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Neal woke up with a headache, which ordinarily wouldn’t be a big deal. It would’ve meant he was probably dehydrated, or he hadn’t eaten enough for dinner, or he had a bit more to drink the previous night than he had thought. Even him sitting up wasn’t a big deal, what with the intensifying stabbing pain in his eye and all that.
What was a big deal was the sudden nausea and urge to throw up as he stood.
But okay. Okay. This was fine. He was okay. Jason had said he would leave breakfast out for Neal, so he didn’t have to make anything. He just had to make it across the apartment without falling over. Or maybe make a pitstop at his easel to stab a stray paintbrush through his eye to relieve the pressure.
Breakfast wasn’t anything special, just an omelet (that was somehow still warm), but it was still a long process to eat it. By the time he had cleared his plate and dumped it in the sink to be dealt with later, Peter was expected to be there in ten minutes and Neal hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, never mind fixed his hair.
Maybe he could take a sick day.
No, Peter would probably get suspicious and demand to check for a fever or something. And it’s not like he hadn’t gone to work with a headache before - he could survive the drive. He’d be fine.
And fortunately for him, but not for his head, it was bright enough outside to warrant sunglasses.
The thing about cluster headaches was that they didn’t last very long compared to migraines.
Once he had gotten settled at his desk, coffee in hand, ready to start another day of paperwork after paperwork, the pain was almost gone. Not completely, it was still there a little bit, but he no longer felt like his head was about to explode, and he was free to jokingly flirt with Diana and talk to Clinton and banter with Peter.
Another thing about cluster headaches was that they didn’t often happen only once a day. So that left him with a steadily increasing stabbing pain behind his eye before it even reached 2 pm.
Maybe he should have taken a sick day.
At least there aren’t any big cases, he thought sullenly as he stared at the words of whatever he was supposed to be reading, the words blurring together. He pushed the heel of his hand against his eye, even though he knew that wouldn’t help his comprehension at all.
“Headache?”
Neal looked up to see Clinton standing at his desk, water bottle in hand, and he reached for it gratefully.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling, even though what he really wanted to do was cry. “Came on suddenly; I don’t even know what caused it. Must be all this - all this mortgage fraud.”
If Clinton noticed his stumble, he didn’t mention or show it, for which Neal will be eternally grateful for. He really didn’t need to try and brush off even more concerns.
“Well, hey, look on the bright side,” Clinton offered. “Only a few more hours, right? Just take it easy, and you’ll be able to give your eyes a break in no time.”
“Yeah,” Neal managed, smiling again. “Just a few more hours.”
Neal was very much in love with Jason. He also hated him so much.
He would never understand Jason’s ability to just. Know. To know when Neal needed him, like he needed him now, in his apartment, after work.
His headache was gone, but with it went his energy, too. And whatever was in the oven that was making that smell? God, he needed that. Needed Jason, too, which he hoped he conveyed that night after dinner.
Unsurprisingly, but much to his disappointment, Neal woke up with a headache the next morning. He also woke up crying, which he hasn’t done in a long, long time.
Jason suddenly appeared from wherever he had been and dipped back into bed with Neal. “You’ve been awake for two seconds, and you’re already crying?”
Neal snorted, which made the pain in his head spike. “Shut- shut the fuck up.” He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into Jason’s chest, willing his headache to abate so he could get up and get ready.
“Neal, darlin’,” Jason said, running his fingers through Neal’s hair, “you’re miserable. Please call in, take a sick day.”
“You’re a worrywart,” Neal mumbled. “I’m fine.”
Jason sighed, but it sounded more affectionate than annoyed. “Okay, dumbass, then go get dressed.”
Neal huffed, but tried to acquiesce, sitting up, wincing as his head started pounding with renewed vigour. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes before moving them to his temples, but when has that helped? Never. Absolutely never.
An arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to the side, and he leaned his head against Jason’s. “I hate this,” he whined. “I can’t - I - Jay, I hate this.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. I’ll text Peter for you, okay?”
Neal hummed in response, but he was pretty sure it came out as more of a whine instead. “Okay. Then - stay? Please?”
And Jason obliged.
“Neal, Peter texted back.”
“I don’t care.” He pulled the blanket over his head.
There was a swear from behind him. “Peter’s here.” Jason got out of bed and flipped over his pillow, smoothing out his side of the blanket.
“Jay, the,” Neal gritted out, “the dishes.”
“Yep, yep, got it. Take the extra plate, leave the extra glass. Mozzie was here last night, all is well.” And then he was disappearing into the closet. Neal rolled over and ruffled the blanket some to make it look more natural, and even that took a toll on him.
It was a full minute before Peter was knocking on the door and letting himself in, clearly not caring to monitor his volume as he called, “Neal?”
“Was my- text not clear enough?” he asked, hissing in pain as he struggled to sit up. He felt his eyes tear up again, and pointedly ignored it even though his brain felt like it was trying to vibrate its way out of his skull.
“You didn’t answer my text,” Peter said, and Neal couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or concerned because he was kind of too busy pressing his hands against the sides of his head to pay attention.
“I didn’t see it,” he said, and technically it wasn’t a lie.
A hand appeared on his forehead, and in any other instance he would’ve grabbed the arm it belonged to. As it was, he just flinched and let Peter check his temperature.
“You don’t have a fever,” he said, and, yeah, he definitely sounded annoyed.
“Jesus, Peter,” Neal said, matching his annoyance, “it’s a- cluster headache, not a stomach bug. I know what it is, I know how to. Deal with it, and I know that I can’t- I can’t go in today.” His hands had moved back to his eyes, and he was back to attempting to will the pressure away. He took a deep breath, which unsurprisingly didn’t help either. “I’ve had them since I was a kid, so I- I should know how to take care of it.” He was fully crying at this point and would probably start sobbing on top of it in a few minutes, if not a few seconds. “So, just, leave me alone, Peter. Please go to work.”
Peter backed up a few steps, thank God, but he didn’t leave, and instead asked, “Can I get anything for you?” Probably out of guilt, but at least he lowered his voice.
“Just- Water?”
He flopped back down after Peter turned around, at a speed that was definitely too fast for his pounding head. He put his hands against his eyes and just. Left them there, trying to breathe evenly enough to stop his crying. It was only half working.
And when Peter came back over, put the glass of water on the table next to him, and said, “I’ll swing by after work,” Neal didn’t say anything as he left.
He counted the seconds - eleven, twelve, thirteen - and made it to twenty exactly when Jason emerged back into the apartment.
“Do you want breakfast?” he asked, softly.
Neal shook his head, just a fraction. “Not hungry,” he mumbled.
So they skipped breakfast, and Jason stayed in bed with him until the pain had abated enough for him to use the bathroom and get right back into bed.
He didn’t manage to get into the shower until after lunch. And, honestly, it felt great. Amazing, even. Because he was exhausted, and the hot water felt nice, and he knew that Jason would be out in the apartment waiting for him, even if he was using the reprieve to work on some case or other. And Neal would use the reprieve to paint something or other, or sketch Jason, or work on the pet project he loved teasing Jason with.
Whatever it was, he wanted to get back in bed and pass the fuck out before 1:30 to hopefully sleep through round two of the headache from hell.
Which he did successfully! But he also slept until he got woken up by someone knocking on the door.
He scrabbled around for his phone and found a sticky note attached to it. Didn’t wanna wake you. I’ll be back tonight. XOXO
Neal rolled his eyes and was pleasantly surprised when there wasn’t any pain. He rolled over to his back and just stayed there, resting his eyes, when he heard at the door, “Neal?”
Right. Peter was there.
He called, “Come in!” as he shoved the sticky note under the pillow. He sat up and rolled his neck, making sure his headache was actually gone, and started rubbing at it as Peter came in.
Peter was holding a thermos and a bag that he put on the table as Neal stretched. “Have you been in bed all day?” he asked.
Neal rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who makes it a habit to check my tracking data. You tell me.” It was half-hearted, more routine than an actual jab, and Peter huffed out a laugh.
“I looked up cluster headaches,” Peter said. “Are they really as bad as the internet makes it out to be?”
“Peter, I’ve been shot without crying.”
He winced. “Yeah, you’re right. How many have you had today?”
Neal shrugged. “Well, yesterday I had two, but I made sure to sleep through the second one this time so I’m not sure. I feel fine now though.”
Peter just looked at him though. “You had to deal with this yesterday?” He sounded guilty, and Neal needed to put a stop to that, right away.
He waved him off. “Peter, don’t worry about it. You didn’t know, and it wasn’t bad enough for me to stay home. I survived, didn’t I? I’ll take the weekend to rest and I’ll be back to normal come Monday. Hopefully.”
He got up, slowly just in case, and made his way over to the table, looking in the bag. It was just takeout from a diner down the street, but there was also a bag of peanuts that Peter had to have gotten from a convenience store.
Neal couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you look up what foods to eat for cluster headaches?”
Peter’s face turned red as he said, “I was just trying to be helpful!” which just made Neal laugh harder.
“Thanks, Peter,” he said after he got his breath back. “I appreciate it. Really.”
He waved him off, but said, “Come by the house tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it. I’m sure Elizabeth can make something that helps a lot more than takeout.”
Neal smiled. “I’ll let you know.”
Jason let out a groan as he landed on the couch next to Neal.
“You better not be getting blood on the couch,” he said, not looking away from his book. “Or me, for that matter.”
“‘M not bleeding,” Jason said, shoving his face in Neal’s shoulder. “Got a headache.”
Neal bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. “Sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I didn’t know they were contagious.” He put his book down to instead run his fingers through Jason’s hair. “Do you want a baked potato or some peanuts?”
Jason lifted his head to squint at Neal. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”
Neal did laugh this time. “Peter dropped off some food that're the first search result of ‘foods that help with cluster headaches.’ I think you would’ve gotten a kick out of it.”
“Isn’t- isn’t green vegetables part of that list?”
Neal let out a faux put upon sigh. “I’ll go make some green beans.”
Jason pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, love.”