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aragarnaTitle: An Unexpected Turn of Events
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Neal, Peter
Genre/ratings: angst, fluff, gen, g.
Word count: ~1000
Spoilers: nothing specific, though taking place post 5x13.
Summary: Neal managed to escape his kidnappers and is now running for his life...
Author's Note: This is a late birthday gift for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leesa_perrie who asked for "a little fluff or angst fic with Neal". I hope you'll like it! :-)
Each breath made the burn in his lungs a little more painful, a little more difficult to ignore. The muscles in his thighs and calves were getting a little stiffer with each stride. But he couldn’t offer a pause. Not even slowing down. Neal was running for his life. His pursuer was right on his heels, just far enough that Neal was out of reach, but close enough that one misstep from the escapee, and he was done. If they caught him, they would most likely beat the crap out of it, leave him for dead, dump his body somewhere, never to be found.
Neal focused on the rhythm of his strides, and the road, now 200 feet ahead. If he could reach it, then, by zigzagging through the streets, he might be able to lose his pursuer, make him lose eye contact for a fraction of second. That’s all Neal would need. If he could reach the street.
50 feet. Neal could hear the heavy breath of the man behind him. He sounded tired, but he seemed determined enough not to lose ground. Neal’s throat was so dry it felt like he had swallowed dirt. What remained of his once beautiful suit was dumped with sweat and dirt.
20 feet. An alarming click made Neal’s heart jump in his already hurting chest. His opponent had managed to reach for his gun while running and was arming it. So much for "don't kill him just yet." It was taking Neal all his willpower to resist the surge to look over his shoulder. But he knew what was going on behind him. A visual confirmation would only make him lose a precious second, so he kept his eyes on the street corner. He was so close now.
5 feet. Neal heard the man abruptly stop. Most probably to adjust his shot. In a desperate effort, Neal reached the street and dived as he took a sudden right behind the building at the angle of the street. He heard the bullet hit the concrete on the wall right above his head.
Expertly catching his fall with both hands on the ground, Neal was quickly back on his feet, but what he saw in front of him stopped him dead in his tracks. The road was blocked by three NYPD cars. A dozen of men with bullet-proof vests had their weapons drawn and pointed right at him. At the forefront of them, stood Peter, looking all intimidating and formidable, as he always was when in command of an assault team ready to burst in.
They stared at each other, equally shocked to see each other right there.
“Neal, what the -!” Peter growled, darting Neal a look the young man wasn’t sure how to interpret. Though there was definitely a note of exasperation in his voice. But before Neal got even the chance to open his mouth, Peter had grabbed him firmly by the arm and shoved him quite unceremoniously behind the line of armed officers, and out of his sight, just as Neal’s pursuer appeared at the corner of the building.
Watching the action from behind, It finally registered in Neal’s brain that there were FBI agents with the NYPD and a wave of relief hit him as he realized it was a back-up he didn’t call. He recognized Jones and Diana by Peter’s side, and a few familiar figures that were part of the intervention team. They were now all focused on the man that had been chasing Neal, standing, petrified in front of this impressive and unexpected apparition of the cavalry.
“Drop your weapon!” Peter shouted angrily.
Neal suddenly felt light-headed, the ground unsteady under his feet. He tried to keep focus on Peter, who was gesturing to his team. Everyone started moving around. Neal vaguely noticed Jones cuffing his pursuer. He lost sight of Peter. Gasping for air, he leaned against a car nearby and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.
He blinked and out of nowhere, Peter was by his side, holstering his gun and putting a protective hand on his shoulder. Neal looked up and raised a hand toward the agent, keeping the other on his knee for balance. Standing up right just didn’t seem safe enough.
“Peter – I… I didn’t run…” he said, still catching his breath.
Peter burst into a light and heartfelt laugh. “Right..,” he said, eyes sparkling with mockery.
“No, Peter, I mean…” Neal rasped between two long breaths.
But Peter’s smile widened, broad and warm. “I know,” he said softly as he threw himself at Neal, wrapping his arms around him, burying him in a strong accolade. “It’s so good to see you.”
Finding yourself squeezed against Peter’s chest was surely not the easiest way to catch your breath, but Neal didn’t want to let go – also because he felt he would collapse if it wasn’t for his friend holding him up.
Peter must have felt Neal leaning heavily on him, as he gently pulled apart. Still holding him with a hand and opening the door of the car with the other, he made him sit down.
“Hey, buddy, are you okay?” he asked with concern, handling Neal a bottle of water that he seemed to have made appear from thin air.
Neal drank greedily and nodded slowly as his mind seemed to finally clear. “Yes, I’m good,” he said in a more steady voice. “Where did everyone go?” he asked waving at the empty street, where Peter stood, hands on his hips.
“Giving the bad guys a well-deserved rough time,” Peter grinned.
Neal’s gaze met Peter’s and they exchange a quiet smile.
“That was a pretty good timing,” Neal simply said, relaxing into the car.
Peter titled his head, looking foundly at Neal. “I couldn’t let another guy catch you.”
“Because you’re the only one who ever caught Neal Caffrey.”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t even running.”
“Is that a challenge? You wanna race?”
“I think I had enough exercise for the day.”
“There’s always a tomorrow…”
FIN.
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Neal, Peter
Genre/ratings: angst, fluff, gen, g.
Word count: ~1000
Spoilers: nothing specific, though taking place post 5x13.
Summary: Neal managed to escape his kidnappers and is now running for his life...
Author's Note: This is a late birthday gift for
leesa_perrie who asked for "a little fluff or angst fic with Neal". I hope you'll like it! :-)An Unexpected Turn of Events
Each breath made the burn in his lungs a little more painful, a little more difficult to ignore. The muscles in his thighs and calves were getting a little stiffer with each stride. But he couldn’t offer a pause. Not even slowing down. Neal was running for his life. His pursuer was right on his heels, just far enough that Neal was out of reach, but close enough that one misstep from the escapee, and he was done. If they caught him, they would most likely beat the crap out of it, leave him for dead, dump his body somewhere, never to be found.
Neal focused on the rhythm of his strides, and the road, now 200 feet ahead. If he could reach it, then, by zigzagging through the streets, he might be able to lose his pursuer, make him lose eye contact for a fraction of second. That’s all Neal would need. If he could reach the street.
50 feet. Neal could hear the heavy breath of the man behind him. He sounded tired, but he seemed determined enough not to lose ground. Neal’s throat was so dry it felt like he had swallowed dirt. What remained of his once beautiful suit was dumped with sweat and dirt.
20 feet. An alarming click made Neal’s heart jump in his already hurting chest. His opponent had managed to reach for his gun while running and was arming it. So much for "don't kill him just yet." It was taking Neal all his willpower to resist the surge to look over his shoulder. But he knew what was going on behind him. A visual confirmation would only make him lose a precious second, so he kept his eyes on the street corner. He was so close now.
5 feet. Neal heard the man abruptly stop. Most probably to adjust his shot. In a desperate effort, Neal reached the street and dived as he took a sudden right behind the building at the angle of the street. He heard the bullet hit the concrete on the wall right above his head.
Expertly catching his fall with both hands on the ground, Neal was quickly back on his feet, but what he saw in front of him stopped him dead in his tracks. The road was blocked by three NYPD cars. A dozen of men with bullet-proof vests had their weapons drawn and pointed right at him. At the forefront of them, stood Peter, looking all intimidating and formidable, as he always was when in command of an assault team ready to burst in.
They stared at each other, equally shocked to see each other right there.
“Neal, what the -!” Peter growled, darting Neal a look the young man wasn’t sure how to interpret. Though there was definitely a note of exasperation in his voice. But before Neal got even the chance to open his mouth, Peter had grabbed him firmly by the arm and shoved him quite unceremoniously behind the line of armed officers, and out of his sight, just as Neal’s pursuer appeared at the corner of the building.
Watching the action from behind, It finally registered in Neal’s brain that there were FBI agents with the NYPD and a wave of relief hit him as he realized it was a back-up he didn’t call. He recognized Jones and Diana by Peter’s side, and a few familiar figures that were part of the intervention team. They were now all focused on the man that had been chasing Neal, standing, petrified in front of this impressive and unexpected apparition of the cavalry.
“Drop your weapon!” Peter shouted angrily.
Neal suddenly felt light-headed, the ground unsteady under his feet. He tried to keep focus on Peter, who was gesturing to his team. Everyone started moving around. Neal vaguely noticed Jones cuffing his pursuer. He lost sight of Peter. Gasping for air, he leaned against a car nearby and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.
He blinked and out of nowhere, Peter was by his side, holstering his gun and putting a protective hand on his shoulder. Neal looked up and raised a hand toward the agent, keeping the other on his knee for balance. Standing up right just didn’t seem safe enough.
“Peter – I… I didn’t run…” he said, still catching his breath.
Peter burst into a light and heartfelt laugh. “Right..,” he said, eyes sparkling with mockery.
“No, Peter, I mean…” Neal rasped between two long breaths.
But Peter’s smile widened, broad and warm. “I know,” he said softly as he threw himself at Neal, wrapping his arms around him, burying him in a strong accolade. “It’s so good to see you.”
Finding yourself squeezed against Peter’s chest was surely not the easiest way to catch your breath, but Neal didn’t want to let go – also because he felt he would collapse if it wasn’t for his friend holding him up.
Peter must have felt Neal leaning heavily on him, as he gently pulled apart. Still holding him with a hand and opening the door of the car with the other, he made him sit down.
“Hey, buddy, are you okay?” he asked with concern, handling Neal a bottle of water that he seemed to have made appear from thin air.
Neal drank greedily and nodded slowly as his mind seemed to finally clear. “Yes, I’m good,” he said in a more steady voice. “Where did everyone go?” he asked waving at the empty street, where Peter stood, hands on his hips.
“Giving the bad guys a well-deserved rough time,” Peter grinned.
Neal’s gaze met Peter’s and they exchange a quiet smile.
“That was a pretty good timing,” Neal simply said, relaxing into the car.
Peter titled his head, looking foundly at Neal. “I couldn’t let another guy catch you.”
“Because you’re the only one who ever caught Neal Caffrey.”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t even running.”
“Is that a challenge? You wanna race?”
“I think I had enough exercise for the day.”
“There’s always a tomorrow…”
FIN.
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