Peter's whole body ached with pain as he walked up to the pad. He fumbled through his pant pockets and pulled out his keys. As slowly as he possibly could, he put the key in the hole and unlocked the door. He pushed the key back into his pocket and tried to be as quiet as possible when he turned the knob and stepped in.

He sighed deeply, relieved. That relief disappeared as soon as it came when the kitchen light suddenly flicked on. Peter turned quickly and felt the color drain from his face when he saw Mike looking back at him. He froze.

Mike's eyes got wide with concern as he advanced towards the blonde.

"Peter..." was all he could say.

"Mike," his voice cracked, "please don't be mad. I-I-" He stopped when Mike put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I'm gonna go and get the first aid kit. You sit and rest and we can talk about it after I look at that eye."

Peter nodded and sat down on the couch, staring down. Mike headed toward the closet and pulled out a small plastic box marked with a red cross. Mike sat down, setting the box in his lap.

"Peter? Can you look up for me? I just wanna see."

Peter looked up. Mike grabbed his face and moved it around, looking for more injuries.

"Is it bad?" He asked, trying to fight tears.

"You've got a pretty bad black eye and cut on your cheek. But you'll be fine."

He stood and walked over to the icebox. He grabbed a handful of ice and wrapped it in a towel before handing it to Peter.

"Here, put this on your eye."

He nodded and put the ice on his eye. Mike sat back down and opened the box, pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, and dabbed some of it onto a cotton ball.

"Gonna need you to look up again, Pete. This'll sting for a minute."

He rubbed the cotton ball onto the cut, Peter wincing silently. When it was cleaned up, Mike placed a band-aid over Peter's cheek.

"There."

"Thank you." He whispered and Mike nodded.

"Now, can you tell me what happened, please?"

Peter frowned and whimpered slightly. "Please, don't be mad, Mike."

"I won't be mad. Not at you, at least."

He shook his head and Mike sighed, standing to get some water. It was then that he noticed a tattered handmade sign in the corner.

"Oh, Peter..."

"I'm sorry, Mike!" Peter cried out. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, I'm not mad." Mike rushed over and wrapped a protective arm around the blonde. "I'm just glad you're okay. People have been killed in those protests, you know. I just wish you would've told one of us where you were going so we could be there if something were to happen."

"I know, it's just that...i-if I asked, I knew you would've said no..." He sniffled and Mike sighed.

"It's just 'cause I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt out there, that's all. Do you understand that?"

Peter nodded.

"It's not enough to just hand out flowers to people anymore. I keep feeling I have to be out there doing something."

"Yeah," Mike muttered. He was conflicted. On one hand, he didn't want to let Peter go out and get himself hurt or worse for taking a stand. On the other hand, it mattered to him, and Peter would be miserable if he wasn't able to help out with everything that was going on.

"I understand." He continued, still thinking to himself. "Next time, just please tell us where you're going. I don't want something bad to happen and us not be able to know where you are to help. I'm not mad at you, Pete. I hope you know that. Just...be careful when you're out there, okay?"

"Okay."

Peter took the ice off his eye for a second and flung his arms around Mike, hugging him. Mike flinched at the touch but smiled and returned the hug.

"Thank you, Michael."

"No problem. Be sure to keep ice on that eye."

He pulled away from the hug and nodded, holding the towel back up to his eye.

"I'm gonna get ready for bed. But if you need anything else, you can come and get me. Micky's a heavy sleeper, he won't mind if you came in."

Peter laughed a little and nodded again.

"Okay. Goodnight, Mike."

Mike smiled. "'Night, shotgun. See ya in the morning."