Work Text:
15. "Who decided ___ is 'sick people’ food?”
Peter reached for his ringing cell phone, smiling when he saw that it was Elizabeth calling him. “Hey, hon,” he answered. He was sitting in his office with a stack of case files piled on the desk in front of him and he was glad for the distraction.
“Hey, hon. I was just calling to see if Neal has said anything to you about feeling sick?”
Peter frowned and craned his neck so that he could see Neal where he sat in the bullpen. “No, he hasn’t mentioned it. Why?”
“Mozzie and I met up for book club this afternoon and he asked for my homemade chicken noodle soup recipe. I gave it to him, and after some digging found out that he needs it because Neal’s been telling him about it. According to Mozzie, that means that Neal wants some. Which makes me get the feeling that he’s getting sick.”
“Ah. Well, I’ll check in with him, but he looks fine to me.” Peter relaxed back in his chair and thought for a second. “You could always make some and stick it in the freezer, just in case.” Peter had worked with Neal for long enough to know that illness usually snuck up on the younger man. Not many viruses made it through Neal’s iron-clad immune system, but the ones that did knocked him out for days, usually.
“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll go shopping on my way home. I love you.”
“I love you, too. See you tonight.” Peter hung up and pocketed his cell phone. Regardless of the status of Neal’s health, Peter still had a pile of paperwork to get through before he could go home to his beautiful wife, so he settled in and got to work.
“Ready to call it a day?” Peter asked as he walked up to Neal’s desk. The kid was staring blankly at his computer screen and looked bored out of his mind.
Neal glanced up as Peter spoke. “Was ready about three hours ago,” he said. Shutting his computer down, Neal stood, pulled on his coat, and flipped his hat onto his head. He followed Peter down to the parking garage and climbed into the Taurus with a sigh. Work had been wearing him out all week and he was looking forward to the weekend to recuperate a little.
“You okay?” Peter asked once they were headed in the direction of Riverside Drive.
“Yeah.” Neal watched the city go by outside the window and was grateful that Peter gave him rides almost everyday so that he didn’t have to use public transportation.
“El asked about you. She called me earlier and mentioned that Mozzie needed her chicken noodle soup recipe.”
Neal smirked. “Today was their book club meeting,” he said. He’d told Mozzie about the soup the other day when they’d been sitting at Neal’s dining table and Neal had coughed into his elbow. Mozzie immediately assumed Neal was getting sick and hadn’t let up pestering him about his health until Neal admitted that some of El’s soup sounded pretty good right about then. He wasn’t getting sick—Neal almost never got sick—but the soup was delicious and could be eaten on any occasion.
“So I’ll ask again. Are you okay? Not feeling sick?” Peter asked.
“No, Peter, I’m fine.” Neal looked over at his partner. “Who decided that El’s chicken noodle soup is ‘sick people’ food, anyway? It’s delicious.”
“You don’t have to explain how good it is to me, I’ve tried it before.” Peter met Neal’s gaze for a second before looking back at the road. “Just, take it easy. You look exhausted.”
Neal thought for a second. “I am a little tired. It’s been a long week,” he admitted. “I don’t have any plans for the weekend, if that makes you feel better.”
Peter sighed, pulling up outside June’s mansion. “Get some rest, then.”
“I will. See you Monday,” Neal said as he climbed out of the car and jogged to the front steps to get out of the winter drizzle.
“Mozzie texted me. He made my soup last night and brought it over to Neal’s apartment,” El said over dinner on Saturday evening.
Peter had spent the day ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach that appeared whenever he thought about Neal. “Yeah? I bet it’s not as good as yours.”
“That’s not what I was getting at, hon. Did you talk to Neal?”
“Of course I did. He told me that he’s just fine and isn’t getting sick.” Peter glanced up at his wife. “He also admitted that he’s been feeling rundown all week.”
El reached out and smacked his shoulder. “And you didn’t tell him to come here?”
“He said he felt fine! I couldn’t abduct him and keep him here against his will.” Peter rubbed his arm. “Besides, he’s a grown man. He can stay at his own house if he’s sick, you know.”
El glared at him for a moment. “He’s barely, what, 27? He’s still a kid.”
“Tell you what, you can call him tomorrow and check in. How does that sound?” Peter quirked up one side of his mouth in a smile.
El hemmed at that. “I think I’ll make some soup and bring it over to him. See for myself.” She smiled back at Peter. “Is your arm okay?” She reached out and rubbed where she’d smacked him.
“It’s fine, hon.” Peter leaned over and kissed her gently.
Neal looked up from his painting when he heard a knock on the door. Mozzie never knocked and Neal wasn’t expecting anyone else, so he got up and quickly went into his dressing room to pull a robe on over his pajamas. He’d been true to his word when he’d told Peter that he had no plans for the weekend—he’d spent Saturday cleaning his apartment and running some errands—and only had some painting and reading on the agenda for Sunday.
The knock came again and Neal hurried to the door. He was surprised to see El waiting for him on the other side. “Hey, El. What brings you here?” Neal stepped to the side and let El into his apartment.
“Just wanted to drop this off,” she motioned to the bag she was carrying and went over to the kitchen. “Mozzie told me he made you some soup, but I made a batch last night and figured you could use some more to keep in the freezer.” She took out the little individual serving containers she’d divided the soup into and stacked them in the freezer before turning around to smile at Neal. “How are you doing?”
Neal smiled back. “I told Peter that I’m fine. Did he pass along the message?” Neal pulled out a coffee cup and raised his eyebrows in silent question. El nodded. “He did, but I wanted to see for myself. My soup is usually only for when someone is feeling under the weather, so forgive me if I worry.”
Neal busied himself making a fresh pot of coffee. “I find it comforting, what can I say.” He sat down across from El at the table while the coffee brewed. He wasn’t sure why no one believed him when he said that he felt fine; sure, he was a little tired, but who isn’t tired after a grueling week at work?
El reached out and covered Neal’s hand with her own. “We all care about you, Neal. We just want to make sure that you’re okay.”
“I appreciate it, I really do. But I’ll let you know if I’m not okay. I’ve been working on that, remember?”
El smiled. “I know you have, and you’ve been doing a great job.” Neal got up to pour them coffee and they spent the rest of the morning chatting over their mugs.
*Two Days Later*
Elizabeth frowned when she saw that Neal was calling her cell phone. He didn’t usually call her, instead just using Peter as a messenger, but for whatever reason that day was different. “Hello?”
“Hi, El. Remember when I said I would tell you if I wasn’t okay?” Neal coughed into his elbow and bit back a cry at the pain that sliced through his throat.
“What’s wrong?” El stood up from the stool at the island in the kitchen and went to find Peter.
“Apparently my hankering for your soup wasn’t just a hankering.” Neal sniffled miserably and reached for a tissue to sop up some of the snot that was threatening to drip off the end of his nose. “I’m sick.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry, sweetie. Did you tell Peter?” El was climbing the stairs to continue her search for her husband.
“I did, but he didn’t answer. Figured you were the next best person to call.”
“You figured correctly. I’ll find him for you, hold on a second.” El pushed open the bedroom door and held her phone out for Peter to take.
“What’s this?” He asked, not turning away from where he was tying his tie in the mirror.
“It’s Neal. He said he called you and you didn’t answer.”
Peter frowned and took her cell phone. “Neal? What’s wrong?”
“I’m calling out,” Neal replied. He coughed again.
“That cough sounds bad. Are you alright?” Peter hunted around the nightstand for his phone and saw that he had a few missed calls and text messages. The damn thing was on silent some how.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just stay in bed but I wanted to let you know that I won’t be coming into work today.”
“From the sound of it, you should stay in bed for the next few days.” Peter frowned at El. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. You focus on getting better, okay?”
“I will. Thanks, Peter.”
Peter hung up the phone and handed it back to his wife. “He sounds pretty sick, hon.” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck.
“I guess I was right about the soup,” El said with a little smirk. “I’ll stop by after my meeting this morning and check on him.”
“Thanks, hon.” Peter kissed his wife and pulled on his suit jacket. “Let me know how he is?”
“Of course.” El kissed him back and patted him on the butt as he turned to leave the room.