Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spencer needed money and knew the best way to get it was by gambling. It was not the most reliable source of funds, but he was a genius and knew how to count cards. The only thing he didn’t have was a way to get into the casinos. All he needed was a fake ID and the best source of fake IDs in the entire Vegas public school system was Danny Brooks.

“No one will ever believe that you’re eighteen, let alone twenty-one.” Neal said flatly, staring unimpressed at the kid standing across from him. He unashamedly stared at the kid in disbelief; long, scrawny limbs and a baby face that was barely hidden by large glasses made him look even younger than he probably was. And Neal told him that.

Spencer frowned. “So, you won’t make me one?” He crossed his arms, angry that he had finally found a teenager that was actually good at making fake IDs and the guy wouldn’t help him.

“I didn’t say that.” Neal rolled his eyes at Spencer’s scowl; he didn’t want to deal with melodrama but he wasn’t about to turn away a good business opportunity. “Look, kid. You want this ID to get into casinos, right?” There was no other explanation for why the resident genius from the town over would need to be older than he was. There was no way that the kid was looking to buy alcohol and it wasn’t as if he needed an ID to buy drugs. Gambling was the only logical option unless there was a lot more to the story than what Neal knew.

Spencer narrowed his eyes but eventually nodded in confirmation, he saw no reason to lie to Neal. The older boy was right, he did primarily want to use it to gamble, even if it would also come in handy when handling things on his mother’s behalf.

“It’s clear you are in it for the money and I’m not trying to stop you,” Neal continued, “but if you try getting in looking like that, you’ll be escorted out immediately. You look young.” Neal used a hand to gesture towards the entirety of Spencer.

Spencer hated how pitying the boy’s voice sounded. Neal wasn’t wrong; he did look young, but if he had a good enough ID, he should be able to get around that; a lot of people looked younger than their years.

Neal bit his lip in contemplation, considering. He wanted to help; it felt as if Spencer needed the money for something specific and if Neal were to take a guess, it was probably for college bills. Education was important and Neal was a strong believer that everyone should have the chance to go to college despite their financial situation.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Neal offered, drawing out the words as he finished formulating a plan. “I’ll make you the ID for free, we spend that money you were going to pay me on a few things to make you look old enough for this to be believable and then when you start winning, you share ten percent of the profits with me.”

“How do you know I’ll turn a profit?” Spencer leaned forward, his heart jumping at the possibility of getting what he wanted.

Neal looked at him as if he were an idiot; it was not a look Spencer had ever been on the receiving end of before.

“You’re that genius kid from across town, aren’t you? You’ll turn a profit.” Neal sounded more confident than Spencer felt about the whole ordeal, and it almost made him smile. “Besides, if you don’t, the worst I’m out is the two hundred you were going to pay me today and the cost of materials.”

It was a fair argument and Spencer considered the deal. It would save him the time of finding a new forger, especially since Neal was supposedly the best one around; it would also not hurt him in any way unless he was turning a profit, so failure would only leave him where he started. He didn’t know Neal at all, but he seemed like someone that would keep their word and not try to extort him out of more money later. Ten percent was not an insignificant amount of money, especially since he would be putting the vast majority of it towards care for his mother, but it wasn’t an unreasonable percentage.

Spencer made his decision. Instead of holding his hand out to shake on it, Spencer nodded sharply. “I’ll take your deal, Danny.”

Neal quirked a lopsided smile. Spencer didn’t even offer him a lower percentage, the kid didn’t know how to negotiate at all. It was a bit endearing. “Great. I’ll take you shopping for some clothes tomorrow if you’re free and then we can take a photo for the ID.”

Spencer looked down at his clothes briefly. They were old and worn, but he didn’t see what was wrong with his jeans and t-shirt. They were clean and had no holes. He would follow Neal’s directions though, as per the deal he had just struck.

They took a bus together to go to the closest strip mall. Spencer eyed the large building with apprehension. “Remind me why we’re doing this again.”

Neal rolled his eyes at Spencer’s dramatics as they disembarked the public transport. He waited for the doors to close behind them and the bus to drive away before answering. “In order for you to pass as someone old enough to gamble, you actually need to look like you’re old enough to gamble. No offense, but you look like a fourteen-year-old.”

“I am fourteen.” Spencer complained, his voice high enough that it was not helping his case.

Neal nudged him gently with his elbow, walking towards the mall entrance without waiting to see if Spencer was following. “Exactly! We need to add a few years to that and to do that we need some more sophisticated clothing and a touch of makeup.”

“Makeup?!” Spencer exclaimed, almost tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to catch up to Neal.

Neal quickly placated the younger boy. “Relax. It’ll just take a little bit of contour to make it look like you have a jawline.”

Spencer made a scoffing sound but didn’t voice any more complaints. He really needed the money. His scholarships only covered his undergraduate degree, which he would finish within the next year. He wanted to go on to get at least one PhD and that would require money for tuition, rent, food—all of which he didn’t have. Any further schooling would need even more money.

He also knew that the moment he turned eighteen he would send his mother to a sanitarium. It was still four years away, but when the time came, he would need to be prepared to pay for the down payment as well as have some money saved up for the costs of her care over time. He wasn’t about to put his mother in some state run care home, he loved her too much for that and ideally he’d like to get her full-time care. She deserved the best, even if he wasn’t the one that could provide it.

In total, the amount of money he would need was well into the hundreds of thousands and his mother’s pension would only cover a small fraction of it.

Spencer was pulled out of his musings as Neal dragged him by the arm into the first store. Spencer didn’t have a chance to voice his usual protest that he didn’t like to be touched.

They quickly ended up in the section containing clothes for teenage boys and Neal weaved them around the stands to get to the formalwear.

“You want me to wear a suit?” Spencer’s distaste with the idea was abundantly clear in his tone and Neal laughed at him a little.

“Not necessarily.” Neal explained, “The goal is to find something that makes you look older but that you are comfortable enough in to look natural and not anxious.”

Spencer frowned at the high expectations for the clothes. He never felt comfortable and was always anxious, so it seemed like a tall order for a single outfit.

Neal eyed the smaller boy critically. “What size are you? You’re tall, which works in our favor, but having clothes that fit will make you look even taller.” He flipped through some button up shirts on one of the racks as Spencer told him the sizes he normally wore for shirts, pants, and shoes.

Neal quickly piled a variety of shirts and pants into Spencer’s arms and before long the younger boy was being herded into a dressing room. Neal took the stack of clothing and methodically passed items over the top of the door to Spencer.

“Do I have to come out?” Spencer asked through the door.

Neal smiled to himself. “Yes, you have to come out. I need to see if it does actually make you look older and you will have to actually wear something we find, you know.”

Spencer reluctantly opened the changing room door and subjected himself to Neal’s scrutiny.

Neal nodded thoughtfully and then gently pushed Spencer back into the stall with another shirt to try. Spencer groaned.

It seemed like hours that Spencer had spent in the dressing room. He had been forced to try on everything under the sun. The only item of clothing he actually liked was a warm sweater vest. He hoped that item made it to the final ensemble, though he had no clue if it would since Neal hadn’t said much for or against any of the clothes.

“Alright,” Neal finally said. “I’m thinking the basic slacks and dress shirt might be best. We’d better do the long sleeved one. Do you have any preferences?”

Spencer was caught off guard. He hadn’t been expecting to get an opinion in the matter. “Um, I liked the sweater vest.”

Neal nodded. “We can work with that, but we’ll have to find a size down. The baggier the clothes, the more you’ll look like a teenager, even with your skinny frame.”

Neal pulled the specific articles of clothing and then left Spencer to change while he grabbed another sweater vest.

Spencer did as he was told and quickly changed. He exited the cramped dressing room to stand in front of the tri-fold mirror that stood outside the individual stalls. He did look a bit older than he did in his own clothes. Maybe Neal was right about needing to dress the part.

He saw the subject of his thoughts walk up behind him in the mirror’s reflection. Neal was smiling and Spencer unconsciously smiled back without turning around.

“Here.” Neal shoved the sweater vest at him, and Spencer awkwardly pulled it over his head. It made the entire outfit skew and before he had a chance to fix it, Neal was spinning him by the shoulders and straightening the buttons and collar of the dress shirt himself.

“You clean up nice, Spencer. Not half bad.” Neal said with a mischievous grin.

Spencer fought a blush and looked back at himself in the mirror to avoid Neal’s eyes. Neal was right, he did look nice. The fitted clothing made him look lithe rather than twiggy and he liked the lines of the sweater vest and collar together in a way that he had never bothered noticing in other clothing.

“You like it, then? Great. We should buy it and get going so we can stop at the makeup department before the mall closes.” Neal told him as he gently corralled him back into the dressing room.

Spencer’s face paled; he was not looking forward to using makeup. 

Chapter Text

Neal had the fake ID made in record time. He had taken the headshot the same day they went clothes shopping and within two days he had a finished fake. Spencer was reluctantly impressed; he had planned for it to take a few weeks as it would have in any normal situation. He supposed that it was a quicker process since it was the summer months and maybe Neal really wanted the return he was hoping to see if Spencer was successful.

Neal made Spencer practice walking and talking like as if he were older. It was a crash course in lying and Spencer was better at it than he thought he would be.

“We’ll go together. It’ll look less like you’re an underaged kid trying to sneak in if there’s two of us. If questioned, you’ll say we just graduated college and are hitting the casinos in celebration.” Neal told him. They sat at a secluded corner of the local diner, eating burgers and fries while nailing down the fine points of the plans.

“Why would we need a cover story?” Spencer questioned. “It’s not as if we’ll be talking to anyone besides the people working the tables.” He hadn’t even considered having to lie once he had gotten through the doors.

Neal almost rolled his eyes but managed to refrain. “The goal here is to keep those same people from realizing that we aren’t who we say we are. Details are key; how can we be underage if we’ve graduated college? It gives us a reason to be there and is less suspicious than any other cover. Besides, you have the knowledge to pull off being a college graduate, so use it.”

Spencer frowned. It made sense, even if this was all becoming more elaborate than he had originally intended. “What about you? I have the knowledge, but do you?” He hoped his question didn’t seem as insulting as it sounded. He liked Neal but if they were going with the forger’s plan, Spencer wanted to make sure there were no holes in it.

Neal smirked. “I’ve been taking art history classes at the community college for the past three years. I can pull off having an arts degree with the knowledge to back it up.”

“How did we meet then?” Spencer tilted his head to the side curiously, his food momentarily forgotten in the pursuit of their fictional backstory. “In this fictional story where we’re celebrating graduating together. I’m getting a degree in chemistry, so how did we meet each other?”

Neal blinked at him; he hadn’t expected Spencer to care how fleshed out their story was. “We were roommates. Met freshman year and stayed as roommates all four years despite our different majors and personalities.” It was a simple but effective lie.

Spencer blinked back at Neal, chewing on a French fry in contemplation. “I don’t have a roommate.” He stated. “I’m the only student below the age of sixteen that lives in a dorm, so they were forced to give me a single room.”

Neal smiled at the new information. Spencer was now willingly sharing details about himself and Neal was starting to really like the kid.

They decided to start the next Monday. Spencer didn’t know what Neal normally did during the summer, but he seemed to be fine with committing many hours to Spencer’s version of a get rich quick scheme.

Neal reminded him that it would be better to hit a casino that was a bit farther away so there was less of a chance that anyone would recognize either of them; not that the chance was high, but Spencer had been in the local newspaper for graduating at the age of twelve two years before.

Neal had done Spencer’s makeup and the younger boy was struggling not to rub at his face before they even arrived at the casino.

A bus ride and a panic inducing moment where the bouncer checked their IDs and then they were inside the first casino. The lobby was a pool of lights, sounds, and colors. Ugly red checkered carpet covered the floor and each section that branched off the main room had a different set of lights to mark the entryways.

“It worked!” Spencer whispered in awe, he had hoped it would, but his expectations had been low to avoid disappointment.

Neal grinned. “I told you it would. Now, what’s your plan?”

Spencer glanced at him, coming to a decision. He trusted Neal; they weren’t friends, per se, but they were this together and telling Neal his ideas wouldn’t come back to hurt him. “I don’t have a lot of cash so I’ll need to start small. You can use an algorithm on the slot machines to increase your likelihood of winning. They are also more secluded, don’t require human contact, and they don’t cost a lot in initial investment.”

Neal nodded at the logic, spinning in a circle to look around the vibrant room and pinpoint where the slot machines were located. There were two rows of them on either edge of the first side room branching off the main lobby and Neal placed a hand on Spencer’s arm to drag him over to the furthest back corner.

Spencer sat down on the barstool seat and Neal leaned in over his shoulder. It was one of the cheaper slot machines that took quarters, meaning the winnings were slim but it was a perfect opportunity to practice.

Spencer slid his first quarter in, watching as the lights flashed and lit up.

“Wow. Haven’t you heard of beginner’s luck?” Neal said with a heavy hand of sarcasm as Spencer proceeded to lose his first ten bucks with nothing to show for it.

“Shut up.” Spencer snapped. “It’s not a perfect system. The calculations only increase your chances of winning, they don’t guarantee it.”

Neal raised his hands in placation and leaned back from the annoyed genius. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Spencer turned back to the machine, taking a deep breath to calm himself down from his frustration. He knew it wasn’t guaranteed that he would win but the rough start he was becoming anxious. It wasn’t even that ten dollars was a lot to lose, but if he couldn’t win with the slot machines, where there was no human factor that could surprise him, then how would he win at the bigger games once he had enough money to play them?

Neal nudged his shoulder gently. “Go on, try again.” The older boy gave Spencer an encouraging smile.

Spencer’s plan slowly began to work. They decided not to win more than a few thousand at any one casino until they had enough to play in the higher stake games. Spencer gave Neal his cut after they left each casino so that he always got his share of the profit made immediately. The rest of the money was then split so that Spencer was only ever pulling from a portion of his winnings, and he wouldn’t lose everything. There was only one day where Neal had to bail him out and put forth some of his earnings to keep their momentum going without dipping into previous winnings.

“You’ll be playing with other people today, not just against the house, but against them as well.” Neal told Spencer, holding his shoulders so that he could make direct eye contact with the younger boy. “You’ll need to make sure you maintain the persona of a twenty-one-year-old that just graduated college. If they suspect you are underage and you are winning, they will have security throw you out.”

Spencer nodded. He understood Neal’s point even if he was hyper focused on the way that Neal was holding him. Spencer didn’t like when people that weren’t his mother touched him, but in the past few weeks that he had spent with Neal, the older boy had made a habit of manhandling him into doing what he wanted him to. It was never forceful, and Neal never touched his skin, but Spencer found that he had stopped minding the casual contact between them, even when it was a distraction.

That revelation had led to an ongoing internal crisis that Spencer had been desperately hiding.

“Alright, I think you’re ready.” Neal turned and headed towards the entrance to the casino of the day, knowing that Spencer would follow.

As with most of the casinos they visited, the lights on the machines were brightly lit, but this time, the two of them made their way over to the tables rather than the slot machines.

Spencer had spent a fair amount of time observing other gamblers in the previous establishments to gather knowledge on how to approach the tables and gain a seat. Neal had been invaluable at pointing out quirks that Spencer should try to avoid and habits that he should pick up to blend in more.

The genius was getting better at controlling his anxiety for just being in a social situation. Neal had coached him on remembering how skilled he was and letting that be his source of confidence when he didn’t feel confident at all.

Neal watched as he approached the poker table and asked the dealer to join the game that was about to start. Spencer knew that Neal would make sure he was settled before heading over to the blackjack tables.

It was all according to the plan that they had come up with. They wouldn’t play against each other unless necessary and Spencer taught Neal the basics of counting cards and the formulas for determining when to hit in blackjack so that Neal could make his own money while Spencer was attempting to hustle people in poker.

“Three of diamonds.” The dealer said as she flipped over a card on the table.

Spencer brought his mind back to the task at hand. He was one card away from a full house and there were still two unknown cards on the table waiting to be flipped. He automatically calculated his odds of winning, then the odds of the hands for the other three players and decided to raise.

One by one, the other players bet away all of their chips and Spencer’s pile grew. He was quite pleased with himself, but didn’t let it show, even as he showed his game winning hand.

Neal sidled up behind Spencer as he was stacking his winnings from the poker game. “I’m going to have to start calling you Penny if you keep making money like that.”

Spencer shot him a confused look with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“Have you never had a nickname before?” Neal asked. He knew Spencer had been young in high school, but surely someone had given him a proper nickname before.

Spencer frowned, thinking about all the derisive names he had been called before. “Never had anyone to give me one I suppose.” Spencer had been called many names, but that was different, he knew. This felt like an endearment and it made his cheeks heat.

“Well consider yourself nicknamed, Penny.” Neal grinned, glad the younger boy liked his moniker.

Chapter Text

They finished the summer with a fair amount of money. Spencer had made a good chunk of change and had given Neal his ten percent without regret.

Even though the question needled him once he thought of it, Spencer didn’t bother asking what Neal was doing with his share of the money. Spencer could put his directly into his mother’s bank account, but Neal didn’t have that option. Neal was getting the payouts in cash, which obviously meant that he was hiding his earnings from his family.

The young genius supposed that Neal was craftier than he was, Neal did after all do a fair amount of business selling fake IDs meaning he probably already had somewhere to funnel his money. Spencer didn't think too much on it, Neal's money was his to do with what he wanted.

Spencer went back to Caltech at the end of the summer feeling optimistic about the whole operation. They had made a good dent in his goal of half a million. He could easily make the entirety of the money in the next few summers before he hit eighteen.

He hoped that Neal would be willing to help him again after the end of the school year. As much as he wanted to believe that he could do it all on his own now that he had the fake ID and learned how to dress to look older than he was, he knew he couldn’t do it without Neal. The older teenager gave him a confidence that Spencer didn’t have on his own. Neal was someone he could count on to have his back and sharing ten percent of his profits was more than worth the comfort and security he felt from having a partner in crime.

“Hey, Danny.” Spencer said smiling wryly. He had been waiting outside Neal’s high school until the last bell rung and the students let out.

Neal made a face of mild confusion. Spencer hoped it was just confusion at seeing him and not unhappiness.

“What are you doing here?” Neal asked, thankfully not unkindly.

He walked over with a self-assuredness that Spencer had not quite mastered despite their lessons in confidence the summer before. Spencer avoided making eye contact. He noticed that he had grown enough in the past nine months that his eyes were level with Neal’s.

“I finished my finals last week and I’m back in town. I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, gamble with me again?” Spencer was proud of how even his voice was despite his nerves at the possibility of rejection.

Neal’s eyebrows raised in surprise, he fiddled with the straps on his backpack as he answered. “I kind of thought you’d want to continue on your own. You don’t need me anymore.”

Spencer shrugged and chewed on his lip. “I think it’d be more successful with the both of us... and I like hanging out with you.” He admitted.

A wide grin spread across Neal’s face. “Alright. Same terms as last summer?”

Spencer nodded, relieved at the straightforward agreement.

Neal tilted his head towards the parking lot. “I have to get going, you want a ride?”

Spencer blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized that Neal had gotten his license. He wordlessly followed him to a beat up junker of a car and hopped into the passenger seat.

“I’ve got three more weeks of classes so at most I can commit to maybe one weekend day a week until summer officially starts.” Neal started the car.

 Spencer quickly clicked his seat belt and turned to watch Neal as he curled his fingers around the steering wheel. “That’s fine with me.” Spencer said softly. His eyes darted around the interior of the car but there was nothing particularly unique about the old Honda.

“Great. We should probably hit up new casinos, it’ll make us less suspicious, though hopefully no one will remember us from last summer. Good news is we’re more mobile now than we were.”

Spencer’s lips inadvertently curved up at the use of the word ‘we’. “It’s a nice car.” Spencer commented. It really wasn’t all that nice, but it was fantastic for a first car.

“Thanks, you helped pay for it.” Neal told him honestly.

Spencer wasn’t surprised. They had made a fair bit the past summer and Neal was old enough to have a license so it was logical he’d be looking into getting a car.

The two sat in comfortable silence as Neal drove them towards Spencer's neighborhood. Spencer chose to watch the sepia toned buildings pass them by instead of attempting conversation.

“Which one’s your house?” Neal asked abruptly.

Spencer looked out the windshield. He hadn't realized they were about to enter his neighborhood, passing the bus stop he had usually gotten off at. As they turned the corner, Spencer pointed out his house halfway down the street.

It was the third summer Spencer was planning to spend gambling. Hopefully, the last summer he would have to do it. He had finished his undergraduate degree and was getting the summer off before he started graduate classes and the research for his PhD.

Spencer sat on the bench outside of Neal’s high school, getting a bit of déjà vu remembering his actions the previous summer. The last bell rang and within moments there was a flood of people exiting the building. Spencer kept an eye out for a head of dark hair, but as the minutes passed and he didn’t see Neal, anxiety started to worm its way through him.

After fifteen minutes Spencer gave up on looking at the door and began to search the quickly emptying parking lot for Neal’s beat up blue Honda.

It wasn’t there.

Spencer blanched for a moment. He didn’t even consider the possibility that Neal wouldn’t be at school. He turned around to catch a bus over to Neal’s house. He missed the school bus Neal used to take home, but the city bus stop was less than a block away.

Despite the knowledge that Neal was probably just sick that day, Spencer’s worry grew as he walked towards the bus stop and waited for the next bus.

By the time he made his way to Neal’s house, Spencer had started to feel sick himself with anxiety. He just needed to talk to Neal and make sure they were still going to gamble together for the summer.

Neal’s house was a neat but rather plain house in a suburb not far from his school. Spencer didn’t hesitate to walk up to the door and knock. He had met Neal’s mother and aunt a few times and knew that his mother was somewhat absent. They had that in common.

Neal’s aunt Ellen opened the door and Spencer managed to pull out a polite smile and ask after Neal.

Ellen’s face turned to pity. “Oh, Spencer. Neal isn’t here. He might not be for awhile—he ran away.”

Spencer’s stomach fell and all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears. He didn’t quite process as Ellen herded him inside and gave him a snack and a mug of tea.

“Why?” He finally asked.

Ellen’s expression somehow softened further and Spencer almost resented her for it.

“He found out a few things about himself and about our family.” She told him gently.

Spencer swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I don’t suppose he said when he would be back? Or left a phone number?”

Ellen shook her head sadly. “No, he didn’t.”

Spencer closed his eyes. “Thanks anyways.” He managed to say little else and make his excuses to leave having eaten none of the cookies and drank none of the tea.

Spencer was up forty grand the first time it was suggested he leave the establishment. He went quietly.

He was only up twenty-five the second time and he talked back to the bouncer, earning him nothing but wounded pride as they manhandled him out of the building.

By the end of the summer Spencer hadn’t looked at how much money had made it into his bank account, though he couldn’t prevent himself from running the numbers in his head and knowing he was coming up short.

Without the full half a million he had initially planned on having, he could still send his mother to Bennington rather than the state-run psychiatric hospital, but he would have to get a bit creative with his investment of the money for the next year and cut down on his own expenses. It’d be easier if Bennington didn’t require a down payment immediately upon committing his mother, but he knew they likely would not waver on that payment and Spencer would not risk someone else taking the spot—assuming there would be an open spot once he turned eighteen and could forcibly get her the help she needed.

Spencer stared at the number denoting the amount of money he had in the account. It was thirty grand higher than expected.

He immediately knew it had been Neal that deposited the extra money, but he had no idea why. The records showed that the wire transfer came through after Neal had already run away from home, which meant that Neal could be using that money himself but left it for Spencer instead.

Tears pricked at Spencer’s eyes. It was enough money that he would have the full amount for the down payment for Bennington, his first year of grad school tuition, and enough left over that he could find a more expensive apartment in a safer area and he wouldn’t be starving himself during the semester.

It was the most generous thing anyone had ever done for him and he had no way to even thank Neal.

Chapter Text

It had been two years since Spencer had seen Neal. Two years since Neal had left him thirty grand and dropped off the face of the earth.

A lot had happened for Spencer since he had seen his best friend. He had been kicked out of every casino in Vegas, he'd been kicked out of a few in Reno, he had gotten his first doctorate, he turned eighteen, he had sent his mother to Bennington Sanitarium.

And now Spencer was standing at the door to his apartment in New York, fully unprepared to face the one and only person he considered a friend.

Spencer knocked.

His nerves jacked up in the few moments he waited for the door to open. He didn't know how Neal would react but he wasn't going to chicken out, he needed to see his best friend.

The door opened and Neal locked eyes with him in shock.

"Penny." Neal breathed.

"Danny." Spencer replied, just as disbelieving, even if he knew Neal would be there.

Neal's eyes widened and he shot a hand out to grab Spencer's wrist. Spencer was pulled into the room before he could register what was happening.

All he could focus on was how Neal had changed. His jaw was sharper, his hair a bit longer. He looked good and Spencer was floored that that fact was what he focused on.

Neal closed the door behind them and pulled Spencer all the way into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Neal asked incredulously. "How did you even find me?"

Spencer crossed his arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I, uh, I had my mother committed." Spencer said quietly, avoiding answering the question.

Neal's confusion fell away, replaced by sympathy. He pulled Spencer into a hug and the genius let himself melt into the familiar touch, burying his face in Neal's shoulder.

"I put her in a sanitarium. I've abandoned her." Spencer mumbled into the fabric of Neal's button down.

Neal ran a hand through Spencer's hair, the touch soothing.

"I know." Neal whispered. "I know it feels like that, but it's what she needed. She can get the care she needs."

Neal comforted Spencer for a few minutes before he gently pulled the man away from his shoulder. "Why don't we sit down and you can tell me everything?" Neal suggested.

Spencer nodded, letting Neal maneuver him towards the kitchen table.

Spencer finally lifted his head to glance around the apartment he had invaded. It was simple and sparse with few decorations save for the easel in the corner with a half-finished painting. Spencer had seen Neal’s paintings before, he knew the other man was an artist, but it took his breath away every time to see just how good of a painter Neal was.

Neal set him down on a wooden chair at a table that only had two and pulled the mismatching chair around the table so he could sit directly in front of Spencer.

Their knees touched as Neal took his own seat.

“How did you even find me?” Neal questioned lightly. “I left and changed my name.”

“Danny—” Spencer started, unsure if he was asking a question or telling Neal something.

Neal flinched at his previous name. “It’s Neal now. Neal Caffrey.”

“Is that what you want me to call you? Neal?” Spencer asked. He didn’t like the name. It wasn’t Danny, it wasn’t his best friend. But Spencer would call the man whatever he wanted to be called if it would keep Neal in his life.

Neal nodded. “It’s the name I was born with.” He reached out a hand to squeeze Spencer’s knee, silently asking for acceptance. When no rejection came forth, he continued, “Don’t avoid the question of how you found me. I need to know. No one is supposed to be able to connect Neal with—with Danny. I can’t put mom and Ellen in danger.”

Spencer managed to muster up a haughty glare despite the tear tracks that painted his cheeks. “I am a certified genius with a doctorate degree.”

Neal raised his eyebrows. “We can come back to the doctorate degree comment in a minute, you will not distract me. How?”

Spencer deflated. “I asked Ellen. She asked you with the pager.”

“Of course that’s what that was.” Neal frowned. Ellen had asked him a few weeks previous where exactly he was staying, under the guise of wanting to make sure he had settled into the city he ended up in and was safe. It was the only time they had talked since he had left but he was glad she had the emergency pager so they could contact one another despite the rules of WITSEC.

“I’m your best friend and you left me.” Spencer said sharply. He hadn’t meant to sound so hurt, but the choice had hurt him. And the feelings of betrayal were returning rapidly.

Neal winced, crossing his arms defensively. Spencer tracked the movement, noticing the rolled-up sleeves of the dress shirt Neal was wearing and how Neal had built up a bit of muscle since leaving. He wondered how Neal had managed that.

Spencer’s thoughts were cut off abruptly by Neal.

“I had to. When you leave the program, you have to cut off all contact with everyone. If I had stuck around or stayed in contact, it could put mom and Ellen in danger and I won’t do that, you know I won’t.”

Spencer sighed, releasing some of his anger. “I know you wouldn’t. But now that is moot. It’s been two years and there is no way that you can be discovered because of me. It’s not like anyone even knew we were friends except our mothers.”

Neal smiled softly. “I missed you too.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” Spencer admitted.

“You won’t now.” Neal stood up, feeling as though the emotionally heavy conversation was finally over. He retreated to the fridge and pulled out two sodas, passing one to Spencer and cracking the tab on his own. “How long are you in New York for?”

Spencer fiddled with his coke can for a moment and bit his lip, stalling for time to figure out his answer. “I, uh—well, if I can find a place to stay, I’d like to stay all summer.”

Neal’s eyes lit up. “Really? We can easily do that. Worst case, you can stay here with me.”

Spencer’s heart beat faster. He wanted to stay with Neal. He wanted to live with the man, see him in the mornings before breakfast and in the evenings, dressed in pajamas for bed. Or maybe he wore sweats to bed. Spencer wanted to find out. The promise of domesticity made him stop breathing for a moment.

He knew what this feeling was. He had felt it the year before with Ethan, though to a much lesser extent. Spencer knew that he had a crush on his best friend and he took a moment to silently freak out about it. This was Neal. This was Danny. His first friend. He didn’t even know if Neal liked men and he had only just discovered that he liked men.

This was bound to be a disaster.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here with you.” Spencer told Neal.

Chapter Text

Spencer had rented a room at a cheap motel in the city that he was pretty sure had a dog living in one of the rooms. He was also pretty sure the dog didn’t like him.

He slept in the motel for another night since he had prepaid. The next day Neal helped him grab his suitcase and a messenger bag he had bought for himself after he had gotten his PhD. Then they moved him into Neal’s apartment. It was small and a bit cramped since it was really a space meant for one person, but Spencer loved it.

The space felt like Neal. Despite the spartan furnishings, the apartment was the place that Neal lived, the place where he painted, where he read. It was a place that would bring Spencer and Neal closer together again. They hadn't seen each other in two years and Spencer was determined to make up for lost time and regain the closeness that they had had.

"Let's hit the hay." Neal told Spencer. "It's been a long day and I have to get up early tomorrow."

Spencer could see the fatigue in Neal's movements; he had always been more of a morning person than Spencer had, often waking the genius up when they had made plans to go to a casino and Spencer hadn't gotten out of bed at the appointed time.

Neal pulled Spencer to his bedroom and passed him a pair of sweatpants while grabbing a second pair for himself. Spencer blushed as Neal stripped without shame and pulled on the pajamas. Spencer turned his back quickly and did the same, trying to will down the heat of his face.

"C'mon." Neal murmured when Spencer had finished. He dragged Spencer to the bathroom. There was only the one bathroom in the apartment so Spencer and Neal's toothbrushes sat next to each other and Spencer felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight. He wasn't going to survive staying with Neal long without his crush on the man being discovered if every little thing made him swoon like a Victorian heroine.

They brushed their teeth side by side and then Neal manhandled Spencer back into the bedroom.

Neal had few luxuries, but he did own a queen-sized bed and he pulled Spencer into it without thought before the genius could even suggest sleeping on the couch.

Spencer laid awake until the early hours of the morning. Neal had one arm wrapped around his waist to keep him close and Spencer felt as if the entire situation was a dream that would shatter the second he moved a muscle. He was cuddling with Neal.

Spencer was well and truly gone on Neal.

Spencer woke up to the smell of pancakes. Neal was up and fully dressed. Spencer had never seen him wear a suit before and he took a moment to admire the outfit his best friend was wearing.

Best friend was rapidly becoming a misnomer for Neal. Spencer wanted more. Spencer wanted him, but they weren’t more and Spencer didn’t want to push the boundaries of their relationship yet. Partly because he didn’t want to lose what he already had and partly because he didn’t think he was ready for more with Neal. Not yet. He had just realized his crush on the man and hadn’t taken the time to sort through his feelings yet.

“Good morning.” Neal greeting him without turning around.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement and entered the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. It took him three tries to find the right cabinet and he could see Neal’s amused smile out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ve made breakfast, but I’ll have to eat quick and run, I need to get to work.” Neal informed Spencer. “Feel free to stick around or go out, make yourself at home. I pulled the spare key out for you if you need it.”

Spencer dropped into the seat at the kitchen table and blinked in confusion. He took a drag of the coffee in his hand and then tilted his head. Something about what Neal had said was off.

Neal flicked the knob on the oven off and moved the plate of pancakes to the already set table.

“What is it?” Neal asked, noticing Spencer’s confusion.

Spencer frowned, taking a second to place what was wrong. “It’s weird that you have a job.”

Neal snorted, bringing a hand to his mouth in a failed attempt at curbing his laughter. “Well, adults do tend to have those. I need to make money somehow.”

Spencer smiled impishly. “There are much fewer casinos around here.”

Neal laughed again, serving himself breakfast and pouring syrup over his food. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I’ve got a proper nine-to-five.”

Spencer made a face that clearly said he still found it unsettling but didn’t comment further.

“Hey, listen,” Neal started. “I have a friend named Mozzie that might come over during the day. He’s got a key, so he’ll probably let himself in, I just wanted to warn you so that it doesn’t catch you off-guard. I’ve texted him that you’ll be here but he might not get that before he comes over.”

Spencer’s stomach dropped to his feet. Who was Mozzie? Neal’s boyfriend? Surely if Neal had someone he would have said something, wouldn’t have let Spencer sleep in the same bed as him, wouldn’t insist Spencer stay with him for the summer.

Logic told Spencer that Mozzie was a friend, just as Neal had said, not anything more. But fear curled around his heart that Spencer was too late and Neal was already seeing someone. He wasn’t sure if it was worse that Mozzie was a man, meaning—if they were actually together—that Neal did like men.

Spencer just nodded in response to Neal’s warnings, not trusting himself to speak.

All of Spencer’s fears about Neal dating another man dropped away when he met Mozzie.

“Who are you? A robber? Where’s Neal? What have you done with him?” The short man rapid fire questioned Spencer. He had barged into the apartment like he owned the place and nearly jumped a foot into the air upon seeing Spencer.

Spencer stood up from where he was sitting on the couch. He had been making his way through Neal’s somewhat sparse book collection and was now faced with an older, balding man with a toupee and glasses angrily pointing a finger at him from across the room.

“Are you Mozzie?” Spencer asked, just for clarification.

“Nuh uh, I asked first, beanpole.” The man—who Spencer was very sure was Mozzie—gestured emphatically at him.

“I’m, uh, Spencer. Neal said he texted you?” Spencer hated how unsure of himself he sounded. He used to be better about it when he and Neal were gambling together.

Mozzie frowned, pulled out a cellphone from somewhere and squinted at the screen, lifting his head every other second so Spencer was always in sight. “Hmph. Alright, it seems you tell the truth, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Okay then.” Spencer drawled out his words, unsure of what to say to the man. “Does that mean you are Mozzie?”

Mozzie eyed him for a long moment, looking him up and down. “I am Mozart. Who stole the Mona Lisa in 1911?”

Spencer was taken aback for a moment. He knew the answer of course and responded reflexively. “Vincenzo Peruggia.” He wasn’t sure why Mozzie asked the question.

Mozzie squinted at him like he had at the phone a few moments before. “You can call me Mozzie.” He conceded.

Spencer tilted his head in question. “Was that a test?”

“Yes.” Mozzie didn’t bother to elaborate further, leaving Spencer feeling bewildered.

Deciding that there was nothing more he could do to converse with Mozzie without being rude, Spencer decided that the best course of action was to continue to read. He ignored Mozzie and dropped back onto the couch, picking up The Count of Monte Cristo. It was a classic, but one he had not read before. When reading fiction, Spencer had usually opted for sci-fi stories, but he knew Neal had a soft spot for the classics.

Mozzie puttered around the apartment and Spencer tried not to be curious about what the short man was doing. Eventually, he left and Spencer didn’t think anymore on it; out of sight, out of mind.

Chapter Text

Neal returned at a little after five, bringing a paper bag filled with Chinese food takeout with him. Spencer’s heart melted when the man automatically stopped in the kitchen to grab him a fork. Neal had remembered his inability to use chopsticks, and a few seconds later Neal proved that he still knew Spencer’s preference for orange chicken when he ordered Chinese.

“I got your favorite.” Neal smiled widely, passing over the plastic container and removing his own food from the bag he had carried them in.

“I met Mozzie today.” Spencer chewed his lip anxiously; he didn’t want to speak badly of the fellow, but he wasn’t sure he liked the man. “He’s…interesting.”

Neal snorted into his food. “That’s one word for it.” He dropped the container onto the table and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Truth be told, one of the reasons I like him is because he reminds me a bit of you and your mom.”

Spencer startled. “How?” He asked with a somewhat bewildered tone.

Neal took a moment to have another bite of his rice, stalling in order to figure out how to explain the feeling. “He’s incredibly smart. He has a photographic memory, which he uses primarily to misquote famous literary works. It’s not the same as your eidetic memory, but when I met him it was familiar, if that makes sense.”

Spencer nodded. It did sort of make sense. He had the faint notion of wanting to be an entirely unique person in Neal’s life, to be the only person Neal liked at all, ever. The thought was quickly pushed away, it was excessively possessive and even if he wanted Neal to be his and him to be Neal’s, he wouldn’t actually want to be the only person in Neal’s life.

“Also, he’s fairly paranoid and hates the government.” Neal added.

The statement shocked Spencer out of his thoughts and he inadvertently laughed at the slightly insensitive comparison to his schizophrenic mother. “Neal!”

Neal chuckled, proud of himself for having made Spencer laugh. “What?”

Spencer balled up a spare napkin and threw it half-heartedly at Neal’s face. Neal deftly dodged the projectile.

The genius took the opportunity to change the topic of conversation, unwilling to spend too long thinking about his mother and how he had abandoned her.

“So, you haven’t explained what your job actually is.” Spencer prompted.

“It not anything flashy. I work for a businessman named Vincent Adler.” Neal told him, picking up another piece of chicken with his chopsticks.

Spencer tilted his head in a silent query for more information.

Neal sighed. “I help protect his investments by researching other companies and making sure he has the necessary information to make informed business deals. It’s more interesting to do it than it is to talk about.”

Spencer made a face as if he didn’t believe Neal and Neal quickly turned the topic back on Spencer.

“And what are you doing in college now? I know you’ve already completed your doctorate, are you planning on doing another? Or are you here in New York trying to figure out what to do with your life now that you’ve graduated?” Neal teased.

Spencer scowled. “I’ve already found a lab to do my second doctoral thesis with. I’m going to be doing a project on the formation of a type of chemical you’ve never even heard of.” Spencer stuck his tongue out childishly at Neal.

Back in Vegas, Neal had repeatedly teased him when he discussed his molecular chemistry classes, saying that Spencer was making up words just to mess with him. It was a different sort of teasing than Spencer had ever experienced at the time and not once had Neal complained about listening to him ramble or told him to shut up.

“Do you know what you want to do with all that knowledge once you decide you have enough doctorates?” Neal asked, voice more serious than it had been a few minutes before.

Spencer frowned and shook his head in frustration. “No, I—I have always wanted to cure schizophrenia, I’ve told you that, but…” Spencer trailed off for a moment, lost in thought.

“But what?” Neal prompted softly. He closed his plastic Chinese food container, having finished eating, as he waited for Spencer to gather his words.

“I’m not studying what I would need to in order to do that.” Spencer admitted. “I’d need to be researching medicine, neurology and maybe biochemistry, not engineering and chemistry.”

Neal gave him a soft look that Spencer couldn’t interpret.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with studying what interests you. If that’s the path you really want, you can always change what you’re researching. If not, then well there’s plenty of amazing things you can do outside of that field.”

Spencer pushed the remainder of his chicken away from himself. “I know. I just—it feels like I’m letting her down. Again.” He admitted quietly.

Neal stood up from his seat and rounded the small kitchen table to pull Spencer into a hug.

“You’ve done the best you can for her, she’s where she needs to be.” Neal whispered, hooking his chin over Spencer’s shoulder and squeezing him tightly. “Now you just need to figure out where you need to be.”

“Right here.” Spencer mumbled automatically.

When the two pulled away from each other, they stayed close together. The air around them was charged with something Spencer couldn’t describe.

Neal knew the tension between them had increased in the past two days, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to kiss Spencer breathless. This man that he hadn’t seen for two years that managed to track him down and worm his way into Neal’s heart in less than three days.

And so, Neal inched his face closer to Spencer’s, eyes threatening to flutter shut the second he closed the distance between their lips.

“Spencer.” Neal breathed. “I want—”

Spencer cut Neal off, pressing his lips to the other man’s; raising his hands to Neal’s face; feeling Neal’s arms wrap around his waist to pull his whole body closer to Neal.

Spencer kissed Neal until he needed to breathe, opening his mouth to suck in air.

Neal took the chance to deepen their kiss, drinking in the whimper Spencer made as Neal licked into his mouth. Neither man could have said how long they kissed for before they both were light-headed and giddy.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that for years.” Spencer said, gazing sappily into Neal’s eyes.

Neal bumped his nose gently into Spencer’s. “I’d very much like to do it again, Penny.”

Chapter Text

The summer was the best one of Spencer’s life. Neal spent all of his free time with Spencer, going on adventures, taking him on dates to museums around the city, playing card games in the apartment on lazy afternoons. Spencer taught Neal to count cards and Neal taught him sleight of hand tricks.

“It’s the same technique they use for close up magic.” Neal explained as he made the ace of hearts reappear between his fingers.

Spencer looked on with an expression full of awe. “When did you learn close-up magic?” He asked, misunderstanding Neal’s explanation.

Neal huffed a laugh. “Ellen taught me when I was a kid.” He said quietly. He didn’t often talk about the woman that was more of a mother to him than his own, but when he did, Spencer always felt honored that Neal would share that part of himself with Spencer. Especially knowing that they really shouldn’t be talking about Ellen at all, even if they were alone.

Neal passed Spencer a coin to try the trick with; it was much easier to make the coin disappear since it was smaller and thicker than a playing card.

Spencer slowly flipped the quarter over his knuckles, paying more attention to the action than he was to Neal. Neal, in diametric opposition, was only paying attention to Spencer and had stopped observing his practice with the coin.

When Neal had to work, Spencer spent his time exploring the library and reading everything he could get his hands on.

He delved into close-up magic, practicing making coins disappear and pulling flowers out of his sleeve. He studied art history so that he and Neal could argue about all the paintings and sculptures Neal loved so much.

Spencer gained an appreciation for the subject that he honestly didn’t think he would have without Neal. Art didn’t mean anything to him, but it meant something to Neal and that alone made it worth so much more than Spencer had thought.

On the weekends, Neal was free to spend all of his time with Spencer and Spencer relished every moment the spent together.

Just like his tastes in literature, Neal had a thing for the classics: impressionism, renaissance, romanticism. When Neal dragged Spencer to art museums, with his protests becoming less and less frequent, Spencer always found himself drawn towards the weirder and wilder pieces. The surrealists, fauvism, and art nouveau.

“What about this one?” Spencer dragged Neal towards a cubist painting labeled I and the Village.

The two were wandering around the Museum of Modern Art together, spending a Saturday entirely in each other’s company.

Neal smiled indulgently at Spencer. “Well, it’s a painting by Marc Chagall that depicts his hometown.”

“Hmm.” Spencer hummed, staring at the oil painting intently. “I suppose it’s nice with the little buildings in the background and the sheep.”

Neal bit back a grin. “That’s actually a cow.”

Spencer turned to look at his boyfriend with a face of obvious disbelief. “That is definitely a sheep.”

Neal shook his head, pointing to the smaller figure within the animal head. “This is the same cow.”

Spencer scowled. “Absolutely not. That may be a cow, but this—” Spencer spun his wrist so his gesture encapsulated the whole of the larger animal face. “—is a sheep. I would know, I’ve done extensive research on cows.”

That statement earned him a curious glance from Neal. “Extensive research? What for?”

Spencer flushed with embarrassment, he hadn’t meant to reveal that particular secret of his.

“Well now you have to tell me.” Neal goaded, pulling Spencer towards his chest so that the genius could hide his embarrassment in Neal’s shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted to pet a cow.” Spencer mumbled, his voice sufficiently muffled so that Neal couldn’t tell what he said.

“What was that?”

Spencer lifted his head with an annoyed furrow to his eyebrows. “I’ve always wanted to pet a cow, alright? They just seem like such soft creatures.”

Neal grinned. “That might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not adorable!” Spencer squawked.

Neal pressed his lips to Spencer’s, cutting off any further protest. “You are adorable. And attractive. And gorgeous.” Neal spoke, punctuating each statement with another kiss.

After a moment, the two realized that they were still standing in the middle of the museum, directly in front of the Chagall painting.

Evenings were spent cooking dinner together and doing various activities. Sometimes it was a puzzle, sometimes a card game or a boardgame. Spencer’s personal favorite was watching tv together.

Neal knew he was a pushover when it came to his boyfriend. He would put up a minimum of pretest just for show, but Spencer could ask him for anything and he’d grant it without hesitation. So when the genius began trying to convince Neal to watch one of his favorite shows, Neal caved quickly.

“C’mon!” Spencer whined, hoping to convince Neal to move faster. It was a Friday, which meant the two would stay in and watch Doctor Who together.

Neal snickered. “We’re watching DVDs. It’s not like we’re going to miss any of it.” He was thankful that he was able to find the box set of all the episode that had already come out. Spencer loved the show greatly and Neal wanted to be able to share that with him.

Neal placed the bag of takeout on the coffee table. It was Indian cuisine as Spencer began to diligently explain more of the backstory for the entirety of the original show. Each week Neal was subjected to trivia and plot about each of the doctors before they even started an episode of New Who.

Neal was entranced by how much Spencer enjoyed the show. How the man’s face would light up and he talked with his hands to explain every little detail.

“What episode are we on?” Neal asked, just so he could have another moment to watch his lover geek out.

“Season 4 Episode 10: Midnight. The Doctor goes to a planet called midnight on a vacation of sorts and leaves Donna at a resort. He goes by himself on a shuttle tour and thus gets isolated in a confined space with a group of humans. I don’t want to spoil what happens given we haven’t watched it yet, but essentially the whole episode is a more cynical take on the actions humans will take in dire circumstances.”

Neal pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over their laps. He hadn’t told Spencer, but he had purchased the blanket specifically for him since he was always cold.

“So is this one of the episodes that leans more towards horror?” Neal asked.

Spencer rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s a science fiction show. It’s a science fiction episode.”

“Yes, but quite a few of these episodes are closer to horror than science, fiction or not.” Neal snarked back, smiling at the cute frown Spencer sported.

Spencer knocked Neal’s shoulder with his own before reaching for the food. “Yes, if you must classify it as such, I suppose it could be labeled as a horror episode.” Spencer grumbled.

Neal laughed brightly, hitting play on the tv remote.

Between work and spending time with Spencer, Mozzie came around every once in a while and rolled his eyes at the two lovers. The odd man had grown on Spencer, always asking him obscure trivia questions or quoting famous authors and waiting for Spencer to name the writer.

Neal found the relationship between his best friend and his boyfriend inexplicably cute and Spencer always found himself caving to playing Mozzie’s games because it brought a fond smile to Neal’s face. A smile that was directed at Spencer and not for anyone else in the world.

The end of the summer came too soon.

“I’m flying back next week.” Spencer reminded Neal. They had been quietly avoiding the subject for the previous few weeks, choosing to ignore the pain of separation they both knew was coming.

Neal caressed Spencer’s cheek. “I know. I want so badly to be selfish and ask you to stay.”

Spencer leaned into the touch, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the sadness in Neal’s expression. “I don’t want to go.” He whispered, placing his hand on Neal’s wrist.

“You need to.” Neal said firmly. “As much as I want you with me all the time, you still have degrees to get. I know you want to get another doctorate or two and I can’t be the reason that you don’t.”

Tears collected at the corners of Spencer’s eyes and he took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Neal pulled the younger man closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. “You won’t. A long distance relationship is possible. It’ll be hard, but you’ve found me again, despite everything, and I don’t want to let go of that either.”

“So we’re not breaking up?” Spencer asked, mumbling the question into Neal’s neck.

“I don’t want to. Do you?”

“No.” Spencer said emphatically, shaking his head.

Neal rubbed a hand down Spencer’s back before pulling away gingerly. “Good. Then we’re in agreement and we can make a plan. Phone calls, letters, whatever it takes.”

“I think I’m in love with you.” Spencer told him. Spencer hadn’t ever felt like this about anyone and he knew if he didn’t tell Neal before he flew back across the country, then he would regret it.

Neal startled at the admission but didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. “I love you too, Penny.”

Their lips met softly, both smiling too much to really kiss one another.

Chapter Text

Leaving for California was a heartbreaking affair, even though the two both fully believed that they could make the long-distance relationship work.

Neal saw Spencer off at the airport and the genius spent the entire five hour flight trying to learn about fluid dynamics in a vain attempt to keep himself from thinking about Neal.

California felt wrong. Caltech felt wrong. Everything felt a little bit emptier without Neal by his side. The weight of his absence pressed in on Spencer and the doctoral student forced himself to move one step at a time as he made his way to the apartment that had sat abandoned for the summer.

Spencer made it to the lobby of the building, barely dragging his suitcase over the threshold. He stopped at his mailbox, having called ahead to ensure that the postal service would stop the hold on his mail and begin delivering it once again.

There was a stack of envelopes that likely contained only bills and advertisements, but there was one small package that had made it into the mailbox rather than being held behind the desk by the doorman.

Spencer chose to wait until he was in his apartment before taking a closer look at the non-descript box.

One flight of stairs later, Spencer sat in the lone chair he had at his small kitchen table. He had a fleeting thought that he would have to acquire a second chair if Neal were to ever visit and another wave of longing swept over him.

He flipped over the box in the hopes for a distraction and saw that the address label was to a ‘Blackbird’ and from ‘North Carolina’.

He smiled at the names. The return address was Neal’s apartment, but Spencer didn’t need the conformation to know that the gift was from Neal, the names references to a conversation they had where Spencer had rambled on about the history of the two letter state abbreviations after seeing Neal sign one of his paintings with NC. Subsequently, Neal had made a joke about Spencer’s own initials being the same as the SR-71 Blackbird, which had set Spencer off onto a second tangent.

Spencer used a kitchen knife to carefully slit open the side of the box to see what Neal had sent him. Inside was a small wooden cow figurine that was painted with blue Van Gogh styled swirls on the cow’s spots. Spencer had no doubt that Neal had painted it himself.

With tears threatening to spill over, Spencer pulled out his phone and thumbed at his first speed dial.

“You ass.” Spencer greeted when the call connected.

“I take it you got the package I mailed a few days ago.” Neal said. Spencer could hear the grin in the older man’s voice.

“It’s beautiful and I miss you so much already.” Spencer sobbed.

Neal cleared his throat, clearly just as affected by their separation. “I know the feeling. But now you’ll have something of me to keep with you whenever you need it.”

Spencer snorted involuntarily. “The part of you that’s a cow?” He asked.

“You know very well that it not what it means.” Neal told him. “As much as I want to continue talking to you all night long, I know you have to start work in the lab tomorrow and if you don’t go to sleep now, you’ll be jetlagged and I fear for your coworkers.”

Spencer hummed, not outright agreeing with the statement, but knowing it was true. “Goodnight, Neal. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Spencer’s phone rang and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Neal was calling him.

“Hey.” Spencer greeted, confusion etched into the one word. They had specific times they would call one another and it was in between Spencer’s classes. He had barely a few minutes to talk and Neal’s abrupt call was worrisome.

Neal swallowed as he stalled for a few seconds. “Hi, Penny. Listen, I don’t want you to worry too much, I’m handling it, but I didn’t want you to see it on the news and panic.”

Spencer’s heart dropped. Something’s happened. “What happened?”

“Hey, hey, listen to me Penny. Everyone is fine, I’m fine.” Neal rushed to reassure him, slowing down his words for the actual explanation. “It turns out I was working for a giant Ponzi scheme. Adler is in the wind.”

“Holy shit.” Spencer breathed. “Are you alright? Do you need money? I know you reinvested everything back into the company.”

Neal knew the harsh language from Spencer meant that he was freaking out a bit. “I’m fine. It’s not as if I have no savings and Mozzie says he has an idea about getting me another job, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I just—I feel a bit like an idiot. I was his righthand man and I didn’t suspect a damn thing.”

Neal’s voice was way too raw and Spencer went into over drive thinking about how to cheer him back up.

“You’re not an idiot. You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Spencer told him sincerely.

“One of?” Neal squawked in offence.

Spencer smirked as he teased his boyfriend. “Well, I do know Ethan, who is a certified genius, and he also knows what dimensionless units are.”

Neal huffed at the reference to a previous conversation where Neal had to ask clarifying questions as Spencer explained engineering concepts to him.

“Well, good for him! Knowing what a number is!” Neal argued, immediately perking up.

Spencer laughed. “It’s a quantity without a measurement.”

“So… a number.” Neal replied.

“You’re hopeless.” Spencer told him.

Neal hummed in agreement. “But I’m your hopeless boyfriend.”

Spencer turned the conversation back towards more serious matters. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m sure. I promise will tell you if I do. Right now I just need a few days to figure out what I want to do.” Neal explained.

“Alright, call me when you can. I have to get to class.”

“Love you.” Neal said, hanging up his phone upon hearing Spencer’s matching reply.

Spencer startled at the sound of his phone. He hadn’t quite gotten used to hearing the ring despite having routinely turned on the sound so he wouldn’t miss any calls from Neal.

Spencer closed his notebook, forcing himself to take a break from his studies to talk to his boyfriend. He thumbed the answer button on his cell phone.

“Hi.” Spencer said to Neal.

“Hey, Penny.” Neal returned the greeting.

Spencer knew something had happened just from the hesitant tone of Neal’s voice, but he wasn’t sure how bad the situation was.

“What’s going on?” Spencer questioned.

Neal sighed. “It’s not a bad thing, per say. It’s just going to be hard.”

“Okay…” Spencer drew out the word.

On the other end of the phone, Neal bit his lip, trying to find a way to break the news. “I’m traveling abroad.”

Spencer blinked in shock. “What for?”

“I’ve found a job, but it’s—there’s a lot of travel and I’ll be all around Europe.” Neal explained.

“And this is a job you want?” Spencer clarified.

“Yes. It’s an art restoration thing. I’ll be doing something I truly enjoy. I liked my last job, despite the way it ended, but I am actually excited about this new one.” Neal took a drink of water while standing at his kitchen table. The whole conversation was making him nervous. He hoped Spencer was fine with him leaving, he wanted to see the world and put to use some of the language skills he had studied in high school.

A bolt of guilt shot through his chest; he was lying to his boyfriend. Neal was purposefully omitting the fact that he was a criminal. He had forged bonds before Spencer had re-entered his life and now he was actively planning on becoming an international thief. He wasn’t ignorant to what Mozzie was offering him and he was actively hiding that from Spencer.

Spencer deserved better than him. He deserved someone that didn’t blow up their own life because they found out they were in WITSEC. He deserved someone that graduated high school, someone that could live on the west coast with him while he was completing his degrees, someone that wasn’t a criminal. Spencer deserved someone that wasn’t Neal.

“This doesn’t really change anything though right?” Spencer asked cautiously. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

Neal thought that maybe he should break up with Spencer, for Spencer’s sake, but Neal let himself be selfish. “No, I don’t want to break up.”

The two both let out a sigh of relief at their decision to remain together.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Spencer suggested.

Neal hummed with curiosity. “What deal?”

“You set up a PO box somewhere you plan to return to the most and I’ll send you a letter every day. That way, every time you come home, you’ll know I’ve been thinking about you.” Spencer promised.

Tears sprung to Neal’s eyes. “That sounds wonderful. And I’ll send you so many post cards, from every place I go. You’ll be sick of all the mail.”

“And you’ll tell me when you are stateside again and if it works out with class breaks, I’ll meet you wherever you are.” Spencer added.

“Only if it works out with your schedule. I don’t want you to hinder your education in any way.” Neal told Spencer.

“I promise.” Spencer replied. “I love you, Neal.”

“I love you so much, Penny. God, you don’t even know.” Neal huffed, his voice thick with emotion. Everything in his life was changing, but he hoped that his relationship with Spencer never would.

Chapter Text

The next year was a series of letters, postcards, phone calls, and packages. Their relationship was a series of disconnected communications in various formats with inconsistent timing that wouldn’t be comprehensible had they been anyone else.

Spencer worked diligently on his thesis and started another before he even finished his second, but the change in time was marked by communication he had with Neal.

The two found ways to be in constant contact with each other, even when they were busy. They started a game of correspondence chess over email, Spencer having made his first personal email account solely for the game. Spencer mailed letters every single day to the PO box in New York. In response, Neal mailed postcards with love poems directly to Spencer.

Neal also mailed Spencer cow figurines from all over the world. They made Spencer smile and he had dedicated a shelf in his apartment to them. Some of them Neal had clearly made himself, the love and care he felt for Spencer clear in each swirl of paint on the small animal. Others Neal had purchased in local shops of whatever country he was in at the time. The gifts made Spencer smile every time his gaze landed on them.

Spencer had this recurring daydream that one day, he and Neal would go visit a farm. It would be a warm summer day and they would see a stereotypical red barn and the farmer would let them go and pet the cows together. Spencer knew that if the fantasy were to come true, then it wouldn’t be for a long while, but the idea lived in his head, waiting for the right time.

“I’m going to join the FBI.” Spencer blurted out.

At the other end of the room, Neal froze. He had traveled to California for Spencer’s spring break and hadn’t expected the abrupt announcement.

Neal felt as if his heart had turned to ice at the sentence—his boyfriend was going to become a federal agent. He was an international criminal that was dating a future federal agent; his life had officially become a joke.

“What made you decide on that?” Neal asked cautiously, forcing himself to remain calm and not let Spencer know that he was freaking out. Neal could feel Spencer’s eyes on him and he turned around to face his boyfriend. This wasn’t the time to be a coward, not in front of the man he loved, even if he was saying things that Neal didn’t want to believe.

“I went to a seminar lecture in the psychology department.” Spencer explained. “They had a guest lecturer in named Jason Gideon, he’s one of the founders of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. They primarily work to catch serial killers, but they also study the behaviors and habits of all types of serial criminals. The lecture was so interesting and I stayed afterwards to ask him some follow up questions and then he asked whether I had ever thought about becoming an agent.”

Neal could hear the nerves in Spencer’s ramble as he went on. His boyfriend, the love of his life, was worried that Neal wouldn’t be happy with him for wanting to be an agent.

That thought hurt even more than the thought of Spencer being a federal agent. Neal knew he couldn’t handle it if Spencer gave up on a dream because of him and it was barely a moment before Neal decided that he would support Spencer unconditionally. If he chose to be an FBI agent, then Neal would be his cheerleader from his first day at the academy to the day he received his badge.

“And you think you’d like that? Studying serial killers?” Neal prompted, ensuring that it was something Spencer actually wanted and not just a whim that he picked up because of an interesting lecture.

Spencer nodded fervently and Neal could see the truth in his movements. This was something Spencer was excited about.

“Yes. Psychology is a whole new area of study for me, but it’s fascinating in that it doesn't have a right answer. And I think I could be good at it and really make an immediate and definitive difference; I could truly help people.” Spencer said passionately. “It won’t be like research that could take years or even decades before it helped anyone.”

“You’ll be fantastic.” Neal assured him, moving closer to cup Spencer’s face in his hands. “You do great at whatever you set that incredible mind to.”

“You’re not upset?” Spencer asked vulnerably, looking directly into Neal’s eyes.

Sorrow eclipsed the conman. How could he be upset with Spencer for following his dreams? “No. I could never be upset with you over something like this. I know I have my issues with law enforcement—” more that Spencer would ever know, “but I want you to be happy and do what you love. If this is something you really want to do, then I will support you the entire way.” Neal held Spencer’s face gently despite the tension he could feel in the rest of his body.

Spencer let out a relieved breath. He was worried that Neal’s discovery of exactly who his father was would stand him against all law enforcement and cause issues between the two of them. Spencer would do anything for Neal, even giving up the possibility of becoming a federal agent, but this was the first time he had thought about a prospective career path and actually felt like it was something he could spend his life doing.

“Thank you.” Spencer said, closing his eyes and leaning into his partner’s touch. He grasped Neal’s wrists with his own hands and turned to kiss the palms framing his face.

Neal huffed a laugh, pulling Spencer in for a tight hug. “You don’t have to thank me, I’m your boyfriend, supporting you is my job.”

Spencer rolled his eyes out of view. “I’m thanking you because I know it’s hard for you and you’re doing it anyways.”

“Always.” Neal kissed Spencer’s temple, like he was sealing the promise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, cutting through to the topic they had both been dancing around.

“Not really.” Neal replied, then continued on anyways. “It’s just, he killed another cop. He was supposed to be this incredible man that went down in a hail of bullets, but not only is he still alive and out there somewhere, he shot a man—he’s a murderer and a traitor. He left mom and I, poor and alone in a new city, with new names and for what? For some cash, drugs? What kind of person decides to betray everyone in their life like that? Their own wife and child?” What kind of person did that make Neal?

Neal was breathing heavy by the end of his monologue. He rarely talked about his family or his father, but Spencer knew how much the topic hurt him.

“I don’t know.” Spencer told him while running his hands up and down Neal’s back to provide as much comfort as he could. “I don’t know why fathers leave their children. But I do know that that will never be me; this job will never be more important to me than you are.” Spencer held himself back from suggesting that they would one day have kids together, but the thought crossed his mind that he would put their kids before his career too.

Neal sniffled and tried not to cry at the sappy words. “You mean the world to me too. You’re my Penny from Heaven.”

Spencer let out a bright laugh, instantly lightening the tone of the conversation. “I’m your what?” He asked incredulously.

Neal bit back a smile. “Mozzie is going through a Sinatra phase. We listened to Pennies from Heaven approximately a hundred times in the past week and a half.”

Chapter Text

“For the last time Moz, I’m not breaking up with him, he’s the love of my life!” Neal said with frustration.

Mozzie softened at the declaration. He was a romantic at heart, but he wasn’t happy to see how much the Romeo and Juliet of it all was grating on Neal.

“I just—” Moz sighed. “I want you to be happy, you’re my best friend, and I don’t see how you can do that while dating an FBI agent. He’s going to get you arrested.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like Spencer, he actually liked the man quite a bit before he decided to become a government lackey; it was just that Spencer wasn’t conducive to their lifestyle and that in turn was hurting Neal.

Neal took a large sip from his wine glass. Mozzie was right, but he was also wrong. Neal knew that he was risking a lot by continuing his relationship with Spencer, but it didn’t even make him hesitate to do so. Spencer was his person, his future, and the man he wanted to eventually marry.

In all of Neal’s planning for things to go wrong, there was never any scenario where Neal left Spencer, not for any reason.

“I’m thinking of going straight.” Neal said.

Mozzie snorted, but looked up in alarm when Neal didn’t laugh with him. “Oh, you’re serious? That wasn’t just a gay joke?”

Neal quirked his lips and rolled his eyes, then returned to his serious demeanor. “No, it wasn’t. I have traveled the world, seen a great many things, but I want to settle down someday and I want that with Spencer. If I have to get a day job in order to wake up in bed next to him, then I think I might be ready for that.”

Mozzie looked at Neal like he was an alien from Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

“You love this life.” Moz protested.

Neal swirled his drink, looking down into the red liquid. “Yeah, I do, but I love him more.”

Mozzie fell silent at that, unsure of what he could say to make Neal change his mind. He wasn’t sure that anything could change Neal’s mind and he was heartbroken that their lives as thieves were coming to a close.

Not that Moz would stop being a thief, he could still do that from just about anywhere, but he’d miss travelling the world with Neal. It wasn’t even as if he could blame Neal for following Spencer because Mozzie would do the same for Neal. He loved Neal, though entirely platonically, and he would go wherever his best friend needed him to be.

They were getting closer. The FBI was closing in and Neal was more stressed than he wanted to admit. He and Mozzie had stolen St. George and the Dragon as one last big heist before they retired and Neal relished in the adrenaline rush it gave him. He wouldn’t get that again.

“We need to be careful.” Mozzie reiterated for the thousandth time. “That fed is smart and he’s on our trail.”

Neal didn’t bother to verbally confirm, he just continued to shove his belongings into a duffel bag, removing any trace their presence from the hotel room. They weren’t in any rush, Agent Burke wasn’t all that close this time, but Neal knew that the gap between could shorten easily.

The room wasn’t anything special, just a nicer room with a bed, a desk, and a mini fridge. Neal wasn’t too concerned with Peter finding any evidence against them given all the people that were constantly in and out of hotel rooms.

Neal swiped a stack of papers off of the desk. He had been writing to Spencer and didn’t want to lose any of his thoughts when room service came in and trashed them.

He didn’t notice the movement of one postcard under the stack falling to the floor and getting shoved under the desk drawer by his foot. He just moved to place the love letters into his bag, getting ready to head back to the United States with the Raphael and making plans on where to stash it.

Years. Peter had been chasing this man for multiple years by now and every time he got close, it was like he disappeared into thin air.

“You’ve got that look about you, Boss.” Diana commented as she watched the newer FBI agents comb the lavish hotel room for clues. She may have been young, but she was Peter Burke’s protégé and that meant that she didn’t have to do the grunt work nearly as often as the other green agents.

“What look?” Peter questioned, even as he dramatically gazed out the French double glass doors towards the balcony and the city of Paris spread out below them.

Diana snorted. “The one that implies that you’re dramatically thinking of this chase as a rivalry like you’re in a black and white movie.”

Peter frowned at her. “That’s not what I’m thinking at all.” He protested, despite the fact that it was similar to his line of thought.

Diana didn’t respond, instead choosing to make her disbelief known with a significant look.

Peter waved her off. “It doesn’t matter, we’re getting closer to catching him every day. He hasn’t been gone from here long, we only just missed him.”

Diana nodded sharply. “Ice in the champagne bin hasn’t fully melted. We caught him off guard, he didn’t know we were coming until we were almost here.”

“Which means it’s possible he left something behind in his rush.” Peter said, turning in a slow circle to examine the room. “And this might be it!”

The flash of color under the edge of the desk in the room became obvious as soon as Peter pointed it out to Diana. The senior FBI agent took a spare glove and used it to gently pull the object out from under the desk drawer.

A postcard with a scenic view of Paris appeared and Diana raised an eyebrow. It was a bit touristy and everything they had on Neal Caffrey implied that he avoided being a tourist—if not for camouflage purposes, then because it was tacky. A cheap postcard didn’t seem like his style. Nor did they have any idea of who he might be sending a postcard to.

“What’s is say? Anything?” Diana questioned.

Peter flipped the card over. On the back, Neal had written

Penny,

Voici des fruits, des fleurss, des feuilles et des branches

Et puis voici mon cœur qui ne bat que pour vous.

NC

“It’s addressed to the FBI building down in Virginia.” Peter turned to Diana. “You’re fluent in French, right? Any idea of what this says? I’m thinking he’s got more than one department after him. This is reminiscent of the taunting I receive every once in a while, the birthday cards, the Christmas cards.”

Diana took the postcard from his hands and read over the words, her eyebrows rising up her forehead with each word.

Peter was still talking to himself when Diana interrupted him.

“This is not the same as your Christmas cards, Boss.” She informed him.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “How so?”

Diana bit back a grin. “This is a love letter.”

Peter’s eyes bulged out of his head for a brief moment. “What in the world do those lines say?”

“Well, I’m not an expert in poetry, but roughly, they mean: Here are fruits, flowers, leaves, and branches and here is my heart which only beats for you.” Diana translated, then smirked. “I think Caffrey has a partner back home. I’m also pretty sure this isn’t original poetry, but don’t quote me on that, I’m not all that familiar with French poets.”

Peter choked. “It’s addressed to the FBI office.” He restated with a bit of disbelief.

Diana was holding back a full laugh. “Either he’s stalking another agent, which I think is unlikely given what we know about Caffrey, or the man has been dating an FBI agent right under our noses, and likely under—” She glanced at the writing again. “Penny’s nose as well. We should probably look into agents with the name Penny that work in the Quantico field office.”

Peter seemed like he was reevaluating everything he had ever known, so Diana left him to it and passed off the post card to be bagged and tagged.

“There are exactly zero women named Penny working in the Quantico building.” Diana informed Peter. She stood in the doorway of his office, holding the papers with all of her searches on them.

Peter sighed. “Well, we’re back to square one then. Maybe it’s an agent that was passing through.”

Diana shook her head. “You didn’t let me finish. There are no agents named Penny, but Penny could easily be a nickname and the address listed on the postcard sent me to the floor of the BAU.”

Peter perked back up at the hopeful information. “So what are you saying?”

Diana grinned. “I’m saying, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities.” She dropped two file folders onto Peter’s desk, flipping the first one open. “One is FBI Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, ex-hacker turned law abiding citizen.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised at hearing the description as he scanned the file on the analyst. He could easily see Neal falling in love with a hacker and keeping the relationship a secret once she was caught. He didn’t know that he’d picture the conman with someone so brightly colored, but she was an attractive woman and he wasn’t one to judge.

“Who’s the other option?” Peter asked, almost forgetting that his junior agent had said there were two people that could be nicknamed Penny—assuming the nickname was based off of their given name.

“This—” Diana flipped open the second file and poked it with her pointer finger for emphasis. “Is my bet. Dr. Spencer Reid. Certified genius with three doctorates and an eidetic memory.”

That made Peter’s eyebrows raise even more. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Neal wasn’t straight. It was a limitation of his and it was one of the reasons he liked Diana so much, she had a broader spectrum of knowledge than he did in that area and always made sure he considered non-heteronormative explanations.

Chapter Text

Peter sat down in the BAU unit chief’s office, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what he knew was about to be a supremely awkward conversation. Next to him, Diana seemed cooler than a cucumber, her poker face neatly in place and not showing any nerves.

Across from them, the unit chief, SSA Aaron Hotchner sat in his office chair, neutrally assessing them.

“I am SSA Aaron Hotchner, you may call me Hotch. What brings two New York White Collar agents to my office?” Hotch asked, not unpleasantly, but curious and cautious all the same.

Peter nodded, taking the lead of the conversation. “I am Special Agent Peter Burke and this is Special Agent Diana Berrigan. We’re here about a somewhat sensitive matter. A week ago, we found a postcard in the hotel room of an international forger and art thief. The postcard was addressed to this floor.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes at the two, becoming even more serious than he had been the moment before. “Is one of my agents being stalked?” He asked bluntly.

Diana responded before Peter could, pulling a copy of the postcard out of her bag. “I don’t think that’s the situation at hand. Neal Caffrey does not profile as a stalker, he’s not malicious or obsessive, he’s not even violent. We believe he’s in a relationship with one of your agents and we’d like to confirm with them.” She passed the paper over for the unit chief to look at and waited as he did so.

Hotch glanced down at the paper, taking note of its contents front and back. “French?” He asked.

Diana nodded. “It’s a love poem, or well, part of one.”

Hotch sighed. “I do believe you are right in that he’s not stalking my agent. I’ll have Dr. Reid come in to confirm though and you can ask him about it.”

Diana leaned forward. “So it is meant for Dr. Reid?” She asked for clarification, just to be absolutely sure before they called the agent in.

Hotch shot her a questioning look, clearly wanting further explanation.

“The card is addressed to Penny, that could easily refer to your technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. We weren’t entirely sure which of the two it was meant for.” Diana informed him, a little surprised that he hadn’t considered that possibility at all.

Hotch made a noise of understanding. “I am fairly certain that it is meant for Dr. Reid. I have witnessed him receiving similar postcards before. I would ask that you approach the situation with tact, there is no reason to upset him more than necessary and I’d like to keep this as quiet as possible, Dr. Reid is a vital part of my team and I’d rather not have his reputation hurt because of something like this.” There was a layer of threat in the statement. Diana had the brief thought that the unit chief would make an excellent politician.

She and Peter both clocked his tone as the man being protective of his subordinate and Peter immediately spoke to alleviate his worries.

“We do not wish to make this public, nor to make it any harder on your agent than it has to be. We are simply trying to track down Neal Caffrey and hold him accountable for the crimes he has committed. I’m afraid that there is no way to do that without upsetting Dr. Reid, given the implications of the postcard, but I promise you we will attempt to make it as easy as possible for him.” Peter said with a surprising amount of eloquence.

Diana nodded her agreement with the sentiments of Peter’s speech and Hotch stood from his desk chair to track down Spencer.

Spencer entered Hotch’s office, slightly confused as to why he was being summoned. There were two agents he had never seen before sitting in the room, both watching him as he made his way in. Both agents stood to introduce themselves and thankfully refrained from offering to shake his hand.

“I am Special Agent Diana Berrigan and this is Special Agent Peter Burke. We’re from White Collar in New York.” Diana introduced them. “We have reason to believe you know a man named Neal Caffrey.”

Spencer froze, blatantly showing the accuracy of the statement. His mind ran into overdrive as he connected the dots of why exactly the white collar agents were there to question him. “What has he done?” Spencer sighed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Neal was doing on the radar of FBI agents that weren’t Spencer.

“So you can confirm you know a man by the name of Neal Caffrey?” Diana questioned.

Spencer nodded, crossing his arms defensively while looking between the two agents.

“Maybe we should sit for this conversation.” Peter suggested diplomatically.

Spencer’s face was tight with anxiety and Hotch moved to offer the genius his chair since there were only three in the room. The unit chief moved himself over to the small couch in the corner but deliberately stayed within Spencer’s line of sight as a moral support.

“Alright, tell me what this is all about, please.” Spencer asked, tucking his hair behind his ears in a nervous gesture.

Diana passed over the photocopy of the postcard once again. “We found this in a hotel room that we know belonged to Neal Caffrey. We believe it was intended for you and wanted to ask you a few questions about him and your relationship to him.”

“Green by Paul Verlaine, 1872.” Spencer mumbled to himself, a smile forming unintentionally at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that the poem?” Diana asked softly. She knew for sure that the two were dating based on Spencer’s reaction and she would freely admit that it was quite cute how Neal sent his boyfriend French poems that made him smile like that.

Spencer blinked, as if he had forgotten where he was. “Yes. It’s a French poem.” He restrained himself from info dumping about the poet and his gay relationship that inspired the poem, instead asking about his own boyfriend. “Why exactly are you asking me about Neal? What has he done to warrant the attention of the White Collar division?”

Peter took a breath, preparing to try and soften the blow of his words. “Neal Caffrey is wanted for bond forgery, art theft, and racketeering.”

Based on the way that Spencer flinched slightly, Peter was unsuccessful.

“That absolute dumbass.” Spencer mumbled. Spencer screwed his eyes shut for a moment and Peter exchanged a glance with Diana. They needed the information from Spencer or they wouldn’t be able to catch Caffrey.

“Alright.” Spencer said definitively, visibly pulling himself together. “What do you need to know?” His knuckles were white where he was clutching his hands together in his lap, but he knew he couldn’t get out of this without giving them some information, likely enough for them to apprehend Neal.

Spencer imagined the stabbing sensation in his heart was similar to a heart attack.

“When did you meet Neal?” Diana asked.

Spencer rubbed at his forehead. He had to walk this line carefully. Neal’s secrets were his own and they protected two people that were still in the WITSEC program; Spencer would not be the one to give up their stories, not even to other FBI agents.

“I met Neal in New York the summer after I finished my first bachelor’s degree.” Spencer said, proud of himself that his voice was smooth and he didn’t hesitate. He was sure Hotch caught on to his wording, but he hoped the white collar agents wouldn’t.

“And you’ve been dating him that entire time? Give or take?” Peter prompted.

Spencer nodded. “Yes, we’ve been dating for a few years now.”

“Were you aware that Caffrey was committing crimes?” Diana questioned.

Spencer shot her a flat look. “No, I was not aware of my boyfriend committing crimes. As an FBI agent you and I both know that that would be something I would have to report. Thankfully, he has apparently been considerate enough to not implicate himself.”

Diana made a face conceding that she was deserving of the sarcasm directed at her for her question.

“Do you have any idea where Caffrey is right now?” Peter asked, diverting Spencer’s attention from Diana.

Spencer shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.” He bit his lip and took a deep breath. “But he’s supposed to be back in the U.S. next week.”

Spencer clenched his jaw; it took everything in him not to burst into tears. He had just thrown Neal under the bus—ratted him out. He had just chosen the job over Neal and broken his promise to his boyfriend, the most important man in his life.

Chapter Text

The four agents made a plan for takedown. Spencer suggested doing it at his apartment and pushed them for no backup. He didn’t want to make a big spectacle out of the arrest, both for Neal’s sake and his own; he knew Neal would go quietly and it wasn’t even a consideration that the man would have a violent reaction, Spencer knew him too well to consider that. Limiting the spectacle was the least he could do given that he was helping to arrest Neal.

After Peter and Diana left the BAU offices, making their own plans to stay in the state for the next few days, Spencer let himself breakdown. He couldn’t help but let it out. He threw himself down onto Hotch’s couch, pulling his knees to his chest and sobbing into them.

He didn’t want to lose Neal.

The thought hit him like a train. He wasn’t upset about the crimes, not really. He knew with absolute certainty that Neal wasn’t a violent person, that he had never physically hurt anyone. White collar crime was something Spencer could forgive. It was similar to what they had done all those years ago, except he and Neal had been conning casinos—companies and not people. The more Spencer thought about it, the more he was sure that Neal didn’t even steal from people that couldn’t afford it.

Here Spencer was, justifying the actions of his criminal boyfriend. He didn’t want to think about what that said about his own morally gray values.

“Are you alright?”

Spencer jumped at the sound of Hotch’s voice and the accompanying hand on his shoulder.

“No.” Spencer managed to get out. There was no use lying when it was more than obvious that he was not doing well.

Hotch sat down next to Spencer’s curled up form, moving his hand to Spencer’s back to rub soothing circles there.

“You did the right thing. I know it is probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but it was the right thing. Caffrey—Neal has been committing crimes.” Hotch assured Spencer.

Spencer choked back a sob. “I don’t want to lose him.” He said wetly.

Hotch evidently didn’t have any assurance for that since the unit chief stayed silent and continued to provide physical comfort. After a few long minutes, once Spencer’s tears had started to wane, Hotch made a suggestion.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day. Go home, relax a bit, and get your head on straight.” Hotch phrased it like it was a question, but his tone made it seem like a gentle order.

“Nothing about this situation is straight, Hotch.” Spencer mumbled, sitting up fully and using his sleeves to swipe at the tear tracks under his eyes.

Hotch huffed out a laugh at the joke and stood, then helped Spencer to his feet.

“Eat some food, drink some water, and get a few hours of sleep. The situation may seem a little less dire once you’ve done so.” Hotch claimed.

Spencer didn’t believe him.

Neal loved coming home. As much as he adored New York and spending time in the city with Mozzie, home would always be where Spencer was. Coming home to Spencer was always the best part of returning to America.

Neal made his way up the apartment stairs towards Spencer’s unit. Neal had long since been given a key so that he could come and go as he pleased. He had free reign to stay at the apartment even if Spencer was away on a case. He hoped Spencer was home; it had been a while since they had seen each other in person and Neal missed Spencer with a deep longing.

Neal shoved the key into the lock and opened the door, calling out, “Penny?”

Spencer stood up from the couch in his living room, he was wildly nervous and had been incessantly tapping his fingers against his thigh for the entire morning while they waited for Neal’s arrival.

Neal walked over to Spencer kissed him deeply, just as he did every time they met up after being apart for any long period of time.

Spencer grabbed Neal’s tie, pulling him even closer, the situation making him kiss Neal with a desperation he rarely had.

When they broke apart a few seconds later, Neal looked Spencer in the eyes and saw his nerves.

“What’s wrong?” Neal asked.

“FBI. Hands in the air!” Peter said authoritatively from behind Neal. The white collar agent had moved between Neal and the door and the conman could see where two other agents were appearing out of other rooms in the apartment. He faintly recognized them as Spencer’s boss and Peter’s teammate from photos and surveillance respectively.

“Oh.” Neal said quietly.

Spencer’s eyes filled with tears and Neal stepped back slightly, ignoring the order to put his hands to his head.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer whimpered.

The sight broke Neal’s heart even though he had a spike of anger at the betrayal. The feeling didn’t last long though, he had known from the moment Spencer had told him he was joining the FBI that this outcome was a possibility.

Neal turned around slowly to face the man he knew had been chasing him for years. He held out a hand.

Peter gave him a surprised look but lowered his weapon and shook Neal’s hand. The conman allowed himself to be handcuffed, turning towards his boyfriend again so that Peter could cuff him behind his back.

Tears were now streaming down Spencer’s cheeks and the genius scrubbed at his face to get rid of them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you.” Spencer mumbled.

Neal frowned, his bland smile from moments before replaced by a focused seriousness. “You won’t lose me.” He told Spencer.

“I’ve betrayed you.” Spencer informed him, as if he hadn’t put that together himself.

“Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would matter?” Neal asked, letting a small smile play over his lips.

Spencer barked out a bright laugh, making the other agents’ eyes widen with surprise. “Don’t misquote Doctor Who at me, you’re being arrested.” Spencer argued hotly.

Neal smiled. “I think you’re missing the point. I’m being arrested—how else am I supposed to see you smile?” Neal shot back.

Spencer looked at Neal with unadulterated hope and surged forward to kiss him again, palming his cheeks.

Neal’s hands shot out to Spencer’s waist, handcuffs hanging off of one wrist, the second cuff left wide open. He vaguely heard Peter say his name with annoyance but ignored it in favor of kissing Spencer back.

Neal finally pulled away, knowing it was time to face the music. He let Agent Burke re-cuff him and read him his Miranda rights.

“Hold on a moment Agent Burke.” Before they could drag him out of the building, Neal made sure to make direct eye contact and tell Spencer exactly what he wanted from him. “Now, I didn’t hear a breakup anywhere in that arrest, so I expect letters.”

Spencer looked at Neal with such joy at the confirmation that this wasn’t the end of their relationship that Neal knew he would completely forgive Spencer before he even made it back to New York. His boyfriend loved him and Neal loved him back, unconditionally. One day he would marry Spencer.

It was years of training to keep the shock of that thought off of Neal’s face. It was the most inconvenient time to be thinking about proposing to Spencer, but Neal knew that it was what he wanted—to one day be married to Spencer Reid.

Chapter Text

Spencer didn’t see Neal for the few months of his arraignment and trail. It wasn’t a good look for an FBI agent to be embroiled in the affairs of a man on trial and it wasn’t like they would be able to truly talk to each other in that time anyways.

Neal refused his offer to help pay for the legal costs and insisted on having a public defender. Spencer itched to help in some way. He knew that Hotch met with the lawyer to provide advice and Spencer would be forever grateful, but the lack of action that he himself could take was getting under his skin.

Thankfully, no one on the team had figured out exactly what was going on, but Spencer was starting to get annoyed with the sidelong glances that each member was giving him.

“Have fun.” Spencer brushed off another invitation to go out with Morgan and the team.

“C’mon, Kid.” Morgan complained. “You’ve been down for a while now and this is the fourth time you’ve blown us off for drinks after work.”

Leave it to Morgan to be the one to point out Spencer’s depression regarding the situation.

“I haven’t been blowing you off, I have plans.” Spencer told him, clipping his words slightly in the hope that Morgan would back off.

“You rarely have plans, what’s the real reason?” Morgan pushed, leaning his hip against Spencer’s desk and unconsciously looming over Spencer.

Spencer scowled. He may not have actually had plans the first few times he avoided socializing with them, but this time he had an actual concrete plan to go see Neal and he wouldn’t jeopardize the opportunity by getting smashed with his coworkers the night before.

“I do have plans, if you want to know so bad, you can come with me.” The genius immediately winced at his own words. He hadn’t meant to make the offer, but he couldn’t rescind the offer without Morgan becoming even more suspicious.

Morgan took note of Spencer’s reactions like the profiler he was and quickly decided that he would get to the bottom of what was going on. “Alright, I’m in.”

Spencer closed his eyes, mentally kissing all of his secrets goodbye. “You’ll need to pack an overnight bag.” Spencer informed his friend, hoping that tidbit would be enough to dissuade Morgan.

Morgan just gave him a look, determined to follow through and get answers. “Just the one night, or for the whole weekend?”

Spencer’s hopes of making his trip alone withered away to nothing. “The whole weekend.”

Morgan showed up at Spencer’s apartment after work, duffel bag in hand. Spencer met him at the door and walked over to the passenger side of Morgan’s SUV.

“If you’re coming, you’re driving.” Spencer told him, in one last attempt to dissuade the other man.

The previous trip, Spencer had taken the train up, but driving would be faster and cheaper, especially with two of them going.

“I don’t know where we’re going.” Morgan reminded Spencer.

“New York.” Spencer didn’t elaborate further and despite his surprise, Morgan knew when it was time to give the younger man space.

Morgan shoved their bags in the back and slipped into the driver’s seat. He had plenty of time to contemplate what his best friend was going through; he knew there was something more than just the cases that they had been on recently.

The more Morgan let himself analyze, the more sure he was that he could pinpoint exactly when Spencer’s mood had plummeted. The man had been happy in the weeks following the Lila Archer case, Morgan didn’t know whether that was because he kept in touch with the movie star or if it was some other factor, but there was a specific Monday a few months later in which Spencer was distinctly subdued.

It was a few hours later that they made it to New York City. As they got closer, Spencer began directing Morgan on where to drive. They pulled up in front of a mansion and Spencer had Morgan park along the street.

Morgan held his tongue as they gathered their bags and walked up to the front door and Spencer knocked.

A maid answered and led them into the ornate building. After a moment, a regal woman descended the stairs to greet Spencer.

“Spencer, it is good to see you.” June greeted him warmly. “And who might this young man be?”

Spencer smiled at the woman. “June, this is Derek Morgan. Morgan, this is June Ellington. She has been kind enough to offer her home to me when I visit New York, and to you for this trip.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Morgan said, taking the woman’s hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. He may be more confused than he had ever been, but his mother taught him to be a gentleman. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You are more than welcome.” June waved off the gratitude. “Spencer, I am headed up for the night, but I expect to see you for breakfast before you leave.”

Morgan turned to Spencer with his eyebrows raised. The genius didn’t bother to give him any information and instead dragged him up a set of stairs to a studio apartment.

The more Spencer refused to tell him why they were in New York, the more unsettled Morgan became. It took the senior agent all his willpower to follow along without question.

The two got ready for bed and shared the large bed in the back corner of the room. It was similar to how they paired up for sleeping in hotel rooms that only had queen beds, but Morgan distinctly noticed the superior quality of the bed he was in compared to the ones they slept in on cases.

Spencer woke up first, which was fortuitous since Morgan would have felt awkward being the only one awake in the house of some millionaire that he had only briefly met late the night before.

“Get up, Morgan.” Spencer shook his friend’s shoulder, careful to be more gentle than his anxiety wanted him to be.

Morgan blinked, taking a moment to remember where he was. Spencer left him to wake up and took over the bathroom to change first. It wasn’t long before they were both dressed and Spencer was leading Morgan down the stairs to a dining room. Morgan hid his surprise at seeing a full spread of food across the table. There was fruit, bacon and eggs, sausages, pancakes, and a number of small dishes with toppings and mix-ins for the meal.

Sitting at the table already was June and a man that appeared to be just as distinguished as she was. Morgan clocked the wedding band on his finger and assumed that this was June’s husband.

Spencer pushed Morgan into a seat and greeted their hosts. “Good morning, June, Byron.”

Byron smiled, closing the paper he had been reading. “Good morning to you too, Spencer. It is lovely to see you again. Are you staying tonight as well?”

Morgan looked over to Spencer, unsure as to what the answer was.

Spencer nodded. “Unless we get an emergency call, we’ll be here another day. Byron, this is my friend and teammate, Derek Morgan. Morgan, this is Byron Ellington.”

Morgan nodded politely to Byron, becoming more and more confused as time passed. June placed a hand on his arm and Morgan turned towards her.

“You’ll find out later.” She said enigmatically. “But for now, enjoy breakfast.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow but heeded her advice. He could be patient; no matter how much it annoyed him. He served himself some of the pancakes and fruit as he had seen Spencer do without prompting.

“So, Byron, June, how did you meet Spencer?” Morgan hazarded the generic question hoping to get something even if he wouldn’t get the full story now. Based on the knowing look June was shooting him, he was not being subtle.

Byron chuckled. “I met Spencer here in a locally owned jazz music shop.”

That made Morgan freeze while cutting his food. “Reid? In a jazz store?” Morgan asked incredulously, truing his surprise towards his best friend. As far as he knew Reid didn’t listen to anything but classical music.

Byron hummed and Spencer avoided making eye contact with Morgan. The FBI agent in him knew that this was all somehow connected to the reason they were in New York at all, but he truly had no guesses as to what that reason was.

“He was trying to find a specific record by Ella Fitzgerald and I managed to help him out. We got to talking and he shared that he’d be coming up to the city frequently and the motel he’d booked has a dog that doesn’t like him very much. I offered up our spare room for his use and invited him home for dinner.” Byron explained.

That managed to clear up absolutely nothing for Morgan but he took the story in stride. They all made small talk throughout the rest of the breakfast until Spencer stood and announced that they had to leave if they wanted to be on time.

Morgan ran up to grab their bags from the loft and as he descended the stairs again, June stood to walk them out.

She led them to the front door and paused to kiss Spencer on the cheek, murmuring a ‘good luck’ to him.

Morgan was surprised that Spencer “It’s actually safer to kiss” Reid allowed the contact, but he supposed it was in fact a kiss and therefore was safer than if they had shaken hands.

Chapter Text

Spencer again directed Morgan’s driving, manually navigating until they finally pulled up in front of Sing Sing Correctional Facility.

Morgan parked the car hesitantly, unnerved more than confused like he had been previously. “Pretty Boy, why are we here?”

“To visit someone.” Spencer informed him with a clipped tone. He was still anxious about telling Morgan everything, but he considered the man one of his best friends and he wanted Morgan to know him. He wanted to share his private life, even though it freaked him out.

Morgan grabbed Spencer’s arm, stopping him from walking into the building before he could get clarification.

“Reid, who exactly are we visiting? What is going on?” Morgan asked, his concern for Spencer abundantly clear in his tone.

Spencer sighed. He might as well tell Morgan before they went inside.

“We’re visiting Neal Caffrey, my—my boyfriend. four months ago he was arrested for bond forgery.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped open in shock. “Hold on, slow your roll—you’re dating someone incarcerated in Sing Sing?!”

Spencer set his own jaw, feeling defensive over Neal. “He’s non-violent and was only sent here because he’s considered a flight risk.”

Morgan opened and closed his mouth a few times, attempting to wrap his head around the new information. Spencer gave him a few more moments and then he pulled away to head into the prison.

Morgan ran to catch up as they entered the building. Spencer signed them in at the desk and they went through the standard process to enter a secure facility; it was familiar since both of them had done it before as profilers.

“Hey, Bobby.” Spencer greeted and made casual small talk with the guard on duty.

“You know the drill, Dr. Reid. We’ll bring him over in a few minutes.” Bobby smiled, leading Spencer and Morgan to a small room. Rather than the traditional visiting area with plexiglass barriers and wired phones, they were led into the rooms meant for inmates to meet with their lawyers.

The guard left Morgan and Spencer alone as he went to fetch Neal.

“I just—I don’t understand.” Morgan admitted. “Why are you dating an incarcerated felon?”

Spencer shot him a dirty look. “I am in love with him, I have been since long before he was arrested.”

“And he knows you’re an FBI agent?” Morgan asked incredulously. He was really struggling to wrap his head around the situation.

Spencer closed his eyes and reminded himself not to get frustrated with his best friend. “Neal’s the one that encouraged me to become an agent. And besides, I’m the one that got him arrested, he definitely knows I work for the FBI.”

Morgan shook his head; it was clear he still didn’t understand, but Spencer wasn’t worried. Morgan would see the two of them together and he’d get it. He’d see how much they loved each other.

Their conversation was halted by Neal’s arrival. Bobby led him through the door and unlocked the handcuffs, leaving the room again with a nod to Spencer.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Neal said politely as the guard left the room.

As soon as the door was closed, Neal and Spencer gravitated towards one another to kiss. They kept it PG since Morgan was in the room, but it was no less filled with love.

Spencer introduced them to each other after he pulled away from Neal’s lips. “Neal, this is Derek Morgan. Morgan, this is Neal Caffrey, my boyfriend.”

The felon casually leaned back onto the edge of the table that inhabited the room and raised a hand to wave at Morgan with a small smile. His efforts were met with a slight scowl from the agent.

Neal tilted his head to the side to observe Morgan, choosing not to comment on the thinly veiled hostility the agent was giving off.

The awkward silence stretched for a moment longer before Neal decided that he wouldn’t let Morgan interrupt any more of his time with Spencer, so limited as it was.

“I’ve got something for you.” Neal said to Spencer, pulling two pieces of folded paper out of the pocket of his orange jumpsuit.

“And what is that?” Morgan asked suspiciously.

Neal smiled with just a touch more teeth than his normal smiles. “None of your business.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes at the criminal, making Neal smile wider.

Spencer frowned and poked Neal in the side, pocketing the paper for later. He maneuvered Neal’s arm so that he could fit himself right next to Neal’s side and let Neal wrap the arm around his waist.

“Stop goading him.” Spencer ordered Neal, giving his boyfriend a flat stare.

Neal scrunched up his nose, petulantly making a face at Spencer, but leaning in and holding him tight with one arm. They were still perched on the table edge and would have to move before the position got too uncomfortable to maintain.

“He’s being very judgy.” Neal complained.

“He’s right here and doesn’t like being talked about like he isn’t.” Morgan told Neal bluntly.

Neal rolled his eyes and turned towards Morgan. “You’re being very judgy for someone who has never met me.”

“Pardon me for being concerned that the convicted felon dating my best friend isn’t good enough for him.” Morgan sassed.

Neal shot a look at Spencer that he hoped expressed his exasperation and annoyance about meeting Morgan.

“Be the bigger person.” Spencer told him.

“I’ve been dating you longer than he’s even known you and I am literally imprisoned—there is absolutely no reason that I should have to be the bigger person.” Neal whined.

Spencer turned his head to look Neal in the eyes. “Please, for me?”

The widened eyes and soft, pleading voice always got Neal and Spencer knew it. It wasn’t the first time Neal regretted teaching the man how to manipulate him.

“You’ve got me there.” Neal let out a sigh and kissed Spencer on the temple.

The conman straightened and held out the hand not still wrapped around Spencer to Morgan. “My name is Neal Caffrey. I have been convicted for bond forgery and am serving a four year sentence. I am entirely non-violent, I have never hurt Spencer in any way, and I never will because I am absolutely enamored with him.”

Morgan reluctantly shook Neal’s hand, still eyeing the prisoner warily. “You think you getting yourself arrested hasn’t hurt him?”

“I think of the two of us, I was significantly more hurt by that event. I also know that I don’t blame him for that and he doesn’t blame me for the bond forgery that I was arrested for, which occurred before we started dating.” Neal said firmly.

Spencer turned his head to press a kiss to Neal’s jaw, acknowledging the truth of his statement.

Morgan backed off with a frown; it was clear that he was not convinced of the whole situation, but he could see how relaxed Spencer was pressed to Neal’s side. It was a level of content that Morgan didn’t think he’d ever seen on Spencer.

“How are June and Byron?” Neal asked, changing the subject smoothly.

“Good.” Spencer smiled a fond half smile. “They’re sweet people.”

“They are.” Neal agreed. “Did I tell you Bryon came to visit me last week?”

It made Spencer’s heart warm to hear that the friend he had made because of Neal was getting to know him. Spencer knew Neal was lonely in prison, he was a better person than most of the people in the building and while the man could make friends with anyone, the type of people that got put into maximum security prison were usually not great friends.

“You hadn’t told me yet. I’m glad he did, he seems like a good man to be friends with.” Spencer told Neal.

Morgan watched the two closely as they continued their conversation while ignoring him.

“He recommended some good books that I should be able to find in the library here.” Neal mentioned.

Spencer frowned. “You never read any of the books I recommend.”

Neal gave him a look that said he was somehow being dumb. “What’s the most recent book you read that you’d recommend?” He asked, obviously leading Spencer towards the reason he was looking at Spencer like Spencer wasn’t the sharpest spoon in the drawer.

Spencer furrowed his brow but complied and answered. “Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon.”

“And how many pages is that?” Neal asked with a touch of snark.

“776 pages.” Spencer pouted dramatically, realizing exactly what Neal was getting at.

“Yeah, absolutely not. If it is more than 500 pages then I will not be reading it.” Neal argued.

“It’s shorter than War and Peace!” Spencer exclaimed.

Neal snorted in amusement. “That’s not a good argument when War and Peace has a page count in the quadruple digits.”

Spencer stuck out his tongue. It wasn’t the most mature response, but it did win him the argument.

Win meaning he got Neal to kiss him. The older man pressed his lips to Spencer’s firmly, ending their bickering and pouring his feelings into the chaste kiss.

Neal hated being in prison. It was somehow incredibly boring and also highly dangerous, but he still got the chance to kiss Spencer every few weeks, so all in all, it could have been significantly worse.

Knowing they had little time left, Spencer brought up the papers Neal had handed him. “Where am I going this time?”

The genius pulled out the slips of paper. One was marked ‘Stop 2: Do Not Read’. He unfolded the other one, ignoring the suspicion with which Morgan looked at them. The only word on the paper was ‘Wednesday’. Neal smirked as Spencer groaned.

“You can’t be serious?” Spencer asked, knowing full well that Neal was.

“He misses you.” The conman stated confidently.

Spencer scowled. “He’s pissed at me and, quite frankly, rightfully so. He doesn’t want to see me.”

Spencer’s feelings surrounding Mozzie were complicated, just as the man’s feelings surrounding him were. Becoming a federal agent put a rift between them, but Spencer’s hand in Neal’s arrest was unforgivable and Spencer had no reason to believe that Mozzie would ever want to see him again, let alone speak with him.

“If he really didn’t want to see you he wouldn’t have let me make Wednesday the first destination.” Neal said logically.

Spencer wasn’t sure if he believed Neal.

Chapter Text

Spencer and Morgan made their way out of the prison and back to the parking lot. Morgan took the chance to pry into exactly what had happened during their visit with Neal.

“So, you met him in New York and started dating him after he had committed the bond forgery and before you joined the FBI?” Morgan questioned.

It irritated Spencer. The genius knew that it was because his emotions were high and Morgan was just trying to understand the situation, but he couldn’t stand the questioning.

He took a deep breath, nodding to Morgan instead of verbally answering as he wrenched open the passenger side door of the car.

Morgan’s next question came once they were both seated in the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

“You know that’s likely not the only crime he’s guilty of, right?”

Morgan’s words were gentle but they felt like a slap to the face. Spencer grit his teeth in irrational anger.

“I know exactly what he is suspected of; I also know what he is capable of, and neither of those lists contain something I cannot forgive him for.” Spencer said, crossing his arms and facing the passenger side window.

Morgan looked at the younger man from for a brief second before returning his eyes to the road.

“You really love him, don’t you? Like ‘til death do you part love him?” Morgan’s words were more of a statement than a question.

Spencer answered him anyways. “He is the love of my life. If the world and the FBI weren’t so homophobic then we’d probably already be married. He’s met my mother and I’ve met his; he knows everything about me and the only things I don’t know about him are things I choose to remain ignorant of for the sake of my job.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Morgan said.

Spencer blinked, all the tension and annoyance he had been feeling dropped away. He looked at Morgan to see acceptance from the man—it warmed his heart more than he expected.

“Where exactly are we?” Morgan finally voiced the questions that had been at the forefront of his mind since they had left the prison. “And why exactly are we here? Also, what are we here for?”

“Do you want to know who and when as well?” Spencer snarked but answered Morgan as he led them up a back staircase of a seemingly abandoned building.

“This,” the genius gestured to the building around them with one hand, “is Wednesday. Neal’s best friend is a man named Mozzie. He’s a bit eccentric and has a few hidey holes around New York. He likes to name them after days of the week. I have never been here before, but he once gave me the riddle so that I could find it.”

“Riddle?” Morgan said, bewildered. “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“As for what, you’ll see in a few minutes.” Spencer said. He was sort of enjoying Morgan’s confusion and found himself playing up the mystery of it all.

The two ended up on a floor with a series of doors that were all identical. Morgan assumed they were in an old apartment complex or maybe an office building, though there were no signs or markings on the wall to indicate the space as such.

Spencer seemed to pick a door at random and knocked to the tune of Shave and a Haircut. Morgan was still not sure what exactly they were supposed to find here.

A moment later, the head of a man popped out from behind the door, keeping the opening to the room obscured. The man was short, bald, bespectacled, and older than both Morgan and Spencer.

“Come back with a warrant!” The man said to Spencer.

Morgan blinked in shock. The entire situation was leaving him off-kilter and he found himself having to trust Spencer to handle the situation in ways that he hadn’t ever had to previously.

“I’m not so sure you’d let me in even with a warrant.” Spencer replied to the man.

Mozzie huffed. “Maybe not.” Despite his words, the small man opened the door wide enough for Spencer to enter. Before Morgan could follow, Mozzie blocked his path. “You can stay out here.”

“Excuse me?” Morgan questioned, instinctually offended by the tone of the older man.

Mozzie trailed his eyes down to Morgan’s waist, where his service gun rested in its holster.

“No guns in Casa de Wednesday, Fed.” Mozzie said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Spencer sighed from behind the conman. “I did tell you, Morgan.”

Spencer knew it was a miracle that Mozzie would let either of them in at all given their occupation; letting in an agent with a weapon was a step too far and Spencer wouldn’t blame Mozzie for keeping Morgan out.

“I wasn’t going to leave without my service weapon!” Morgan argued.

“Then you can wait outside.” Mozzie said matter-of-factly.

“I’m not leaving Reid alone with whoever the hell you are.” Morgan said firmly.

Spencer pulled the door fully open to face Morgan. “I’ll be fine. Mozzie is a pacifist and wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Don’t tell him my name!” Mozzie hissed. “And you don’t know what I’m capable of.” He added with indignation.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Please, can you wait here, Morgan?”

Morgan looked uncertain and had barely nodded in agreement before Mozzie was shutting the door in his face.

Spencer walked into the main room of Wednesday. It was well, if sparsely, furnished with a distinct European flair. Spencer was sure that the other safe houses each had a theme of their own.

“It’s good to see you, Moz.” Spencer said, breaking their silence.

Mozzie wasn’t facing Spencer, clearly intentionally keeping his back turned so that he didn’t have to look at the FBI agent. It sent a pang of hurt through Spencer. He had known he hurt Moz when he helped arrest Neal, but it was another thing altogether to see it in person.

“I’d say the same about you, but I’m not sure it’s true.” Mozzie said cuttingly.

Spencer tried not to flinch at the venomous tone. “I had to. If I hadn’t they would have suspended me and put me under surveillance until they caught him anyways.” He really hoped that Mozzie would hear the truth in the words.

Mozzie finally turned around and it broke Spencer’s heart to see tears in the man’s eyes.

“Neal is my best friend. You gave him up. You took away his freedom, and subsequently, you hurt me. He’s in prison! I can’t see him, I can’t talk to him, I can barely get letters through to him.” Mozzie explained.

Spencer knew that most of the limitations that Mozzie encountered were due to his own paranoia and need to remain anonymous. He was sure Mozzie would burn the safehouse they were standing in almost as soon as Spencer and Morgan left. But he also knew the man was right.

“I’m sorry, Moz. I’ve hurt him, I’ve hurt you, I’ve even hurt myself with all of this, but there was no other option. I don’t want this to ruin the friendship we had and I know Neal doesn’t want that either.” Spencer stepped towards Mozzie to impress upon him how much he meant the words.

Mozzie took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before releasing it. “I know he doesn’t. He is too forgiving of a man and one day it’ll come back to bite him.”

Spencer nodded in agreement. “But he’ll have us with him.”

Mozzie shook off the detour in the conversation and backtracked to the topic at hand. “I don’t forgive you. But I suppose it was rash of me to completely cut contact.”

Spencer smiled lightly. The issues between them weren’t resolved, but the door had been reopened. “Thank you.”

Mozzie only grunted in acknowledgement before changing the subject once again. “I have the next clue for your scavenger hunt.” The little man dramatically began reciting a riddle.

“A pillar of purity,
A dress on the day of matrimony,
The last left of the dead,
Never at education’s ceremony,
What floats in the sky,
Can fall to the ground in inclement weather,
Take this as your cue—
To the place that ties come together.”

It was a slightly weird riddle, but Mozzie had always been a slightly weird man and Spencer was sure that he had written the riddle himself. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended that the riddle was fairly easy to decipher—it was surely Mozzie being rude, the man knew exactly how good Spencer was at riddles. In the end, Spencer was just happy that he was connecting with Mozzie again.

Mozzie gave him a curt nod and a piece of paper with the riddle written out, not that Spencer needed it, but maybe for Morgan’s benefit.

Chapter Text

Morgan instantly settled after seeing Spencer return in one piece. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes in the hall and had practically worn a hole in the floor with his pacing.

“What happened?” He asked Spencer anxiously.

Spencer smiled, easing Morgan’s fears and expressing his own mood at the reconciliation between himself and his old friend.

“We had a bit of a heart to heart and he gave me this.” Spencer passed Morgan the paper with the riddle and watched as he read it. He knew he would have to explain everything fully as Morgan’s face became alarmed.

“What is this?” Morgan asked, looking up at Spencer with worry.

Spencer sighed. “You can calm down. It’s not anything bad or criminal. It’s a scavenger hunt.”

That only seemed to confuse Morgan more and Spencer held up a hand to forestall any questions.

“Neal is in prison; I only see him for about an hour every couple of weeks. I am not a very sociable person, you know that, but Neal used to take me out on a lot of dates. He would get me to go out and be social and interact with people, and it was fun. Usually he’d take me to interesting places with less crowds and we’d always leave if I got overwhelmed, but I rarely did because he’d put so much thought into planning the date beforehand.” Spencer explained.

Morgan was softening towards the thought of Spencer dating Neal. He sounded like a really good boyfriend, even if Morgan wasn’t yet convinced that he was a good man.

“We can’t do any of that while he’s stuck in prison and he knows that I won’t go out on my own in the same way. So, he came up with the scavenger hunt idea. He plans a day or two worth of events, places for me to go to, or people for me to meet and gives me little clues on how to find them. And he manages to do most of it from inside of his cell. Last time, he sent me to various music venues and to the jazz store. Meeting Byron was incidental, but it was because of Neal nonetheless.” Spencer paused, catching his breath after the flood of information he had given Morgan.

Morgan nodded along, finally understanding some of what was going on. “So this riddle will send you somewhere specific. And you’re sure that it’s safe?”

Spencer snorted a laugh, pointing at the slip of paper Morgan was still holding. “That paper is sending me to an FBI building, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Of course you’ve solved the riddle already.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Read it again.”

A pillar of purity,
A dress on the day of matrimony,
The last left of the dead,
Never at education’s ceremony,
What floats in the sky,
Can fall to the ground in inclement weather,
Take this as your cue—
To the place that ties come together.

Spencer waited until he saw the realization on Morgan’s face but explained the riddle to him anyways. “All the things described are white: salt, a wedding dress, bone, clouds, snow, a cue ball. Graduation gowns are traditionally black, thus the never at education’s ceremony line and the place that a tie comes together is at a collar. It’s telling me to go to the white collar offices, I can only assume to meet with the agent that arrested Neal.”

“I thought you arrested him?” Morgan asked.

Spencer shook his head. “Technically, no. Special Agent Peter Burke of the white collar department had been chasing Neal for years and connected him to me. He approached Hotch and I and we set up the arrest at my apartment when Neal returned from Europe. It was just me, Hotch, Agent Burke, and Agent Diana Berrigan from Burke’s team.”

Morgan could see the shine of regret in Spencer’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He said, knowing it would provide little comfort but needing to say it to Spencer anyways.

Spencer shook off the condolences, huffing a sad laugh. “He quoted Doctor Who at me while being arrested.”

Before Spencer could start to spiral, Morgan decided to move their scavenger hunt along further.

“Well then, let’s head to the FBI offices.”

It doesn’t take them too long to get to the New York FBI building and going through security was a breeze since they were both agents. Forty-five minutes after leaving Mozzie safe house they are sitting in Peter Burke’s office drinking shitty coffee.

“So, I am the second stop on the scavenger hunt?” Peter asked, though it was clear that he already knew he was part of the whole game.

Spencer nodded and placed his coffee on the edge of the desk in order to pull the original paper from Neal out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Peter questioned.

Spencer shrugged. “Don’t know, I wasn’t supposed to read it.” He passed over the folded page for Peter to read.

“So how did you get roped into all of this?” Morgan asked Peter.

Peter looked up from where he had fully unfolded the note from Neal. “Caffrey called me. Asked if I would participate and be a stop on the scavenger hunt. I agreed.”

Morgan shot the man an incredulous look. “You agreed to help a man you chased down and arrested to woo his boyfriend?”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I did. I chased Neal for over three years—and you know what, it was fun. He once had champagne delivered to the surveillance van I was in when we were staking out his hotel.”

Spencer snorted. “I remember that! He left out the whole FBI angle, but he called you a nosy rival.”

Peter shook his head with fondness and turned to look at Morgan again. “So, yes I agreed to help Neal coordinate one sided dates for Dr. Reid.” Peter gestured towards Spencer. “Besides, my wife thinks the whole scavenger hunt is sweet.”

Peter finally looked down at the note from Neal and read through the few sentences on it, nodding in agreement to the words and smirking to himself.

Refolding the paper, Peter sent them on their way to the next stop. “Your next quest is to find a book called Portrait of a Thief by Grace D. Li.”

Spencer smiled at the title while Morgan frowned.

“Once you’ve gotten a copy, I’ll text you an address of the next place you need to be. The event he’s sending you to starts at seven.” Peter informs them.

Spencer nods and thanks Peter before pulling Morgan out the door so they could go look for the book Neal recommended.

Chapter Text

Spencer and Morgan stopped at three bookstores to find the book and Spencer perused the arts section of each store, picking out a book to buy for Neal at all three. He’d be able to get them to Neal in the prison, but not all at once.

Morgan spent the time wandering the fiction sections. Spencer knew the man wasn’t a big reader but liked the occasional thriller story; the genius smiled at seeing him purchase a book at the last store.

“Do you want to stop for dinner?” Spencer asked. They didn’t have to be at the next stop of the scavenger hunt for another hour and Spencer knew they should probably eat before doing whatever activity was lined up for them.

A quick stop to a food truck for street tacos and then they were off towards their final destination.

Spencer walked confidently up to the building, Morgan trailing behind him, letting Spencer lead the way since it was his adventure they were on.

“Excuse me.” A voice next to them said politely.

Spencer turned to see a well-dressed redhead looking at him and Morgan. He blinked in surprise as Morgan addressed the woman.

“Yes, can we help you?” Morgan responded.

“Are you two by chance Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Derek Morgan?” She asked.

Morgan was slightly suspicious but chose to confirm her assumption. “Yes, I am Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

The woman nodded. “Great. My name is Sara Ellis; I was told to meet you here.” Sara explained.

“By Peter Burke?” Spencer asked, hoping to clarify his theory on who she was and why she was there.

“Yes.” Sara confirmed. “Though I’m not entirely sure why I am here.”

Spencer smirked as Sara looked at Morgan for answers.

“Don’t look at me.” Morgan said, putting his hands up with a grin. “I haven’t known what’s been going on all day.”

“I think I can clarify a few things.” Spencer told her. “My boyfriend is Neal Caffrey.”

Sara balked at him briefly before composing herself. “Neal Caffrey as in the art thief I testified against in court?”

“Alleged art thief.” Spencer corrected.

“You testified against him?” Morgan asked in surprise. “Why?”

“I’m an insurance investigator.” Sara answered Morgan, then turned back to Spencer. “And not alleged, I know he stole that Raphael and I will recover it and prove it.”

Spencer shrugged, unconcerned by her certainty.

“Wait a minute, so why exactly did Agent Burke ask me to meet up with you two? You should have every reason to hate me.” Sara was obviously caught off guard by Spencer’s indifference to her and her role in Neal’s conviction.

“Oh, it wasn’t Peter’s idea, it was Neal’s.” Spencer dropped the bomb, laughing to himself at seeing both Sara and Morgan’s shock.

“What?” Morgan sputtered.

“That’s what the note for Peter was. It was asking him to invite Sara here along to—” Spencer gestured to the large sign in front of the doors they were loitering next to, “—wine and paint night.”

“Why?” Sara asked.

“I think he thought you and Morgan would hit it off and honestly, I think he’s right. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get a single seat inside, and you two can bond over your dislike of my boyfriend.” Spencer said cheekily and turned to walk in the building.

Morgan stared after him for a moment, trying to comprehend that he was set up on a blind date by a felon.

Sara gave him a once over and shrugged as if to say ‘what the hell, why not?’

“So, why do you hate Caffrey?” She asked, offering Morgan her arm and nodding towards the door to indicate that they should move inside.

Morgan decided to let the already weird day continue and gently took her elbow and began explaining the whole weird experience of meeting Neal Caffrey to her.

“I demanded to come with him to whatever his plans were and he said we’re going to New York. We stayed with a charming couple on Riverside Drive and end up at the prison in the morning—mind you, I still don’t know that Reid is dating someone, has been dating said person for longer than I’ve known him, that said person is a convicted felon and serving time. Hell, I didn’t even know for sure that Reid wasn’t straight before all this.” Morgan explained to Sara as the two sat down next to each other in front of blank canvases.

“So, your issue with him is just the convicted felon of it all?” Sara questioned, browsing the wine list for a nice red.

Morgan frowned. “It’s not just that, it’s the fact that Reid didn’t tell any of us, that Caffrey is a thief, it’s a number of things that rub me the wrong way about the situation.”

Sara nodded. “I can’t argue with that logic. I’m not a fan of him myself, although I am surprised he orchestrated this involving me, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Well, I called him a sociopath in open court and he sets me up on a blind date?” Sara pointed out the absurdity of the situation.

Morgan snorted out a laugh. “Did you really?”

“Of course I did. I’ve been chasing him almost as long as Agent Burke has. He stole St. George and the Dragon, and I will recover it and nail him to the wall for it.” Sara told him.

Morgan smiled at the ferocity in her words.

The rest of Sara’s response was interrupted by the waitress getting their wine orders. Morgan went for a white, while Sara found a red that sounded good. Once the waitress left, Sara restarted the conversation.

“As much as Neal Caffrey has caused me frustration, there is one redeeming quality about him.”

“What’s that?” Morgan asked.

“He seems to have pretty good taste in men.” Sara said flirtatiously.

Morgan smiled back. “Reid is the best man I know, so I guess I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

Spencer met back up with the pair afterwards, a soft smile on his face and a drying canvas in a plastic bag.

“Did you have fun?” Morgan asked, knowing that the whole point of the outing was to push Spencer out of his comfort zone.

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, he managed to find one with my favorite painter which was nice.”

Sara gave him a bemused smile. “Caffrey isn’t your favorite painter?”

Spencer grinned. “He doesn’t do many originals; plus, it annoys the hell out of him when I say Bob Ross is my favorite painter.”

Morgan snorted a laugh. “Damn, kid, that’s just mean.”

“It’s the truth.” Spencer responded. “C’mon, we have to make one last stop. Sara, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” Spencer invited her. He could tell that she and Morgan did in fact hit it off and he was happy to see his friend was genuinely having fun despite being dragged along on Spencer’s adventure.

“We’re headed back to see Agent Burke before we leave New York. Would you like to join us?” Morgan asked Sara.

She considered the offer for a moment and nodded. “Did you two drive?”

They took her up on the offer of a ride and she drove them over to Peter Burke’s townhouse.

Burke’s wife, Elizabeth, introduced herself at the door and led the three inside. The townhouse was tastefully decorated and Morgan was greeted by the couple’s enthusiastic dog, Satchmo.

Spencer waved at the dog awkwardly. Unlike many dogs, Satchmo didn’t bark at him, but it was clear that he didn’t know how to interact with the four-legged creature.

Peter snorted, but didn’t comment on it and instead started an unrelated conversation. “How was your wine and paint night?”

Spencer smiled softly. “It was great, thanks for asking. Bob Ross is my favorite.”

That garnered him a raised eyebrow from the older agent. “Not Neal?”

“I asked that too, but apparently not.” Sara commented, following El’s lead and herding the men towards the living room.

“We are all well aware that my boyfriend doesn’t paint many originals.” Spencer rolled his eyes at their teasing. “Besides, most of his originals are portraits of me, so claiming him as my favorite painter would be very vain of me.”

Morgan looked up from where he was still giving Satchmo ear scritches. “Hold on, you mean to tell me that there are painted portraits of you? Why haven’t you mentioned them before?”

“Because I don’t want to hear the endless teasing from the team.” Spencer shot his friend a look and poked a finger at him. “You will never mention this to Garcia under any circumstances.”

Morgan smirked, holding up his hands in surrender. “Promise.”

“Who’s Garcia?” Sara questioned, sitting down gracefully on the Burke’s couch.

Spencer sighed and followed her lead, taking a seat. “Our team’s technical analyst.”

The conversation delved into a discussion about the two FBI teams for a few minutes before Peter interrupted it.

“Oh! Before I forget—” He turned to walk out of the living room and into the kitchen, returning with a cow figurine. “I’ve been told to pass this off to you now that you’ve successfully completed the scavenger hunt.”

This cow figurine was on the large side compared to his others, standing at about the height of a square tissue box. As Peter passed the statue over, Spencer gently took it and smiled at the pattern that Neal had painted on it—Bob Ross style happy trees covered the cow’s flanks in shades of dark green.

“Are all of the cows in your apartment from Neal?” Morgan asked, turning to the group to explain his curiosity. “Spencer has a whole bookshelf dedicated to them. I had always thought they were from his mom.”

Spencer nodded. “I told Neal once on a date how much I liked cows and when I first left New York, he mailed me a cow figurine that he had painted. Now every few months he get me another. Some of them are ones he sculpted, some are painted, and some are ones he bought from around the world while he was travelling.”

“That’s sweet.” Elizabeth cooed.

“I hate that I agree with that sentiment.” Sara said.

Spencer snorted. “You’re just upset that a man you helped put in jail managed to set you up on a successful date.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “It’s rude it what it is!”

The group laughed at her indignation and Spencer’s heart warmed at how Neal managed to bring people together so well, even from behind bars.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

Neal knew it to the very depth of his being, but he didn’t have any proof.

Spencer hadn’t contacted him in three weeks. Three full weeks without a visit, without a phone call, without a letter.

Neal knew, logically, that Spencer worked for the FBI and it was a busy and demanding job, but this level of non-contact hadn’t happened before. Even when he was on a long case Spencer usually managed to mail a postcard to him from wherever they ended up. (He wasn’t entirely sure that Spencer was supposed to be revealing where his team was, but Neal always presumably received the card a few days after they left).

The difference in speed of instant communication and the US postal service implied that while it had been three weeks of silence on Neal’s end, it had been even longer on Spencer’s side.

Neal was getting antsy. He had started making plans the previous week and he had yet to hear from Spencer or any of his teammates. He knew he couldn’t be Spencer’s emergency contact, but he was pretty sure he was listed as a contact for updates in an emergency. He wasn’t entirely sure how that process worked—which only made him all the more anxious.

Before the one month mark, Neal was on the outside of the prison in a uniform ordered off of the internet with a stolen credit card. One hotwired truck, a stop at a yard sale for a change of clothes, and a trip to the nearest airport to switch vehicles later, and Neal was on the highway leading him South towards Spencer.

Four hours later, he ditched the flashy sports car a few miles away from Spencer’s apartment and began walking to his destination.

Neal walked up the stairs to the apartment door and knocked, creeping dread winding its way through him at the thought that Spencer wasn’t there.

A brief wave of relief hit the conman as the door opened, only for the dread to be replaced with concern.

Spencer looked like a wreck. He had bags under his eyes, the same eyes that looked haunted, and it seemed as if he was so tired that gravity would pull him to the floor at any given moment.

“Penny.” Neal said brokenly, surging forward to wrap his boyfriend in his arms.

“Neal. What are you doing here?” Spencer managed to get out before breaking down into sobs.

Neal slowly corralled them into the apartment and shut the door behind him.

“Shh, I’m here, you’re safe, it’ll be alright.” Neal soothed, petting down Spencer’s hair as the man broke down, crying into his shoulder.

Neal wasn’t sure what had happened to cause this, but he knew he would help Spencer through it, prison sentence be damned. He gently ran his hand over Spencer’s hair as the genius broke down in his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you settled, and you can tell me what’s going on.” Neal murmured, slowly maneuvering Spencer towards his own couch. He hoped Spencer would share what had happened, but given how bad it looked, Neal knew he might have to wait it out until his boyfriend was willing to share.

Less than ten minutes later, the two were sitting next to each other with a blanket spread across both their laps and two mugs of hot tea in their hands.

“What’s wrong?” Neal prompted, sipping at his tea, but never letting his eyes move away from his boyfriend.

Spencer swallowed. “How are you here?” He deflected.

Neal indulged in the change of topic for only a moment. “I broke out of prison, but you don’t need to be worried about that right now—we should be focused on you. I know something happened; I know it must have been big. I can’t help unless you tell me what it was.”

Spencer closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face briefly. “I’m not sure you could help even if you knew.”

The statement broke Neal’s heart. Spencer was in so much pain and he couldn’t even tell Neal why.

Neal placed his tea on the coffee table softly and reached his hands up to cup Spencer’s face. His cheeks were cold against the lingering warmth from the hot beverage. Spencer blinked his eyes open to stare at his boyfriend.

“We’ll never know if we don’t try.” Neal said. “You can tell me anything, I know you know that. Nothing is so bad that it will make me think less of you.”

“I know.” Spencer’s words held sincerity that made Neal’s heart melt.

Neal pulled Spencer in for a kiss, reaffirming his love for the man.

Tears filled Spencer’s eyes as they drew apart. “I was kidnapped.” He whispered.

Neal let out a small gasp of shock and lowered his arms to wrap them around Spencer’s torrso, keeping him encircled in comfort.

Spencer broke down. The tears he had been holding back fell and Neal rubbed his back as he cried into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I was held hostage for three days and Tobias—he gave me drugs, to make the pain go away.” Spencer choked out softly.

Each word had Neal holding the man just a little bit tighter. Horror filled Neal as Spencer explained how he and JJ had split up; how he had been blitzed and taken to an unknown location; how he was tortured and hurt; how he eventually led the team to him and killed his captor; and finally, how he took the drugs with him.

Neal took a deep breath, trying not to get sick at hearing everything that had happened. He knew what Spencer had been implying by saying he had taken the Dilaudid—that Spencer still had it, had probably been taking it, was an addict not of his own volition. Neal knew they would need to address that, and soon, but for the moment he held on to his boyfriend and let him cry himself to sleep; he needed the rest.

As Spencer quieted, nestled into Neal’s arms and face pressed into Neal’s neck, Neal contemplated his feelings on the whole situation. They weren’t positive emotions by any measure.

Firstly, Spencer had killed a man to save his own life. It hadn’t been the first time, but Neal worried about how much that would hurt the gentle man.

There was also the issue of what came after. It sounded like Spencer’s team was ignoring the drug addiction—likely to save Spencer’s job. That was something that Neal had a problem with. Drugs weren’t something to be left alone, to be fooled around with. They killed people, swiftly and silently.

Though Spencer had likely done the math on exactly how much he could take without overdosing, it was a small assurance that wouldn’t work forever.

Neal needed to start Spencer on detoxing. But first he would let the man sleep.

Peter was questioning the number of brain cells in the newly hired agents when he got the call telling him that Neal Caffrey had escaped prison.

Peter cut off a noise of frustration that he wanted to let out. It was exactly what he didn’t need at that moment. He was busy and he didn’t need to once again be chasing down the man that had eluded him longer than anyone else.

“What’s going on Boss?” Diana asked as she walked up to him, noticing the grimace on his face.

“Neal Caffrey escaped prison.” Peter told her.

Diana blinked in surprise. “Is his boyfriend alright?”

Peter glanced over at her with confusion and, upon seeing the concern in her face, silently asked for clarification.

“Neal is head over heels for that FBI agent, the only reason I can think of that would force Neal to break out is if something had happened to Dr. Reid. Otherwise, Neal would be fully committed to rehabilitation so he could return to his man.” Diana explained.

As always, his protégé was right. He took a brief moment to contemplate where he would be without Diana Berrigan. It wasn’t a great picture.

“I’ll call the BAU.” Peter said.

Neal blinked awake, feeling Spencer squirm in his hold. He glanced at the analog clock Spencer had on his wall; the two had been asleep for only a few hours. It had been less than twelve hours since Neal had broken out of prison.

Neal stood up, cracking his neck and stretching his arms. Spencer took a few moments longer and Neal helped him stand, keeping a hold on the genius’s hands.

“You need to tell me where the drugs are.” Neal told Spencer softly, the order loud in the quiet apartment.

Spencer’s jaw clenched and Neal interrupted him before he could lie and say that he didn’t have any more Dilaudid.

“I know you have more. I’m not judging you, but you know better than anyone how incredibly dangerous it is. You have to detox, but you aren’t alone, I’m here.” Neal reached up to push Spencer’s hair behind his ears.

Spencer flinched away and Neal dropped his hands, frowning at the unexpected reaction.

“Dangerous? It’s no more dangerous than any of the reckless shit you’ve done.” Spencer snapped.

“It’s not the same and you damn well know it.” Neal replied.

Spencer scoffed and turned away, stomping towards the bedroom.

Neal shoved his hands in his pockets to hide that they were shaking. Spencer had never yelled at him like that before. He hoped that it was just anger manufactured by the drugs, but he wasn’t sure if it was based on Spencer’s actual feelings regarding his previous habits. He could only hope that Spencer wasn’t holding on to any resentment about him.

Neal sighed, closing his eyes for a fleeting moment to gather himself, then he went in search of narcotics in the home. Spencer hadn’t changed much over the years that Neal had known him; he still used many of the same hiding places as he did as a teenager, though it was for cash, food, and books back then.

Neal collected three bottles from the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom. He suspected there was at least one more floating around, but he’d wait to confront Spencer about it until after he had a little time to cool off from their admittedly short argument.

Neal spent the next hour on Spencer’s computer doing research. Had the situation been any different, Neal would have laughed at the clear lack of use the computer got, he knew his boyfriend only had it to type up research papers.

The knowledge he gained about drug addiction was heartbreaking and he knew that he’d have to be there for Spencer through the entire withdrawal or he was likely to relapse. That posed a problem since Neal would be back in prison soon enough.

As soon as he had that thought, there was a knock at the door. Neal glanced towards the front of the apartment in surprise, normally FBI agents weren’t considerate enough to knock. He’d believe that Peter would if it had been him at the door, but not enough time had passed for the man to chase Neal down from New York, so it was more probable that the person at the door was one of Spencer’s teammates.

Neal pushed down the rage that welled up. He had only assumed that the BAU members knew Spencer was struggling, Spencer may have been able to pass it off as the trauma of being kidnapped—even if they were profilers and should know better.

Neal stood and opened the door to let Agent Hotchner in.

Chapter Text

“Agent Hotchner.” Neal greeted coolly as he held the door to Spencer’s apartment open.

The severe man didn’t even hesitate in responding. “Neal Caffrey, you are under arrest.”

Neal cut in before the man could start reciting Neal’s rights to him.

“I’m busy, try again later.” Neal pushed the door so that it would swing shut in Aaron Hotchner’s face. It may have been petty, but no one claimed Neal to be above such things.

After a few seconds, the knocking started again.

“Neal!” Spencer called from the other room. Neal sighed, knowing Hotchner would keep on knocking and it would inevitably give Spencer a headache and make him feel worse that he already was.

The escaped convict opened the door for the man he was currently thinking of as his mortal enemy and walked back to the living room, leaving Hotchner to invite himself in and close the door.

“Caffrey, you are under arrest.” Hotchner repeated.

“Nope.” Neal answered. He ignored the stern FBI agent in favor of returning to his research. If Hotchner wanted to get him to leave, he’d have to force him to and damage his relationship with Spencer in the process. Not that his actions hadn’t already damaged their relationship, but Neal hadn’t been in DC long enough to determine whether Spencer blamed his team for their actions. Neal certainly blamed them.

“Caffrey.” Hotchner said again, an angry edge sharpening his tone. “You need to let me arrest you. You will be taken back to prison, one way or another.”

“I’m busy, try again later.” Neal felt like he was a magic 8 ball. He knew Hotchner wouldn’t leave; he couldn’t, likely due to some rule of being an FBI agent.

Theoretically, Neal didn’t blame him for following his own rules, but when those rules were getting in the way of something much more important, when they were getting in the way of Spencer’s health and wellbeing, then Neal would fight back in whatever way worked.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, why are you even here?” Hotchner snapped.

Neal froze staring at the computer in front of him as he processed the question. That was a step too far.

“Why am I here? Why am I here?! Because Spencer needs me, you asshole!” Neal stood slowly, turning to Hotchner with rage in his eyes. “I’m here because he’s hurt, because he’s addicted to drugs, because you let him get hurt and did nothing about it!”

Agent Hotchner flinched at the accusation but Neal didn’t feel any satisfaction from the other man’s brief loss of composure. The conman’s own hands were clenched into fists at his sides and his arms were shaking with the restrained anger.

Hotchner pulled himself together, shoving all of his emotions back under a mask and Neal could have laughed if the situation were different. The big bad FBI man hid behind a façade just like Neal did during a con.

“I didn’t let him get kidnapped. It’s a danger of the job. He’s known that since before becoming an agent; he takes that risk with this job. You are more than smart enough to know that as well.” Hotchner defended, somehow managing an even tone.

Neal let out a sharp exhale that was more out of shock than anything. “Don’t you dare. This is his life we’re talking about. I trusted you to protect him and you failed.” His voice was low, not wanting Spencer to overhear them.

Neal could see the strain in Hotchner’s jaw. The man knew he was in the wrong but couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it.

“You’re an escaped felon on the run from the law.”

That made Neal snort. “Do I look like I’m running?” He waved an arm to gesture at the room, indicating both that he was in an easily accessible apartment and that he had been there for a while given the half-filled pages of a notebook and the remnants of a coffee that sat next to Spencer’s laptop.

“Be that as it may, you will be going back to jail.”

“Over my dead body.” Neal snarled. Hotchner wouldn’t be taking him away from Spencer. Neal may not be violent, but he knew he could always run and take Spencer with him. Hotchner wouldn’t harm them, or at the very least wouldn’t harm Spencer and Neal could certainly use that against the man in order to disappear before reinforcements showed.

“That can be arranged.” Hotchner snarked.

“Careful Hotchner, you’re starting to sound like one of the unsubs you chase, threatening a non-violent, unarmed man.” Neal let all his feelings out in the low blow. He wanted it to hurt. In the back of his mind, he thought it might be reckless to piss off a man that could very well kick his ass and probably get away with it, but Neal shoved that thought away.

Hotchner’s nostrils flared but before he could respond, Spencer came out from the bedroom. It was a testament to how off Spencer was due to the drugs that it took him multiple seconds to notice and react towards the presence of both Neal and Hotchner in the same room together and the subsequent implications of that.

Spencer froze, eyes widening as he looked in between his boss and his boyfriend. His gaze settled on Neal and quickly morphed into something worried and pleading.

Neal softened at the look. He would handle it, Spencer was fighting his own battles and he needed Neal and Neal would be there no matter what.

“Agent Hotchner here was just joining us for some coffee while we wait for Peter.” Neal said. It was almost a guarantee that Peter was on his way. Hochner had no reason to know Neal had broken out of Sing Sing unless Peter had been notified first and then contacted Hotchner.

The suggestion also let them stall for more time, hopefully preventing Neal from getting into a screaming match. He kind of wanted to, even though it would only make things worse.

Hotchner took a deep breath before agreeing to the ceasefire. They would wait for Peter.

Neal wasn’t sure how long it would take the white collar agent to get there. Depending on when exactly he was told of Neal’s escape, Peter could still be hours away.

Neal spent the next two hours doing more research and intermittently getting up to complete small tasks to reduce the anxiety coursing through him. It only sort of worked, but he managed to get Spencer to both eat and drink as well as agree to take a nap, so it was a win overall.

Hotchner spent the time planted in an armchair, doing something on his phone and eyeing Neal every time the conman moved. It was grating on Neal’s nerves and he was ready to snap by the time Peter finally showed up.

The knock sounded obnoxiously loud in the silent room and Neal jumped up to answer the door.

Relief swept through Neal as he laid eyes on Peter and Diana. He didn’t truly know them personally, but he admired them both all the same for the back and forth that he had shared with them. They were certainly more trustworthy in his mind than Agent Hotchner and he could honestly use a grounding presence since his boyfriend was currently out of commission for that role.

As Peter crossed the room to chat with Hotchner while keeping one eye on Neal at all times, Neal stayed at the door, blinking in surprise at seeing an unknown man trailing behind the two white collar agents. Then, before the three all filed in, Morgan also exited the stairwell and turned towards the apartment. Neal knew he could only be there to see Spencer, so he waited politely and let him in as well.

“What are you doing here?” Neal asked Morgan before he could think better of it.

Morgan furrowed his brows, likely trying to assess the situation at the same time he was forming an answer to Neal’s question.

“Hotch texted, said Reid needed us.” Morgan told Neal.

“Us?” Diana asked, taking the word straight from Neal’s mouth.

“I believe he texted the whole team.” Morgan nodded in confirmation. “Good to see you again Agent Berrigan. And I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, Agent—” Morgan directed at the newcomer.

“It’s just Diana, and this is Special Agent Clinton Jones from white collar.” Diana introduced the man.

Jones started to make bland small talk with the other agents and Neal ignored them all to shoot a look at Agent Hotchner. The man was still sitting in the armchair looking aloof and condescending, or maybe that was Neal’s anger talking.

They all take seats, presumably waiting for the rest of Spencer’s team to arrive. Neal knows that Hotchner called them for backup, even if he didn’t tell them that. It would be much harder to both convince Spencer to run and actually get away while there were nine other agents in the apartment. Neal wasn’t entirely confident that he could achieve that, even as skilled at conning as he was.

The last of the BAU agents quickly appeared. Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, and Penelope Garcia crammed into the already full room and Neal stood off to the side, trying to stay out of everyone’s eyeline. He was beginning to feel like Mozzie, getting hives from being in the presence of too many feds. Everything was getting a bit claustrophobic.

“So, what exactly is going on?” Rossi asked, pulling Neal away from his annoyance at the unit chief.

Neal knew who David Rossi was. He had heard from Spencer all about the man and his past as a profiler and his current job as an author. Neal had even read one or two of his books to better understand what Spencer was talking about during those rants.

What Neal didn’t know, was why the man was here. He was retired and Neal was under the impression that Spencer had never met the man.

Unfortunately, Neal was saved from having to explain what was happening by Hotchner; it annoyed the conman greatly.

“Thank you all for coming. Reid is currently asleep in his bedroom.” Hotchner stood up looking at his teammates and the white collar agents. He kept his voice fairly low in an effort not to wake Spencer. “As most of you know, Dr. Spencer Reid went through a traumatic kidnapping not too long ago.”

“No, I in fact did not know.” Neal muttered bitterly and JJ side-eyed him for a moment before reverting her attention to her boss.

“We have done him a disservice in making sure he had the support he needed afterwards and now he needs us more than ever. I hope that I can trust all of you to be discreet with the fact that he is now struggling with addiction due to the drugging that occurred while he was kidnapped.”

Neal could hear a few gasps from the group. It seemed as if some members of the BAU didn’t know about the continued drug use. It didn’t make him any less angry with them for the lack of support for Spencer.

“The kid’s a drug addict?” Rossi asked. “I knew it was something, but I hadn’t pegged him for a tweaker.”

Neal fumed at the offhand comment, the absolute lack of respect for Spencer as a person and as an agent. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep them from shaking as he told off the Italian man.

“Don’t you dare talk about my boyfriend like that.” Neal snarled. “He has gone through hell and he doesn’t need your dismissive comments, you asshole.”

“Boyfriend?” JJ and Garcia exclaimed together.

There were a few raised eyebrows at the vehemence in Neal’s tone and Peter shot the man a worried look.

The situation didn’t get the chance to escalate since Morgan pushed his way through the group of feds to get to Neal. The larger man pulled Neal into an unexpected hug. The conman stiffened at first, unprepared for the show of support; after a few seconds he allowed himself to melt into the strong arms of his boyfriend’s best friend. Neal fisted the back of Morgan’s t-shirt and did his best to keep in the sob that was threatening to escape him.

“It’ll be alright. We’re here now and he’ll be okay.” Morgan told Neal softly.

“He’s the most important man on the face of this earth. I can’t lose him.” Neal whispered into Morgan’s shoulder.

“I know.” Morgan reassured him, squeezing him tighter for a brief moment.

Neal broke, letting the sob escape. “I’m scared for him.”

“I am too.” Morgan admitted. He held Neal for another moment until he thought the conman had had a chance to pull himself back together, then Morgan released him and stepped back, blocking him from the rest of the FBI agents for another moment before moving aside.

The entire group of agents were staring at them and Neal folded all of his emotions under a mask, hoping that his eyes weren’t red.

“How long have you been Spence’s boyfriend?” JJ directed the question at Neal and he could tell that she was really asking why she didn’t know about him.

Morgan glanced over at Neal, trying to determine whether he was up for sharing. Neal gave him a wan smile.

“I’ve been dating Spencer for longer than he has been an FBI agent.” Neal informed her.

“And does he know you’re an international art thief?” Prentiss asked, her eyes hardening as she finally recognized exactly who he was.

The room silenced enough that Neal could hear Spencer’s gentle snores from Spencer still sleeping in the bedroom.

Peter stepped forward, mitigating the oncoming fight that he could feel coming. “Yes. Dr. Reid knows about Neal’s alleged crimes and his conviction. He was the one that helped my team arrest Neal, after all.”

“Wait, does that mean you’ve been in prison and Reid stayed with you until you were released?” Garcia questioned.

Neal pressed his lips together. “For a given definition of released.”

“What?” The bubbly woman asked, confused by the response.

“I broke out of prison early this morning.” Neal admitted. It felt wrong to outright say it, especially in front of so many feds, but they already knew and he had no doubt that they could get proof of it with ease.

The room tensed. Garcia gaped at Neal and Prentiss settled her hand on her gun in a silent threat.

“Everybody calm down.” Hotchner commanded. “Here’s what is going to happen. We will all show our support for Spencer and then disperse into smaller groups to come check in on him periodically. Someone will have to be with him at all times.”

“Me.” Neal said firmly.

“You will be going back to prison.” Hotchner replied, just as unyielding.

“Over my dead body.” Neal spat, reiterating his stance from their argument earlier.

Garcia interrupted them. “Why don’t we just hire him?”

Everyone turned to look at her and she startled at the attention before explaining further.

“You hired me instead of arresting me, why can’t we do the same with Neal?” She proposed.

Peter quirked an eyebrow, thinking about it. Neal would obviously come to work with the white collar team since he was charged in New York and his skill set aligned much better with solving white collar crime that chasing serial killers.

“If he can prove he can be an asset to the team and not a flight risk, we could probably set him up as a criminal informant.” Peter thought out loud, glancing at Neal to try and read his thoughts on the idea.

Neal looked hopeful. “Would I be able to stay here with Spencer until he’s completely gone through the withdrawal?”

Peter thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. We’d definitely have to have someone from our department stay here with you.”

“I’d do it.” Diana offered immediately.

Peter turned to her in surprise.

Diana nodded firmly. “If you can get him the legal clearance to be here, I’ll be his babysitter.”

Peter nodded, a little shocked by the willingness of his protégé to take on such a time consuming task without even thinking it through.

“Alright, then we’d need to prove you can be useful, and I can’t guarantee anything, but I can get a case file faxed over for you to look at—” Peter began rambling, only to be cut off by Neal.

“What case were you working on this morning?” Neal asked.

Peter narrowed his eyes at the man. “We were chasing a man called the Dutchman. Why?”

Jones surprisingly spoke up, complaining. “And he managed to rig that safe full of evidence to blow up.”

Neal raised his eyebrows, smirking as he put the pieces of the story together with what he could see. “I can tell you what was in that safe.”

That garnered him a lot of wide eyes and Neal smiled wider.

“How in the hell can you do that?” Diana asked him.

Neal pointed at Peter. “He’s still wearing some of it.” He indicated to his own shoulder and watched as Diana gently plucked a shiny red fiber off of Peter’s shoulder.

The group stared at it before Rossi spoke up. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Neal waited for a beat and then rolled his eyes. “Not a one of you knows? And you call yourselves FBI agents?”

“Neal.” Peter chastised him.

“It’s the security fiber to the new Canadian one hundred dollar bill.” Neal informed them.

Peter groaned. “Are you serious? I’m going to have to go start an international incident, this isn’t even supposed to be available yet.”

Neal snorted. “You asked.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Spencer stumbling out of the bedroom, shoulders covered in a blanket as he shivered.

Spencer stared at the group of people standing around his apartment.

“Neal, are you throwing a party right now?” He asked his boyfriend incredulously.

Chapter Text

Neal physically felt the tension leave his body when Peter confirmed that he could stay in DC with Spencer. He didn’t know whether he could be a CI, whether he would go back to prison, whether he would be given more time on his sentence, but he would be able to stay with Spencer until he got through the withdrawal—not that they would notify the FBI of the real reason he was there.

Officially, Neal escaped and was under the supervision of the BAU because he had information that might be helpful to one of their cases. He didn’t know what he could possibly know that would be helpful for any case involving serial killers, but he was grateful for it.

The next few days were hectic.

Neal and Spencer slept in Spencer’s room together, not that there was much sleeping going on. Diana took the guest room and Morgan took the couch.

Spencer spent many hours in bed or in the bathroom, suffering through the painful effects of withdrawal and Neal was doing his best to comfort him and help him through it.

Peter and Jones returned to New York to hopefully secure Neal’s CI contract while the rest of the BAU agents returned to their homes but intermittently popped in to offer moral support and food.

“I’m sorry.” JJ said, dropping down heavily onto the couch next to Neal.

Neal glanced over at her. He knew he looked a bit like death with the bags that were under his eyes, but she wasn’t fairing that much better.

“We never should have split up, it’s my fault and I’m so sorry.” She continued.

It was clear she was very close to crying and Neal sighed, not really wanting to deal with her emotions—he had enough of his own he was still working through.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen and I know for a fact that he does not blame you for it.” Neal reassured her, doing his best to sound like he meant it, even if he didn’t have the energy to truly mean it.

JJ bit her lip. “Do you?”

That was the question. Neal had taken a lot of time to think about what happened and how he felt about it. He licked his lips, stalling for a moment as he figured out how he was going to explain his thoughts to her.

“I don’t blame you for his kidnapping. It was a horrible situation but it is my understanding that you both made the decision to split up that led to him getting attacked and taken.” Neal paused, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see her reaction to his next words. “I do blame you for what happened after. I blame the whole team for the lack of support he received. I blame you all for not noticing that he was in pain, that he needed help. I blame Morgan and Hotchner for that fact that I was kept in the dark, that I wasn’t told about the kidnapping at all, that he could have died and they knew I was in his life and chose not to tell me what was going on!”

His speech had gained some momentum and JJ gasped at what he revealed.

“They didn’t tell you? I thought that was why you broke out of prison?” She wiped at her eyes, the tears fully falling now and Neal reached over to grab at the tissue box Spencer kept on the side table next to the couch. Neal offered her the box and returned it after she had taken a few.

“I broke out because it had been a month since I had made any sort of contact with Spencer. We talk on the phone, send letters and postcards, and sometimes he makes the trip up to New York to visit. Obviously none of that is consistent because of the BAU’s schedule, but even when you all are on a case, he usually manages to mail a postcard. I broke out because he hadn’t sent anything in a month and a half and I knew something was wrong by the second week.”

“I know the others probably won’t say this because we work for the FBI, but it’s really incredible that you managed to break out of a maximum security prison for him.” JJ praised him sincerely.

Neal flashed her a weak smile. “I would do anything for that man.”

“Good. He deserves it.”

“So, you’re the boyfriend.” Rossi said, observing Neal with a slightly turned head. “A felon and an addict.” He muttered. It seemed like an offhand comment that Neal wasn’t supposed to have heard but he did.

A rage boiled in Neal’s veins. "He deserves your respect and if you can't profile that then you really should have stayed retired." The conman snapped.

Rossi raised his eyebrows, not letting the sharp words fluster him. "I can profile that you need a nap and a snack, you're kind of hangry."

Neal sneered. "I could be so much worse." Neal mumbled petulantly, sinking back into the couch cushion. Rossi was right, he was tired and hungry and it was making him even more irritable than he would normally be. Or at least more than he would let show.

Rossi stared at him for a moment. "Go for it."

"What?" Neal asked, thrown off guard.

Rossi shrugged. "You clearly need some sort of outlet, I would assume that art is that outlet normally, and you don't really have the ability to do that right now, so go for it. Give me your worst. I can handle it."

Neal narrowed his eyes at the older man. He didn’t necessarily want to alienate one of Spencer’s coworkers any more than he already had. He knew his boyfriend thought of them all as family, even if he hadn’t known Rossi all that long.

"You're a mediocre author." Neal stated.

Rossi frowned. "I think the New York Times bestseller list would disagree."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Your books are carried by the content, but the penmanship is subpar."

"How so?" Rossi asked genuinely.

Neal sat down even further into his seat, getting comfortable so he could rant a bit. "Admittedly, I have only read your first two books, so you may have gotten better. The progression through those two books is fine, but the pacing is weird, and please listen to me when I say learn what a semi-colon is. All your sentences are the same, and I hate it."

"This is nothing like the criticism I got from Reid."

"That's because all he cares about is the content, whereas I would rather ignore the content altogether." Neal shot back.

"If you disliked the content that much, why did you read two of them?" Rossi questioned.

Neal rolled his eyes. Wasn’t the answer obvious?

"To better understand what Penny was talking about. I've read books about quantum physics for that man. Do you know how boring quantum physics is when you're not a physicist?" Neal asked rhetorically.

The older man huffed a laugh. "Do you feel better now?"

"I do a little bit, yeah. Thanks for that." Neal said. And it was true, he did feel a little better after insulting the man.

Two days into the withdrawal, Diana pulled Neal aside.

“You need a break.” She stated bluntly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Neal frowned and crossed his arms. “I can’t leave him. I won’t.”

Diana’s face softened at the pain she saw in his eyes. She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder in a move more comforting than she could ever remember being before.

“Agent Morgan is here and Garcia will be here soon. He will be with two people that love him and you need to take a break or you will burn out. You should take care of yourself too.” She told him.

Neal huffed a small laugh. “You sound like a self-help book.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “I’m right though. And you don’t want to smother him. I don’t know what getting sober is like, but I imagine it be just as annoying or more so than being hovered over while having the flu, and that is not fun.”

“Partner?” Neal asked, curious as to where the overly specific example had come from.

“Ex.” She replied.

Neal took a deep breath. “Alright. A short break.”

Diana smiled. “We’re going shopping.”

“Get in losers, we’re going shopping?” Neal asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a grin.

Diana barked a laugh in response and agreed.

“Why exactly are we clothes shopping?” Neal asked as he pushed a half cart of clothing as Diana browsed the racks in front of her.

“Because I only had an overnight bag and wasn’t expecting to be here for this long. I am out of clothing and would rather not be forced to do laundry in your boyfriend’s house every day until I leave.” Diana said.

Neal hummed, conceding the point.

“We’re buying you something to wear too.” She declared.

Neal rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree.

The two wandered for a bit more before Diana headed to the dressing room, Neal following like an obedient puppy.

“Now, you’d better not disappear on me while I’m trying things on, so you’re going to sit outside this dressing room and talk so I know you haven’t run off.” Diana instructed him.

“Talk about what?” Neal asked.

Diana shrugged, grabbing the first few items of clothing for her to try on. “Doesn’t matter. Talk about your crimes, talk about art, talk about how you and Spencer met. I don’t particularly care, so long as I can hear you.”

“Okay.” Neal sat in the chair directly outside of the small room as Diana went in and pulled the curtain shut behind her.

“Start talking!” She demanded.

Neal snorted but complied. “The first time Penny came to New York…”

Spencer lay in pain on the couch, curled up and doing his best to ignore the world. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t think, he just wanted the dilaudid to take some of the pain away,

“How’re you doing, Kid?” Morgan asked.

“I’m addicted to drugs, I feel like I’m dying, and my boyfriend is going to be thrown back in prison because he broke out to help me because I’m addicted to drugs.” Spencer sassed. “It’s not going well by any measure.”

Morgan sat down on the arm of the couch, next to Spencer’s head and started to pet his hair gently.

“You have people that love you, and a boyfriend that managed to escape a maximum security prison cell just to make sure you were alright.” Morgan told his best friend softly. “I’d say there are some silver linings to the situation.”

Spencer closed his eyes and grunted in a way that didn’t suggest agreement or disagreement.

Diana walked over to the green couch where Spencer was still curled up. She suspected he had been there since before she and Neal had gone shopping.

She leaned over to place the glass of water she was carrying on the coffee table next to Spencer’s head. As she stood back up, Spencer blinked his eyes open.

“Agent Berrigan?” He slurred, tilting upward in an attempt to sit up fully.

Diana put a hand on his arm to prevent him from falling over. The casual contact was a clear indicator that the man was not his best given his usual aversion to touch.

“You know, you can call me Diana. I think we’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis.” She said.

Spencer blinked at her. “Diana is my mother’s name.” He said.

She wasn’t sure whether it was just what was running through his head or whether he had mentioned the piece of information for a reason, but she decided to ignore it in favor of getting him to drink some of the water. One of the most important things they had to be aware of while he was going through withdrawal was his hydration.

“Thanks.” The genius mumbled as he slowly sipped some of the water. “Where’s Neal?”

Diana sat down on the spot Spencer had vacated when he sat up.

“Showering.” She informed him. “He’s fairly stressed and I don’t want him to neglect his own needs.

Spencer flinched.

“It’s not your fault.” She stared at the side of Spencer’s head until he turned to look her in the eyes. “He’s here because he loves you and I’m here to prevent him from doing anything stupid, that includes hurting himself because he’s too focused on you to notice he’s burning out.”

Spencer laughed weakly. It was the first time he had laughed during the whole ordeal and he was very grateful Neal had people looking out for him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, gracelessly pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch as he started to shiver. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

“I guess solidarity mostly. You two love each other and this world isn’t all that supportive of two men being in love. With all of that against you, as well as the whole star-crossed lawman and criminal thing you two have going on, I suppose I just want someone to be rooting for you.” Diana said. “He really, truly loves you and that’s beautiful.”

Spencer nodded. “So you think we’re cute together.”

Diana laughed brightly. “That’s not what I said at all. But sure, if you want to look at it that way. I think you’re cute together. Don’t ever tell Neal I said that.”

A smiled ghosted over Spencer’s face and he quietly admitted. “I really, truly love him too.”