I am completely and utterly exhausted - so I don't really know how this turned out. I just wanted some Neal & Peter comfort-warm-fuzzy moments. And - since there are so few WC fics that I actually like, I had to write one myself.

Peter deliberated for a moment before setting the hat down on the foot of the hospital bed. He glanced around the small room – eyeing with faint distaste the pale coloring of the walls and furniture. Neal hated white upon white variations, preferring the darker and bolder color schemes. The conman stuck out like a sore thumb in the plainly decorated hospital room. Neal – shouldn't – be – in – here.

Peter pulled one of the chairs close to the side of the bed and sat down, looking quietly at the man lying beneath the starch sheets. Neal's face was painfully pale – his black hair and lashes almost obscenely dark in comparison. Peter resisted the sudden urge to smooth the curly tangles of hair back away from his partners face. There was no need to do so… but Neal just looked so fragile…

"Peht… der…?" Neal mumbled suddenly – his eyebrows furrowing together questioningly. Peter jerked in surprise – he hadn't expected Neal to wake up…

"Hey Neal." Peter said softly, smiling despite all of it. Neal was awake. He was going to be alright. Everything would be back to normal soon enough – right after a well deserved rest for a certain FBI consultant...

Neal's eyelids fluttered tiredly before finally opening, the blue irises dull and glazed.

"They h've got me drug…gehd up to my eyh-bahlls… h'ven't they?" Neal mumbled, his words heavily slurred. Peter wondered with slight amusement if Neal would even remember this later. He decided it didn't matter.

"Yeah." Peter confirmed, his voice automatically softening so as to not disturb Neal if the conman decided to drift back to his drug-induced sleep. "They got you pretty good, Abernathy."

"Hmpbh…" Was the half-hearted reply. Neal had closed his eyes again. "Are you… guhoing tuh leahve…?" Neal slurred.

Peter snorted and patted Neal's arm – when had his hand gotten there? "Nah, I'm not going anywhere." He reassured him firmly.

"Guhd…" Neal mumbled before sighing softly, finally drifting back to sleep. Peter smiled fondly – before finally giving into the insatiable urge to smooth back Neal's hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Neal." He repeated softly. "I'm staying right here."

I think I'm going to have several more little moments like this placed under "Deskwork" - which will eventually explain the circumstances under which Neal was shot. So - I guess I will have to 'un-complete' this. Dang it.

Please review.

*yawn*