Pipers POV;

I had hardly slept through the night, my mind had been spinning with the idea of Jack but more so Peter. I had tried to convince myself that I had an interest in Jack but I didn't and that wasn't something I couldn't force but what I could do, was use this as a way of showing Peter I'd moved on.

I needed him to believe it.

Sure, he may not care in the slightest and I very well may be setting myself up for failure and heartbreak if he doesn't but if he does? If he does care, if he shows the Peter I thought I knew is still in there it would be worth it.

He hadn't spoken a word to me since last night, not that it was uncommon for him now.

He lay down, almost falling out the side of the bed to avoid me and my presence as much as possible, and every morning as soon as he'd woke he'd move over to that god damned table. He'd read, he'd doze, he'd work out stupid puzzles, he'd do anything to avoid conversing with me. I'd started to think that if he really did care for me deep down he was doing a good job of hiding it, only, there was odd glances, things he'd say, the way he'd jump to help me when I hurt myself that told me he did.

Peter was used to being cold, shutting people out and saying horrible things he knew shouldn't be said. He was good at this, acting this way.

I however, am good at reading people, Peter was the kind of book that seemed harsh at the start, brutal in its opening and confusing, where did all this chaos come from when you've only just begun reading? But the further into the book you get, you start to understand why this ongoing war had started, you realise that there's a reason for everything and there can be hope that the war would end, if given good enough reason to.

I however wanted to shower, so, those thoughts would have to be folded away neatly for now.

Since he always claimed the small table area, I ended up sitting on the bed, not exactly great for my posture, but considering I had a gash on the bottom of my foot, I had let myself off a little more today.

Now however, I would need to hobble over, because Christ did this shit hurt. I'd been stabbed, and this felt similar, possibly due to the fact I didn't need to walk on my shoulder directly after the way I do with my foot. Taking in a deep breath I put my uninjured foot on the ground firmly first, breathing out as I lifted the second one down, letting out a small groan at the feeling, the pain.

I heard the sound of the hardback book Peter had been reading smack on the marbled table.

Lifting my head to see him stood straight upward, staring ahead at me, his brows had been knitted together and eyes alert, his jaw was set with the onset of concern radiating from him. Even though it looked as if he wanted to lunge over and make sure I was okay, he stood there hesitantly as if he had been worried it would show his feelings.

I could only shake my head at him being unable to even help me, his pride getting the better of him like it used to.

I put the pressure down on my foot to try and walk, hoping to look as though the pain didn't bother me, only it did. It cut deep literally and mentally. Swallowing hard when I felt the butterfly stitches rip. I had gotten from my side of the bed to the bottom of the bed, hunching over and placing my palm down on the duvet.

Peter finally spoke, "what happened?" Making his way over to me, hesitating once again before he placed one of his hands on my back, wrapping the other hand around my arm.

While balancing on the good foot I lifted my other to see the red colour starting to stain the white bandages.

"I just wanted to shower" I tried to defend my actions not that I should have to, but I felt I did so he understood where I was coming from.

"Shit Piper, you've burst the stitches" he let out a gruff sigh, "put your arm over me" he demanded, when lifting my head to find his eyes, I was met immediately with the scent of mint, from his breath, his lips that were inches - no - centimetres away from my cheek bone. The feeling of his breath fanning over me sent me back, give in, I wanted to say, please.

"I'll be fine" I refused to put my arm over him, "the bathroom is right there, you can go back to your book"

I knew as soon as I'd spoken I'd realised I didn't have to come across as ungrateful as I did but that's exactly what Peter would've done, not to mention I felt this overwhelming flush of anger towards him here and now.

"Bullshit, your hunched over the bed, put your god damn arm over my shoulders" he wanted to co carry me to the bathroom, all I could do was let out a sarcastic sounding laugh and shake my head as a no, although Peter didn't listen, never had never would and so he mumbled a "fine, but this is on you"

"What is o-"

Before I had the chance to repeat his exact words back to him the hand he did have clasped around my arm was under my legs, pulling me up into yet another bridal position only to be walking two metres ahead into the bathroom, I did try to squirm but he'd already stopped placing me down gentle as ever on my hood foot.

"I need to fix this" he was practically caging me into the sink and unit, "stay here"

"I was actually planning on making a run for it"

I could hear drawers opening and closing and his muttering to himself while he grabbed what I'd image was a first aid kit.

Then he reappeared looming over me while I stood with one foot flat and the other being propped up on my toes, his chest was rising and falling at a quicker rate, placing the first aid kit on the unit. Taking me in entirely even with the distress look covering his face before making his way to me, closer than he had been.

"If you sit up here I can restitch" he tapped the marbled unit with his fingertips.

I nodded, all my words lost.

Pushing up on my toes to jump I let out a shaky breath at the pain, not realising I'd have to push up on that foot to do just as he asked. Peter lifted his head to meet my eyes before looking down at my feet.

"Shit, I didn't think of that" he let out an awkward clearing of his throat.

"No it's okay" I offered, "I'll get up"

Peter shook his head placing his large hands on either side of my hips lifting me up as if I were a doll, with ease, all his work outs apparently proving beneficial.

Except when his hands met the thin material of the top I was wearing I could feel the heat as if it had been skin to skin contact. I was the one who let out some sort of gasp in surprise that he'd lifted me. Placing me down on the cold unit as gentle as possible which would have been fine if he had just removed his hands from my hips, only he hadn't, not as quickly as he should've. His eyes found the part of my body which his hands touched, I could feel his fingertips pushing into my skin more, adding the slightest bit of pressure. He watched his own movements as he slowly ran his hands from where they'd been on my hips all the way down my bare thighs with the shorts I'd had on. It was an agonising touch because I wanted it and I hated it. I needed it even, I needed him to touch me and want me, I tired to think of something else, I even tried to think of Jack but his name turned to a distant memory at the feeling of his rougher fingers digging into my skin.

When he was close to my knees his hands slid round the sides of my legs so his thumbs caressed just above my knee, rubbing small circles. Without thinking, due to the feeling of him alone I curled my toes in bliss, barely feeling it for long after realising my foot was still bleeding and tensing it like that caused me to squirm at the pain.

Peter's hands immediately pulled back from me, he even took a step further back staring at me blankly.

"Sorry" he muttered again clearing his throat.

"No" I tried to object, he hadn't made me squirm at his touch, far from it in fact, I just didn't know if I could bring myself to tell him the truth, that his touch made me feel a toe curling sensation.

He only furrowed his brows at my response. I had just yelled no and nothing else but if I told him what had happened he'd know I still cared.

He just silently opened the first aid kit pulling out handfuls of items, not that I looked at that, instead I just stared shamelessly at his hands, how they moved, how his veins were predominant and his grip strong even if all he held was bandages and such.

I watched his tongue stick out to wet his lips, as if it were in slow motion.

Kiss me, I wanted to yell.

Then, he did something I hadn't thought I could imagine in an erotic manner, but I was wrong. His way of tending to my wound was dropping down on one knee and gently lifting my leg to prop my foot on the knee that stuck out. His hand held just behind my heel, holding me in place with a tight grip on me now.

The sight of him knelt down in front of me sent me on some sort of power rush, I watched to smack myself in the side of the head to stop all these thoughts I'd been having at the sight of him.

Peter Hayes is a shitty person, I tried to remind myself.

But, his face isn't shitty, his body isn't shitty, his touch is the furtherest from shitty. What was shitty was his ability to make me want him.

The feeling of the stinging antiseptic made me tug my leg, his grip being too strong and holding me firm in place. I'd imagine he enjoyed watching me squirm in some way especially after everything that had happened in here.

I closed my eyes bitting my lip to distract myself.

I felt him actively fixing the stitches until the sensation stopped, "stop doing that" his voice came out hoarse and irate. My eyes opened quickly, making me blink a few times to find him, seeing his eyes set on me and the apparent confused look on my face, "your lip" he looked back down at my foot, "stop biting your lip"

I hadn't been sure how to answer that, so I didn't. I just stared down at him while I waited for him to get this over and done with so he could go back to ignoring me and in doing so stopping the temptation he was making me feel.

I felt him place a large plaster over the stitches before then further wrapped a bandage around my foot.

When I had gone to jump down, after he'd stood back up his grip on my thigh stopped me, "I don't think so" he gave a sarcastic smile letting his eyes fall to my foot, "I'm carrying you to that bed and your not moving"

In protest I put my hand on his wrist intending on removing his hand, "I need to shower, that's why I got up in the first place"

"You don't need a shower right now" he bit back.

"I do need to be clean Peter"

"Why?" He threw out looking more angry by the second, "you invited your new friend in for the night?" My head tilted at those words, before I could question him he continued, "you're going to stay in your bed, I will help you in here to shower tomorrow" another sarcastically sweet smile, "happy?"

Happy or not he'd given me no choice, lifting me in the same way as before.