Page 5 of Need a Hand?
“Seriously,” Peter said, unable to keep quiet any more without screaming. “I didn’t mean anything.”
Damian sighed. “You thought I’d make fun of you, right? For reading comic books. Because I’m a dumb jock who makes fun of people for reading, and runs people over with an engine because I’m too stupid to readordrive.”
And no way could that amount of bitterness be all about Peter. Did people call him dumb a lot or something? He wasn’t about to touch the too stupid to drive part, even though he had kind of been thinking that himself while the surgical team prepped him to get multiple pins in his wrist.
“You can’t be stupid if you like Spider-Man,” Peter said gently. “He’s like the nerdiest superhero. Or if you’re a firefighter, right? Don’t you have to do all kinds of tests and stuff?”
Damian blinked at him in surprise, and that fiery blush came roaring back. “My brother used to make fun of me for reading stuff like that,” he mumbled. “He was always reading law books. When he was like, thirteen.”
“He sounds like a really fun guy,” Peter deadpanned. And won a laugh—an honest-to-God, head-thrown-back laugh, which somehow made Damian even more attractive. It was so unfair.
“Thanks,” Damian said, still chuckling, hazel eyes sparkling. He’d relaxed a little bit, his shoulders losing some of their tension. They were still five miles wide. Not that Peter was looking, or anything. “Seriously. I mean, I love the guy, but he’s so fucking boring, and everyone’s always kissing up to him because he makes a billion dollars an hour and drives a Lexus.” Damian paused for a second, brow furrowed. “Why are you being so nice, dude? I ran you over this morning. Shouldn’t you be yelling at me?”
It was Peter’s turn to laugh. “I think Mar has that covered.”
And then Peter winced as Mar popped around the corner of the door and said, “What do I have covered?”
She smiled brightly, too brightly, her teeth showing in a blatant display of aggression, like she’d paid full, focused attention during the biology lectures about the Smilodon and was using them as a how-to guide to social interaction.
“Weren’t you getting coffee?”
Mar held out the cup in her hand and waggled it a little bit. “Do we need to get an ophthalmologist in here for a consult, dumbass?”
“I meant how did you get it so fast, the cafeteria’s all the way downstairs. Jesus, Mary Jane, you are such a—”
“Okay, okay!” Damian smiled brightly, also showing too many teeth, but in a fake, “maybe if I look friendly the Smilodon won’t eat me” kind of way. Peter wanted to sink down and pull the blanket over his head. Obviously, Damian had already had more than enough of the “Peter and Mar yelling at each other like toddlers” show. God, he could not possibly embarrass himself any further, could he? “Glad you found some coffee, Mary Jane,” Damian went on, sounding even faker.
Mar didn’t even dignify that with a response, ignoring him completely and glaring at Peter. “Are you going to sue him?” Peter shook his head, not trusting his voice. “Fine.” She rounded on Damian. “Then get the fuck out. Before I dump this over your head.”
“But I’m—”
“Out!” Mar hefted her cup.
Damian inched toward the door. “I’m really sorry,” he said, and turned tail and ran.
Peter waited until the sound of his footsteps had receded down the hall, and then counted to ten. “Mar. Really?”
“What?” She sounded defensive, which meant she knew she was wrong. “You know how much I hate it when you call me by my full name.” Well, duh, why did she think Peter had done it right then? “Besides, you need to rest. He apologized. What else could you have to say to each other?”
Peter’s cheeks burned, and his eyes burned, and no, he was not going tocry. Yeah, he was on a lot of painkillers, and maybe still in shock, but no.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t get to talk to guys like that very often? He was being so nice…” He turned his face away and yanked his glasses off, swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown.
“Oh,” Mar said. And then, “Oh, shit, babe. You know odds are he’s totally straight, right? And that he was being extra nice because he didn’t want you to sue?”
Yes, in fact, both of those thoughts had crossed his mind. The urge to cry hadn’t faded at all.
“You suck at comforting people,” Peter mumbled into his arm.
Mar perched on the edge of his bed and ran her hand up and down his back in a slow rhythm that was actually really, really comforting, the same way she’d been doing for twenty-odd years. “It’ll be okay, Petey. It’ll be okay.” And then, right as he’d started to relax enough to doze off, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Peter’s eyes popped open. Oh no. That was never good.
Chapter Four
Damian had noexcuse for going back to the hospital the day after meeting Peter.
First of all, once he’d returned to the station with the news that Peter for sure didn’t plan to sue, Marsh told him to keep his head down, shut up, and not make any waves so he didn’t piss the guy off and make him change his mind.
