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Peter’s legs faltered as he ran, missing a step, then threatened to give out altogether. The brunette head of hair disappeared around a corner and Peter finally gave up. He put his hands on his knees, bending over at the waist to try to catch his breath. He was sweating all over, his suit clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he felt nauseous. If he could just catch his breath…
He spotted a cafe just a few paces away and before he could register that he was moving towards it he felt himself sink down into one of the chairs at an empty table. He was worried he might vomit; his head was swimming, and he was panting hard as he tried to catch his breath. Why did Caffrey have to show up during a record-breaking heatwave?
He clutched his side and inhaled sharply as a shooting pain radiated through his body, causing him to wince. He just needed to cool down a bit, slow his breathing, get his head to stop spinning. Peter leaned forward and put his head in his hands, trying to get his body to regroup, calm down, and just breathe.
Peter jerked when he felt something ice cold hit the back of his neck. The cold retreated as quickly as it had come.
“Hey, it’s okay! It’s okay. You’re burning up, I’m just going to cool you down, okay?”
That voice was so familiar, Peter tried desperately to place it but he couldn’t get his brain to work right. He nodded slowly and the cold sensation appeared once again. He didn’t jump this time, instead he shuddered at the sudden chill running down his spine. A straw bumped into his lips and he jerked his head away. “Take a drink, Burke. Please?”
He opened his mouth and pulled a few sips from the straw. The cold water seemed to do wonders to help clear his head, and finally his brain kicked into gear. Burke? Nobody called him by his last name except–
He looked up and met a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Caffrey,” he grated out, and tried to stand, but heavy hands pushed his shoulders back down and into the chair.
“Whoa, relax, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m trying to help.” Neal was kneeling in front of him, a bucket of ice water on the ground next to his knee. He removed the washcloth and dunked it in the bucket again, then he wrung it out and replaced it on the agent’s neck, draping it over him gently. “You looked like you were about to pass out,” he said, much softer.
Peter watched him, incredulously. He should be cuffing him right now, but Neal had Peter’s forearm in his hand, gently wrapping another soaked washcloth around his wrist. He tucked the end of the cloth underneath to secure it in place and gave it a gentle squeeze, some of the water dripping out and down his arm. Then he did the same with his other hand, his movements methodical and gentle, all the while Peter kept his eyes trained on him, like he was a puzzle he could solve. “Why are you helping me?”
Neal smiled softly as he finished wrapping Peter’s other wrist and held up the glass for him to take another drink. “If I got away because you passed out from heat exhaustion, that wouldn’t be very fair, would it?” He met Peter’s eyes with a glint and a smirk.
Peter’s expression didn’t change, he just stared back, examining Neal’s face, looking for the con, trying to figure out what Neal was playing at. “What’s your angle? You think because you’re helping me I’m not going to arrest you?”
Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, holding them up for Peter to see. He instantly tensed but Neal held up a hand in a calming gesture of innocence and put them back in his pocket. “Borrowed these. Sorry, but I’ll give them back,” he said with a wink.
Peter frowned at him. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“I know,” he said, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He pulled another washcloth from the bucket and wrung it gently, then dabbed at Peter’s forehead and the sides of his neck.
Peter swallowed thickly. Physically, he was already feeling much better. His breathing had returned to normal, the pain in his side had vanished, and he no longer felt like he was seconds from losing his breakfast. His head was still dizzy and swimming though, and Peter suspected it had little to do with the heat.
Once more Neal removed the cloth from Peter’s neck and dunked it in the water before replacing it. He smiled softly at him. “There. Feel better now?” Peter nodded once, slowly, eyes still wide and searching Neal’s. “Good, you seem better. I ordered you a sandwich, make sure you eat it, okay? See you later, Burke.”
Neal stood and winked at him before taking off running again.
“Wait!” Peter yelled as he stood, only to feel his arm get tugged behind him when he took a step forward. He looked down to see that somehow Neal had cuffed him to the chair without him noticing. He huffed and looked up, but Caffrey was gone, no trace of him in sight. Peter clenched his jaw as he pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs, and seconds later a waitress set a plate down in front of him.
“Courtesy of the young man who was here a moment ago,” she said with a bright smile. “He said you weren’t feeling well. Do you need some more ice water?”
Peter returned his cuffs to his belt where they belonged. “No, thank you,” he answered, more curt than he intended to be, and he watched her walk back into the cafe.
Peter eyed the sandwich cautiously, debating if he was hungry enough to trust a meal from Caffrey, or if he could even stomach food at all. A few seconds later and a rumble from his stomach settled both questions. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, and Neal was already gone – he might as well take the offering. He sat back down and pulled up the top piece of bread, examining the contents of the sandwich. He let out a snort. Neal had managed to order his favorite, and Peter doubted that was a coincidence. He pulled the cloths off his wrists but kept the one on his neck, refreshing it in the ice water every few minutes. He ate slowly, trying to make sense of what had happened, and resolving to not feel like he owed Neal something. He was still a criminal, after all, and Peter still had a job to do.
But maybe one day he would try to return the favor.