ofthespider

Title; In Which There Is Unrest
Fandom; Marvel (Spider-Man/Daredevil)
Characters/Pairings; Peter Parker/Matt Murdock
Theme; 11. thought I needed this
Canon; About a week or so after In Which They Explain Things
Rating; R/NC-17
Warning(s); Language, sexual themes (bondage/violence), dub-con elements
Summary; Peter is essentially laid off from work after the incident with Bullseye. After a pep talk from a student, Peter heads home to try to make things work in the bedroom---with interesting results.
Notes; All this is turning into one storyline, so there's a little index here underneath the table if you'd rather read in order. :D


By Monday, he'd healed pretty well. The wounds were deep, would still need another few days, and that burn would linger, but he could move a bit faster now. He was still sore, but he could function.

And now, he was functioning in the principal's office before going to his classroom.

Principal Kim was nice enough. A little on the short side, balding. He was relatively new, had only been in New York for a year or two, still getting used to all the weird things that tended to happen. The office was decorated with the usual things---pictures of his family, his diploma and degrees---as well as a rather sizable collection of paper airplanes in all different colors and shapes. Not that Peter had a problem with paper airplanes, but it was kind of weird.

And now, Kim was frowning, looking at the bandages on Peter's face worriedly. "Pete, I really ... ---Are you doing all right?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, smiling reassuringly. He played the victim surprisingly well, looking appropriately traumatized. "I'm all right. Lots of sleep."

"And ... this?" Kim touched his own cheek there the bandage covered Peter's. "What happened?"

Peter swallowed hard, gently fingering the patch and flinching. "I, um. Ran into some trouble, after I left."

The principal gasped---like Peter had just told him he'd contracted cancer or, you know, stalked by a psychopathic professional assassin. "Are you---"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay." Gently, as if Kim was the one who needed comforting. "I should've seen it coming; I mean, professional assassin giving a guy a bloody nose? Didn't really jive. But I'm okay. Spider-Man stepped in. It pays to be in with old webhead sometimes." Judging by Kim's expression, he was assuming the worst, and Peter wasn't going to correct him.

"I had no idea," Kim breathed, shaking his head. "But you're all right, and ... and we have to talk, Peter. I don't want to have to do this, but I don't have a choice at this point."

Peter shifted uncomfortably, wondering if that feeling in his stomach was dread or the result of leftover Chinese food.

"I have to---I have to request that you don't reapply for next year, Pete."

Peter straightened, like that came as a shock. And it did; it shouldn't have, but it did. "What?"

"This thing with the Globe and Daredevil, Bullseye showing up. If it didn't make such an impact, I wouldn't be doing this, but ... there was a professional assassin in our school. Looking for you." Kim said it softly, reluctantly, and wouldn't look Peter in the face. "I know it's not your fault that he came here, but I cannot ignore this. I am sorry. Parents are threatening to pull their kids out of our system; they don't feel safe with you here."

Peter nodded, numb. "I understand. I do. Thank you, for doing it in person instead of ... a pink slip or a letter or something."

"It's the least I can do. Please, enjoy your last week." Coming from anyone else, it would have been vindictive, but Kim sounded so sincere Peter couldn't be mad.

"I will. Thanks." Peter pushed himself out of the chair, giving Kim a tight smile before walking out, calmly---until he was into the hall, where he made a break for the teachers' bathroom. He felt like he was going to throw up, and while he was pretty good at telling the real deal from a threat as far as that went, he still wanted to be over a sink. Just in case.

He planted his hands on either side of the first sink he reached, finding that he was shaking harder than he'd thought, that he couldn't breathe. Fired. He'd just been fired. Crap. Crap.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." Peter squeezed his eyes closed. He hadn't been fire outright, but being asked not to apply again was the same basic concept, Kim wasn't going to throw him out a week before school ended. It wasn't fair, this wasn't his fault, he hadn't taken the picture or pointed a gun at anybody. He'd just been there. Wrong place, wrong time.

If it weren't for Matt, none of this would be happening. He felt incredibly guilty thinking it, sick admitting it was true. If Matt hadn't insisted on leaning over and kissing him, if Matt would just back the hell off in public, there would be nothing to take pictures of, the bastard. And then that thing with Bullseye. It was unfair to blame Matt for that, he hadn't given Bullseye the address and said here, go get him, have a gun, he leaves his classroom window open. Maybe Bullseye would've taken notice of Peter without Matt. It was bound to happen eventually, right?

...Yeah, eventually. But not right now. Not last Friday. Not in front of innocent students.

"What the hell am I doing?" he breathed, resting his forehead on the mirror, rather than looking up at himself. "What am I doing here?" He wanted to go home; he should've swallowed his pride, moved back in with Aunt May. Good, supportive Aunt May, who'd accepted Matt without so much as blinking. She'd know the right thing to say right now, if she knew all the details. If the details didn't give her a heart attack.

It was embarrassing, but Peter just wanted to run home to his aunt. Forget all this ever happened, that he'd ever said yes to moving in. But ... well, shit. Matt had him put on the lease. All his stuff was there. And ... and he didn't want to leave Matt. Matt made him feel safe. Secure. Wanted---something he desperately needed right now.

"It's just a road bump. Relationships have road bumps, you knew it was dangerous. You can take it." Peter looked up, looked at himself in the mirror, right in the eye. "Where else are you going to find someone like Matt Murdock, anyway? He wants you. He cares about you. It's not like he meant for this to happen. You'll just have to find somewhere else to work, that's all. This isn't the only school in the city. You didn't expect it to be easy, right? It's just a job, you can get another one."

But he was still shaking, and he couldn't look at himself for very long. Couldn't stand watching the face across from him beg for the right answers. Maybe some magical superhero fairy that pulled solutions out of a hat. He had one obvious option, but what good would running away do now? He'd already lost his job. He was already in trouble. Taking Matt away from himself would do more than break Matt---it would break Peter, too.

He heard the bell ring out in the hall, the flurry of movement and footsteps and voices and knew he had to move. He couldn't stay in the bathroom all morning like that. Come on, Peter, stand up straight. Take it like a man. Buck up, son, that was what Uncle Ben would have said. Can't change it now.

Peter looked back up, back into the face that demanded answers, and turned away. His hand was on the doorknob before he rushed back, like he'd expected the face to be gone by the time he came back and said, "You have to face the music, Parker. You chose the CD, now go out there and sing along with it. People may throw rotten fruit at you, but you can't pretend that's anything new."

Taking his own speech to heart, Peter nodded to himself and went to open the door.


* * *


The rest of the week went far too fast. School was finishing, he had to watch over a couple final exams. Peter largely let the students do what they wanted after their tests, watched them huddle up in groups and plan what they would do with their last days. Some in the sixth period bio class were still shaken from the Friday before, some asked if Peter was okay, but for the most part, they liked to pretend it didn't happen---at least, in front of their teacher. It was something they would share for the rest of their lives, even if they never spoke of it.

Matt was being more affectionate and attentive than usual, making up for the weeks they'd lost to Peter's nerves over Bullseye. He'd made Peter promise to lay off of Spider-Man until he was healed, and after the sixth or seventh time Matt had insisted, Peter had agreed to stay home until he was better, leaving him alone when Matt left to be Daredevil. By Friday, he was almost fully healed, leaving nothing but bruises, some worse than others.

He was sad, to see the week end. His last day at Midtown High. He'd miss the place, no doubt about that. But it was for the best. They'd have to find a different science teacher, but they would make due. Someone else would need him, somewhere, maybe he would check out school in Clinton, instead, closer to home. It had gotten around somehow that Peter wouldn't be coming back, but nobody talked about it.

Except one.

His name was Jordan Harrison. He was short, a little awkward, and passionate about biology. Peter didn't have favorites (or, he liked to say he didn't), but he had a soft spot for Jordan. And now, he was standing on front of Peter's desk while Peter packed his papers for the last time, lagging despite the fact that the bell had rung for seventh.

"Are you really leaving?" he blurted. Peter stared at him for a moment, looking down at Jordan before he nodded.

"Yeah, I am."

"Yeah, but." Jordan grimaced. "Ngh. I mean, did Kim fire you because Bullseye punched you in the face? Because that's not fair."

"Mr. Kim," Peter corrected. "I'm just not reapplying next year. I'll probably go somewhere in Clinton. They need more science teachers."

"We need science teachers." Jordan huffed, shoving short brown hair out of his face. "I mean, I don't really care about the other kids. I'm gonna be honest. They don't really care about chem or physics or any of that, most of them won't even make it to physics. But I actually need this stuff, you know? Maybe that's really selfish, but I need a good teacher, or I'll make it to college with nothing but an affinity for squishy sea animals. If I even get to college. I can't get stuck here with some earth science nobody who teaches out of the book, you know what I'm saying?"

Peter frowned, listening to all this. Wishing he could put everything down and promise Jordan he would fix everything, he could stay and make sure he got what he needed. A kid like Jordan would need physics, he'd need a decent teacher when he was a senior taking college biology, someone who knew what they were talking about. Jordan reminded him of himself, younger than his classmates, the nerd who always had the answer; Jordan might not have been a genius the way Peter was, but he had the drive to make up for it. Drive was important, but a bad teacher could waste it.

Instead, he said, "Maybe you'll get lucky. You never know." Peter didn't believe himself---and neither did Jordan.

"This sucks."

"...Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Will you tutor me?" Jordan blurted. "I mean, if you won't be here. Can't you?"

Peter hesitated, opening his mouth, closing it. "...Hn. I'll think about it. I will think about it, all right? Don't be disappointed if I can't."

"Okay." That seemed to satisfy him, and he half turned, ready to go, before turning back, asking, "Is Mr. Murdock all right?"

"Is he...? Yeah, he's fine, why?"

"Mom said he wasn't at work last Saturday. I thought maybe, you know, Bullseye went for him too or something."

Peter cocked an eyebrow. "Wait, how does your mom know him?"

"Oh. She's a paralegal in the firm." Jordan grinned, shrugging apologetically. "Says Mr. Murdock's gone a lot but she was worried about last weekend but that's it's kind of rude to ask him directly." Like it was less rude to ask his boyfriend, instead.

Peter snorted. "Yeah, he's perfectly fine. He took a sick day to stay with me."

"Mom doesn't care, by the way. If he's gay or whatever," Jordan added. "Or if you're gay. She didn't call in or anything. She likes you, likes Mr. Murdock, and thinks it's all really stupid to be raising a fuss about it." He stood up a little straighter when he said that, obviously reciting it nearly verbatim, even raising his voice a little bit to imitate his mother.

Laughing, Peter shook his head. "Your mom sounds like a great lady. You tell her to call me and we'll see if we can swing tutoring next year, all right?"

"All right. I'll see you around, Mr. P."

"You, too, kid. Have a great summer."


* * *


By Sunday, Peter felt good. Good enough to have put on the suit and swung around the city. Instead, he went shopping. (Hey, superheroes needed groceries, too.) Returning home from the store bearing milk, eggs, and other household essentials, he found Matt hanging out in the kitchen, running his fingers over the Sunday paper.

He raised his head as Peter put the groceries away, running his hand down Peter's back when he was close enough. "Hey, you got a call while you were out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. From Lydia Harrison, about tutoring? I didn't know Lydia had a kid."

"Lydia...? Oh. Right." He'd forgotten that Jordan's mother worked for Matt for a second there. "I told Jordan we'd talk about chemistry tutoring next year. She leave a number?"

"Of course. I wrote it down for you."

"Thanks." Peter kissed Matt briefly on the cheek before moving over to the phone. The pad beside it had a number messily scribbled on it; Matt didn't often write, for obvious reasons, but he could. The numbers were spaced oddly, never in a straight line, some bigger than others. It made Peter's handwriting look like calligraphy. He picked up the phone, dialing slowly, squinting to make sure he was getting the numbers right and sighing in relief when Lydia picked up.

He idly scribbled on the pad of paper while he spoke to her, rewriting the phone number and telling her that he'd do what he could, it depended on what happened with getting a new school and how many sections he would be teaching. When he hung the phone up, he felt Matt come up behind him, chest against Peter's back.

"How do you feel?" Matt asked, kissing his ear. Peter grinned.

"Great."

That was all it took; a second later, Matt was covering Peter's eyes with a blindfold, kissing his hair when he tied the knot. "Good." Peter's heart skipped a beat, reaching back to touch Matt, leaning into Matt's hand when he touched Peter's face, fingers brushing over his mouth.

"Do you trust me?" Matt breathed, mouth against the back of Peter's neck.

"With my life." Peter tipped his head to the side, exposing more of his neck while Matt kissed. The blindfold was soft, effectively blocking most of the light in the room. He let his eyes drift closed.

"And you'll do what I tell you?"

Peter shuddered and hesitated, just for a moment. It was just sex. It wasn't like he was handing control over for the rest of his life, here. But Matt would never hurt him. Matt traced Peter's mouth while he thought, running his fingers over Peter's lower lip, slipping in when Peter opened his mouth to answer; Peter touched pads of Matt's fingers with his tongue, sucking for a moment. "Sure. Why not." The concept was actually kind of hot, once he got over his paranoia. Giving up control, letting Matt take the reins---Peter was usually game for being a bit rougher than usual, but he didn't want to put Matt in any pain, so he didn't tend to ask.

Matt sighed against the back of his neck, tipping his head up to bite Peter's ear, gently smacking his cheek---just enough to make a sound, more of a touch than an actual strike. "I don't want you to do anything to me unless I tell you to. And that means no talking, if you think you can handle that. Can you?"

Peter couldn't help but think they were missing something here, but he brushed the feeling off. They would be perfectly safe. He trusted Matt. Smacking Peter around would hardly hurt him, and he found he ... kind of liked it. "Try everything once."

"Good boy." Matt gave Peter an affectionate smack on the ass, kissing his cheek. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Hm? No."

"Don't close them," Matt murmured, pushing up Peter's shirt, easing it up over his head and tossing it aside. "I don't walk around with my eyes closed. The blindfold will keep it dark, but don't close your eyes. I want you to know how I feel."

Peter opened his eyes, unsure of exactly how Matt would tell the difference. It was a little unnerving, being in the dark with his eyes open; it forced him to hone in on Matt's hands moving down his body, Matt's mouth against his neck, waiting for what he was going to do next. It was a little scary, but thrilling. This was normally where they'd joke around, but they were left with the sound of Matt's breathing without Peter's chatter to fill the air.

"Come here." Still pressed against Peter, Matt nudged him into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The sound of the door closing made Peter wince. "Window's closed, too," Matt hissed, biting his ear. "You're stuck here, Spidey."

Peter habitually opened his mouth to reply---and was met with another smack, this one just a bit harder than the last.

"I was serious about that not talking thing." Matt's voice was playful, but Peter could tell he meant it. All right. Peter could play at that game. "You go sit up against the post at the foot of the bed. Try not to trip."

And then Matt was gone. Peter could hear him moving around the room, shuffling through something---probably the closet---and he made his way over to the bed, feeling it out before sinking down, shifting when Matt paused to say, "On your knees. Make sure you're naked by the time I get there." Peter slid his pants and boxers off, getting a kick out of Matt actually being bossy. Or, rather, letting Matt be bossy. Having his legs curled under him and resting against the post wasn't uncomfortable, either; he'd sat in worse positions for longer.

When Matt came back, he tapped Peter's cheek with what he'd pulled out---his billy club. Peter sucked in a breath, wary of the club and then scolding himself. A weapon was only as dangerous as the person holding it. Still, he would swear her heard Matt's breath hitch. He'd noticed.

"Hands behind your back, Parker." Matt crouched, kissing Peter firmly on the mouth while he cracked the club in two, reaching behind Peter to tie his hands, pushing his tongue into Peter's mouth. He groaned when Peter automatically sucked, pulling the cord a bit tight for comfort and shuddering when it made Peter moan sharply.

Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, Peter instinctively leaned forward, trying to get closer to Matt. He was more aware than before of his nakedness, knowing Matt was still dressed, and of his erection, completely exposed to the air. Matt's reaction was to reach down and push his thighs apart even further, completely avoiding his cock, even as Peter arched his hips up in an attempt to catch Matt's attention.

"I know," Matt assured him, gently mocking while he kissed down Peter's neck. "I know it's there. I can hear you pulling on the cord; careful you don't break the bed. My God, your heart is racing." Matt dropped down to kiss the left side of Peter's chest before going even further to bite his nipple, eliciting a shocked grunt that was surprisingly aroused---even to Peter. "Hn. Interesting."

With that bit of nonverbal encouragement, Matt stayed there, giving Peter little bites and licks before moving over to the other nipple. Peter liked it more than he'd thought he would, and his heartbeat must have given him away, let Matt know it was all right to suck until it was almost painful and not be too careful when he used his teeth. He was hard, made worse by the fact that his bucking and twisting wasn't making Matt reach down and touch him. Under other circumstances, Peter would have just told Matt what he wanted, but he knew if he opened his mouth again, Matt would smack him.

...Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but he didn't want to whine about an erection, you know?

"It's not all about you," Matt hissed, and Peter winced at the unexpected aggression, but chalked it up to being part of the game. "You can wait. I'm going to let your cock hang out for a bit, let you see how it feels to have that nice, uncomfortable hard-on." Matt kissed his cheek---a little gesture that seemed to assure Peter he was just playing. "I like the way your heart sounds when you want something."

With that, Matt was getting up, leaving Peter to feel rather alone. Matt was silent, wherever he was and whatever he was doing. Honestly, he was probably just standing to the side. Listening to Peter's erratic breathing and straining against the billy club. Peter whined under his breath.

That must have caught Matt's attention, because a moment later, there was another smack, stronger than the last one. "Don't whine, Pete." A hand smoothed Peter's hair, comforting and affectionate after the smack. "Tell me what you want; I'll let you talk."

Peter considered pleading with Matt to touch him, knew that was probably what he wanted. Instead, he said, "I want your cock in my mouth. I need to suck your cock, Matt." It was a relief to open his mouth and talk, made even better when Matt sucked in a breath. He hadn't expected that.

"Is that what you want?" Peter could hear Matt unzipping his pants, pushing them down; the next time Matt touched him, it was with his cock, brushing the head over Peter's mouth. Peter opened his mouth, barely getting the chance to touch the tip of Matt's cock with his tongue before he was being pushed back by his hair. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Matt tugged painfully on his hair, making Peter gasp. "You heard the question."

"Why do I want to suck your cock? I want to make you feel good." When Matt let go of his hair, Peter leaned forward, trying to find Matt's cock with his mouth. Still talking, knowing Matt got off on it. "Want you to fuck my mouth until you come---"

For whatever reason, that seemed to agitated Matt, earning Peter another smack. "You'd want that, wouldn't you? Make me come, maybe I'll be so grateful you deigned to put your mouth on my cock I'll touch you. You know what that does to me; I'm in charge, here. You're the one tied up, not giving orders."

...Woah. Okay. Now, Peter was a little confused. "...What?"

Peter could hear Matt zipping up his pants again, snapping, "You know what I'm talking about. You always have to be pulling the strings, don't you? Just because you have powers and you've been prancing around in tights longer---"

"Matt, what the hell?" Peter interrupted. "I---"

His spider senses kicked in an instant before Matt backhanded him. Hard. Normally that would have been enough time to dodge. Normally.

There was a moment of tense silence, the only sounds in the room of their breathing---Matt's angry and Peter's shocked. It lasted for what felt like forever, Peter's heart racing with genuine fear. Like he'd just realized he'd let a violent, dangerous vigilante tie him up and smack him around.

"...You---"

"Shut up."

"Matt---"

"I said, shut up---"

"I heard you---"

"Then stop talking!" It was punctuated with another blow, this time an actual punch---which was about when Peter saw stars and decided:

"We're done." Before Matt could hit him again, Peter twisted, shoving him back with a foot. He heard Matt stumble and hit the dresser, struggling to untie himself before Matt recovered. Whatever the fuck had just happened, Peter didn't want to stick around and wait for Matt to decide to beat him with the lamp or something. He was officially freaked out. Matt had never been so blatantly cruel before, at least not to the point of hitting him, and if that was all it took to make him start throwing punches, Peter wasn't sure he wanted to see Matt mad about something big.

Instead, he heard Matt drop down in front of him, muttering, "Oh my God, oh my God, I am so sorry." Like something in Matt had just ... flipped off, like a switch, and he was pulling down the blindfold.

Peter stopped struggling when he saw the look on Matt's face---desperate, pleading, looking almost like he would cry. "Matt...?"

"I am so sorry," Matt repeated, leaning against Peter, kissing his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just---I got carried away, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to---"

Peter frowned, torn between being pissed off and ... feeling sorry. He arched his neck, nuzzling Matt as best he could. "Shhh. Shh, it's fine. It's nothing I couldn't handle." When in doubt, make excuses. "Shh." Something was obviously wrong with Matt, but ... first, he needed to calm down. Peter was too absorbed in trying to get Matt to stop shaking; Matt upset was more scary than Matt trying to beat on him.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away; I never wanted to hurt you, but something just went through my head and I ... I lost control. Please don't leave me."

"What?" Peter blinked.

"Don't leave me," Matt pleaded, moving as if trying to curl around him. "That won't happen again, I got angry for some stupid reason, we just won't do this anymore---"

"Hush. I'm not leaving. --I can't, you've got me tied up," Peter joked, forcing the humor rather than admit he was scared. The sudden switch was jarring, Matt's reaction distracting him from really thinking over what had just happened.

Instead of cheering him up, it made Matt jump, repeating his apology again and reaching around to untie him. As soon as his hands were free, Peter put his arms around Matt, smoothing his hair back.

"Come on, relax. It was a little mistake." Yeah, a little violent mistake. But Peter held him, rocking gently, like he could protect Matt, even when what had him so scared and shaken was himself."Shhh. Shh, I'm not going anywhere."

And oddly enough, Peter was shocked by how much he meant it.


* * *


They'd gone to bed the night before without trying to repair the attempt at sex. It was just better for both of them. Instead, Matt fell asleep practically laying on Peter, uncomfortable unless Peter was touching him. They didn't talk about what had happened, other than Peter shushing him and assuring him it was all okay. Sometimes it was true, sometimes it wasn't, but Matt let him lie. For once, it took Peter longer to sleep than Matt, up thinking over everything Matt had said when he was angry. Matt was like a drunk person when he was mad: he said exactly what he meant, and he'd said a lot.

Matt woke up before Peter did, and by the time Peter was wandering out of bed and into the bathroom, Matt was in the shower.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"You sleep okay?" He heard Matt pause behind the curtain.

"Yeah. Slept fine." Peter reached up, wiping off the mirror while Matt turned off the water---and flinched. A bruise bloomed across his cheek from where Matt had punched him. Damn it. And he'd forgotten all about last night until just now. "Well god damn."

"What? What damn?" Matt stepped out of the shower, reaching for his towel.

"You really got me." Peter sounded somewhere between pissed and kind of impressed, shoving any new thoughts to the back of his head. He wasn't ready to deal with those just yet. "Damn." He poked the bruise, hissed.

"Oh, God. How bad?" Matt secured the towel around his waist and went over, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder---tense, like he was nervous Peter would shrug him off.

He didn't. He stared at the mirror instead. "Shit, man."

"I'm sorry. It won't---"

"---happen again? Yeah, I know, you spent three hours last night telling me that. But if it does, I'll kick your ass, you know that, right?" Peter glanced back, saw Matt nod solemnly.

"You want some ice for that?"

"Nah. I'll be fine. But, you know. Next time, ass kicking."

Matt frowned. "Why aren't you more pissed about this? If I got anyone else like that, they'd have been out the door last night, what the hell is wrong with you?" Grateful, but ultimately questioning Peter's sanity.

Peter shrugged. It was more of a big deal than he was letting it be, but he had a lot to think about, before he turned this into A Discussion. He was certain of only two things---and one was that he'd forgiven Matt the night before.

"It was a little slip up. Neither of us thought that would happen," Peter explained calmly. "I should've thought ahead. I think we messed up, too, skipped some steps. It wasn't as safe as it should've been. We'll do better next time, if there is a next time."

"God damn it, Peter! You're touched in the head, aren't you? I punched you. Your face is bruised because I couldn't control myself long enough to have some fun, and you're staying?" Matt had clearly expected a fight, some kind of opposition. Something. He must have been gearing himself up for the confrontation---and now he found himself in a weird position without it.

"Well ... yeah." Peter paused. Hesitated, and then: "I love you. We'll work it out."

"...What?"

"We'll work it out."

"No, stupid, the part before that."

"...I love you?"

"That part."

Peter swallowed hard. Shrugged. "Yeah, well. You know. I do. So we'll work it out. But, I mean, you're totally screwed if you hit me again, so don't make a habit of it." Also, you're clearly kind of screwed up in the head and I'm afraid to leave you to your own devices at this point.

Matt shook his head and laughed---probably so he didn't start banging his head on a wall or something. "You're insane."

"You and me both, Matty. Don't let it go to your head."