Another short and sweet one! Not smutty like the previous chapter, Just putting that out there for all of you out there who're here for cheap thrills. Still refers back to 8x02 and not too long afterward in case any of y'all are keeping track!

It was yet another cold Autumn night in the city of Chicago. In fact, our chapter today takes place in the dead of night, sometime around the perfect hour for demon summoning.

The crickets chirped endlessly, filling the frigid outside air with their monotonous song, which droned on for no one to hear this late in the evening.

John Truman Carter the 69th—or whatever the fuck his full name is, lay passed out in a gurney somewhere in the ER, exhausted from a long night of sewing people back together and shoving himself elbow-deep into some poor bastard's chest...

Or, more accurately, providing a whole family suffering from food poisoning with rectal compazine and diagnosing various batches of crusty old white men with an even bigger variety of disgusting venereal diseases.

And our very own little Robert Romano was sauntering through the hallway of Peter's spacious, not-so-little-abode, half asleep, desperately searching for the taller surgeon's bathroom. To the untrained eye, he looked quite like one of the drunkards that rolled into the ER on an hourly basis as he stumbled though the hall, occasionally throwing a hand out to catch himself before he stumbled, gripping the wall.

Finally reaching his target, he switched on the light in the small room, immediately regretting it as his eyes burned like Luka Kovac's groin after spending yet another night of passion with the wrong hooker.

After his need was met, he washed up quickly, hoping he could get his ass back in bed before the tiredness left his brain. And more importantly, before Peter noticed his disappearance and woke up right along with him at this ungodly hour.

Robert turned the light back out, exiting the room as he did. He started back down the hallway, now in search of Peter's warm bedroom.

He was only focused on the feeling of his own bleary-eyed exhaustion, coupled with the intense craving he'd developed from his short little trip to be back in bed with his dark haired lover. Not 5 minutes had passed before Jack Frost had already begun nipping at his toes quite unpleasantly. In his attempt to slip out without waking the man sleeping beside him, he'd managed to remember to slip on his boxers and robe, but not his socks.

God how he hated the cold.

He froze at the sound of something moving in front of him, somewhere out in the darkness. Fear rose from his chest to the back of his tightened throat as he heard the noisy thing make a small thud, dragging something against the floor with a soft noise.

The frightened bald man leaned against the wall as terror threatened to overcome him. He stared into the darkness with wide eyes, trying to distinguish whether the noise he'd heard was real, or if it were merely a product of his imagination, a figment materialized from his own weary state.

His hand sought out the nearest object, in the hopes that it'd be able to defend him against the potential intruder—a tissue box. Not the most threatening, but it was better than nothing, he thought in his daze.

The bald man began to shake a little as he rounded the corner, holding the tissue box in front of him defensively. The thing made another small thump, causing him to flinch and take a step back before he proceeded, cautiously.

He yelled as a beam of white light hit him directly in the face, dropping his tissue box and falling straight on his ass. He squinted through the light in an attempt to identify the terrifying being that was ravaging Peter's living room.

Low and behold, it was only Reese, staring at Robert as if he'd gone insane, before hugging his knee. The light was being produced from a little Batman-themed flashlight that he held in one hand.

Robert clutched his chest with one hand as his heart threatened to break out of it.

Shaking off the fear of this brutal confrontation, Robert signed to the boy, hoping he could see him enough in the pale glow of the flashlight.

'What are you doing up? You scared the crap out of me!'

'I'm looking for Mommy. Have you seen her?' Reese signed back, peering at the bald man through sad eyes. Any annoyance Robert had developed from the boy having scared him shitless dissolved completely, immediately being replaced with a sensation in his chest that was not unlike Dale Edson operating on his heart with his grimy, amateur hands.

He gazed at the distraught kid hopelessly, unsure of what he should tell him.

Figuring that Peter would probably have his ass if he made him cry—and not in the usual way Peter had his ass nowadays, Romano took a safer approach.

'Your mother's not here, munchkin. But it's getting pretty late. Do you wanna come sleep in with us?'

Reese looked down at his flashlight and then back at Robert as if he were conflicted by the decision.

Eventually, the boy put his arms out to Robert, wanting to be picked up. The bald man pulled him into his arms, picking them both up and off the floor. He gave Reese's head a soft kiss before starting back towards Peter's room.

He knocked on Peter's door upon his arrival, assuming that if his prolonged absence didn't wake him up on it's own, then his terrified yell upon discovering Reese had probably done the trick.

"Peter! Get decent in there! I brought you a present." Romano announced through the door. Reese leaned his head against his shoulder, tucking it under his chin as they stood outside the room.

Almost as if on cue, Peter threw open the door, clad in navy blue sweats and a T-shirt, squinting at the bald man, who was now bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp that the taller surgeon had switched on.

"Robert, what the hell happened? I heard your yelling! Are you alright?" He questioned, his eyes raking over the rather ludicrous scene before him; his boss in his robe, clutching a Batman themed flashlight in one hand with his son half asleep in his arms.

Anybody that worked at County would've paid a small fortune to witness this little anomaly in person.

"Your little munchkin here was up looking for his mom." Robert explained tiredly, fully aware of the weight of his statement. "Scared the living hell out of me on my way back from the bathroom. Figured he had another nightmare and brought him here to bunk with us."

Peter let out a small laugh, shaking his head at the thought of his lover being startled so badly by someone so small. He stepped aside, allowing the bald man to enter with Reese in tow.

"That's a pretty manly flashlight you've got there." Peter teased as they clambered back into bed. He tucked Reese in between them before pulling the blankets up to cover all three of them. "You wanna leave it on in case you get ambushed again?"

"Oh stuff it, you!" Robert grumbled back, rolling on his side to face Peter, who mirrored his position, gazing at him with dark chocolate colored eyes that glittered with jeering humor. Reese was curled up between the two, already drifting off, blissfully unaware of his father's viscous assault on the bald man beside him. "Or so help me God, you'll be sleeping on the floor next time we camp out at my place! You and that little hellion of yours..."

"Oh come on, Robbie! You know you're bluffing!" He said sweetly, smirking at the man. Robert couldn't help but smile back just as brightly.

The taller man's gaze shifted down to Reese, and then back to Robert as his crooked, toothy smile faded. He gazed into the other man's coffee colored orbs thoughtfully, biting his bottom lip as he did.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Romano asked, curiosity brewing in those lovely dark eyes of his.

"You think he's gonna be okay?" Benton asked the man softly. Robert noticed he had the same type of profound sadness in his eyes as his son when referring to what happened that fateful day. It'd been only 2 weeks, but it felt like years, especially with the amount of nightmares Reese woke up crying from every night, consequently waking the both of them up before long.

And his stepfather had certainly not been helping things. At all.

It'd started off with all the small things. Asking for weekends with the little tyke, to take him to and from daycare every now and again. Maybe even going as far as to having him stay the night during the week once in a blue moon. No matter how pure his intentions, though, Romano still couldn't bring himself to trust the guy. Hell, even before the death of his mother, Reese had spent more time with the bald surgeon than with Roger.

Peter was more understanding, though. He was insistent on just letting Roger spend whatever time he wanted with the boy, figuring he needed more than just a couple of weeks to process everything that'd just happened. He'd never been happy about the thought of sharing custody with his son, Romano knew that much, but ever since that one day, it seemed as if the taller surgeon had been cutting Roger some slack.

Regardless, Robert just still couldn't feel comfortable about the idea. He didn't know why exactly, but he just felt like the man was, for the lack of a better term, bad news.

Robert reached his hand over the sleeping boy to hold one of Peter's, squeezing it tightly.

"It's still early, Peter. He needs time to grieve." He stroked the man's knuckles, his soft touch causing Peter to let out a small sigh, his eyes closing as he reveled in the warmth of Robert's palm.

"It'll get better. You'll see." Robert murmured, sleep already threatening to reclaim him in its entirety. His eyelids drooped as he drank in the sight of his worried lover, his features still soft from sleep, his eyes full of questioning and raw emotion with just a hint of sadness.

The bald man leaned over to kiss his cheek lingeringly, before returning to his spot, still clutching Peter's hand like a small child with his favorite toy.

"Of course, it'll also get a lot more complicated, but still better..." he murmured, getting closer and closer to drifting off for the remainder of their night.

It was quiet for a while, a real long while. So long, in fact, that Robert had thought the man in front of him had finally gone to sleep, the thoughts of his son growing up without a mother being washed from his mind like some poor kid's sandcastle by the quickly rising ocean tide.

His voice hit his ears yet again though, his deep tone so soft that he thought he might have been dreaming his next words.

"I love you, Robert." The grip on his hand tightened slightly more.

"I love you more, Peter." Robert sighed, stroking the back of the man's hand with his thumb. "I love you more..."

to be continued...