Just to warn you guys, there's some conflict a-brewing in this chappy… but don't fret, our heroes always make up in the end. Hmmm-- if only they would kiss and make up.

As Pete shut the Farnsworth after a curt goodbye from Artie, he looked over at his partner, who was dutifully scribbling in her notebook. He'd never really know if the next thing out of his mouth was honestly his current feelings or just his own insecurity coupled with his fatigue, but at that moment he wasn't really thinking at all.

"God, do you ever stop working?! You're like a robot. A freaking non-stop, robot-thing."

She looked up, expressionless. "At least I'm working and not whining to Artie like a sleepy five year old." Her tone remained calm, she knew he was tired and didn't really mean it, but she couldn't let him call her a robot and get away with it.

He interpreted her forced serenity as patronizing and it made him even more annoyed. He was tired of being thought of as second best; he was good at his job and he knew it, even with his childlike and spontaneous nature that seemed to irk Myka so much. He wasn't second best. He wasn't. "Yea, I'm tired. Yes, I can whine a little when I'm tired. Sure, I can act like the five year old or ten year old at times; but at least I express my emotions Myka. I'm not a robot like you. And you know what? I think goofing off sometimes makes me better at my job because even though you don't think so, I am good at my job. I'm just as good as you, if not better, because I'm a better team player than you are."

Myka was getting frustrated. She didn't really understand where all this was coming from, this didn't sound like Pete. She was not a robot. "I'm a team player! What are you talking about Pete?"

His voice rose again, a certain malevolence entering his tone, even as he kept the volume somewhat conservative, not wanting to wake anyone up.

"Did you even notice that you took ALL the credit for finding that stuff today without even mentioning me?

Myka tried to remember exactly what she'd said, and realized the truth of his accusation. This recognition would have been enough to make her apologize, if only he had not continued his heated tirade.

"…and hell, I'm the one who actually wants to do this job Myka; you just wish you could go back to being 'little miss hero' in D.C. You can suck up as much as you want to Artie, and be as pushy and harsh as you want, but don't pretend you actually want to be my partner and then take credit for work we did together!"

That was it. She was tired too, feeling impugned, and wasn't going to have any more of this. "PETE." He stopped mid-rant and finally looked her in the eye. She bit out her next few words like they dripped of poison. "Just. Shut. Up."

They locked eyes in silence, emotions clashing in the charged air. After several minutes, Pete's anger began to fade, and he started realizing just how much he had said, and just how much of what he said could have hurt her. A realization struck him. He really was that five year old, calling out names, insults instead of dealing with issues like an adult. He was a little ashamed of himself. He looked to the floor for a second and shuffled his feet.

He looked up after a second and met her eyes again. It was then that he saw it. For a split second, he saw the hurt look escape from behind the passionate fury. He felt a momentary pang of regret, he wasn't really that mad at her. He'd overreacted and he was more sorry every second that passed. However, this five year old sure as hell wasn't going to apologize first. He might have been sorry, but he was still stubborn.

Instead he gave up, sighed and turned away from her. "Let's just go to sleep." He said softly, figuring that they would talk in the morning.

But when Pete woke up, the corner bed was empty, and neatly made. A quick survey of her neatly folded belongings suggested that she'd gone for a run.

He showered, and had nearly finished dressing when she returned. She passed by noiselessly into the bathroom, her spotless white sneakers squeaking slightly on the wood floor. She refused to make eye contact, and acted as if he wasn't even there. Pete flinched slightly as she shut the door a little harder than necessary and felt his stubborn side take over again. So that's how she wants it, huh? Well, fine by me.

A brisk knock on the other door interrupted his last thought. It opened to reveal a smiling Myrna in her Sunday best, inquiring whether the nice couple would like to accompany her and Bill to church. Pete smiled genuinely and declined politely, saying that they had a coffee date that morning with some new friends.

"Well that sounds like fun honey! Now you just take that lovely wife of yours and go on and enjoy your morning and Bill and I will see you later. There's oatmeal, eggs and toast down in the kitchen keeping warm for ya when you want some breakfast."

"Thanks, Myrna."

With that, she gave him a friendly little hug and went on her way. Pete looked down the hall after her, smiling to himself and shaking his head slightly.

He ducked back into the room and left Myka a little note saying he would wait for her downstairs, then went to the kitchen to see about that warm breakfast.

Yea, it's a little short, but I felt bad about making you guys wait so long. Dumb schoolwork. But never fear! I have spring break this week, so I'm hoping to catch up on this fic-- maybe *crosses fingers* even finish it!

This felt a little OOC to me, but I wanted Pete to be the aggressor for the plot to continue the way I'm planning.

Does anyone agree and/or have suggestions? Lemme know!