to a life where you could be vulnerable, even sick, and have people hug you instead of take advantage of it.

And he was so tired. Just so tired.

"Uh, Neal, I think the clue can wait. Let's get you home."

Neal realized he had shut his eyes, let Peter hold him up almost entirely, and maybe even for a little bit of time fallen back asleep.

"Yes." he said, straightening up. His body hurt. Peter gently let go of him, pulling the office chair back from the desk. Neal put his hands on the blotter, and pushed upwards. With significant effort he got to his feet. Immediately pain up and down his body made him grunt, and then draw in a sharp breath. Peter reached out, gripping Neal's arm.

Neal straightened up the rest of the way more gingerly, and gently waved off Peter's grip.

"I'm okay. Just sore."

Neal shuffled forward, Peter close behind him. Neal took the steps conspicuously slowly, intensely aware that they had been noticed descending by Jones and Diana, Diana seated at her desk and Jones leaning against it drinking coffee.

Neal shuffled forward again. Peter followed him. As they came close, Diana stood up, and she and Jones walked to meet them at the aisle to the elevators.

"Are you okay?" asked Diana.

"He's not," said Peter, "I'm taking him home."

Jones walked ahead of them, and opened the door out to the elevator hall. Diana walked at Neal's side, opposite Peter. Neal was a little bit bemused. He must look like utter dogshit to be inspiring this kind of spontaneous concern. Jones and Diana stopped at the double doors into the elevator hallway.

"Hope you feel better, Caffrey," said Jones.

Diana nodded, "get some rest."

"Will do," said Neal.

Neal and Peter reached the elevators, Peter pressed the down button. He looked over at Neal, "is June in town?"

"Yeah, she got back yesterday."

"Okay. Well if you need anything and she's busy or it's too much, you call me. And I'll text you Dr. Bentner's number, and you call him as soon as you wake up tomorrow, okay?"

Peter reached out, and adjusted the coat over Neal's shoulders. Only then did Neal realize he was still wearing Peter's coat around himself. Also that he hadn't brought his own suit jacket, coat, or his hat. He was so tired it had all slipped his mind. He was glad Peter was taking the burden of getting him home, he was too exhausted to think straight.

The elevator dinged and they went in, Neal leaned against the wall. Peter punched in the ground floor. A short ride later Neal was following Peter out the door. They made it to Peter's car, and Neal spilled himself into the passenger seat. He buckled himself in, and closed his eyes for a moment.


Peter pulled up in front of June's house. He looked over at Neal, asleep since the moment they pulled out of the parking space. Peter reached out to him, gently shaking the younger man's shoulder.

Neal didn't stir. Peter shook him a little more. Neal turned over, facing away from him. Peter sighed, and put his hand under the coat, rubbing the younger man's back. His shirt was damp with sweat along his spine, he was far too hot, his back muscles were one big knot of tension. After a minute Peter stopped and withdrew his hand. A tiny sound of disappointment escaped Neal.

Neal turned over, having apparently been woken by the back rub. He gazed at Peter, fuzzy and fatigued. Peter ruffled his hair, "we're at June's."

Neal looked out the window, surprise on his face, "oh wow, I slept the whole way."

"In 5:30 traffic, in fact."

Neal sat up more, straightening his shirt, dusting himself off. He fixed his hair in the mirror. Peter watched him clean himself up just to walk inside past his friend and a dog and collapse in bed, in bemusement. Neal took off Peter's coat, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," said Neal, tone cool. Then he paused for a moment, looked out the window, looked back at Peter. "I'll call the doctor."

Peter nodded, and put it in his back seat, "you want me to walk you to your apartment?"

"No," said Neal with a chuckle. "I think my pride could use as few witnesses as possible."

"Fair enough. I'll text you the number. I'll call you in the morning to check in, you can stay home and rest if you need to."

"Thanks, Peter."

Neal opened the car door and got out, a little wobbly. He straightened up very gingerly, waved to Peter, and headed inside.