Work Text:
A Fish Tale
“Boss?”
“Hmmm?” Peter didn’t bother looking up to where his new probie stood in the doorway. He was too consumed reviewing Caffrey’s file for the hundredth time. One of these days, he was going to arrest the young, smug little bastard.
“Caffrey’s dead.”
Now that caught his attention. Standing quickly, he walked over and snatched the single sheet of paper from Diana’s hand. The Interpol report was lacking in all detail, but it made one thing quite clear. Neal George Caffrey had died two days earlier off an Australian shore.
WcWcWc
“Peter! Did I wake you?”
“What do you think? It’s after one.” Peter’s voice grumbled in his ear. He could almost imagine the older man swinging his legs out of bed to sit up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “What do you want, Caffrey?”
Neal hesitated and briefly considered hanging up. Peter sounded irritated, but then again, the man always sounded irritated when he called him at home, or at work, or while on vacation, or anytime he called him really. He took in a quick breath, reminding himself this call wasn’t just his normal, friendly check in with his favorite pursuer. “I thought, maybe… you’d heard…”
“About your run-in with a Great White? I heard.”
Neal chuckled. “I thought you’d appreciate a shark mauling.
Silence followed, and Neal was afraid Peter had hung up on him. Not that it would have been the first time. In fact, almost all of these late-night calls ended with a frustrated agent doing just that.
“Peter?”
The deafening silence continued another full half minute, and Neal could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise in his discomfort.
“I didn’t,” Peter finally answered.
“Didn’t what?”
“Appreciate the shark mauling.”
Peter’s tone seemed flat, but Neal was certain it must be the long distance and nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more, could it? Because that would mean the connection wasn’t completely one-sided.
“Oh, well, next time, I die--”
“Stop!”
Neal obeyed instantly, clamping his mouth shut, ignoring the little voice in his head chastising him for his subservience.
“There had better not be a next time!” Peter’s voice thundered in his ear.
(Neal waited, holding his breath, knowing Peter wasn’t finished.)
“God damnit, Neal!”
(He blinked twice. Peter had never called him by his first name before.)
“It took me three days and countless phone calls to confirm you weren’t dead. Three days!”
(Neal worried about Peter’s blood pressure and wondered if the man was clenching his teeth. It certainly sounded that way. He briefly considered telling Peter how bad that was for his health but as the man continued to rant in his ear, Neal decided perhaps now wasn’t the best time.)
“That’s one day thinking you were dead, one hoping you weren’t, and a third day of wanting to kill you myself!”
Neal felt a bid giddy. “Why, Peter, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared about me.”
With a snort, Peter answered smartly, “Good thing you do know better.”
“Do I?”
That comment was again met with silence, but this time Neal could at least hear Peter trying to get his breathing back under control.
“Stop calling my house! This isn’t personal. You’re nothing special, just your typical young menace to society.”
Neal wondered if Peter’s words rang as false in his own ears as they did his. “I’m just a case to be closed so justice can be served.”
“Exactly.”
“And you really want me to stop calling you?”
“’I really, really do!”
“Won’t you miss this?”
“I really, really won’t,” Peter insisted.
Neal gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, Peter. If that’s what you want.”
WcWcWc
Peter stared hard at the phone in his hand. Caffrey had just hung up on him! This was not how it worked. The universe demanded a certain order, and Peter hanging up on Caffrey fell perfectly in line with that order while the reverse did not.
Chaos. That’s what these late-night calls were about. The young, pompous ass thrived on creating turmoil and took perverse pleasure in tormenting and taunting the agent pursuing him. Of course, Peter didn’t. No sir, he found no amusement or entertainment value at all with their little chats. For him, they only added fuel to the fire to one day tell the little shit he was under arrest while slapping cuffs around his wrists.
Peter scrubbed a hand down his face and let out a frustrated breath. He was wide awake now, and though he didn’t want to admit it, he might be feeling something akin to relief. Even though he had come to the reasonable conclusion Caffrey’s death was nothing but a fish tale, there had been some lingering doubt. In a similar manner, he wasn’t ready to exam his current pensive feeling. It certainly wasn’t like he was going to miss these very annoying calls or the chipper, cocky voice on the other end of the line!
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone… but not from the one still held in his hand, but from one slightly more distant. Stunned, he watched Elizabeth’s hand come out from under the covers to grope around her nightstand. He wouldn’t dare… Peter pinched his nose. Who was he kidding? Calling his wife was exactly something Caffrey would do!
“That’s for me,” he told her and promptly snatched the phone from her grasp.
“Fine,” Peter snapped, his exasperation evident with his caller. “You can keep calling.”
“Thank you, Peter.” The voice in his ear wasn’t at all sounding chipper or cocky, but more contrite than he had ever heard him. Naturally, it made Peter more suspicious than ever. “For what?” he asked.
“Caring.”
“But I don’t—” Peter stopped. Shit. He actually did.
“And I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“But I wasn’t—” Peter sighed unable to deny the truth. And damn it, why did the kid have to sound so sincere as if he really was sorry?!
“Can I call you again, Peter? If you really don’t want me to, I promise I won’t call you--”
“-or my wife,” Peter interjected.
“-or your wife again,” Neal agreed, and Peter could almost imagine the kid’s blue eyes shining brightly.
Peter suddenly had a vision of Neal, holding his breath, anxiously awaiting his response because it mattered to him, because these calls were about more than taunting Peter and rubbing his nose in the fact he was still running amuck. And in that moment, Peter stopped thinking of Caffrey as a true menace to society but rather as Neal, an annoying Dennis-the-Menace type, who needed strict and consistent boundaries to find his way.
“Okay, Agent Burke, I’ll stop--”
“Midnight,” Peter said hastily into the phone before he could change his mind.
“Excuse me?”
“No calls after midnight,” Peter clarified. “I value my sleep. As does my wife.”
“I knew it! I knew you cared!”
Hearing the chipper tone back in his voice, Peter rolled his eyes even as a smile threatened to touch his lips. “I’m going back to bed. Good night, Neal.”
“Talk to you soon, Peter.”
Peter returned Elizabeth’s phone to her dresser and slid back under the covers. Before he drifted off, he made a mental note to discuss the inappropriateness of sending birthday cards the next time the little shit called.