A/N: I started this fic like last Wednesday and it's taken me forever to finish. This is a totally random story that just came to me, so I went with it. Enjoy! And please review! =]

"How're you doing, Myka?" Pete asked. He walked into her room after a brief knock, hoping that she would finally talk to him.

"Don't talk to me." Apparently not. He wasn't having a lucky day, and it didn't look like it was going to get any brighter. Myka wouldn't even face his general direction, instead shuffling things around the room with her one good arm.

"Come on, Myka. It's not my fault you broke your arm." Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. It was only partly his fault that she broke her arm. And actually a finger, too.

Wrong thing to say. Myka whirled around to face him, putting the papers she had in her hand down angrily on the dresser. "Yeah? I seem to recall that it was your leg I tripped over before I went hurtling down the stairs."

Pete sighed exasperatedly. "I'm sorry. Again! I don't know what else to say, I've apologized a bunch of times. How about I write it in blood for you? Will that make you happier?" He really was trying his best to resolve the argument, but sometimes she made it impossible.

"No! I would be happier if I hadn't broken anything in the first place!" She put her good arm on her hip and glared at him.

"Yeah, right! You're never happy anyway!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he regretted them as soon as he saw her expression change to one of hurt.

"Myka…" Pete tried.

"Go away." She turned away from him, and he saw her shoulders sag a bit.

"Myka, I didn't mean that," he tried again. But a few minutes later she still hadn't answered, so he turned around and left the room, defeated.

"Myka!" Pete practically shouted. He hadn't spoken a word to her since their earlier fight, and he felt terrible. Like she wasn't having a bad enough day with her arm, then he had to go and make it worse. Granted she'd been pissing him off, and it wasn't that uncommon for them to annoy each other for fun, but he could tell that his comment had stung.

Myka walked into the room and looked around, not giving Pete a glance. "Do you know where Leena is?" She asked him without looking at him, instead still giving the B&B a once-over.

"She's not here," he told her. He felt immensely happy that she was speaking to him at all, so he couldn't care less what the topic was.

"What about Claudia?"

"Not here either." He sat up a bit on the couch, hoping to gain some of her attention.

Myka frowned. "Where are they?"

"They went to go get that thing, remember?" Pete answered.

"What thing? It's 10:30 at night." She couldn't remember anything about a 'thing.' And she didn't think Pete could have been less specific if he'd tried.

"I don't know. Leena said something about meeting a friend to pick something up. Claudia went for a change of scenery." Upon seeing her blank look he added, "They said that they won't be back till really late. They went up to see if you wanted to go but Leena said you didn't open the door."

"Yeah, I was asleep." Myka paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

"Did you need them for something?" Pete asked, catching the look on her face.

"No, no. Just curious." Myka quickly responded.

"You're a terrible liar," he tried not to smile.

"Am not," she argued.

Sensing that another argument was coming, he wisely decided to change the subject and let her have the last word. "What did you need them for?" he asked, hoping his voice was neutral enough so that she would answer him honestly.

"Nothing majorly important, it's just… I was going to go to bed but I can't change for bed with my arm like this." She looked uncomfortable, and he had to struggle not to laugh.

"Do you want me to help you?" If he were completely honest with himself, he was a bit excited at the thought, but then he felt like a pervert for thinking that way about her. But then again, he thought, Myka's attractive and he's only human.

Myka hesitated, thinking about her answer. "You could always go get Artie for help," Pete couldn't help but add. That was true, too, since they were the only two left there with the girls gone.

"No! Not Artie," Myka decided. "You don't mind?"

"Not if you don't," Pete answered.

Myka eyed him warily. "Okay, then, yeah, thanks. Come on, I'm exhausted."

He stood awkwardly in her room, watching as she walked around trying to gather her pajamas.

"So how long are you going to be a cripple for?"

Myka gave him a look that was somewhere between annoyance and amusement. "It'll take six weeks to heal, but I think I'll be able to dress properly once I get the hang of it."

"Damn," he grinned. "I was looking forward to helping. A lot."

Myka rolled her eyes and returned to the center of the room. "Just get over here and help me already. I want to go to bed." She said the words with confidence, but he could tell by her eyes that she was nervous, and most likely embarrassed.

He made his way over to her as she began to fiddle with the buttons on her shirt. Unfortunately for Myka, her arm was casted in such a way that it made it nearly impossible to bend her arm, and the broken finger on the other hand made it impossible for her to undo the buttons with just one hand. "Here, let me help." He swatted her hands away and began unbuttoning her shirt for her, conscious of exactly how close they were.

"Pete, you could at least make an effort not to stare at me," she told him as he began to slip her shirt off her. She could feel his hands sliding down her sides, and she knew that he heard her gasp. "This is embarrassing enough already."

"Sorry," he said, trying his best to divert his eyes. She grabbed her shirt and started to pull it on. "Myka, oh my god."

"What?" she paused, shirt halfway on. "What's wrong?"

"Have you seen how skinny you are? Damn, Myka."

"I'm fine. Help me with the shirt."

"You're not fine, I can clearly see your ribs. That's not healthy." He reached out and helped her pull her pajama shirt over her head.

"I know, Pete," she sighed.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" he asked her.

"I don't know, stress combined with an already fast metabolism." She fiddled with her shirt for a minute. "Okay, pants."

He unbuttoned them for her, allowing her to pull them down, slow work with her one arm. "You need to gain weight."

"I will."

"Don't make me tell Artie," he threatened.

"I'll work on it, Pete. I promise." Honestly, she was touched by his concern, but also hated that she was the cause of it.

Pete sighed, sensing that this was as good a time as any. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes, you did." When Pete looked like he was about to protest, she quickly continued. "You might not have meant to say it, but you really did mean it. Don't be sorry. You were right. I need to… relax. Learn to enjoy myself here."

"I just worry about you sometimes, that you're not happy. I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He wanted to be absolutely sure that she understood what he was trying to convey.

She finished pulling off her pants, and she pulled on the much looser pajama draw-string pants with one arm. "I know. It's fine."

"Are we cool?" Pete asked.

Myka finished dressing and let her arms fall to her side. "Yeah, we're cool. And thanks for helping me."

"Oh, I definitely don't mind," Pete smirked, unconsciously leaning in a bit. "In fact, let me know if you need any more help." They both could tell that something had changed between them in that moment, but neither of them knew how exactly. Pete decided to test the waters and leaned in a bit more, pressing a kiss to her cheek and sliding an arm around her waist. "Goodnight, Myka," she heard him whisper in her ear. He pulled away, satisfied that his experiment had been a success. "See ya tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Myka both stunned and happy, despite the broken bones.