January
Neal bounced out of the ski lodge and twenty yards further past, then turned around and waited for Peter, a huge grin on his face. Peter shook his head, chuckling to himself into his scarf. He caught up with Neal, and they trudged up to the ski lift together.
"Now remember, it's more important that he doesn't suspect something than that we get the information today."
"Right," said Neal, still grinning, "but ideally both."
"Ideally both," agreed Peter.
Neal hopped up onto the lift, swinging his legs. Peter got on next to him, "you seem to be feeling better."
"Yeah, doctor put me on a new medication, it's helping."
"That's great, Neal."
Peter had forgotten exactly how hyper Neal was when he was well. Or maybe there was a rebound effect.
Six hours later the suspect had confessed. Neal had out-skied him, outwitted him, and outtalked him. The drive back into the city was a treatise on several painters Neal was interested in. Peter listened to him talk the whole three hours, amused, tuning out parts of it.
"And there's a showing tomorrow at the Met, but yeah, outside my radius, but anyway–"
Peter glanced over at him, and smiled, "El likes her work too, maybe I can arrange for you two to go."
He could…potentially also use to have Neal somewhere other than the office tomorrow, so Peter could actually get work done. Neal brightened up even more at the suggestion, "really?"
"I'll call her when we get back to the office."
Neal positively vibrated with excitement.
The next day, Peter had been home for a few hours after work, enjoying the time with his dog and his sports. His phone rang, and he looked down. It was Elizabeth, still out with Neal.
"Hi, honey," said Peter, answering.
"Hey sweetie. Can you come outside, I need your help."
"Sure thing."
Peter got up, a little concerned, and headed outside. Elizabeth was there standing next to her car, Neal seated in the front passenger seat. His face was turned away, his hands in his lap, the seat reclined a little bit extra.
El looked worried, and she was rubbing Neal's shoulder. Peter reached them, "what happened?"
Neal very stiffly turned his head to look up at Peter, "I, uh… I think I overdid it. At the ski lodge."
Peter relaxed a little, "I'm sorry to hear that."
Elizabeth patted Neal's shoulder, and then jerked her head at Peter, indicating for him to follow her a little ways away from the car. He did, and she touched his arm, "Peter, I'm worried about him. He's playing it off, but he's in a lot of pain, by the time we left he could barely walk."
Peter sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead, "I'll talk to him. He just started a new medication, he was feeling great yesterday. He's probably telling the truth that he went a little too far."
Peter and El returned to the car. Neal was sitting with his feet on the sidewalk now, back ramrod straight. Peter leaned against the side of the car, pseudo-casually. Neal tried to look up at him but it was clear it hurt him too much. Peter changed positions, crouching in front of Neal on the sidewalk.
"How are you feeling about June's steps today."
Neal met his eyes, then looked away, without turning his head at all.
"Elizabeth recorded a Smithsonian lecture last night, want to come in and watch it while you decide?"
Neal looked deeply uncomfortable and didn't answer. Peter reached up, and took his hands, "you're scaring us, Neal. Let me keep an eye on you, at least for a little while. It would make me feel a lot better."
"Me as well," added El.
Neal looked between them, studying their faces. He seemed to decide that whatever he was worried about wasn't there.
"Okay," he said softly.
Peter got up, and wedged himself between the car door and the side of the car. Elizabeth stood on Neal's other side, further from the front of the car. They both put a hand under Neal's armpit, and helped him up.
Standing, Neal's whole body stiffened in pain. He made a soft sound, and put his head down. Peter put his arm around Neal's back at his waist, pulling Neal's arm over his own shoulders. Neal was trembling.
El ran up the steps to hold the door open, while Peter and Neal slowly shuffled to the half flight, and took each one haltingly, carefully. Elizabeth went back and shut and locked the car, then followed them into the living room. Peter was nearly carrying Neal as they reached the couch, and awkwardly they sat down together.
Neal hunched forward, shaking. El brought over a heating pad, plugged it in, handed it to Peter. Peter turned it on, lifted the hem of Neal's shirt, which had come untucked entirely, and slipped it up inside. He held it there with a hand over Neal's shirt, at his upper back.
El sat down on Neal's other side, giving him a quick, delicate hug at the shoulders, and then putting her hand next to Peter's on his back. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I hope you still had at least a little fun."
Neal gingerly looked at her, then over at Peter.
"I did," he said quietly, "I had a lot of fun."
Peter handed El the remote, and got up, "I'll put something together for dinner."
Peter put on a pot of water to boil, got out a pan, got some ground beef out of the fridge, and dumped it in. He started browning it, every so often stepping away to peek into the living room. Initially, Neal just sat with his hands together, hunched forward, visibly uncomfortable both physically and situationally.
By the time small bubbles had started to come up from the bottom of the pot of water, he had relaxed a little, watching the TV, talking to El.
By the time the meat was browned, Neal was letting El give him a bit of a back rub. Peter chopped up some mushrooms and onions and dumped them in.
When Peter checked next, as the pot came to a full boil and the onions were translucent, the situation had changed. Neal had his face pressed to Elizabeth's shoulder, her arms around his back. Peter's lips twitched, conflicted between concern for the younger man, and relief that Neal was finally showing a little bit of how bad he felt. Peter wondered exactly how long he had been feeling like crap before he stopped being able to hide it.
Peter salted the water, put the pasta in the pot, got out a strainer and olive oil. He added a jarred sauce to the meat, onions, and mushrooms, and turned the heat down on that burner. He leaned back out to look again. Neal had settled a little bit, less upset after the release of crying. He was laying in El's embrace, head resting on her shoulder, as they watched TV together. Peter turned back to stir his sauce.
When everything was done, Peter got out three TV tables and set them up. Neal watched him bring out the plates of food with sudden and intense interest. He sat up, wincing as he did.
Neal inhaled the food. El watched him, glad and amused, and met Peter's eyes. Peter smiled back at her, and ate some spaghetti. Neal finished the plate, and leaned back.
"There's more if you want."
Neal looked at him, "yeah, definitely."
Peter got up and got him more, and then returned to his own meal. Neal dug in. Peter finished his first plate around the same time Neal finished his second. Peter took both plates and put them on the coffee table. He turned to Neal, also facing Elizabeth. He put his left hand on Neal's right shoulder.
"Neal, this has gotta stop. I have to know if stuff like this is gonna happen. I can't take you in the field until I know what's going on. I know you keep things private, and I respect that. But you'll have to stay in the office."
Neal met his eyes for a moment, then looked at El. She nodded encouragingly, put her plate on the coffee table as well, and took Neal's hands, "Peter has been worried about you for months."
Neal looked back at Peter, "I wouldn't have gone on something dangerous. I would have said no, or I would have told you."
"Every mission we are on could be dangerous. Even mortgage fraud. Money, art, and power is always dangerous."
Neal looked down at where El still held his left hand, for a moment. Then he frowned a little and looked back at Peter, "you're not benching me, though? I would just have to stay in the office?"
Peter bit his lip, wishing Neal would just tell him, but unwilling to threaten him, "yes. I can't force you to tell me. It would in fact be illegal."
Neal studied Peter's face, then gave a little smirk, "I'm not gonna do that to you. Honestly there's not much to tell. I was feeling like crap all the time, getting random fevers, body aches, swollen joints, headaches. I've been tired, or dizzy. So far the doctor said it's something auto-immune, but they haven't nailed it down yet. They put me on steroids which is supposed to bring the inflammation down, but I guess also have side effects."
"Is one of them…hyperactivity?"
Neal laughed, "yes."
Elizabeth hugged Neal, "thank you for telling us. I'm sorry you're going through all that."
"Yeah."
"You don't have to update me on the details, but will you promise to tell me if you're not feeling well enough to run away when something dangerous happens?"
"I promise I'll tell you if you promise to be reasonable about what you decide is too dangerous."
"Deal."
"Then yeah, I promise."
"I promise, too. I want you there, I just don't want anything to happen to you. I really couldn't handle that."
"Yeah. If…if I'm honest, running has been off the table for a while."
Peter put his hand on Neal's arm and gave him a small supportive squeeze, "I'm sorry that's happening."
"Do you want to sleep here or go back to June's?" asked Elizabeth.
"I'll sleep here."
"There's a few back episodes of these lectures, we can watch more or I can let you sleep," she offered.
"I'd be happy to watch more."
Peter smiled a little bit, relieved. He picked up the dishes and went to clean up the kitchen. When he finished that, he walked into the living room. Neal was dead asleep, his head on El's thigh. The TV was still on, but Elizabeth was watching Neal. Peter picked up a blanket off another chair, and covered Neal with it. El smiled at Peter, "I'll be up in a few minutes, it's almost over."
Peter chuckled, and kissed her cheek, "it's fine, I'm probably going to pass out the minute I hit the mattress."
She nodded, "if you're asleep by the time I get up there, goodnight hon."
"Goodnight, hon,"
Peter headed upstairs.
When El came upstairs, Peter was asleep, but he woke up for her. He turned over, and gave her a sleepy smile. She sat on the bed, but didn't immediately lie down. She rubbed his arm, "Peter, there's something we need to talk about."
"Oh, no." said Peter, sitting up. "What did I do?"
She laughed, "nothing."
"Okay," said Peter. He reached out and took her hand, "what is it?"
She shrugged, "while Neal was falling asleep he admitted something to me."
"And that was?"
"He's got a crush on both of us."
Peter blinked at her, "oh. Well…okay."
"You know how I feel."
Peter shrugged, "I'm more surprised when people don't get a crush on him."
"I'm wondering how you feel."
"Honey, you know how I feel. I want you to be happy, and I'm just not that sexual. I just don't want there to be secrets."
"About Neal, Peter. How do you feel about Neal?"
Peter bit his lip. He looked at the alarm clock, then back at El.
"He's my CI. It doesn't matter how I feel, it would be inappropriate for me to…"
El kissed him, "okay."
"That doesn't mean you can't, though."
"I know. Thank you, honey."
