Sick Day
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in mid fall when El was in the kitchen making breakfast while Peter was at the table drinking a cup of coffee and enjoying the morning paper.
"Neal's still not up?" El asked as she took a seat with two plates of food in her hands.
Peter folded the paper up and made room for the plate El brought him. "Not yet, I'll go get him." Peter went upstairs and knocked on the door. "Hey Neal, time to get up." He waited a moment for a response but didn't get one. "Neal?" He knocked again. Not getting an answer again he opened the door. The room was dark and he saw a figure curled up in the bed facing away from him. He walked closer to him and saw Neal shaking.
Neal cracked an eye open and closed them again, groaning like a dying whale the whole time.
"Yeah I feel like that every morning Neal, it doesn't mean you get to sleep in all day." Peter said with a smile.
Peter only got another groan in response and a string of sounds that may or may not have been words. He had a hunch with what was wrong and that was confirmed when he felt Neal's forehead with the back of his hand. Peter walked out of the room without a word and returned a minute later with a thermometer. He sat down on the edge of the bed and spoke quietly to Neal.
"I'm going to need you to sit up Neal. Can you do that for me?" Neal groaned and shifted in bed until he was sitting up. He moaned and put his head against Peter's shoulder as he closed his eyes again.
"Don' feel good, Pe'er." Neal muttered.
Peter rubbed his hand up and down Neal's arm. "I know buddy, but I'm going to need you to open your mouth for a second and put this under your tongue until it beeps alright?"
Neal nodded, not trusting himself to speak and opened his mouth. Neal made sure the thermometer was under his tongue and tried to ignore the pounding in his head. After a minute the thermometer beeped and Peter checked the reading. He hummed at the results. "102.2. Looks like you caught yourself a case of the flu."
"My 'ead 'urts." Neal groaned.
"Does anything else hurt?" Peter inquired.
"M' st'mach." Neal muttered in Peter's shoulder.
"Okay," Peter started to get up. "Lay down while I go get some ibuprofen for your head and it should also help bring your fever down." Neal just nodded, his eyes closed still, as Peter went down stairs.
"Where's Neal?" El asked when she saw her husband come downstairs alone.
"Neal has caught the flu." Peter replied as he put a piece of bread in the toaster and got some orange juice out of the fridge and poured it in a glass.
"Did you take his temperature? If it's too high I can stay home to watch over him." El said as she grabbed her phone from the table.
Peter put his hand over her phone. "It's fine hon. He has a temp of 102.2 and I have vacation days. We'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Because-" Peter cut her off with a quick kiss.
"Everything here will be fine." He repeated. "And I know how important this gig is too you."
El sighed. "Alright. But call me if anything happens."
"I promise." He kissed her again. "Now go. Someone has to be bringing home a paycheck." Peter joked.
"I love you."
"Love you too."
El's phone rang in her hand. She checked the caller ID and saw it was her assistant. She answered it after turning around and grabbing her purse off the table. "I know I'm late." She listened to the other side of the line and whispered sorry to Peter as she walked out the door. "Well tell the caterer to-" Her voice cut off as the front door slammed shut and Peter was left alone with a sick Neal. The toaster popped out the toast and he ran over to finish.
*line break*
Peter pushed open Neal's door and set a plate with toast and a cup of orange juice on the night stand. He put a plastic bucket on the floor near Neal's head and then pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket. He set that down by the orange juice and sat down on the edge of the bed.
He brushed Neal's hair away from his forehead. "Hey buddy, I'm going to need you to wake up for a couple minutes." Neal slowly uncurled from the ball he was in and rubbed one his eyes. "I got you some medicine but you need to sit up all the way, alright?" Neal nodded slowly and sat up against the headboard. Peter finally got his first good look at Neal and it didn't look good. His face was pale and he had dark shadows under his eyes. He took two pills out of the bottle and gave them to Neal along with the orange juice.
Neal took them and swallowed with a grimace. He set the glass down and saw the plate with toast. "Not hungry." He croaked.
"I figured as much but you need to eat something. Just have two bites and then you can go back to sleep." Neal sighed and took the plate, too tired to argue. He took two small bites and then handed the plate back to Peter. "Thank you. There's a bucket here if you get sick and I'll be right downstairs if you need anything." Peter got up and ruffed Neal's hair as he settled back into a ball.
Peter went down to the kitchen and set the cup and plate in the sink. He called in sick for him and Neal and asked for some files to be brought to his house so he can work from home.
"No problem Peter. I'll send Barrigan over right away."
"Thanks."
*line break*
After thirty minutes Peter heard a knock at the door and answered to see Diana holding a box of files.
"Hey Di. Thanks for this."
"No problem boss. So how is he?" Diana asked as she put the box on the coffee table.
"Sleeping so far. I got him to eat a couple bites of toast but that's it." Right after Peter said this he heard Neal call for him from upstairs. "Speak of the devil."
"Well I'm going to get back to the office before I catch what he has. Hope Neal feels better." Diana turned to the door.
"Alright, I'll talk to you later. Thanks again for the files." Peter patted her on the shoulder as he passed to go upstairs. Diana gave a two finger salute as she left.
Peter cracked Neal's door open and entered the dark room. Neal was sitting up and hunched over the bucket. "Hey, you're alright kiddo. I'm right here." Peter sat down and started to rub his back as he gagged. "Just let it out."
Neal just coughed and spit in the bucket. "It feels like somethin' is tryin' to crawl out of my stomach." Neal leaned into Peter in exhaustion and Peter just wrapped his arm around Neal in a half hug. "Can you just shoot me and put me out of my misery?"
Peter rested his chin on top of Neal's head. "As much as you annoy me sometimes, no. Sorry." Peter gave Neal a quick kiss on the head. "How do you feel kid?"
"Like I got hit by a semi, they backed up over me, and then ran over me again."
"I figured as much. Do you want to try to eat something? I can heat up some soup and you can lay on the couch."
"If I say no you're just going to make me eat something else, aren't you." Neal stated it as a fact.
"No, but you really should have a couple bites of something." Neal sighed and wrapped one of the blankets on the bed around himself while grabbing his pillow.
"Fine but I get the tv remote."
*line break*
Peter came downstairs after rinsing out the bucket to find Neal laying on the couch with Antique Roadshow on. "Have you spotted any forgeries?" Peter asked as he replaced the box of files with the bucket on the coffee table.
Neal yawned before answering in a bored tone. "The porcelain doll that's on right now is a fake."
Peter set the box on the table and whipped around. "Really?" He asked in a tone of disbelief as he went over to the tv.
"Yup." Neal popped the p. "The blush is the wrong shade of red." They watched for a minute before the host on the show repeated what Neal had told Peter. "Told you."
Peter hummed and went to the kitchen to heat up some soup.
*line break*
Peter got Neal to eat a couple bites of chicken noodle soup and drank some water before he fell back to sleep on the couch. Peter got a couple hours worth of work done and then took a break at two to make a sandwich. He heard Neal groan on the couch after he had put his plate in the sink. He went over to the couch to check on Neal. " How are you feeling?" Peter asked as he felt his forehead.
"L'ke crap."
"I bet. You still feel warm but not as bad as this morning. It's been long enough, do you want to take anymore medicine?"
Neal just nodded so Peter got a glass of water and two more pills from the bottle and took it over to Neal, who was sitting up now. "Don't drink this water too fast or you'll get sick again, okay?"
Neal nodded again and grimaced at the bitter pills. "How's work so far?"
"A blast." Peter said sarcastically. "You want a couple files?"
"Think I'll pass on that one." Neal said as he layed back down.
"You sure? I don't want to be hogging all the fun." Peter smirked.
Neal just rolled over away from Peter.
*line break*
Around five Neal woke to the smell and sound of someone cooking. He got up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He went to sit down at the island and watched Peter cook. Peter turned around and saw Neal. "You're starting to look better." Peter noted some color returning to Neal's face.
"I'm starting to feel better. It doesn't feel like there's a mariachi band in my head anymore."
"Are you hungry? Do you want the rest of your soup?" Neal nodded so Peter put it in a bowl and microwaved it. "Bon appetite. Would you like any orange juice with that sir?" Peter put on a bad french accent.
Neal chuckled at the horrible accent. "Why yes monsieur."
"Good accent there." Peter commented as he poured a glass of juice. "Although it's cheating since you speak french."
Neal shrugged. "Schematics. So, what'cha makin' there iron chef?" Neal asked as he sipped the soup.
Peter sighed. "Well I'm trying to make chicken and rice. That's simple right?" Peter took the chicken off the skillet and cut it up. Neal winced as Peter did that. "What?"
"It's just, after you cook meat you should let it rest a couple minutes before cutting into it. That way you don't lose moisture in the form of steam and it won't dry out." Peter just started at Neal for a moment. "What?"
"Where did you learn to cook?"
"Mozzie taught me."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."
*line break*
After Neal finished the soup he attempted, and succeeded, at taking a shower without causing any bodily harm to himself. He came back downstairs in a clean t-shirt and sweatpants to find Peter sitting on the couch watching the game and nursing a beer. "How was your dry chicken?" Neal asked as he flopped down next to Peter.
Peter looked him up and down. "You sound better. Here, put this under your tongue." He handed Neal the thermometer. Neal started to put up a fight but Peter spoke over him. "Now. Or you're going back up to bed." Neal gave in, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, but took the tv remote and started to flip through the channels. He settled on the food network and grabbed a pad of paper.
Now you can learn how to properly make chicken.
Peter looked up at Neal after reading the note and glared at a smirking Neal. The thermometer beeped and Peter checked it. "99 degrees on the nose. Must have been a twenty-four hour bug. Looks like you're going to be able to go to work tomorrow and get caught up on what you missed today."
"You know, I'm really not feeling well again. Maybe I should stay home again tomorrow, just to be safe. I wouldn't want anybody else getting sick."
"Well in that case," Peter got up and picked Neal up over his shoulder fireman style. "Back to bed with you." Peter exclaimed.
"Peter? Peter, put me down!" Neal tried to wiggle out of Peter's hold but he had too good of a hold on him. He complained the whole way up and to the bedroom. "Let go of me!" Neal said through a fit of giggles from Peter tickling him.
"Alright then." Peter dropped Neal onto the bed.
"Jerk." Neal said through fits of laughter.
Peter sat down out of breath. "I think you strained my back."
Neal scoffed. "I did? You're the one who threw me over your shoulder." Neal shoved Peter with his knee.
Peter got up and threw the tv remote to Neal's tv at him. "There, now you can watch your fancy cooking shows while I go watch the end of the game." Peter started for the door but stopped just before leaving and turned around. "And I can cook just fine." After that he turned around and left.
"Just being able to cook pot roast doesn't count!" Neal called after him.
*line break*
The next morning Neal woke up energized and refreshed. He headed downstairs and only saw El sitting at the table eating breakfast. "Where's Peter?" He asked as he got a plate of pancakes and bacon. He sat down across from El and dug in.
"Well it looks like you got your wish." Peter said from behind him. Neal turned around and saw him wrapped in a blanket. "Whatever you had I managed to catch."
"You know, you were right yesterday. I should really go to the office today and get caught up on what I missed yesterday." Neal started to get up but Peter put his hands on Neal's shoulders and pushed him back down.
"Oh no. You're staying here while El goes to stay with a friend before she catches this."
"Sorry sweetie. You two have fun now." El waved goodbye and left with a duffle bag that was by the door.
"And since I'm the one sick today, that means I get the remote and you get to be the one that rinses out the sick filled bucket." Peter patted Neal on the back and went over to the couch. Neal groaned and said some unchoice words. "What was that?" Peter asked from the couch.
Neal put on a fake smile. "Oh goody!"
"That's what I thought you said."
Neal rolled his eyes and got to work, breakfast forgotten.
Hey I uploaded, it must be the apocalypse. Truthfully, I was lazy and this was my first sick!fic so hopefully it wasn't too horrible. Make sure to check out my other parental!Peter/Neal fic You Are My Sonshine for I'm going to be updating that in the next week or so. I swear it will be out before Christmas! Well I'm going to upload this and go to bed since it's like 1:30 in the morning but I wanted to get this done tonight and I did!