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14. Clean Sheets/Fresh Pajamas
Gasping awake, Neal sat upright and proceeded to vomit all over the bed in front of him. Sick streamed out his nose and mouth, coating the blankets and his pajamas. He barely had a chance to suck in a breath before another stream of vomit was forcing its way out of him. His first thought was to try and run to the bathroom, but then he decided that the damage had been done and that there would be less to clean up if he stayed put.
When the nausea had abated some, Neal dared a look around. He swallowed a cry of panic when he noticed that he wasn’t in his own home. He was in the Burkes home, and he’d just thrown up all over their guest bed.
Memories of the previous day came flooding back to him, now that he was more alert; he’d felt sick at work and Peter had insisted that he stay in Brooklyn so that Elizabeth could make him dinner and nurse him back to health.
Now that dinner was all over the bedspread. And himself, Neal noticed, swallowing thickly. He hated vomiting in general, like most people, but having it all over him was the last straw. Suddenly, he couldn’t sit there for one more second. Without thinking about it too much, Neal stripped out of his borrowed pajamas and left them on the soiled blankets. He gathered everything together as much as he could, but felt his stomach flip angrily. Deciding not to add more vomit to the mess, Neal hoofed it down the hall and closed himself in the bathroom, the embarrassment he felt at crouching in front of the Burke’s toilet in just his briefs pushed to the back burner as a wave of nausea slammed into him.
Feeling thoroughly empty, Neal sat back on his heels and flushed the toilet. Before he even got off the floor to brush his teeth he heard a knock on the door.
“Neal? You okay?”
It was Peter.
Sighing, Neal stood on shaky legs and pulled the bathroom door open. He was planning on dealing with the mess in the guest room alone and never telling another soul about it, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans.
“I thought I heard you up and about,” Peter said, inspecting Neal in the bathroom light. The younger man was pale and visibly shaking, and based on the smell lingering in the bathroom, had just been sick. “Did you throw up?”
Neal nodded, covering his face with his hands as he felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Didn’t make it to the bathroom the first time,” he admitted quietly.
“I gathered that from your state of undress,” Peter said with a small smile. He didn’t want to further embarrass the kid.
“I’ll clean it up,” Neal started, heading back towards the guest room.
“Nonsense. Get in the shower and I’ll have everything taken care of when you get out.” Peter gently pushed Neal back into the bathroom and reached around him to turn the water on to warm up. “I’ll bring some fresh pajamas in once you’re in the shower.”
With that, Peter left Neal alone in the bathroom again. Unable to stop himself, Neal let a few tears of shame slip down his cheeks. It was bad enough that he’d crashed at the Burke’s because he wasn’t feeling well, but to make Peter clean up the disaster in the guest room? That was a step too far.
Unsure of what else to do, Neal stripped off his underwear and got into the shower. The warm water felt amazing and he lowered himself to sit on the floor of the tub, his legs shaking at the task of holding him upright for so long. He heard Peter knock softly before poking his head in.
“Doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Neal answered.
“Fresh pjs are right here when you’re done.”
The door clicked closed and Neal felt shame and embarrassment flood through him all over again. It would be a little while before he could look Peter in the eyes.
Once he was clean, dry, and had changed into the fresh pajamas, Neal slunk back to the guest room. The sheets and blankets were switched out and folded down, all ready for him to crawl between the covers. Swallowing down his embarrassment, Neal got into bed and turned out the lamp. He laid there in the dark, listening to the sounds of Peter getting the laundry running.
He heard the soft footsteps of Peter approach and held his breath.
“Are you awake?” Peter whispered.
Neal debated not answering, but before he could make up his mind Peter was walking over to the side of the bed.
“I could hear you panicking from downstairs. It’s really no big deal, Neal.” Peter sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Neal’s knee.
“It feels like a big deal,” Neal replied. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“It’ll feel less like a big deal in the morning. Think you can fall back asleep?” Peter rubbed his hand gently up and down Neal’s leg. “Are you still feeling sick?”
“No, I feel much better, actually.” Neal admitted. His stomach was much happier than it had been all night—all day, even. Too bad shame was sitting in there like a rock now.
“I’m glad.” Peter moved his hand and brought it up to cup Neal’s forehead. “No fever, that’s good.” “I’m fine, Peter.” Neal could just make out Peter’s face in the dark. He was looking down at him in a way that made Neal think that maybe, just maybe, he could believe Peter about it not being a big deal that he’d thrown up everywhere.
“I brought the throw up bucket in here for you, if you need it. Get some sleep, kiddo.” Peter ruffled Neal’s hair before standing up.
“Thanks, Peter.” Neal watched him leave and rolled onto his side, willing his mind to slow enough so that he could fall back asleep.