The Way It Could Be.
Events that drive us together.
Part 2
It was great to be home. Peter took his first step back into his house in a week with Neal supporting him at his side and El holding the door open for him.
His wonderful wife kissed him on the cheek as he entered and Neal helped him to the couch. He was sore, his muscles were tense and moving often took more energy than it was worth. Every movement tugged at the injury in his chest and, at times, it was difficult to breathe. Also, his throat ached and his voice was croaky from his time in the hospital.
But, it was damn good to be home. The scent of something cooking on the stove wafted through the air. It was warm and made his stomach rumble.
"I think it'll be an early lunch today," El said with a giggle.
"Need any help?" Neal asked, already moving towards the kitchen.
"Not right now," El responded, "it just has to finish cooking."
Neal came back in with two glasses of water. One he handed to El and the other he held out to Peter.
"Aren't you being good today?" Peter commented huskily. During the past week, El had been telling him stories about how Neal was helping her out with things around the house and making sure she had nothing to worry about; aside from Peter's condition which was improving by the day.
Jones and Diana had been sharing shifts watching over Neal while he was at the hospital or Peter's house, both places outside his radius. Neal hadn't even been trying to lose them like he normally would.
Neal was behaving. For some reason, that scared Peter almost as much as almost dying had. At least his behaviour had made it easier for Peter to get his house cleared, once again, for Neal to visit without an FBI escort.
Peter looked up to see his son and wife chatting quietly out of hearing distance. They were plotting, he knew. It did not bode well for him.
He tried to escape, pushing stiffly off the couch into a standing position. He grunted as a slice of pain stung through his side.
The moment he made the sound, he was done. Two heads turned to spot him, blue eyes flared.
"Peter! Take a moment to rest."
"Hun! I know you need to exercise, but you just got home."
The two brown haired, blue eyed caregivers descended upon him. El fussed openly while Neal was a little more subtle about it.
If dropping onto the couch and asking to watch a game with him could count as subtle. El jumped at the idea and left father and son sitting on the couch watching the game.
Interestingly enough, when Peter awoke after nodding off for a while, it wasn't the game on the TV.
As per his usual routine for the past week, Neal arose early. He walked down to the kitchen, ready to make himself and El coffee, and froze at the sight of El cooking away.
"I don't think he can eat that much," he commented, looking at the plates of uncooked bacon, eggs and bread. El stood at the stove, cooking pancakes to add to a growing pile. "Maybe I should put some of this away."
El glared at him and was about to tell him to stop but, she paused and sighed.
"You're right. I just wanted everything to be normal."
"And that okay," Neal told her. He slung a hand over her shoulder, a move which comforted her but didn't make him uncomfortable. Neal didn't wrap El in hugs, because El was the only one able to execute hugs between them. It was one of the odd, unspoken rules between them. "But, El, I've seen a normal breakfast between you to and it didn't involve bacon and eggs, toast and pancakes all together."
As he spoke, he reached for one of the cooling pancakes.
El was fast. She intercepted his hand with her own, slapping him away from the food.
"Go wake your father while I put the rest of this away," she said, motioning towards the uncooked food.
Neal nodded and moved, not giving her or him time to really think about what she had said.
Go wake your father. Never had those words been directed at him. They had seemed to flow from El's mouth so easily that he was a little jealous. Since the office knew; although Jones and Diana hadn't mentioned anything yet, he knew he needed to get over freezing whenever someone referred to Peter as his father.
His father. He shook his head at the thought. It was nice, warm even, but he was still uncertain about his place.
"Something good happen?"
Neal looked up to find Peter standing partway down the steps, leaning heavily on the banister. There was a slight sheen of sweet on his forehead from exertion but his eyes sparkled and he was smiling. Neal shockingly realised that he was smiling in a similar way.
"Nothing really," he quickly responded, his heart rate jumping. He could walk out of a building with a priceless painting or spend a night with a princess without freaking out, but put him in a house with Peter; Peter's house, and suddenly he was freaking out every few minutes. Good thing he was very good at hiding how he felt.
"Then come help me down, before my wife sees," Peter said, holding out a hand for Neal to take.
They reached the ground floor just in time, as El came moving around the corner carrying a plate of pancakes.
"Oh, honey, you didn't have to," Peter cooed.
"I wanted to," she responded in an equally sweet tone.
Neal moved to take the plate from her and moved in the kitchen, eager to get away from their goo-goo eyes.
El called after him and then walked beside her husband as he made slow progress to the table.
"When did you become such good friends?" Peter asked. It was a question that had been bugging him since he woke up in the hospital. He thought it was nice to see his son and wife together but, he just didn't understand how they got so close.
"Neal's been helping out around the house for the past week," El said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down.
"Grow up, Neal," Peter said as Neal gave him a disgusted look. They both knew it was for play, mostly. And Peter already knew that Neal had a slight issue with real displays of emotion, especially outside of work, and especially when it came to Peter and El.
"I am grown up," Neal pointed out as he piled five pancakes on his plate.
Peter and El shared a look. His screamed 'he really thinks so?' and hers said 'he's your son'.
The good thing about being injured was that Peter could watch the game whenever he wanted. The bad thing was that, other than that, there were no good things.
Except worrying about Neal, who was acting rather odd.
"Neal, go get me a beer," Peter requested.
"Peter, you can't have alcohol." Suddenly, Neal seemed to care about the rules.
"Then a water." Lo and behold, Neal got up and brought him a glass of water.
Something was definitely up.
"Neal, what's wrong?" he asked, hoping that Neal would be easy on him for once and just tell the truth.
The younger man sighed and rocked back and forth on the spot.
"You know how James told the office we're related?"
Peter nodded. However, he couldn't think of any consequences of that, aside from the secret being revealed. Once he was healed and back in action, nothing was supposed to change.
"I may not have told Mozzie yet."
Peter groaned. Mozzie, of course! Peter couldn't even imagine the little man's reaction. And he didn't doubt Mozzie's ability to uncover secrets, especially when everyone else knew.
"You better tell him," Peter advised, "before he finds out on his own."
Neal shuffled a little. He was going to put it off as long as he could.
"Neal," Peter said in a warning tone.
"Okay! Alright! I'll call him!" Neal responded, pulling out his phone.
Peter kept his eyes on Neal as he spoke to Mozzie. Neal glanced over at him a few times, his eyes flickering with guilt.
"You invited him over," Peter commented when Neal hung up.
"I'm not going to tell him this over the phone."
Peter shrugged and took a sip of water.
"You better tell him before El lets it slip."
El tugged at her ear, moving closer to the window. She could only make out the blurry forms of Neal and Mozzie sitting on the patio outside. Twisting her head away from them and pressing it to the barely open window just allowed her to hear.
"El," Peter said in a warning tone. She turned to her husband; who was sitting at the dining table and sipping at a glass of water, and shushed him.
"Look, Moz, I didn't mean to keep it a secret." Poor Neal sounded so distraught. Her heart went out to him.
"A suit, Neal? And not just any suit. The Suit! Why?" At least Mozzie wasn't raising his voice, although he did sound disappointed.
"You don't get to pick your father," Neal responded, "and would you really prefer it if James was my father?"
"He's not the Suit."
"He shot Peter, Moz. He killed Pratt. He tried to con us and he's sitting in jail, telling everyone who my real father is."
"Well, when you put it like that," Mozzie responded. After a pause, he asked, "so, are you going to move into Casa del Suit now?"
"Seriously, Moz? What kind of 30-year old man lives with his parents?"
Parents. El was unprepared for the feelings that hit her when she heard that. Parents. No matter how differently he might say, she knew now that Neal thought of them as his parents.
She was so emotional, tears began to fall.
"El? What's wrong?" She waved Peter off as he began to stand up.
"He called us his parents," she responded, her voice thick with emotion and a wobbly smile gracing her features.
Peter's smile was brilliant and he positively glowed. He held out his arms and wrapped her in a happy hug as she sobbed happily.
"Yes, he's ours now," Peter told her, "and I promise you, we're never going to let him go."
El nodded and extracted herself from his arms, heading to the bathroom to clean her face.
Author's note: This chapter ends here. Next chapter: Three times Neal called Peter 'Dad', it flows on from here.
