Hello everyone! This story was meant to be a one shot, but this idea for a morning-after follow-up wouldn't leave me alone. This chapter is from Niko's point of view. Reviews are always appreciated.

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Cal's face did not hide crying very well. His pale skin became splotchy and it betrayed the redness far longer than most people's. I'd seen plenty of this when he was younger, but it had been quite some time since he'd really cried in front of me. I'd often seen him angry and I'd seen him grieve, but my little brother usually didn't let himself break down in quite this way. When he was small, he wouldn't hesitate to crawl into my lap after incidents like this, and I would hold him far longer than his tears lasted. He was an adult now however and I wasn't surprised when he pulled away from me after only a few moments.

"Niko, this won't happen again," he said, his voice so earnest it hurt me to hear it. I knew he needed me to believe him, and I did, in part. I knew he meant it 'for honest and for true,' as he used to say as a child, but I also knew him better than he knew himself, and I knew he would put himself in danger again in the future. But hopefully not in the same way. "I didn't think anything bad would happen," he continued, "but I know it could have. I'll pay attention and double check the details in the future. I really didn't mean to make you worry or to put anyone in danger, but I know that I did."

I was proud of him for taking responsibility. He was becoming a man, and a few juvenile relapses along the way didn't make me think otherwise. "It was a mistake, little brother," I said, meeting his eyes. "I know you won't repeat it. It sounds like a lesson has been learned, so let's leave it at that."

Cal exhaled deeply and for just a moment I thought he was going to lean into my arms again. Instead, he stood. I followed suit and we moved toward the kitchen, away from the workout mats and what had just happened. Cal still looked pretty miserable, but it was hard to tell if that was just the splotchy remnants of his tears, or if he was actually still upset. I was never fully convinced that he was okay until the final evidence that he'd been crying had completely faded, and he'd teased me more than once that I babied him after a punishment for much longer than a spanking actually lasted. He was right, and I didn't see any problem with that.

"Do you want to lie down for a few minutes while I make dinner?" I asked, glancing at the contents of the fridge.

"No, I'm wiped out. I'm gonna call it a night and go to bed now," he said, his voice husky.

That brought my attention back to my brother. The corner of one of his eyes was wet—was that a new tear or a lingering one? I closed the fridge and moved close to him to wipe it away with my thumb, which only caused his eyes to well up all over again.

"Don't do that, Nik," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, blinking quickly to push his emotions back. He tried to turn away from me, but I caught his wrist.

"Hey," I said, letting authority color my low tone. It worked and he turned back to face me. I tugged his hand up so it was covering his heart, and I held it in my place with my own hand. I waited a moment so I could be sure he was feeling his heartbeat, and then I said, "You're mine, Cal. No matter what."

He nodded, and I let his hand go. A small trace of a smile crossed over his mouth. "You're such a softy, Cyrano," he said under his breath, but loud enough that he knew I could hear him.

I gave him a small smile back. "I'll leave you a plate in the fridge in case you're hungry later."

He went to his bedroom. If he'd been a child still, I would have gone with him to tuck him in and maybe sit with him until he fell asleep. Adult or not now, I'd meant what I said—he was mine. I had at least a few moments every day in which I felt that my entire heart was walking around inside him, and it sometimes physically hurt to be away from him. I knew other brothers didn't feel that way, but I suspected some parents did. The good ones, anyway. To go from having this person totally depend on you for all of their food, protection and comfort to having to let them make mistakes and take risks as adults…it wasn't easy. And perhaps I'd failed at that today. I'd given Cal a child's consequence for an adult mistake. I sighed. I'd make him breakfast tomorrow and talk with him about it.

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I woke the next morning at 5:30 and went through my usual routine of meditation and kata before showering. When I emerged, I was surprised to find Cal in the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Cal? Did you mix up AM with PM again on the clock? It's just after six in the morning."

His lips twitched in a small smirk. "Funny." He went back to whisking the eggs. "I'm making breakfast." At my raised my eyebrows, he huffed. "It's an apology."

"Ah. I was under the impression we'd already covered that," I said as I peered into the bowl over his shoulder. "Either way, I prefer my apologies sans eggshell."

Cal cursed under his breath and made a valiant effort to fish out fragments of white shell from the bowl. I patted his shoulder and moved behind him to fill the teakettle with water. "Do you want coffee?" I asked, measuring green tea into a diffuser. Cal's grunt of assent prompted me to fill his coffeemaker as well and set it to brew. "I do appreciate the gesture, little brother," I continued, "but it is unnecessary. As far as I'm concerned, yesterday's matters are, for the most part, settled."

He stirred the eggs and grunted again. "Well, my ass still hurts and I still feel bad. I don't know what else to do about that, so here we are." He moved to the fridge and pulled out a grapefruit that was presumably for me, although perhaps his feelings of contrition would lead him to eat half of it himself. He abandoned the stove to find a cutting board and knife, and I tugged at his ponytail as I passed behind him again to turn off the burner.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered, grabbing plates from the cabinet. I scraped half of the eggs onto each plate and poured him a cup of coffee while he halved the grapefruit. Catching my eye, he actually put one half on his own plate. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him and took a seat with my tea at the counter. He brought our plates and his coffee over, but remained standing, now pointedly not meeting my eye.

Cal took a few bites of his eggs in silence, obviously thinking something over. Eventually: "What did you mean, 'for the most part'?"

"Well, let's take the fact that you still feel badly. Why do you think that is?'

He shrugged automatically. "I don't know. Because I screwed up."

I sipped my tea and pushed further. "Do you usually feel like this after…" I let the question trail off.

Cal picked up his untouched grapefruit and placed it next to my plate with more force than necessary. "I don't know Nik, I'll have to check my diary from the fifth grade."

Ignoring the fact that the fifth grade was hardly the last time I'd used corporal punishment to correct his behavior, I took another sip. "Do you think I'm angry with you?"

Cal stared at me for a long moment. Despite the sarcasm of his last comment, he wasn't holding last night against me. He was frustrated though. I knew that calmly asking him questions was not the response he wanted, but I needed to show him that I trusted him to identify his own problems. Finally, he sighed. "No," he said softly. "I know you stopped being angry at me yesterday. But I'm still angry at me."

I nodded. "That's good," I said, causing Cal's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. I replaced the grapefruit on his plate with a pointed look before continuing. "When you were a child, you let me be your conscience. You trusted me to decide if something was okay or not, and you didn't question my judgment. Correct?"

He poked at the fruit with his fork, "Yeah, but that's still true."

His response made me smile, and I let him see it. "In part, yes, but what I'm saying is that you've grown up. You're holding yourself accountable beyond my forgiveness. That's good, little brother."

Cal snorted and set down his fork to rub at his eyes with both hands. "You give me so much credit Cyrano. I screw up so bad that you spank me like a little kid, and then you tell me I'm acting like an adult because I felt so shitty that I needed you to explain to me what's going on in my own head? You're saying this is me being responsible?"

I took a last bite of my eggs and returned my fork to the plate. "Yep." I pushed my plate toward Cal. "Do the dishes when you're done with your grapefruit so I can be even prouder of you," I said, knowing snark would resonate with him more clearly than sincerity. I did give his shoulder a squeeze though because adult or not, little brothers still need reassurances. And big brothers still need to give them.