Fringe Fic: Identity Crisis
Title: Identity Crisis
Author: Fanchiction
Fandom: Fringe
Pairing: Alt.Astrid/ Olivia & implied Alt.Astrid/ Fauxlivia
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to, I don't own "Fringe".
Rating: M
Summary: Olivia runs into a familiar face (right after the Olivia v. Fauxlivia fight scene at Fauxlivia's house). Taken from Peter's "darker eyes" comment.
Spoilers: Season finale.
A/N: This is my first foray into Fringe fic, but I love the show... It's just a short little thing, but I hope you enjoy!
This is wrong.
At least that’s what Olivia keeps telling herself. She doesn’t know how to deal with this place where her mother is alive but Ella doesn’t exist or what to think of the slightly more debonair version of herself-- her other self-- the one whose ass she just kicked-- the one who’s tied up in the closet in her own living room. She feels uncomfortable in that girl's hair and clothes. But mostly this is wrong because, somehow, she ended up in Agent Farnsworth’s arms.
She’s not sure how it happened. She’d pointed her loaded gun towards the door expecting someone far more sinister. "Astrid?” she'd choked, lowering the barrel of her gun. She smiled apologetically. “I didn’t mean to… I thought--”
It had been strange, then, when Astrid moved into Olivia’s personal space. And yeah, Olivia had been caught off-guard when Astrid’s arms slipped around her waist. But it was just wrong when that soft mouth suckled at the sensitive spot beneath her jaw accompanied by husky whispers about how “fucking good” she smelled.
Olivia’s brain wasn’t functioning well enough to question how the younger agent knew all the right spots to touch. All she knew was that it felt… fantastic.
And now Olivia’s fingers are full of lush curls as Astrid’s pouty lips pepper kisses up the insides of her thighs.
Olivia knows that she shouldn’t be this wet-- that she should stop this immediately-- that this is indecent and unprofessional. But Astrid’s tongue is flat and cruel between her legs...
Astrid breaks away for a moment and moans. Her is face an exquisite sort of mess under the dim lighting of the bedside lamp. It brings Olivia to the brink and, suddenly, she doesn’t care if this is indecent or unprofessional or wrong. Instead, she wonders why she's never noticed those big brown eyes or those delicate fingers or that perfect little smirk before.
Just as Astrid is about to dip her head back down into the depths, there’s a booming thud that comes from the living room. “What was--?”
“Nothing! God, don’t stop!” Olivia gasps. And that tongue and that nose and those lips-- “Fffuck!” Olivia cries out. Her hips arch and she goes rigid against the younger agent’s face.
Their heavy panting fills the room for a few empty moments. “That was… Jesus, Astrid…” They grin at one another before capturing each other’s lips in a hungry kiss.
Olivia’s about to pounce when Astrid gives her a look that’s strange and curious. She tips Olivia’s chin and stares into her pupils with a startled gasp. “You're not--” She's cut off by another banging noise, only it's louder this time.
The color from Olivia’s cheeks drains as her delirium dissolves. Astrid jumps up and stumbles back into the wall. Their eyes lock in fear and, suddenly, Olivia remembers that this Astrid isn’t hers-- and neither is the other one for that matter.
Suddenly, Olivia feels indecent and unprofessional and wrong all over again.