Work Text:
Peter slaps a packet of paper against Neal’s chest. He reflexively grabs it and looks over it. “What is this?”
“Annual Fitness Day,” Peter says. When Neal frowns, he elaborates. “It’s a small obstacle course. It’s presented as a fun team building exercise, but it’s also an evaluation.”
Neal flips through the papers. “Interesting,” he says. Then, he hands the packet back to Peter. “No.”
Peter refuses to take it. He puts his hands in his pockets and laughs. “Oh, no. This is mandatory. Luckily, I already signed us up.”
Neal’s face drops. “Peter…”
Peter is unsympathetic. He grins. “It’s tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“What a waste of a Saturday.” Neal pulls at his t-shirt, a dark blue with white lettering on his back that says FBI. The shirt, paired with the black gym shorts isn’t what he prefers.
Peter agrees, but he won’t tell Neal that. “If I have to suffer through this, so do you.”
The FBI had rented out a park not far from the office and set up a temporary course near a lake. From what Peter can see, the course is mostly unchanged from the years before.
The course includes a set of bars that are placed low to the ground. In order to pass, you have to crawl under them on your stomach. Unfortunately, the mud pit below ensures that you won’t make it out clean. The next obstacle is a twelve foot wall. There’s a rope attached that you have to use in order to scale the wall. Once you make it to the top, there is a series of six platforms, gapped apart enough that you have to jump to get across. After that are three ropes suspended horizontally that you have to swing across like monkey bars.
This is where most people fail. The ropes are spaced out so far that most agents can’t reach the next and they fall onto the inflatable mat beneath the elevated parts of the course.
The final part is, on paper, the easiest. It’s a simple balance beam, tilted downwards and it’s about three inches across. The problem is, the mud and the angle make it nearly impossible to make it down without slipping. Even Jones had to take his time, which resulted in an extra minute on his final time.
According to the packet given out before the event, only thirty percent of agents make it to the end.
Peter himself has never made it all the way through. It had been years since his rotator cuff injury, but his shoulder still gives him trouble when he gets to the monkey bar section. Every time, he makes it to the first, goes to grab for the second, and falls.
This year, though, he thinks he can make it. He’s been slowly building strength in his right arm, trying to prepare for this. Jones is the reigning champ, and Peter desperately wants to wipe the smug grin off his face that Jones always wears when Peter falls.
Jones isn’t typically complacent, but Peter supposes he deserves it when it comes to his record. Other agents have gotten close to it, but never by more than thirty seconds. Jones is firmly in the lead.
Neal glances over the course with an apprehensive look on his face. “I was under the impression that this would be simple.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“You said this was an evaluation.”
“It is,” Peter confirms. “That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
Neal snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. This looks intense.”
He’s not wrong. The course looks intimidating, but it’s not so bad once you actually start. Peter thinks Neal has a pretty good shot. Maybe he’ll even get farther than Peter.
Peter and Neal join the gathering of other agents near the course. Jones and Diana stand near the starting point, talking and gesturing to the other agents. When Jones spots Neal and Peter, he turns around.
“Hey, guys. You’re late.”
“Yeah, you can thank Neal for that. Apparently the clothes weren’t up to his standards.”
Neal sneers, mocking. Jones and Diana laugh at his discomfort.
A bell rings, drawing their attention to an agent standing at the start of the course. Peter has seen him once or twice, but can’t recall his name.
The agent explains the rules, and tells them that they will be judged based on their physical fitness, not their ability to pass the course. It’s nothing Peter hasn’t heard before, but it will be useful for the new faces, including Neal.
At the end, the agent pulls out a stopwatch. “Agent Jones holds the current record, which is exactly three minutes.”
Neal glances at Jones, who gives him a smirk in return. When it comes to his record, Jones is very proud.
“Hope you’re not scared of heights, Caffery,” Jones says, his smirk still firmly in place.
Neal tilts his head, a small smirk of his own in place. “Is that your only hope of winning?”
Jones laughs. “Alright. If you beat my record, I’ll get your radius extended and I’ll buy you a ticket to the Met.”
Neal grins, but the edges are sharp. He offers his hand to Jones, who takes it. “Deal.”
Peter knows he’s up to something. He’ll probably convince one of the agents standing nearby for safety reasons to alter the course in some way, or maybe he’ll steal the stopwatch and stop the time at just under eight minutes.
However he does it, Peter knows Neal will find a way.
Agent Cruz goes first. She passes the first obstacle, the bars above the mud pit, easily enough. When she stands, the front of her shirt and shorts are caked in mud.
The mud makes gripping the rope a tough job, but Agent Cruz starts up the wall without a hint of unease. Her shoes leave spots of mud behind as she works her way up, which ends up being her downfall. As she plants her foot at the top of the wall and tries to climb over, the mud stuck to the bottom of her shoe makes her foot slip.
She loses her grip on the wall and falls, but she catches herself with the rope. Unfortunately, though she maintains her grip on the rope, she can’t find footing on the wall and she falls, landing on the inflatable pad the other agents had placed below her.
“Damn,” Diana says.
The wall is notoriously hard, not because of the act of climbing it itself, but because of the mud. Predictably, the mud had been what took Cruz out.
Agent Cruz uses the lake to rinse off, then grabs a towel. She returns to the agents and rolls her eyes as she passes Jones.
“Next year, Clinton.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jones replies.
Next up is Diana. She flies through the first two obstacles, but once she approaches the platforms, she hesitates. The platforms are about fifteen feet off the ground, and though it’s not very high, the perspective can still mess with you. When you’re jumping across a gap of five feet, the height can feel much worse.
Diana makes the first one. When she goes to jump for the second, she overestimates the distance and lands on the edge. The mud on her feet causes her to slide forward, and she lands on the inflatable mat below.
“Another one down. Are you still sure you’ll make it, Neal?”
Jones is trying to make Neal nervous, but it isn’t working. At least, Neal isn’t showing any signs of nervousness. His face isn’t giving anything away and his body language is unbothered.
Neal doesn’t respond, but gives Jones a smirk. Peter shakes his head at their antics. Though he won’t admit it, their little competition is amusing. Peter has to put his money on Jones, though. The man graduated from the Naval Academy with honors and Peter knows for a fact that he keeps up with the same rigorous training he’d done in the military. Neal, while he is in shape, doesn’t have the training that Jones has. He’ll get far, but Peter doubts he will beat Jones.
Still, it’s fun to watch them squabble.
Neither Jones or Neal offers to go next, so Peter steps up. The few moments before the time starts are always nerve racking, but he tries not to let it bother him.
The agent with the stopwatch starts the time. The mud is cold and unpleasant, even in late August, but Peter pushes through. The wall gives him a little trouble and his shoes slide a bit, but he makes it to the top and jumps to the first platform. The next three aren’t a problem, but his legs are aching as he prepares for the next jump.
He launches himself to the next platform and steadies himself. He’s wasting too much time. If he doesn’t get going, he won’t beat Jones’ record. His legs are shaking with the effort it took to scale the wall and jump across the platforms, but he’s almost there. He’s almost done.
The last platform seems like it’s miles away. Peter is more exhausted than he had been at this point last year and he’s starting to doubt he can make it to the end of the course.
Regardless, he has to try.
With great effort, Peter leaps forward onto the next platform. He sighs in relief, but he doesn’t have time to bask in it. The monkey bars are next, and he’s never gotten past them.
Peter jumps up and grabs the first one. His shoulder doesn’t protest even a little bit. He swings forward and reaches for the next, and that’s when he realizes he misjudged his distance. His fingers brush the rope and he’s left hanging there, unable to regain his hold on the rope. His grip slips and he falls onto the mat below.
After he rinses off in the lake and rejoins the others, Jones offers him nothing more than a smirk. Peter rolls his eyes.
Jones glances at Neal. “Caffery?”
Neal gestures toward the course. “Go for it.”
“Nerves setting in?”
“More like studying the enemy.”
Jones walks over to the start. The agent presses the button to start the time and Jones is gone, through the first obstacle in ten seconds. The wall is no problem for him, but the platforms slow his momentum a bit. Steadily, he leaps from platform to platform with no sign of slowing.
He approaches the monkey bars and, without hesitation, makes it to the first. Then, he swings across and grabs the next, then the next. The balance beam is all that’s left, and Jones descends it quickly.
When he returns to the group, he has a towel wrapped around his neck and a smile on his face. “No pressure,” he says to Neal. He’s clearly proud of himself.
Neal is the only person who hasn’t run the course. He hesitates, but when he glances over at Peter, Jones, and Diana, he sighs. “I guess I’ll get this over with, then.”
He walks over to the course. The second the time starts, he flies through the first obstacle, possibly faster than Jones. He scales the wall like it’s nothing, and Peter distantly wonders if he’s able to fly and just never mentioned it.
Where Jones had a bit of trouble with the platforms, Neal easily skips across them and grabs onto the first rope. Peter feels stuck. He doesn’t know what to say. He simply stands there, among the other agents, staring slack-jawed.
It feels like Neal makes his way across the ropes in the span of a heartbeat. Before any of them know it, he’s on the balance beam, shuffling his way to the end.
Peter, Diana and Jones are standing, frozen, by the edge of the course. The agility Neal had just displayed had been completely unprecedented. He flew through the course like it was nothing more than a Sunday stroll.
Neal washes most of the mud off of him in the lake, grabs a towel, and walks over to the group. Peter tries to think of something to say, but all he comes up with is, “What the hell?”
Neal walks straight past them, not even bothering to look at any of them. “I’m pretty sure the crown belongs to me now.”
Peter watches him walk away until he disappears into the nearby bathroom.
Just as Jones opens his mouth to say something, the agent with the stopwatch speaks. “Well, that was something. He beat your record by a minute and a half, Jones.”
“Damn,” Jones exclaims. Peter guesses that Met ticket will be on Neal’s desk by tomorrow. He only hope Jones will deal with the Marshals so he doesn’t have to.