Work Text:
Alt. 3. “I’m bored.”
“You wouldn’t be if you took a damn nap.”
It had all started a week ago; Neal had stopped in to bring Mozzie some of his favorite soup because he’d caught the autumnal crud that spreads like a wildfire across New York City. He’d only stayed for ten minutes, long enough to make sure that Moz was going to be okay, and then he’d gotten the hell out of there. Not fast enough, apparently.
There was a telltale stinging in the back of Neal’s throat when he woke up a week later that didn’t go away when he drank a glass of water. Tipping his head back, Neal groaned and closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Mozzie’s cold, but it seemed like what he wanted and what fate had decided for him were two very different things.
After a shower, Neal dressed in an extra layer and made himself a cup of tea to sip on during his ride to the office. By the time he got off the train he wanted to turn right around and go home again. He couldn’t remember how fast Mozzie’d been taken down, but the fact that was already freezing one second and then burning the next didn’t bode well for him. As he sat at his desk he left his coat on and got to work, looking over the case files sitting in a pile in front of him. The stinging in his throat kept distracting him and he was a little worried what he would tell Peter when the older man asked for any new intel.
Before long, Peter was calling Neal up to his office. “Got anything new?”
Neal sighed and sat down heavily in the chair across from Peter. “No.”
Peter paused, his lips pursing. “No?”
Neal shook his head.
“Did you even read them?” Peter leaned back in his chair and looked his partner over carefully. It wasn’t like Neal to have nothing to say. He always had something to pitch in, even when he didn’t want to be involved.
“I tried, Peter.” Neal sniffled miserably, hoping to get a little sympathy from the older man.
Peter frowned. “Don’t tell me you caught the cold Mozzie has.”
Neal smiled sheepishly and made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Go on, go home. I’ll check in with you later.”
Back at home, Neal set some water to heat for tea and changed back into his pajamas. With a steaming mug in his hands, he curled up on the couch and turned on the television, finding a marathon of SVU to watch while he sipped the warm tea. Congestion was already settling into his chest and he knew that he wouldn’t sleep well that night, because of how stuffy he already felt. His throat was still sore, too, and that always kept him awake no matter how many different remedies he tried to soothe it.
He must have dozed off, despite his sore throat, because the next time he was aware of what was happening in the show, it was a completely different episode. His phone was buzzing on the couch next to him, and he grabbed it to see that Peter was calling.
“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse and crackling with congestion.
“How’re you feeling?” Peter asked.
Neal could tell he was driving home because of the noise in the background. “Not great. Just woke up.”
Peter hummed at that news, knowing he’d made the right call sending Neal home. Neal never took naps. Never. “Have you taken anything?”
“No.”
“Do you have anything to take?”
Peter knew him too well. “No.” He smiled at the sound of Peter’s huge sigh. “I’ll call Moz, he owes me from last week.”
“You do that. Text me in the morning, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Peter.”
“Get some rest.”
Neal tossed his phone on the couch next to him and snuggled back down into his blankets, getting immersed into SVU again.
The next day passed in mostly the same way. Neal camped out on the couch and watched tv, drinking tea and making a mountain of used tissues. By the time Peter called him after work, Neal was bored out of his mind. He still felt terrible, but there was only so much television he could watch in one sitting before his brain started to rot.
“Feeling any better?” Peter asked when Neal answered his phone.
“I’m bored,” Neal replied. “I’ve already seen this episode of SVU.”
“You wouldn’t be bored if you took a damn nap. Did you sleep at all last night?” Peter knew Neal too well at this point in their partnership—Neal didn’t sleep when he had a cold.
Neal held the phone away from his face and coughed wetly into his elbow. “I’m too bored to nap.” He didn’t feel like answering Peter’s question. He, in fact, hadn’t slept last night. The little doze he’d taken when he'd gotten home from work was all the sleep he’d gotten.
Peter sighed. “Want me to bring some case files over?”
“You don’t have to. I know you want to get home to El.” Neal secretly hoped that Peter would stop by and give him something to think about that wasn’t on tv.
“I know I don’t have to. Do you want me to?”
Neal blushed. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Sure enough, Peter was knocking on the door to Neal’s apartment 15 minutes later. He let himself in and smiled when he saw Neal all curled up on his couch, a tissue sticking out of one nostril. “Hey, kiddo. Still bored?”
Neal pulled the tissue from his nose and sat up a little. “Very.”
Peter set a plastic bag on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch, feeling Neal’s forehead. “I brought you some cold meds. Want to take something?”
Neal nodded. “Think I have a fever?”
Peter poured a dose of the sleepy cold medicine and handed it to Neal. “Nope. You’re cool as a cucumber.”
Neal took the medicine and grimaced at the taste. “Got any interesting cases?”
Moving Neal’s feet, Peter sat on the end of the couch and rested the other man’s legs on his lap. “As a matter of fact…” Peter read from the case file and watched with a smile as Neal’s eyelids drooped, his blinks growing farther and farther apart until Peter was sure he was sleeping. Little congested snores made their way out of Neal, and Peter smiled to himself at the sound. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”