Yellow.
May or may not reinstate this. But I figured I wrote this, might as well post it. Review ? Neal has always loved Lemons. The zing of the sour as it dances over his tongue is his favorite part. But the smell, its always been special. His mother smelled like lemons, her hands would waft the scent as she picked him up, kissing him on his cheek. She would bake lemon cake, hiding out in the kitchen for hours as she mixed various ingredients, humming an Annie tune at the top of her lungs.
He almost cried the day that Peter offered him lemon cake on a stakeout.
"El made it, you know it'll be good." Peter coaxed to a denying Neal.
"No, I'm good." he lied, rubbing his chest like he could rub away the ache from missing her.
It wasn't that Neal didn't want it, he wanted it like he wanted his childhood. It was that he knew the first bite he took he would burst into tears. He knew that the tangy taste would lead to a long road of longing and wishing and he just couldn't have that. So he denied even as his blue eyes lingered on the slice that held so much of his mother.
On his mother's birthday the year Kate died he sucked on lemons the whole day. Peter looked at him weird as he puckered and whimpered on the sour taste. He didn't understand the ritual, how it was the only thing that made Neal feel like he was with her. On that hill in their backyard. watching the deer in the woods. They would sit out for hours, watching the deer pick through the daffodil field, roaming and playing. He loved the fawns, they would trip over their legs, folding them underneath their bodies as they fell. He loved watching them act like it was intentional. Those days were always windy and would carry his mother's scent over the fields like a pretty note of music.
He has always loved lemons. So when Peter invited Neal to a good old-fashioned picnic and promised lemonade he instantly agreed. Receiving another odd look from Peter, he shrugged and said any company with El was good.
"You get too close to her and I'll shoot you!" Peter warned and Neal rolled his eyes.
"I'll stay a whole Diana away." he promised as Diana muttered something under her breath.
Later that afternoon Neal was strolling up to a picnic in the middle of a daffodil field and he chuckled at the similarity. The familiar ache burned in his chest and he stretched a special smile across his cheeks. El waved him over, her dark hair blowing across the wind. Neal swore he could smell his mother's lemon scent right then and there. Sitting on a classic red and white checkered blanket he took deep breaths, struggling not to break down. Not to cry at his childhood in this day.
He tuned out Peter as he spoke, closed his eyes as they moved around and jumped when they yelled something.
"Happy birthday!" El and Peter shouted, Diana coming up behind them with a perfect lemon cake.
Neal stopped fighting then, allowing a few tears to roll down his cheeks. He forgot all about his birthday.
"Do you not like it?" El asked, a pout on her lips.
"Not like it? It's perfect, how did you know?" Neal breathed, hugging her tight.
With or without his Mother she would always be in his heart. He had a new family too, one that remembered his birthday even when he forgot. He would never forget this day. He would never forget how special they had made it for him.
El passed him a slice and Neal sighed. This, this right here was home.