A Picture Can Speak a Thousand Words (Peterick)

Injuries

"Tired?" I giggled as Pete yawned. We'd almost finished venturing around the whole museum and it'd only take a short while until we had looked at every single room. It felt like an achievement. Especially dragging Pete along behind me for the whole thing. And not to forget, dodging the wardens.

To be honest, I was exhausted myself. I turned to Pete beside me and smiled at his tired actions. He rubbed his eyes, looking around confusedly after while his vision set back it. It was then and there that I realised just how adorable Pete was, and how lucky I was to have him here with me. It seemed soppy and stuff but I actually can't believe I have someone as wonderful as Pete. He's... Perfect. He's just unexplainable. And right now he's picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder. 

"Pete!" I squeal, hitting him on the back with my hands and kicking my legs, hoping to get lucky and kick him in the balls. Pete only mumbles incoherent vowels and carries on walking towards god knows where. I grip tightly onto Pete's shirt, begging for anything to make sure I don't fall. I guess this is the downside to being smaller than him. Damn, why do I have to be so short?

I give up without much of a fight, letting Pete carry me wherever he likes. I couldn't win anyway. I never can with Peter. Without warning I'm being flung into the back seat of a convertible car, bouncing on the squishy material of the seats. I instantly turn around to glare up at Peter, confused as hell. 

"What the hell are you doing?" I shout at him, sitting up and manouvering to get out of the car. He didn't even ask if I wanted to have a lift or anything. Is this even Pete's car?! 

"You forgot we have art homework?" Pete mused. "I need inspiration, and you're it."

I furrow my brows at him. "What? You mean you're doing this for a little help on your homework? Damn it, Pete, you could have just told me instead of scaring the sh-"

"Shut up, man. You're cute but you talk way too much." He cuts me off casually. I do shut up, though, and cross my arms over my chest. If he wants me to shut up, I will.

The car drive is about two or three minutes long since we both live literally around the corner from the museum. As soon as the car stopped I jumped out over the seat, clipping the edge of the door on my shoe and falling straight head-first onto the tarmac below. Idiot.

"Pattycake I don't think gymnastics are your thing," Pete cooes, kneeling down beside me and brushing the dirt and stones off of my face. I groan in reply, feeling the familiar sting of grazed skin on my temple and cheek. I hiss at Pete as he kisses down the damaged skin, slapping the side of his head to get him off. He grins at me and lifts me up, carrying me to his front door and letting himself in. This is embarrasing.

"Mom! Mom! We got an emergency here. Man down!" Pete shouts through the house in the hallway, kicking his shoes off and scuttling to the kitchen, making me bounce on his shoulder. I was going to faint any second now. I heard another set of footsteps shuffle over to us and a high-pitched gasp. I'm presuming that's Pete's mother.

"Oh, Peter. What have you done to him? Put him down on the chair, here." I hear her say. She sounds nice. I like her already.

I feel myself being plopped down onto a wooden kitchen chair and can now see both Pete and his mother staring expectantly at me. Before I can protest, I feel cotton being dabbed onto the side of my face and it stings so much worse than before. I groan.

"Shh, shh. It's okay honey buns," I hear Pete mockingly say in my ear right infront of his mother. I feel my face heat up instantly. He's going to get so much payback for this. Just after the feeling of constantly falling over has left.