Chapter Text
“Hurry up, you’re late,” Peter barked into the phone when Neal answered.
“Sorry. Give me a minute,” Neal barked back, his mood souring at Peter’s tone of voice. Tightening the knot of his tie, Neal grabbed the cup of tea he’d made himself and paused in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom. He looked tired, which he was, and maybe a little pale. He hoped Peter was occupied enough with whatever put him in a bad mood that he wouldn’t notice Neal's under-the-weatherness.
Neal had accidentally slept through his alarm and had woken up 20 minutes late. He’d been in a rush to get ready for work, but couldn’t get past the feeling of his hands shaking and his muscles aching. His throat was a little froggy and when he stood up he got dizzy for a few seconds. All of this was unusual for Neal, and none of it meant anything good.
The bleary weather of mid-January wasn’t helping anything, either, Neal decided as he trudged across the sidewalk to Peter’s car. He held his tea tightly to keep some warmth in his fingers as he pulled open the door of the Taurus. “Morning,” Neal offered as he sat down.
Peter just grunted in return.
Neal sighed, buckling his seat belt and letting his head thump back against the seat. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with a cranky Peter.
They rode to the office in silence—the radio wasn’t even playing—and Neal was almost asleep when Peter pulled into the parking garage. Neither of them moved for a second after Peter shut the car off.
Peter sucked in a deep breath before speaking. “Sorry I’m in a bad mood, Neal. Baby Neal kept me and El up all night.” Peter rubbed a hand down his face and looked over at Neal. He was surprised to see his partner looking worse for the wear. “You okay?”
Neal glanced over at Peter and nodded. “What’s the matter with my mini-me?”
“He’s getting sick, I think. Just wouldn’t stay in bed and was fussing all night no matter where we put him or what we did.” Peter eyed Neal as he reached into the backseat for his briefcase. “You sure you’re okay?”
Neal gave a noncommittal shrug before getting out of the car to avoid the conversation he knew Peter wanted to have. He shivered in the cold air outside the car and headed towards the elevators, ignoring Peter as the older man jogged to catch up to Neal.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting sick, too,” Peter said as he pushed the call button. It sure looked like Neal was getting sick. The consultant didn’t get sick very often, but he had been around Baby Neal a lot lately and he really wasn’t looking too hot.
“I feel a little under the weather, but I’m sure it’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix,” Neal responded as the doors slid open. Before Peter and El had gotten pregnant, there was nothing Neal liked more than to be coddled by his pseudo parents when he wasn’t feeling well, but things had changed drastically now that a baby was involved.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Neal pushed that feeling down and tried not to let his eyes water.
Peter frowned at the way Neal was purposefully shutting him out—it was unusual for him to do that now that he was back in the city and working for the FBI full time. “Well, at least it’s Friday. You’ll have the whole weekend to recuperate.”
Neal nodded, deciding to save his voice for later in the day. He sipped at his tea and wished he didn’t feel resentment towards a literal toddler. He felt his eyes sting and took a slow, deep breath to keep his emotions in check. Maybe he was worse off than he thought, if how close he felt to crying was any indication of his internal temperature.
The elevator doors slid open on the 21st floor and Neal went straight to his desk. He had a report to finish from the case he and Peter had closed the day before and he was ready to make it last him all morning, if that meant he could sit at his desk and not be bothered by anyone.
Peter glanced down into the bullpen and focused in on what Neal was doing. Or, he should say, what Neal wasn’t doing. The kid was half asleep, head propped up in one hand and the other posed as if he was writing something down in his report, but hadn’t moved in the 30 seconds Peter was watching him. Looking down at the clock on his desk, he decided to call Elizabeth.
“Hey, hon,” El answered, sounding just as tired as Peter felt.
“Hey, hon. Listen, I think we’re about to have two sick Neals on our hands.” Peter rubbed at his eyes and looked at the clock again. It was almost lunch time and Peter was more than tempted to call it a day when the office went to lunch.
“Uh oh. What makes you think that?”
“Neal said this morning that he was feeling under the weather and he doesn’t look so hot. He’s practically asleep at his desk right now.” Peter sighed. “I think I’ll grab him and head home at lunch time. How’s the baby?”
He could hear El smile though the phone at the mention of their child. “He’s napping at the moment, but he started feeling warm about an hour ago.”
“Oh boy. Need me to stop and get anything on the way home?”
El listed off a few things they were running low on. “Oh, and make sure you get whatever Big Neal will need. Our medicine cabinet is looking pretty bare.”
“Can do. I’ll let you know when we’re on our way,” Peter said. He looked back down at Neal and was pretty sure he was fully asleep now. “I love you.” “I love you, too.”
Peter hung up and stood from his desk, pausing to shut his computer down before going down to the bullpen. If Neal really was sleeping, Peter didn’t want to disturb him until it was absolutely necessary.
“Hey, Di,” Peter said quietly as he approached Diana’s desk.
“What’s up, boss?”
“Look, I think Neal is getting sick.” He paused while Diana looked over at Neal where he sat at his desk.
“I’d say you’re right,” she responded. “Need me to do anything?”
Peter shook his head. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy on the corner and pick up some supplies while he’s sleeping. When I get back it’ll be lunch time, so I’ll grab him and head home. Little Neal is sick, too, so El could use my help.”
“Oh, no. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I will, thanks, Di. Just keep and eye on him while I’m gone?”
“Sure thing.”
Peter smiled at his agent and turned to leave the office, pausing by Neal’s desk on his way out. Neal’s report was open and clearly finished, but Neal’s hand was posed over it to make it look like he was still filling it out. Peter wasn’t totally sure if the younger man was sleeping, but he didn’t want to disturb him either way, so he slipped out of the office without a sound.
Neal shivered, his head resting on one hand as he sat at his desk and tried to look productive. He had wrapped up his report from yesterday already, but left it open in front of him so that he looked busy—the last thing he needed was Jones or Diana bothering him.
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making him feel so miserable; he was tired, sure, but he’d been tired at work plenty of times. His throat was feeling a little mucked up, but it didn’t hurt yet. The ache in his bones was really unpleasant, maybe that was it. Sitting hunched over his desk was severely uncomfortable, but leaning back in his chair was equally as bad, and it was too much work to sit up without propping himself up on his desk.
If his eyes drifted shut every now and then, no one said anything to him about it—not that he wanted anyone to say anything. Neal liked to pride himself on always having a flawless facade, on never showing a crack in his well-built walls. Peter was slowly breaking down those walls, but no one else had any idea there was a way around them.
He knew he should be keeping up appearances and be flitting around the office like he did on a usual day, but there was just no energy in him for that. Honestly, even getting down to the car at the end of the day seemed a bit unrealistic.
Shivers kept wracking Neal’s body and he found himself wishing to be unconscious, wrapped up in his fluffy duvet on his comfortable mattress. Not suffering though a day in the office. Suddenly his pen was sliding out of his hand, and he jerked up at the movement.
“Easy, easy. It’s just me,” Peter said quietly. He was holding Neal’s pen and looked ready to go home for the day.
Surely there was no way that Neal had spent the whole day hunched over his case report. He squinted up at the clock on the wall, his confusion evident when he saw that it was only approaching lunch time.
“Jeez, you’re really out of it, aren’t you?” Peter frowned and gently felt Neal’s forehead with the backs of his fingers. “You feel warm.”
“I’m okay,” Neal responded, his voice coming out as a croak. “Is Little Neal alright?”
“El said he started running a fever about an hour ago,” Peter replied. He sat on the edge of Neal’s desk and looked his partner over; Neal had dark smudges under his eyes and his cheeks were flushed, the skin underneath as pale as Peter had ever seen it. The poor kid was shivering every so often, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were glazed over. “Let’s go home.”
Neal took a breath to argue, but found that he didn’t want to argue. He wanted to go home. Desperately. The thought brought tears to his eyes, and he had to blink rapidly to clear them away before Peter noticed.
Naturally Peter noticed, though. He frowned harder and stood up. “Come on, kiddo. You’ll feel better once you’re not running a fever.” Grabbing a hold of Neal’s upper arm, Peter helped pull the kid to his feet and held him steady while he adjusted to being upright. While Neal donned his hat and coat, Peter texted El to let her know they were on their way home.
Leaving the office now. Neal really isn’t looking too good.
Without waiting for a response, Peter pocketed his phone and herded Neal to the elevators. While they waited for one to open up on the 21st floor, Peter felt Neal unconsciously leaning into his side for support. He brought a hand up to rest on the small of Neal’s back to steady him, and was surprised to find that Neal was shaking with the exertion of standing upright for so long.
“Just a little longer, cowboy,” Peter said quietly.
Neal let out a shaky breath, trying to push away the green that was blocking out his vision. “Peter, I feel funny,” he whispered. He could feel himself shaking, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. His fingers were beginning to tingle and it was getting harder to see by the second.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Peter suggested, looking back into the office and catching Diana’s eye. He jerked his head towards Neal and felt relieved when she seemed to read his mind, hurrying towards them and rolling Neal’s office chair along with her.
“Here,” Diana said, holding the chair steady while Peter helped lower Neal into it.
“Lean forward,” Peter instructed, pushing gently at the nape of Neal’s neck until the younger man was folded in half. “Thanks, Di.”
“No problem. Want me to follow you guys down to the car?”
Peter nodded, keeping ahold of Neal so he didn’t fall over. The elevator doors slid open then, and Peter was thankful that there was no one else riding with them. He pushed Neal into the elevator and hit the button for the parking garage, eyeing Neal worriedly. Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, he reached one hand into his suit jacket while keeping the other firmly on Neal’s shoulder.
Baby isn’t doing well, either.
Sighing, Peter pocketed the phone again.
“Everything okay?” Diana asked.
“El said Little Neal isn’t doing too hot.”
“Well, don’t worry about anything here. Clinton and I have it covered,” Diana said reassuringly. “Take as much time as you need.”
The elevator doors slid open then, and Peter pushed Neal out into the parking garage. Diana followed closely at Neal’s side incase he flopped one way or the other.
“How’re you doing, Neal?” Peter asked loudly.
Neal jumped, but stayed folded in half. “‘M okay,” he mumbled.
Peter scoffed and pushed Neal up to the passenger door of the Taurus. “Let’s get you home, cowboy.”
Despite the tangle of limbs and close quarters, Peter and Diana managed to get Neal into the car and buckled. Peter closed the door softly and rubbed a hand down his face. “Thanks for everything, Diana. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Not a problem, boss. Try to stay healthy.” Diana gave a little wave and rolled Neal’s chair back to the elevator.
Going around the back of the car, Peter climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “How’re you holding up? Do you feel sick to your stomach?”
Neal was as pale as pale could be—Peter didn’t think there was any blood left in his face at all other than the red blotches on his cheeks.
“No, just tired,” Neal answered.
Peter decided to play it safe, and reached into the back seat for a bag. He dumped out the supplied he’d bought at the pharmacy and handed Neal the empty shopping bag. “Just in case.”
Neal held the bag in his lap and let his head loll against the seat. His eyes were shut and he was shivering, trying not to feel too sorry for himself. Once he was home he could pout all he wanted to, but he wasn’t about to do that in front of Peter. Thinking about going home to his empty apartment made his eyes sting, and he bit the side of his cheek to keep his bottom lip from wobbling.
“Whoa, tell me what just went through that brilliant mind of yours,” Peter said, catching Neal’s lip wobble despite the kid’s best efforts. He rested a hand on Neal’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb into the tense muscles at the base of his neck. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, Neal.”
Neal took a deep breath and opened his eyes. They were shining with unshed tears, and the sight nearly broke Peter’s heart.
“Was thinking about my empty apartment,” Neal replied in a whisper.
“What on earth makes you think I’m dropping you off at June’s?” Peter was baffled by Neal’s assumption.
Neal sniffled, a stray tear falling onto his cheek. He quickly swiped it away and took another deep breath. “You and El are going to be busy enough with Little Neal, I don’t need to add any more trouble to your plate.”
Peter huffed out a laugh. “Your fever must be making you delusional.” He took a second to feel Neal’s forehead, but couldn’t decipher if his temperature had gone up any since the last time he checked it. “Of course you’re coming home with me. Don’t be silly.”
Neal swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and let his eyes fall shut again. “I’ll be okay on my own, Peter. I don’t want to burden you and El.”
Deciding not to argue with a feverish Neal, Peter sighed and put the car into gear. “Let’s just get you feeling better, cowboy.”
It didn’t take more than five minutes before Neal was asleep in the passenger seat. His hands still clutched the plastic bag, and he was whimpering every so often. Peter kept glancing over at him, worry sitting heavy in his stomach. He’d seen Neal sick before, but never like this. It must have been one hell of a virus to knock the kid flat so fast.
The traffic gods were on their side, and before he knew it, Peter was parking on the street outside his home. He breathed a sigh of relief before tackling his next task: getting Neal inside. He was prepared to carry the younger man bridal style if he had to, but he knew that Neal would do everything in his power to keep that from happening.
“Wake up, kiddo. We’re home.” Peter shook Neal gently and waited a second for Neal to open his eyes.
“Peter?” Neal’s voice was hoarse and Peter could tell he was confused.
“I’m right here. Come on, let’s go inside.” He quickly got out of the car and went around to Neal’s side, opening the door for him and reaching in to unbuckle the kid. “Think you can walk, or should I carry you?”
Neal frowned. “I’ll walk.”
And walk he did, though he had to let Peter take a lot more of his weight than he wanted to. By the time they reached the front door, Neal was shaking uncontrollably and his vision was fading green around the edges again.
“I need to sit down,” Neal whispered, bringing a shaking hand up to rub at his eyes.
“Okay, okay. One more minute.” Peter hurried to unlock the door and help Neal inside, not bothering with shoes or coats as he practically carried him over to the couch. “There, sit down here.”
Neal sat heavily and leaned forward to let his head hang between his knees. “I think I might throw up,” Neal whispered, still shaking uncontrollably. The world was spinning sickeningly and it didn’t seem to be stopping no matter how tightly Neal shut his eyes. It was making him feel nauseated.
“Oh, okay,” Peter said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
Neal was still clutching the plastic bag, so Peter pried that from his grasp and shook it out to open it up. “Here, hold this,” Peter said, maneuvering Neal’s hands for him. “Two hands. There you go.” He rubbed at Neal’s back and chanced a look around. El must have been upstairs with the baby, because she wasn’t in the living room or dining room.
Satchmo kept trying to put his head in Neal’s lap, which wasn’t very helpful.
“Go lie down, Satch. Go.” Peter pointed to his dog bed in the corner, and the dog reluctantly left Neal’s side. “Good boy.”
Neal was taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to quell the nausea he felt. Throwing up was one of his least favorite feelings, and he didn’t want to add to the burden he was already piling on Peter and El. Determined not to vomit, Neal steeled himself and sat up a little. The world wasn’t spinning so much anymore, and being upright took some pressure off of his stomach.
“I’m okay,” he whispered.
Peter kept rubbing his back. “It might be best to get it out. Maybe you’ll feel better.” He lowered himself gently so that he was sitting on the couch beside Neal.
“I’m just dizzy, not sick.”
Peter raised an eyebrow at that. “The fever you’re running tells me a different story.”
Neal sighed and gave Peter a dirty look. “No, my stomach is upset because I’m dizzy. Not because I actually feel sick to my stomach.” He didn’t have the energy to be explaining this to Peter.
“Ah, I see. Do you still think you’re going to throw up?”
Neal took a moment and considered how he felt. He didn’t want to throw up, of course. No one wanted to throw up. Shaking his head, he let himself lean back into the couch cushions. “I think I’m okay now.”
“Okay.” Peter quickly got up and went into the kitchen, using the window Neal was giving him to grab a mixing bowl from the cabinet and return to Neal’s side. “Here, this is a little sturdier than your bag.” Peter set the bowl in Neal’s lap and worked the bag free of his grasp.
“Peter, I’m-” Neal started.
“Yeah, you’re okay. I know. Humor me.” Peter bent down and pulled Neal’s shoes off. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re going straight to bed.”
Neal hummed as his eyes slipped closed. He took a few minutes to mentally prepare himself for going up the stairs, dreading it even before Peter brought it up.
“When you’re ready we need to get you upstairs,” Peter said softly. He sat next to Neal again and ran a hand through Neal’s hair. “How about I go get the stuff from the car and give you a few minutes. Does that sound okay?”
Neal nodded and felt Peter get up off the couch. He shivered at the sudden absence of Peter, even though it didn’t make any sense. It’s not like Peter was keeping him any warmer by simply sitting near him. He heard Peter come back inside a few minutes later and dared to peel his eyes open. The world had stopped spinning and he felt more steady than he had when Peter left.
“Doing okay?” Peter asked, setting his bags on the coffee table.
Neal nodded and pushed himself forward so that he could try to stand.
“Here, let me help.” Peter took the mixing bowl in one hand and grabbed Neal’s arm with the other. “We’ll take it nice and slow.”
Slow was an understatement. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Neal was sweating despite how cold he felt, and his legs were shaking under him. He wasn’t dizzy again, thankfully, but he was more than ready to crawl into bed.
“Let’s make a quick stop in the bathroom before you lie down.”
Neal let out a whine that he normally would have never let slip out of him.
“You’ll thank me when you don’t have to pee in 15 minutes after you finally get comfortable.” Peter gently pushed Neal into the bathroom and pulled the door mostly closed. “I’ll grab you some pajamas,” he said, his head sticking into the bathroom to make sure Neal was okay before closing the door the rest of the way.
Peter silently entered his bedroom, finding El and Little Neal curled up in bed together, both out like a light. He grabbed a pair of sleep pants and an old hoodie for Neal, and bent down to kiss El’s cheek. She sighed, smiling as she cracked her eyes open.
“Hi, hon,” she whispered. “How’s Neal?”
“I’m getting him settled now. How’s the baby?”
“Finally sleeping,” she said, running her fingers through Little Neal’s hair.
Peter smiled at his little family, his heart bursting with love. He heard the bathroom door creak open and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Neal was slowly making his way down the hall to the guest room. The room that he used to sleep in occasionally was now Little Neal’s room, so Peter and El had moved the guest bed into the room they used as an office. It was a lot smaller and not as close to the primary bedroom and the bathroom as Little Neal’s room, but it had a bed in it, and that was all Neal needed.
“Here’s some pajamas. Can you get yourself changed?” Peter asked, setting the pajamas on the bed and the mixing bowl on the nightstand.
Neal nodded, peeling off his suit jacket. He draped it over the desk chair as Peter left the room and let out a shaky breath. He was so tired. Undressing took everything out of him, and by the time he was curled up in bed, there were green spots in his vision again. Pressing his hand to his eyes, Neal let out a whimper. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this sick, if he’d ever felt this bad, and he felt like he couldn’t even make a big deal about it to Peter. Peter was busy now; he had his own, real, blood related child to take care of. There wasn’t room for Neal here anymore, despite what Peter had said earlier.
Before he could fall asleep, Peter was back with an armload of supplies. “Here, take your temperature,” he instructed. He handed Neal the thermometer and got busy setting up bottles of medicine on the nightstand.
Neal stuck the thermometer under his tongue, shivering when he took his arm out from under the blankets. It beeped after a few seconds, and he let Peter take it from between his lips.
Peter let out a low whistle. “102.3. You really aren’t feeling well, are you?”
Neal shook his head and let his eyes slip shut so he didn’t have to see the look of care and concern on Peter’s face. Care that he’d taken advantage of before they’d had a baby—care that he would never receive again, at least, not like he used to. He felt his eyes sting at the thought.
Peter caught the flicker of emotion on Neal’s face. “What’s wrong?” He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his thumb along Neal’s cheek, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen there.
Neal just shook his head again, fighting with himself. He wanted to remember how good it felt to be taken care of by Peter and El, but at the same time, he wanted to be left alone so that it didn’t hurt so much when it never happened again. He might as well rip the bandaid off and get used to being alone again.
“Take some of this,” Peter said, pouring out a dose of Tylenol. “I’ll make you some tea, okay? Get some rest.”
Neal took the Tylenol with the bottle of Gatorade that Peter’d brought up and curled back up under the blankets, turning so that his back was facing the door. Once his fever was down a little, he was determined to go back to June’s and get out of Peter and El’s hair.
While Peter was in the kitchen making Neal some tea, he heard soft footsteps come up behind him. He felt his wife’s arms wrap around his middle and her head rest on his back. Turning to receive the hug, Peter wrapped his arms around El and kissed the top of her head. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve gotten more sleep than you have,” she said.
Peter huffed a laugh at that. “I am pretty tired.”
“You should take a nap while the boys are sleeping. If this virus is strong enough to knock Big Neal out it must be a hell of a bug.”
Peter let go of his wife to pour the hot water into the tea cup he had ready for Neal. “No kidding. He’s sicker than I’ve ever seen him, hon.”
“We’ll take good care of him.”
Peter sighed. “He’s worried about being a burden now that Little Neal is involved. I told him he was being silly, but I’m not sure how convinced he was.”
El frowned. “How high is his fever?”
“102. I just gave him some Tylenol, but I think he mostly needs sleep.”
“I think you’re right.” El reached up on her tiptoes to kiss Peter. “Join me in bed once Big Neal is all set?”
“You bet,” Peter replied, kissing his wife back. He watched her leave and then went about setting a few snacks on a tray for Neal. Applesauce was a safe bet, and so were some crackers. He grabbed a clementine as an after thought, and balanced it all around the tea so that he could take everything up in one trip.
Neal was facing away from him when Peter pushed the door open, so he was as quiet as he could be when he set the tray down on the nightstand. “Neal?” He whispered.
Neal didn’t move, hoping that Peter thought he was asleep.
Peter gently kissed the side of Neal’s head and left the room, leaving the door open a crack as he walked away.
Neal felt his face crumple as he heard the door close. He was too tired to keep his tears at bay anymore, so he let them fall. He knew part of the reason he was so emotional was because of the fever he was running, but part of it was real, too. He sobbed silently into his pillow until there were no more tears left in him and his eyes were swollen and puffy, mourning the loss of parents he’d only just been lucky enough to meet. There was probably some rule about feeling so negative about a literal baby, but Neal wasn’t sure how else to feel. Seething with envy and bottled up sadness from a childhood of neglect, crying seemed like the best option to his fevered brain.
Cries from Little Neal brought Peter out of his slumber. Inhaling deeply, Peter pulled his eyes open and looked around. El was sitting up, fussing over the toddler tucked between them. “Is he okay?” Peter asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“I think he needs a diaper change. I’ll get it.” El cooed softly as she picked Neal up and carried him out of the primary bedroom.
Peter sighed and let his eyes fall shut again, his body relaxing back toward sleep. There was a nagging thought rolling around his brain that he couldn’t quite put his finger on—something needed to be done while El was with the baby. But what? If he couldn’t remember what it was, it probably wasn’t that important anyway.
Gasping, Peter sat up suddenly. Neal.
Clambering out of bed, Peter looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for almost four hours, somehow, and poor Neal had been alone the whole time. “Shit,” Peter mumbled under his breath as he hurried to the guest room.
Neal was lying they way Peter had left him, which only made Peter’s worry worsen. Neal was never completely still. He sat on the edge of the bed and felt Neal’s cheek with his fingers. Still burning up. “Damn. Neal,” Peter said, rubbing Neal’s cheek. “Wake up for me, kiddo.”
Neal’s eyelids fluttered open—as open as they could get, being all swollen from crying himself to sleep— and he rolled onto his back to look at Peter.
“Hanging in there?” Peter asked as he uncapped the thermometer.
Neal, still half asleep, didn’t answer and just let Peter take his temperature. His eyes slipped closed at the feeling of Peter running his fingers through his hair while the thermometer took its reading, and he whined when Peter stopped.
“It hasn’t gone down any. Let’s try some ibuprofen, we can alternate between the two.” He helped Neal sit up a little, and gave him a dose of the medicine. “Want me to reheat this tea for you?” Peter asked.
Neal shook his head as he swallowed the medicine with more Gatorade. He sipped at the liquid more than was necessary to get the medicine down in hopes that replenishing some of the water he’d lost when he’d cried would make his head ache a little less.
“Good idea, drink as much of that as you can stomach.” Peter resumed carding his fingers through Neal’s hair. “How is your stomach?”
“I’m fine,” Neal whispered. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it on the nightstand. “Just want to sleep.”
“All right, cowboy. I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, okay?” Peter stayed, running his fingers through Neal's hair until his breathing had evened out.
“How’s he doing?” El asked when Peter crawled back into bed with her.
“He’s asleep again. I gave him some ibuprofen, the Tylenol didn’t help his fever at all.”
El frowned and propped herself up on her elbow to look at her husband. “Should we make him a doctor’s appointment?”
Peter sighed, sleep already pulling at him. “Let’s see how he does overnight.”
An hour later, El couldn’t stay in bed for another minute, no matter how nice it was to be curled up with the baby and Peter. Stretching, she went out into the hallway to peek her head in on Neal.
Neal was sitting up in bed, leaning forward with his head resting on his knees. He had a splitting headache and his throat was starting to feel sore. He was in the process of getting the nerve up to go downstairs to make some tea when he heard someone coming into the room.
“Hi, sweetie,” El said as she approached the bed. She sat next to him and rested her hand on the back of his neck to feel his temperature. He was still burning up.
Neal raised his head and smiled sheepishly at her. “Hey, El. Sorry to be crashing here like this.”
“Oh, nonsense. You’re welcome here any time, you know that.” She uncapped the thermometer and handed it over to him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Neal replied, averting his eyes. He let the thermometer get a reading before handing it over to El.
El tutted under her breath. “This fever is pretty stubborn, huh? We’ll get you feeling better in no time.” She looked up at Neal when she heard a sniffle. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Neal covered his eyes with one hand, trying to push the tears back into his eyes. He’d started crying far too many times that day, it was embarrassing.
“What is it? Neal, you’re scaring me. Look at me,” El said pulling at his hand until he uncovered his eyes.
“Nothing, nothing,” Neal whispered. He coughed into the blankets, a wet, barking cough, and shivered. Inside his head, his thoughts were swirling around, saying things like ‘she shouldn’t be in here with you, she has her own son now. Her real son.’ A few more tears leaked out and he did his best to wipe them away before El saw.
Of course, El noticed. She pulled him into a tight hug, surprised when he broke down into a puddle of tears as soon as she’d wrapped him in her arms. He sobbed into her chest, his fever blazing against her skin. “Oh, honey. Oh, my baby. I didn’t realize you felt this badly,” El said, rocking Neal back and forth gently. “I’m here, sweetie, it’s okay.”
They sat there like that, rocking slowly until Neal had calmed down a bit.
“What’s brought this on?” El asked once he had stopped crying. She kept him pulled to her chest, her arms still tight around him.
“Y-you have Little Neal now,” Neal whispered, his voice thick with tears.
“That’s never brought you to tears before, honey.” El wracked her brain, trying to figure out what Neal was getting at. The conversation she’d had with Peter in the kitchen came back to her suddenly. “Oh, sweetie.” She kissed the top of his head.
“You will never be a burden to me or Peter, okay? There will always be space for you here.”
Neal hiccuped, fresh tears streaking his cheeks. “But, the baby…”
“What about him?” El was still confused.
“You can’t be mine anymore if you’re his,” Neal got out through his sobs. “And you should be his, he comes first.” He felt the need to backpedal, to cover up his selfishness with understanding.
El stopped her rocking and pushed at Neal gently. “Look at me, honey.” She waited until Neal had sat back so that they could look at each other. She cupped his face, trying to make sure he knew she was being genuine. “There may be a baby here now, but there is room in our hearts for both of you. You have us just as much now as you did before, okay?” El pulled him back into a hug. “What on earth gave you the idea that we were just going to drop you once we had a baby?”
Neal sniffled. “I’m not actually your kid, so it makes sense that once you had a kid of your own, I’d be back to being alone.”
El felt her heart break at Neal’s admittance. “You never have to be alone again, Neal. We will never leave you alone, you got that? We’ll always be here when you need us.”
Neal nodded into her chest and let the last few tears he had bottled up slip out.
“Would it help if you were with the baby and Peter?” El asked, kissing the top of Neal’s head.
“I don’t want to disturb Little Neal, Peter said he didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Come on,” she said, tugging at him. She helped him into the primary bedroom where Peter was still napping and Little Neal was cooing to himself as he played with his feet. The baby lit up when he saw his Uncle Neal, his little hands reaching out for his namesake.
Neal smiled and sat gingerly on El’s side of the bed. Little Neal crawled into his lap and immediately settled himself so that he was leaning against Neal’s chest, his thumb finding its way into his mouth and his blinks getting slower and slower.
“Get comfortable, sweetie,” El said. She held the covers up as Neal slid underneath them and got Little Neal settled.
Neal was propped up on the pillows so that he was half sitting up. Peter and El’s bed was much more comfortable than the guest bed, he noticed.
Peter, finally noticing that someone was in the bed with him, woke up and looked around, panicked, for the baby. “Hon?”
“He’s right here, Peter,” El said. She fussed a little more over her boys, feeling both of their foreheads and kissing them on the cheek before turning her attention to Peter. “Did you have a nice nap?”
Peter yawned and pushed himself up so that he was sitting against the headboard. “I did. How’s Neal?”
“We’re okay,” Neal said for the both of them.
Peter finally noticed Neal in his bed holding his son. He reached over and felt his forehead, his frown coming back when he felt Neal’s temperature. “You’re still too warm,” he said. “Do you need anything?”
“My, uh, my throat is kind of sore,” Neal admitted, his face flushing.
“I’ll make you some tea. How about you put on a movie, hon?” El suggested. She smiled at her boys before she left the room.
“Good idea. Any in particular you want to watch? Rated G, of course.” Peter grabbed the remote and clicked through a few things, trying to find something to watch.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Neal said. He still didn’t have a voice, and his throat was definitely bothering him now. He thought maybe he was starting to get stuffy, too, but he couldn’t be sure because he’d just been crying.
Peter picked one of Little Neal’s current favorites and smiled when the baby cooed at the television. He settled back on the pillows and looked over at his boys, his heart swelling at the sight of them curled up together. “You doing okay?” Peter asked. Little Neal was entirely entranced by the tv, and Big Neal just looked exhausted and rundown.
Neal nodded, not taking his eyes off the tv. He didn’t have the energy for another heart-to-heart conversation; he assumed El would fill Peter in when it was convenient.
After a few minutes, Peter got up and left the room. Neal ignored the stab of panic that flooded him when Peter left—it’s not like he was never coming back. He kissed Little Neal on the top of his head and snuggled down to watch the movie with him.
Downstairs, Peter poured himself a glass of milk and watched El make a cup of tea and set some snacks on a tray. “How’s he doing?” Peter asked.
El paused her movements and sighed. “Not great, hon. His fever is stubbornly high, and he’s having a lot of difficult feelings about the baby.”
“Ah, older sibling jealousy?”
“I think it’s more than that, though. We’re the only ones that have been here for him like true parents should, and having a lifetime of neglect and abandonment behind him doesn’t make sharing us very easy for him.”
Peter, who had been taking a sip of milk while El spoke, audibly gulped as that realization hit him. “Oh,” Peter trailed off.
“I know, it breaks my heart to think about,” El said. She took a deep breath and turned back to the tea she was making. “Anyway, we just need to make sure he has everything he needs so he’s back to his normal self soon.” She patted under her eyes to make them stop watering, and grabbed the tray to carry it upstairs.
“I can get this,” Peter said taking the tray from her. “How about a movie night in bed tonight?”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Here’s some tea,” Peter said as he came back into his bedroom. He smiled at the sight of the boys curled up together, both of them barely awake as they watched the movie. Peter set the tray on the side table and quickly pulled his phone out to snap a photo of them before sitting on the edge of the bed.
Neal perked up a little at the tea, and sipped at it gratefully. It soothed his throat nicely, and made him aware of his rumbling stomach.
Little Neal had the same idea, it seemed, because he was reaching for an applesauce pouch.
“Could I have one of those, too?” Neal asked.
Peter nodded and, out of habit, cracked the lid off of both pouches before handing them over. Neal and Neal both settled back into the blankets, sucking down their applesauce and watching the movie intently. Laughing, Peter rounded the bed and crawled in on his side. He opened his laptop and pulled up the cases he was looking at before they’d left the office, only half paying attention to the movie.
El came in then, carrying her own cup of tea and a book. “Okay, everyone slide over.” She crawled in next to Neal, sandwiching him and Little Neal between herself and Peter.
Once the applesauces were gone and the tea had been drunk, Neal slid down the bed until he was curled up with his head on El’s shoulder and his feet touching Peter’s legs. Little Neal was lying on top of him, his head resting on Neal’s chest, and Neal felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was finally where he belonged.