Hello! This is the last bit of the story that I have pre-written, so any and all ideas would be greatly appreciated! Thanks to everyone who took the time out of their days to review, every one makes my day a little better. Now that that mushiness is over with, on to the story! (this chapter was named by Alina Lassiter b the w)
Shawn and Gus sat in the glass office and waited for something to happen. They had been brought to the FBI headquarters after their disastrous run in with an undercover agent. They had been sitting in this office for a few hours now, and Shawn did not take well to boredom.
"Gus, we are in New York City. In the FBI headquarters, no less. And I am bored." Shawn said to his friend, as he propped his feet up on a desk, and tossed a rubber band ball up and caught it a few times. Gus snorted. Only Shawn could cause enough mayhem to get them in trouble with the FBI, and then talk about how bored he was.
Quite a few agents shot Shawn dirty looks after that exclamation. A lot of the agents were whispering to one another about "Caffrey this," and "Neal that" and "Caffrey letting his cover get blown." Shawn wasn't sure what they were talking about. It was improbable that two agents got their covers blown in the same night, but they hadn't blown and Neal Caffrey's cover. The man they had been sitting with had been Nick Halden.
The two men had to sit in the FBI offices for another few hours, enduring either scathing glances shot at the two of them, or confused glances shot at Shawn, who was still playing with the rubber band ball. Shawn had begun to count the time by the amount of glares that were shot his way. After 47 death glares and 24 confused looks finally something happened.
The man who may or may not be called Nick appeared outside of the glass doors to the offices, accompanied by the agent that had lead the rescue party last night. Neal/Nick wasn't looking too good. His hair was even more mussed up than before, and it didn't look intentional this time. His fedora was perched haphazardly on top of his head, and he was walking with a slight limp. He was sporting a black eye and a split lip, but it seemed as though he was trying not to show any weakness. His attempts were futile, however, considering the fact that he was stumbling every few steps, due to what Shawn assumed were the lingering effects of a sedative. The other agent had to catch and steady him a few times, to keep him from falling flat on his face.
After they had entered the office the agent stopped to talk with some other people, while Neal/Nick continued on towards the desk where Shawn was sitting. Shawn listened in, and caught parts of the agents' conversation. "….insisted on giving him sedatives, despite what I told them about the last time…at least this time there wasn't any singing…" Shawn snickered.
"Do you find something funny?" Neal/Nick asked menacingly as he leaned up against the side of the desk. Well, fell into would really be a more accurate description of what happened. Shawn couldn't help but laugh as Neal/Nick had to hold onto the desk just to keep himself upright.
"I don't find this funny!" maybe-Nick growled at Shawn, but Shawn remained unperturbed. "You're loopy! Of course it's funny!" For a second possibly-Neal didn't react, and it seemed like he was remembering something. Then he shook his head, throwing himself off balance again, and almost fell over, only able to remain off the floor because the lead agent grabbed his arm as he passed by and steadied him.
As the agent continued walking he started laughing. "This isn't funny Peter!" Nick/Neal called after his retreating form. "Yes it is!" Peter called over his shoulder, and Neal/Nick growled after him.
He turned his attention back to Shawn when he heard him laughing again. "You're in my seat." He grumbled, still standing unsteadily near the desk. Shawn completely ignored him, and instead responded by saying "I don't think your name is really Nicholas Halden, is it?"
"Of course it's not, you idiot. My name's Neal, as I'm sure you've already heard. Now you're sitting at my desk. Get up." He commanded, the effect totally ruined when he slurred some of the words together.
"Come on Neal!" Shawn said happily, talking to him like they were old friends. "Lighten up!"
"Lighten up!" Neal sputtered angrily. "You just got me beaten up, you're sitting at my desk, I'm having my second horrible experience with sedatives, not to mention the fact that you burned a perfectly good alias, and you want me to lighten up!" he finished his rant loudly, his voice had been growing progressively louder as he continued on, finishing up as a loud shriek.
A lot of people were staring at them now. No one had ever been able to get Caffrey this riled up before, not even Peter. But Shawn didn't look the least bit wary of the fuming ex-con. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
Then Shawn did something that went too far. He took Neal's hat. If looks could kill, then the glare Neal sent at Shawn would have knocked him dead.
"Give. Me. Back. My. Hat." Neal said, through clenched teeth as Shawn put the hat on his own head. "Nope!" Shawn said, in a ridiculously happy voice, as he smiled up at the absolutely furious Neal.
Neal made a swipe for the hat, but Shawn quickly dodged around the office chair, swirling it to face him and using it as a shield. Neal, who had regained some of his motor control, ran to the other side of the desk, making another swipe at the hat. Shawn jerked away at the last second, pushing the chair towards Neal as he skittered backwards. The chair crashed into Neal's chest with a surprising amount of force, and sent the already off balance man tumbling to the ground.
Gus was just walking back into the office area from the bathroom, (where the author sent him when she realized that she had neglected to write him a single line in the entire scene) and when he saw Neal go crashing to the carpet he abruptly turned around and walked right back out again.
Neal remained on the ground, appearing to have been either knocked unconscious or to have gone to sleep. No one approached him though, because they all knew him well enough to know that if he was unconscious he wouldn't want any help, and if he was asleep and they woke him up all hell would break loose…again. The select few that knew him really well knew that neither of those two options was possible. Neal would never give up a fight, ever, and that included stopping to take a nap. And he couldn't be unconscious, because he hadn't hit his head. They didn't go to help him because they knew, from experience, that he had to be planning something.
However, Shawn did not know him at all, and had been too busy running away to notice whether or not Neal had hit his head. So after a good few minutes of waiting on the other side of the room for Neal to get up and come after him again Shawn started slowly walking towards the man lying on the floor.
Neal heard Shawn's footsteps as he approached him. His plan was working perfectly. He had the urge to smile, as he always did when his cons were working out just as he had planned them, but years of training allowing him to keep his face void of any emotion.
As Shawn got closer he noticed that Neal was still breathing, which greatly relieved him. Something seemed off about the situation. Why was no one else attempting to help him? But despite his apprehension he continued to approach Neal, feeling more than a little responsible for the situation.
As he reached Neal he leaned over his still form, and poked him on the forehead. "Neal? Hellooo? Are you awake?" Shawn asked, poking Neal repeatedly. Neal had to work to keep himself still, but years of training weren't for nothing.
Then Shawn grabbed Neal's shoulders and shook him a little. The next events happened so quickly that hardly anyone saw what happened. Neal reached up and grabbed Shawn's shoulders, pulling him to the ground next to where he was laying while simultaneously using the momentum to pull himself back up. The move seemed extremely practiced, and Shawn wondered why an F.B.I. agent would ever need to use something like that.
Neal reached down and plucked the hat back off of Shawn's head, and put it on his own with a neat little flip. He stood there for another moment, smirking down triumphantly at Shawn, before he turned around and headed up to Peter's office.
Shawn hoisted himself up on one elbow, staring after Neal with a newfound respect for the man.