Fic: The Fidelity of Dogs
Title: The Fidelity of Dogs
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Satchmo, El, Peter; gen
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Doggy smooches
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: Neal had been in the hospital and goes home with the Burkes to recover. Satchmo administers some doggy TLC.
A/N: Fill for this prompt by virgo_79 on the Fever Fic Fest now going on over at whitecollarhc.
----
“Stay right there,” El told him as she pulled the keys from the ignition and jumped out of the car. If he had the energy, Neal would have made a smartass remark, but he honestly didn’t. Instead he just fumbled ineffectually with the seatbelt. When had they gotten so hard to work?
A case involving bond fraud had ended up with Neal taking a header off a yacht into Long Island Sound, which had led, eventually and down a very long track, to a nasty bout of pneumonia. He’d been in the hospital for the better part of a week, and had been deemed healthy enough to be released, a point he’d have argued with his doctor if he didn’t want so desperately to get out of there. With Peter downtown having to testify at a trial and Moz’s hospital phobia, it fell to Elizabeth to come and fetch him from the hospital. Both she and Peter had insisted he come to their house for a few days until he could take care of himself, and at the time he was honestly too tired to protest.
And so here he sat, in the front seat of the Taurus being fussed over by his partner’s wife, who he suspected secretly got off on having someone to baby.
He made a triumphant “Oh ho!” sound when he finally got the seatbelt unlatched and turned his head as El opened the passenger side door for him. He used the door’s frame to haul himself upright, then blinked at the bright sun overhead as if seeing it for the first time.
“Ready?” Elizabeth asked. She’d grabbed his bag from the trunk and had it slung over her shoulder, and was looking at him expectantly. He closed the car door and shuffled off up the block with her, and found himself winded after less than twenty steps. When they reached the Burkes’ house, he paused with his hand on the railing on the bottom stair and peered up to the front door. It had never seemed so far away before.
Sensing his problem, Elizabeth fit her tiny self under his left arm and supported him as he pulled himself up the stairs. By the time they made it through the vestibule door, he was seeing double, and he stumbled over to the stairs and eased himself down onto the second one, resting his head against the banister.
“So that’s where you’ll stay?” El said dryly.
“It has its charms. Like: it’s not spinning around.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“I just need to rest a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.” She moved off and dumped his stuff on the couch, then went to let Satchmo in, who’d spent the morning out in the backyard. After hopping around excitedly at Elizabeth’s presence, the dog came trotting over to Neal and sniffed him up and down. He sat beside him with a snort and inserted his snout under his right hand, tossing his head so that Neal’s hand was lifted up and, in the end, landed atop the dog’s head.
“That’s quite a trick,” Neal commented. Satchmo huffed and inched closer, impatient for Neal to get on with the ear-scratching. Neal obliged as best he could.
“I see you’ve got some company,” Elizabeth said as she returned several minutes later. “Think you can make it all the way over to the couch? I have some chicken soup for you for lunch.”
“Of course,” Neal answered and glanced at the inconceivably long expanse of twenty feet to the couch. He sighed.
“Come on,” El said and helped him up.
When he was comfortably positioned on the couch, Satch reinstalled himself beside him, sitting facing away from him with his doggy ass on Neal’s slippered left foot. A few minutes later, El came in with his lunch on a TV tray and set it beside him. “I see you’ve picked up a fan,” she said.
“Oh, he’s all right there.”
“He makes a good nurse,” she replied and returned to the kitchen to get her own lunch.
They ate together in the living room, Neal managing to eat most of the soup, but by the end of the meal he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Think you can make it up to the guest room?” El asked, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.
“Might as well. Have to get up there some time,” he said resignedly.
Satchmo hovered nearby the entire trek up the stairs, watching intently as his mama cajoled, prodded and eventually hauled Neal into the guest room.
“I now fully appreciate the phrase ‘weak as a kitten,’” Neal said, out of breath. “I never want to be a kitten.”
“I think you’d make a darling kitten,” El teased. “All black fuzz and big blue eyes.” She peeled his robe off him and made him lie down, then covered him with the blankets and went to pull the blinds closed. Neal curled into a ball on his side.
Elizabeth moved to the door, gesturing for Satch to follow her. “Elizabeth?” Neal called after her. She looked back to him with a questioning expression, brows raised. “In case I forget to say it, thanks for taking care of me.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, Neal.”
She pulled the door closed behind her and he closed his eyes, hoping that some sleep would help him feel better.
----
Hot. He was so hot again. This realization came to Neal somewhere within the depths of sleep, but being between sleeping and waking, there was nothing he could really do about it except sweat.
And then: blessed coolness. He opened his eyes to find that Satchmo had pushed his way into the room and was tugging the blankets off of him, bringing the relief he needed.
“Thanks, guy,” Neal said and patted him on the head.
Satchmo made a satisfied grunting sound and lay down next to the bed. Neal fell back to sleep with his hand hanging over the edge of the bed, trailing on the dog’s back.
----
Eyes. Satchmo was sniffing his closed eyes. Neal opened them with surprise, and then the dog licked him, once. On his eye. Neal was still lying on his side and Satch was sitting beside him, watching him. They regarded each other silently for a minute.
“Time for your medication,” El trilled, entering the room armed with prescription bottles and a glass of ginger ale. Neal sat up and took the pills wordlessly. “He bothering you?” she asked, indicating Satchmo.
Neal shook his head. “I like the company.”
She smiled and left, pulling the door nearly shut behind her.
----
Neal was dreaming about his fall again. It all happened so quickly, he barely had time to register the danger he was in at the time. He hadn’t fallen from a great height, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t a strong swimmer, but the water was shockingly cold, and his legs had become tangled up in a line of decorative flags that adorned the side of the yacht. He’d been unable to get to the surface of the water right away, and if it hadn’t been for Peter’s quick thinking, he would have drowned.
This was not upsetting to him at the time, but was clearly something his subconscious needed time to deal with, because he’d lately been dreaming of those moments he was under water, terrifying images of smudged darkness, and panicked confusion, and water flooding his lungs.
“No,” he murmured. He kicked his legs out, unable to move them. “Wait.” His head was moving back and forth on the pillow, his breathing unsteady and ragged.
Satchmo, who had risen to his feet at the first sign of Neal’s distress, made a moaning sound and took a step closer to the bed, sniffing.
Neal turned over onto his side again, his hand resting beside his face. “No,” he repeated.
Satchmo reached out with his paw and rested it on Neal’s wrist. Neal whined a little in his sleep and Satch flexed his paw, his blunt nails putting pressure on the top of Neal’s hand. He sighed and quieted immediately.
Satchmo removed his paw and sat close to the bed, laying his head on the bed beside Neal’s and watching as he fell more deeply into sleep.
----
Neal shivered. It wasn’t his fever coming back - at least he hoped not - it was just that El liked to keep a cool house, and the fact he’d kicked his blankets off of himself wasn’t helping. He reached down to pull the blankets up to his chin.
His movement roused the dog, who pushed himself up to a sitting position and woofed gently at him. They regarded each other soberly for a long minute. Neal shivered again then moved the covers back and patted the bed beside him. “Come and keep me warm, Satchmo.”
Satch glanced uneasily at the door and then back at Neal.
“She won’t mind. I’m sick and pitiful, and you know she’ll think it’s adorable. Come on up.” He patted the bed again.
Neal inched back a bit, making more room, and after a little more coaxing, Satch finally jumped onto the bed. He settled himself along Neal’s body, head on his paws, and Neal against him, soaking in his warmth and stroking the dog’s ears until he fell back to sleep.
----
It was much later when Neal woke again; it was already dark outside, and he could smell dinnertime aromas wafting up from the kitchen. When he opened his eyes, he spotted Peter poking his head in through the door.
“Feeling better?”
“A little. Very tired. It’s surprisingly difficult to sleep in the hospital.”
“I believe it.” Neal stretched. “I didn’t know you were that into blondes,” Peter said with a grin, indicating the form in bed beside Neal with his chin.
Neal looked down at Satchmo’s golden head where it rested on the pillow beside him. He and the dog lay facing in the same direction, and Neal’s hand was resting lazily along the dog’s ribs.
“You spooning with my dog?” Peter continued.
Satchmo, realizing his papa was home and in the room, lifted his head and thumped his tail sheepishly.
“He’s been looking after me all afternoon,” Neal told Peter. He started scratching the dog’s chin.
“He knows he’s not allowed up there.” Peter stepped into the room more and gave Satchmo The Look. Satch got down off the bed and sat beside it, yawning. “Think you might be able to come down for some dinner? I think El made those little chickens you like.”
Neal sat up and realized he felt much better after several hours of sleep. “Maybe. I guess I’ll see how much a visit to the bathroom takes out of me - I wouldn’t mind a shower.”
Peter nodded. “OK. Holler if you need anything.”
He left and Neal got his feet under himself, got out of the bed. Satch got up and followed, pressing his head and neck against Neal’s thigh as he moved towards the door. Neal gathered his things to go shower, then crouched down and took the dog’s head in his hands, rubbing his ears and kissing the wrinkles on his forehead.
“Thanks for taking care of me today, buddy. And you can lay your head on my pillow anytime.”
----
Thank you for your time.
A/N: Title is from the following quote by Alexander Pope: ““Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.”
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Satchmo, El, Peter; gen
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Doggy smooches
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: Neal had been in the hospital and goes home with the Burkes to recover. Satchmo administers some doggy TLC.
A/N: Fill for this prompt by virgo_79 on the Fever Fic Fest now going on over at whitecollarhc.
----
“Stay right there,” El told him as she pulled the keys from the ignition and jumped out of the car. If he had the energy, Neal would have made a smartass remark, but he honestly didn’t. Instead he just fumbled ineffectually with the seatbelt. When had they gotten so hard to work?
A case involving bond fraud had ended up with Neal taking a header off a yacht into Long Island Sound, which had led, eventually and down a very long track, to a nasty bout of pneumonia. He’d been in the hospital for the better part of a week, and had been deemed healthy enough to be released, a point he’d have argued with his doctor if he didn’t want so desperately to get out of there. With Peter downtown having to testify at a trial and Moz’s hospital phobia, it fell to Elizabeth to come and fetch him from the hospital. Both she and Peter had insisted he come to their house for a few days until he could take care of himself, and at the time he was honestly too tired to protest.
And so here he sat, in the front seat of the Taurus being fussed over by his partner’s wife, who he suspected secretly got off on having someone to baby.
He made a triumphant “Oh ho!” sound when he finally got the seatbelt unlatched and turned his head as El opened the passenger side door for him. He used the door’s frame to haul himself upright, then blinked at the bright sun overhead as if seeing it for the first time.
“Ready?” Elizabeth asked. She’d grabbed his bag from the trunk and had it slung over her shoulder, and was looking at him expectantly. He closed the car door and shuffled off up the block with her, and found himself winded after less than twenty steps. When they reached the Burkes’ house, he paused with his hand on the railing on the bottom stair and peered up to the front door. It had never seemed so far away before.
Sensing his problem, Elizabeth fit her tiny self under his left arm and supported him as he pulled himself up the stairs. By the time they made it through the vestibule door, he was seeing double, and he stumbled over to the stairs and eased himself down onto the second one, resting his head against the banister.
“So that’s where you’ll stay?” El said dryly.
“It has its charms. Like: it’s not spinning around.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“I just need to rest a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.” She moved off and dumped his stuff on the couch, then went to let Satchmo in, who’d spent the morning out in the backyard. After hopping around excitedly at Elizabeth’s presence, the dog came trotting over to Neal and sniffed him up and down. He sat beside him with a snort and inserted his snout under his right hand, tossing his head so that Neal’s hand was lifted up and, in the end, landed atop the dog’s head.
“That’s quite a trick,” Neal commented. Satchmo huffed and inched closer, impatient for Neal to get on with the ear-scratching. Neal obliged as best he could.
“I see you’ve got some company,” Elizabeth said as she returned several minutes later. “Think you can make it all the way over to the couch? I have some chicken soup for you for lunch.”
“Of course,” Neal answered and glanced at the inconceivably long expanse of twenty feet to the couch. He sighed.
“Come on,” El said and helped him up.
When he was comfortably positioned on the couch, Satch reinstalled himself beside him, sitting facing away from him with his doggy ass on Neal’s slippered left foot. A few minutes later, El came in with his lunch on a TV tray and set it beside him. “I see you’ve picked up a fan,” she said.
“Oh, he’s all right there.”
“He makes a good nurse,” she replied and returned to the kitchen to get her own lunch.
They ate together in the living room, Neal managing to eat most of the soup, but by the end of the meal he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Think you can make it up to the guest room?” El asked, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.
“Might as well. Have to get up there some time,” he said resignedly.
Satchmo hovered nearby the entire trek up the stairs, watching intently as his mama cajoled, prodded and eventually hauled Neal into the guest room.
“I now fully appreciate the phrase ‘weak as a kitten,’” Neal said, out of breath. “I never want to be a kitten.”
“I think you’d make a darling kitten,” El teased. “All black fuzz and big blue eyes.” She peeled his robe off him and made him lie down, then covered him with the blankets and went to pull the blinds closed. Neal curled into a ball on his side.
Elizabeth moved to the door, gesturing for Satch to follow her. “Elizabeth?” Neal called after her. She looked back to him with a questioning expression, brows raised. “In case I forget to say it, thanks for taking care of me.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, Neal.”
She pulled the door closed behind her and he closed his eyes, hoping that some sleep would help him feel better.
----
Hot. He was so hot again. This realization came to Neal somewhere within the depths of sleep, but being between sleeping and waking, there was nothing he could really do about it except sweat.
And then: blessed coolness. He opened his eyes to find that Satchmo had pushed his way into the room and was tugging the blankets off of him, bringing the relief he needed.
“Thanks, guy,” Neal said and patted him on the head.
Satchmo made a satisfied grunting sound and lay down next to the bed. Neal fell back to sleep with his hand hanging over the edge of the bed, trailing on the dog’s back.
----
Eyes. Satchmo was sniffing his closed eyes. Neal opened them with surprise, and then the dog licked him, once. On his eye. Neal was still lying on his side and Satch was sitting beside him, watching him. They regarded each other silently for a minute.
“Time for your medication,” El trilled, entering the room armed with prescription bottles and a glass of ginger ale. Neal sat up and took the pills wordlessly. “He bothering you?” she asked, indicating Satchmo.
Neal shook his head. “I like the company.”
She smiled and left, pulling the door nearly shut behind her.
----
Neal was dreaming about his fall again. It all happened so quickly, he barely had time to register the danger he was in at the time. He hadn’t fallen from a great height, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t a strong swimmer, but the water was shockingly cold, and his legs had become tangled up in a line of decorative flags that adorned the side of the yacht. He’d been unable to get to the surface of the water right away, and if it hadn’t been for Peter’s quick thinking, he would have drowned.
This was not upsetting to him at the time, but was clearly something his subconscious needed time to deal with, because he’d lately been dreaming of those moments he was under water, terrifying images of smudged darkness, and panicked confusion, and water flooding his lungs.
“No,” he murmured. He kicked his legs out, unable to move them. “Wait.” His head was moving back and forth on the pillow, his breathing unsteady and ragged.
Satchmo, who had risen to his feet at the first sign of Neal’s distress, made a moaning sound and took a step closer to the bed, sniffing.
Neal turned over onto his side again, his hand resting beside his face. “No,” he repeated.
Satchmo reached out with his paw and rested it on Neal’s wrist. Neal whined a little in his sleep and Satch flexed his paw, his blunt nails putting pressure on the top of Neal’s hand. He sighed and quieted immediately.
Satchmo removed his paw and sat close to the bed, laying his head on the bed beside Neal’s and watching as he fell more deeply into sleep.
----
Neal shivered. It wasn’t his fever coming back - at least he hoped not - it was just that El liked to keep a cool house, and the fact he’d kicked his blankets off of himself wasn’t helping. He reached down to pull the blankets up to his chin.
His movement roused the dog, who pushed himself up to a sitting position and woofed gently at him. They regarded each other soberly for a long minute. Neal shivered again then moved the covers back and patted the bed beside him. “Come and keep me warm, Satchmo.”
Satch glanced uneasily at the door and then back at Neal.
“She won’t mind. I’m sick and pitiful, and you know she’ll think it’s adorable. Come on up.” He patted the bed again.
Neal inched back a bit, making more room, and after a little more coaxing, Satch finally jumped onto the bed. He settled himself along Neal’s body, head on his paws, and Neal against him, soaking in his warmth and stroking the dog’s ears until he fell back to sleep.
----
It was much later when Neal woke again; it was already dark outside, and he could smell dinnertime aromas wafting up from the kitchen. When he opened his eyes, he spotted Peter poking his head in through the door.
“Feeling better?”
“A little. Very tired. It’s surprisingly difficult to sleep in the hospital.”
“I believe it.” Neal stretched. “I didn’t know you were that into blondes,” Peter said with a grin, indicating the form in bed beside Neal with his chin.
Neal looked down at Satchmo’s golden head where it rested on the pillow beside him. He and the dog lay facing in the same direction, and Neal’s hand was resting lazily along the dog’s ribs.
“You spooning with my dog?” Peter continued.
Satchmo, realizing his papa was home and in the room, lifted his head and thumped his tail sheepishly.
“He’s been looking after me all afternoon,” Neal told Peter. He started scratching the dog’s chin.
“He knows he’s not allowed up there.” Peter stepped into the room more and gave Satchmo The Look. Satch got down off the bed and sat beside it, yawning. “Think you might be able to come down for some dinner? I think El made those little chickens you like.”
Neal sat up and realized he felt much better after several hours of sleep. “Maybe. I guess I’ll see how much a visit to the bathroom takes out of me - I wouldn’t mind a shower.”
Peter nodded. “OK. Holler if you need anything.”
He left and Neal got his feet under himself, got out of the bed. Satch got up and followed, pressing his head and neck against Neal’s thigh as he moved towards the door. Neal gathered his things to go shower, then crouched down and took the dog’s head in his hands, rubbing his ears and kissing the wrinkles on his forehead.
“Thanks for taking care of me today, buddy. And you can lay your head on my pillow anytime.”
----
Thank you for your time.
A/N: Title is from the following quote by Alexander Pope: ““Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.”