A/N: I felt so bad about killing Neal off in one of my fics. And Peter and Neal's relationship in my fic 'Alone' has been pretty rocky. So, I wrote this. Friendship with a dash of h/c :P NO SLASH! Takes place after 4x10, vested interest. I know the title sounds odd but I find it harder to name my stories and write their summaries than writing the actual story. Anyway, enjoy!
He loved running; it gave him a feeling of freedom. There was nothing like running in the early hours of the morning, the cold wind whipping his hair as his feet pounded the ground in sync with the beat of the music playing on his iPod. He loved the way his heart beat faster, increasing the flow of endorphins in his system, giving him a rush so unlike that of running a con but a rush nonetheless. A safe, happy high which didn't get him in trouble and let him get rid of the pent up energy that made him act like 'a nuisance of a five year old with a sugar high', as Peter had kindly informed him once.
He let out an irritated sigh as the insistent beeping of his alarm roused him from his slumber, reaching out to press the button to turn off the annoying racket. He checked the alarm, 5 am- time for his daily run. Neal loved running- but not today. Skipping out on his daily routine of his morning cardio workout just this once was okay, he assured himself as he reset his alarm clock for a later hour. He hadn't been feeling well and sleep had eluded him much of the night. He needed sleep more that a run right now, he thought as he curled up in the warm blankets and fell into blissful darkness.
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Peter checked his watch a third time in 5 minutes as he waited with growing impatience for his CI to get his skinny ass downstairs. His annoyance turned into concern as five minutes turned into ten and his gut clenched in a familiar way, signaling to him that something was wrong. Just as he was about to open the door of his car and enter June's house, a slightly disheveled looking Neal Caffrey appeared in the doorway of the mansion.
He breathed out a sigh of relief. After the fiasco following the boxing match with his partner, along with the revelation of 'Sam' actually being Neal's father, Peter had been feeling rather protective of his young friend. He had experienced many a sleepless night, unable to doze off after horrific (and rather vivid) nightmares of his friend being tortured and killed by whomever they had rescued James from all those weeks ago. With their little trust issue as resolved as it could be, all Peter cared about was keeping his partner safe and under the radar. He just hoped no one figured out that Neal was James' son.
The slightly abashed grin the con-man flashed him as he took his place in the seat besides Peter assured him further that Neal's vow that their friendship was over for good all those weeks ago had just been a temporary thing- Thankfully. Both of them had acted stupidly and both of them had gotten over each other's mistakes and moved on.
"Good morning, Peter."
"Hey Neal, did you have fun last night?"
"What-? No Peter, nothing like that. I just slept in this morning." Neal rolled his eyes at what his friend had been insinuating.
"Slept in and still looking like he stepped out of a freaking photo shoot. Even disheveled he manages to look like a damn model." Peter grumbled good naturedly, pretending to talk to his reflection in the rare view mirror.
"Aw, Peter. I didn't know that you were attracted to me in that way. What would El say?" Neal said, his eyes glinting in mischief. He was so glad that they were back to normal.
"Shut up, Caffrey." Peter grinned, smacking Neal's arm lightly.
"Ow! Hey, hands on the wheel! I can totally get you arrested for assaulting the FBI's most valuable asset!"
"Ha! Most valuable asset. Full of yourself much?"
"Very much. But rightfully so." Neal grinned, settling into a more comfortable position on the seat, leaning his head back against the headrest as he closed his eyes, his right arm wrapped subtly around his right side.
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"Neal, wake up. We're here."
"Five more minutes." The conman mumbled, pushing away the hand shaking him.
"Nope, you've had your nap. Time to get up."
"I do not nap!" was the indignant reply as bleary eyes glared at him.
"Yes you do buddy. You slept the entire way here."
"I was awake, just resting my eyes."
"Mmhm. Sure. Now wake up before I tell the entire white collar division that Neal Caffrey, conman extraordinaire takes naps."
"Extraordinaire, eh?" Neal smirked, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"You are such a child." Peter said fondly, ruffling his partner's hair as Neal stepped out of the car, his momentary feeling of panic from the morning a faded memory.
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Neal felt like hell as he stood up from his seat and made his way upstairs, the stomach ache he had been experiencing since the previous night had been increasing in intensity and his eyes ached. That only happened to him when he had a fever, perfect. He had received the double finger point from Peter though, and he tried to mask his discomfort by pasting on his fake con man smile as he entered his best friends' office.
"Hey Peter, what's up?"
"Neal, what did you do now?"
"Whatever you're talking about, I'm completely innocent."
"No you're not. You're smiling in the way you do when you're hiding something." Peter glared at him.
"I'm offended, Peter. I do not have such a smile."
"Yeah, you do." Peter said, rolling his eyes in amusement at the petulant tone adopted by his partner.
"In my line of business.."
"Ex line of business."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, whatever. So, what were you thinking about instead of solving the mortgage fraud I assigned you to."
Neal was sure that he blushed a little, he hadn't noticed Peter scrutinizing him when he was zoning out.
"Uh, nothing." Great- now he was stammering. He was really losing his touch if Peter could figure out when he as hiding something and now his brain couldn't come up with an excuse. Yep, he was going soft.
"Neal, if there is anything bothering you, you know you can come to me right? Not as Agent Burke, but as Peter, your friend." Peter was now giving him a concerned look
"Thanks Peter. That means a lot. But I'm fine, just a little tired."Neal smiled, trying to hide his increasing discomfort.
"Why don't you take a break? I think Jones just brought along a few refreshments." Peter nodded towards African American man carrying box of doughnuts and balancing a tray of coffee on top of that.
Diana snagged one of the four coffees from Jones as he approached the office and gestured for the two men inside to head towards the conference room.
"Wow, doughnuts and coffee. Can you get more clichéd than that?" Neal said as the entered the conference room.
"That's for cops, Caffrey. We're the FBI" Diana playfully glared at Neal as she bit into a cream filled piece of heaven.
"Potato, po-tah-toe. semantics Di."
"Caffrey, why don't you eat so you can shut up." Jones grumbled in mock annoyance and passed over the box to him.
"Thanks Jones." Neal's smile was a shade less brighter than normal as he grabbed a jam filled doughnut and nibbled it experimentally. His stomach had not been agreeing with him in the morning and he had skipped breakfast but he wasn't hungry. The pain in his abdomen was becoming increasingly pronounced as time passed, moving steadily lower.
His stomach lurched, snapping him out of the mental physical checkup he had been giving himself.
He hurried in the direction of the men's room after muttering a quick 'excuse me' to the occupants of the conference room. He barely made it in time before he started heaving, one hand miserably clutching the rim of a toilet and the other curled around his abdomen as his body seemingly tried to purge itself of the food he had eaten a week ago.
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Neal's hasty exit from the conference room was weird in itself. What was even stranger was seeing him toss his barely touched doughnut in a trash can as he rushed in the general direction of the men's room. Peter looked up to see Diana and Jones exchanging concerned looks.
"You want me to check on him, boss?" Jones asked, his worried eyes making contact with Peter's.
"No. You guys eat. I've got this." Peter said, brushing the sugary remains of his doughnut from his hands.
The sound of retching coming from a stall in the bathroom drew him towards itself.
"Neal? Are you in there?"
The continued sound of dry heaving was a rather useless- and slightly disgusting- reply to his question.
Peter tried the door, it was unlocked. As he pushed it open, he immediately dropped down on the floor besides his friend.
"Hey, hey, hey. Deep breaths, its okay." He continued muttering encouraging nonsense to his friend, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he tried to comfort Neal.
When the dry heaves had stopped, a water bottle was shoved in Peter's hands. He looked up to see Jones eyeing Caffrey worriedly, Diana standing close by concern filling her eyes. He felt his chest swell with pride; he had the best team in the world.
Peter offered Neal the water, gently placing the mouth of the bottle against his friend's lips. Neal took a sip, swished the water in his mouth and spit it before tentatively swallowing a few mouthfuls.
"Are you alright, Neal?"
" 'm fine." And the beads of sweat collecting on his upper lip were a tribute to how 'fine' he really was.
"Yeah, I can see that."
"That was 'coz of that awful Chinese takeout we ate for dinner in the van last night. Toldja I hated that thing." Neal said, trying to smile but ended up grimacing instead as a wave of pain hit him. He moaned, bending over in an effort to curl himself into a ball.
"Neal, whats wrong?" Peter was getting worried, there was something really wrong with his friend and it was not bad Chinese food.
"Hurts." Neal muttered, grimacing as another wave of pain hit him and he proceeded to mimic a human comma, only leaning on Peter now.
"Where, Neal? Where does it hurt?"
"Here." The conman gestured vaguely towards his abdomen
"Oh my god!" Diana exclaimed a second before she was pushing Peter out of the cubicle as she replaced him.
"Hey Di, I prefer my women in bed. Not in cubicles, if you know what I'm saying." Neal gasped out, obviously in pain but adamant on pretending that he was fine. Typical Neal.
It was really unbelievable how full of crap Caffrey could be, Peter thought, shaking his head. The man was in agony and yet, he was still trying to flirt with an annoyed woman who didn't even like men.
"Shut up, Caffrey." Diana snapped as she loosened his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Seriously, Diana. Let me at least buy you dinner first." Neal said jokingly, his humor marred by his increasing pallor.
"Seriously caffrey, if you weren't sick, I would have broken your arm." Diana informed him, her voice tense as she unzipped his pants.
"Hey! Seriously Diana, what the hell are you doing?!" Neal was now attempting to push her away weakly, confusion in his voice.
"Get your head out of the gutter Neal. You wear your pants too high. I need to palpate your abdomen. I think you have appendicitis."
"And you got a degree in medicine, when?" Neal said, stubbornly refusing to lift his hips up so Diana could pull his pants down enough to do whatever witchy voodoo she wanted to do.
"Cut the crap, Caffrey! I had a girlfriend who was a doctor. She got a few pretty bad cases of appendicitis and taught me how to look for the signs just in case." She had been right, she thought as she felt the abnormally warm skin on the lower right side of the conman's abdomen. She pressed on the spot and suddenly released it, eliciting a cry of pain from Neal. "Neal, did it hurt in this region from the beginning or did the pain progress from higher up?"
"My stomach hurt first, I thought I had gastritis or something. But its been moving lower and getting worse." The pale man had dropped the facade of nonchalance and now looked simply miserable.
Yep, she was pretty sure he had appendicitis; having once dated a doctor had its perks.
"Definitely appendicitis. The skin is warm and tender. Call an ambulance." Diana ordered in a no nonsense tone turning around to find Jones and Peter staring at her in awe.
"I'm serious guys; this can get bad really quickly."
As if on cue, Neal curled up into a fetal position once more, his face going white as he gasped in pain. His contortionist act was rather impressive considering he was lying halfway in a rather small stall, she mused, but it would have been rather useful in his previous line of work.
Then Peter was there, motioning her to move aside. She obliged, watching as her boss gently pulled his partner out of the cubicle and onto the floor outside.
"EMTs are fifteen minutes out." Jones informed them, placing his phone back inside his pocket.
The next fifteen minutes were agony for Neal, he could feel Peter stroking his sweat matted hair as he held his partners free hand and proceeded to squeeze it tightly, he knew it was hurting Peter but the FBI agent never moved his hand out of the con mans grip. He knew Peter was saying something, but he couldn't make out what. It was soothing nonetheless and anchored him, ensuring he didn't scream like a little girl. Then he felt a slight pinch near his elbow, and then he was floating in darkness.
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It could have been days or months or even years when Neal resurfaced from an all encompassing darkness. Something annoying was beeping. His stupid alarm. He reached out a hand to turn it off only for his hand to be grabbed by a large warm on and placed back by his side.
"What are you doing, buddy?" a familiar voice asked him.
"Pt'r?" he asked, struggling to open his eyes. The sight of his friend sitting on an uncomfortable looking green chair (freaking green! Which hospital kept green chairs, anyway?) brought a smile to his face.
"Yep, the one and only." Peter said, placing a hand on Neal's head.
"What happened?" the conman sounded more lucid now.
"You had a case of non-obstructive appendicitis. Who knew there was more than one type?"
Neal smiled at his friend who looked tired, the growth of a days worth of stubble accentuating his exhaustion.
"I'm fine, Peter."
"I know buddy." Peter still looked worried.
Neal felt his heart swell in happiness at the concern his friend was showing towards him. There were very few people who honestly cared about what happened to him, and Peter was one of them. Though the emotions in the room were getting to be too much for him. He looked away from Peter, worried that he would get teary eyed and embarrass himself; he really hated painkillers.
Neal glanced at their intertwined hands, (Peter had yet to release his hand) and smirked.
"Really, Peter. What would El say?"
A/N:Thank you for reading! So, what did you think? I did do research on appendicitis for this and initially, the symptoms can be confused for many other diseases such as gastritis. The visceral pain causes nausea and vomiting. Also, although referred pain from appendicitis often exhibits itself in the epigastric region and near the umbilicus, rarely the pain is felt lower in the abdominal region. Another thing is that the pain due to appendicitis does in fact travel from the stomach region downwards and gets progressively worse. Oh and non-obstructive appendicitis is less severe than obstructive appendicitis, the fever is below 100 F in Non obstructive appendicitis as opposed to over 100F in obstructive. I'm sorry for any glaring mistakes I've made though; I don't practice medicine so that is a possibility. I hope you'll overlook any errors in medicine coz this is fiction, after all. Its all in fun, right? Once again, thank you all for reading! Please leave behind a review and let me know how you felt about this piece. Also, for all those who have been following my story 'Alone'. The next update might take a while coz now my exams are looming ahead and I have to concentrate on studies. I hope this fic gets you throught the wait Cheers!