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Rose flings the door open before Peter can actually ring the bell, long since aware of his approach.
“Hi,” she says, all quiet and casual, and then she flings herself through the open door and nearly tackles him with the force of her hug.
Peter makes a strange sound, something between a groan and a whimper, and she immediately releases him.
He wraps an arm around his chest protectively and won’t quite meet her eyes.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
He shakes his head, blinking like he’s trying to stop from crying. It sure seems like she’s hurt him.
“What’s wrong?” Rose repeats.
“It’s not your fault,” Peter replies. “Just…”
“Just what?”
“Ibrokeacoupleribs, but it’s not that bad. Really.”
“Slow that down for me?”
His cheeks have gone slightly pink, and Rose finds it half-endearing, half-sad.
“I broke a couple ribs. It’s nothing serious, I’ve been checked out and everything.”
She raises a dubious eyebrow, then takes his hand and tugs him across the threshold.
“Do you have drugs or anything?”
He nods. “They only do so much though. I’ve already taken them today.”
“Is there anything else you can do?”
A shake of the head. “I just have to wait for them to heal. And not put any strain on them.”
Rose nods. “Well,” she says after a beat. “I’m sorry I put some strain on them, even if it was accidental.”
Peter shrugs lopsidedly and then tries and fails to hide a wince. “My fault. I should’ve told you.”
Rose shrugs back. “No one’s fault, then. Except whoever did this to you.” She says this last sentence with a threatening note to her voice. If she gets her hands on whoever hurt him—
“It’s okay,” Peter says. “It was an accident. Bunch of scaffolding collapsed.”
“Oh.”
She supposes that’s better. Knowing no one had purposefully hurt him. Knowing he’s relatively safe, that there shouldn’t be anyone coming after him to finish the job.
“Come on,” she offers, when she feels that they’ve been standing motionless in the front hallway for far too long. “I can’t offer anything in the way of pain relief, but I’ve got microwave popcorn and a very long list of movies I’ve been meaning to watch.”
Peter smiles, and it’s slightly lined with pain but it’s also so sincere and it makes her feel all warm inside.
“Sounds like pretty good pain relief to me.”
This is how she ends up, two hours later, staring at the end credits of Double Indemnity, empty bowl of popcorn in her lap and Peter fast asleep on her shoulder.
It’s kind of perfect, she thinks, minus Peter being hurt. It’s comfortable and easy and it feels right, sitting here together like this.
This thought is rather wonderful. That she’s actually got something like this. That it’s with him.
She smiles to herself, pauses the film, and sets the bowl aside. Then she gently tugs Peter a little closer, leans her head atop his, and shuts her eyes.