Fringe: The Closest to Normal
Title: The Closest to Normal
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: Over There Part 1 & 2
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What if our Olivia had returned with Peter?
Word count: 4,150
He smiled as he saw her walking towards him wearing nothing but a pair of glasses and she looked gorgeous while at it. Olivia climbed onto the bed slowly, crawling in his direction with a smile on her lips. Peter’s smile got bigger as she straddled him, getting comfortable over his thighs. He groaned loudly, his cock getting impossibly harder.
“Is it what you wanted?” she asked, lowering herself to plant a kiss on his lips.
“Yes, that is perfect” he whispered, as his mouth covered hers and his hands moved to her body, eagerly finding her breasts.
That was something he couldn’t get enough of, no doubt of that. The sight of Olivia, naked, on top of him, hair tousled and slightly wavy falling down her naked chest and the sly smile on her lips when he knew she had some plan in her mind. Not a plan to save their universe, but a plan to do something naughty and delicious with him in bed. She seemed completely bare of her worries or anything else there, with him, her body bare of clothes and her mind bare of worries. Beautiful, like a painting. Her face bare of make up, freckles peppering her skin and even some lines of expression at sight.
Peter closed his eyes as she held his cock and led him inside her, a restraint moan echoing in the bedroom.
* * *
She was shaky, nervous. It had been a tough night, a tough day for all of them. She told herself Peter needed his time out, to spend time with Walter and to come in terms to what had happened. But deep inside she wanted him there with her. That’s the least you expect from a man after you pour out your heart to him, she thought.
Olivia poured herself a glass of whiskey and went to the bathroom, turning on the faucet of the bathtub, the burning hot water rapidly filling the tiny room with steam. The soft scent of magnolias filled her nose and she sighed at the familiar comfort of a bubble bath. Maybe that’s what she needed in order to relax. Maybe she could even get some sleep that night.
The doorbell rang about one hour later, when she could already feel her muscles softened and the slow torpor or the alcohol in her system. She wanted to yell at who ever it was to get the hell out but instead she put on her robe and went to the door, gun in hand.
“Hi,” Peter said, leaning against the doorframe. She was sure he could hear her heart skipping a beat. How could he do that to her? How could he get her so whipped, to the point where she crossed universes to get him back?
“Hey. Are you alright?”
“I… well, I guess so. I mean, I don’t know. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She could tell by one look at him that he had been drinking more than he should have.
He was familiar with her apartment by now. He unceremoniously sat on her couch, supporting his elbows on his knees. Peter looked beyond distressed.
“I can’t look at him. I had to get the hell out of there, ‘Livia. Everything he’s done… all I saw over there… I can’t even…” he stopped, looking at her. Peter was looking for words but couldn’t find them. He was in a struggle within himself, trying to make out what to think of Walter at that point.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Olivia said, still by the door “That must be hard right now, Peter, but you have to try and see things the way he did.”
Peter stood up, walking in silence around the room to stop again and look at Olivia, as if waiting for her to say something else, something that he could cling to. But what could she say?
“I can’t right now. I can barely be in the same room with him. At least not now.”
There was some tension between them, electric in the air. Peter felt as if every muscle in his body was tense, his mind still racing. He shook his head.
“And you… God, Olivia, I was thinking about what you told me…”
Peter walked to her and held her face in his hands; she felt cool against his hot hands, cool from the lack of hot water, cool from the chills she started to feel when he entered her apartment and slight fear he might tell her he thought it through and didn’t feel the same as she did.
“You mean so much to me, ‘Livia…” he whispered, pulling her into his embrace and breathing into the soft scent of her hair, still auburn, still reminding him of the other her.
Then their lips met in an urgent kiss. Peter’s lips felt soft, brushing against Olivia’s as he eagerly invaded her mouth with his tongue, tasting her, their tongues mingling. She felt wonderful, tasted like coming home and something familiar. Peter couldn’t describe it, not that he really cared about it at that moment. Instead, he decided he would enjoy the moment with her, the softness of her fingers finding the skin of his neck, moving to touch his face slowly, tenderly, lovingly, cherishing him.
If what she done didn’t make him feel cherished, he didn’t know what else would.
His hand tangled in her soft hair, so soft and so smooth around his fingers, like silk, just like he imagined it would be. The feel of her skin against his as he slid his fingers down her neck to touch the exposed skin of her chest, lightly, almost tickling her, never parting the kiss. Soon he felt light-headed, from all the tequila and from the scent of her, the taste of her, the taste of her skin under his lips, of her hair around their faces; soon he had his mouth full of Olivia, exploring her skin, hands tracing a path down to find her breasts and touching her through the thick fabric of the rope. Before he could realize, he had pushed her against the wall and was pressing his body against hers.
Olivia gasped into his mouth, taken by surprised with his eagerness. She closed her eyes, allowing him to kiss down her neck, a little too rough, scratching her with his stubble. For a second she worried about the hickeys she’d get the next day, but if that’s what he needed to feel better, she didn’t mind. She tried to encourage him by running a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp with her fingernails.
Peter stopped and sighed, eyes closed. He had the look of sheer frustration on his face, confusing Olivia.
“Peter?”
He blinked twice, staring at her, clarity dawning on him as he seemed to sober up.
“I’m sorry. You deserve it better, ‘Livia,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger over her skin one more time. Only now it was softer, his gesture full of a whole new meaning.
Olivia looked at Peter with furrowed brows. She was lost, of course, what changed his mind?
“I don’t want this to be some pity fuck, me coming to you because I feel sorry for myself. You deserve it better. I don’t want to be drunk; I don’t want to feel as miserable as I am right now. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t give her much time to respond. Peter ran his hands, slowly, through her long strands of hair before planting another kiss on her lips. Without another word he left her house, as she stood there, by the door.
* * *
It’s been a long time since she had done it. She honestly didn’t see the point, but it seemed to be important for him, so she did it. Olivia put on a pair of jeans, heels and a low cut black blouse, allowing a good view of her cleavage. She even tried to get her hair styled but gave it up, letting it down her shoulders, like a blonde cascade. She put on some make up and perfume, admiring her frame in front of the mirror as she put on a necklace and matching earrings as a final touch, smiling at the other version of her she hadn’t seen for quite some time.
Peter whistled when he saw her, a vision when she parked in front of his house, and they went out on their first date. Or second. Third, if one considers checking on a suspect a date. They had spent enough time by themselves to feel comfortable even when moments of silence in conversations came up or to be embarrassed by anything at this point. He had seen her in her underwear and had held her when she cried; she knew almost anything there was to know about Peter Bishop but still there was plenty he could show her.
They talked; they made jokes and had fun together. They talked about their lives before Fringe Division, told anecdotes and shared a few embarrassing moments. Peter marveled at how beautiful Olivia’s laughter was and the soft glow on her skin when she blushed; he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at her sitting across the table from him, a hint of demure in her expression.
And they dated. They had dinner - and to his utter surprise, Olivia Dunham did eat! - they had drinks and they laughed together. They kissed on the way out of the restaurant and never stopped until the dawn of the day. And they spent the night awake just sitting on her couch chatting and laughing, making out like a young teenage couple, enjoying each other’s company while fondling. It’d been so long since she laughed, anyway, to the point her belly ached.
For a moment Olivia did believe she could feel completely happy, until she got a call from Broyles for them to check on a body. Peter could see the green in her eyes get cloudy.
* * *
Walter needed a file he didn’t know where it was. He fumbled around his lab but so far he hadn’t been lucky. He felt the tension in the air, both Peter and Olivia seemed too worked up because of this case in particular. Even agent Farnsworth was distressed.
His son had been discussing theories with Miss Dunham in the office for over an hour now. He saw when he quickly left to grab some sandwiches for lunch while Olivia stayed, still reading, still thinking. Sometimes he felt like telling her to take a break. He felt like she needed a father to tell her something like that, but he wouldn’t dare. Walter knew she wouldn’t listen anyway.
He didn’t want this life for his son. He wanted Peter to have other worries, different worries, not share the burden of saving two universes with Olivia. He actually wanted them to share a life together other than such burden. Daily amenities, like any other person should have.
Two hours later and they were still there. Walter could hear their voices talking theories and then Olivia’s raising a tone as she seemed to get angry. He walked to the office and found the door ajar, Peter sitting in front of Olivia, holding her hand tight. She looked distressed, a pained expression on her face and neither of them noticed Walter there, watching them from the corner of the room.
“It’s not your fault, ‘Livia, you have to listen to me.”
“Peter, I…”
“No. Stop blaming yourself. You have to accept the fact that you can’t save the world, as much as you try. We are going to fail sometimes, we are going to lose some battles,” he said, in a hushed tone of voice.
Peter held her hand close to his face and kissed it, caressing the skin of her forearm while he did so. He saw when a tear ran down Olivia’s face and she rushed to dry it, trying to prevent Peter from seeing it. He shook his head and touched her face with his knuckles, using his free hand.
“Stop acting as if you are alone in this, you aren’t. I’m here. This is my fight too, remember?”
There was something about Agent Dunham that Walter couldn’t point his finger at yet, but she was able to come out as this impossibly strong woman yet fragile. He knew behind that impenetrable barrier she hid a fragile heart that desperately wanted someone to take care of her. He also hoped Peter could see it as Walter did.
“Thank you.”
Peter moved closer to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, another under her eye, kissing away her tear, to finally plant a kiss on her lips.
Walter smiled. Then he knew they’d be all right.
* * *
It’s been the first night in a really long time that she managed to sleep more than six hours without waking up, without a nightmare, without hearing an imaginary cell phone ringing or an alarm clock. Olivia smiled, as she opened her eyes, feeling refreshed, revitalized, happy. As she tried to stretch, she realized the strong male arm pulling her close to him, keeping her in place, holding her tight to Peter‘s chest. She carefully turned around to look at him, feeling her smile getting bigger as she saw his sleeping face buried into the pillow and the soft snore coming out of him. Olivia ran a hand softly over his face, his stubble, thicker, tickling her fingertips, stopping at his jaw. She laughed, low, leaning against him, breathing the scent of his skin, so raw and so him. If she had any doubt before, at that moment, snuggled against his chest, breathing into his scent while he was sound asleep, Olivia Dunham was sure she was in love with Peter.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, as they entered her place. It was dark, aside from a soft yellow light coming out of her bedroom, from the lamp on her nightstand.
Peter smiled, as he held her and pulled her into his arms, a tight grip on her waist. How he loved that, having his arms around her and keeping her pressed tight against his chest.
“No. I just want to do what I’ve been doing all night and can’t seem to stop. It’s addictive,” he said, leaning to kiss her.
Their lips collided in a hurry, hungry, and Peter grabbed a handful of her hair, feeling it silky against his fingers. He wanted to push her against the sofa and ravish her body right there.
Olivia smiled against his lips, running her fingers down his chest, shyly stopping near his belly-button. She gasped when she felt his hand holding hers and pushing it down to the bulge between his legs, pressing against it. He parted the kiss and hissed as he raised a hand to touch her face, his thumb touching her lower lip and she held it, slowly licking the tip of his thumb with a playful expression.
With a coy smile, she took a step backwards and away from him, pulling Peter by his hands in the direction of her bedroom, until they were by her bed. Peter leant eagerly against her to resume their kissing, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. Realization hit him when Olivia started unbuttoning her blouse slowly, exposing her black bra and her freckled skin to him one more time, but this time in a whole different context.
Peter helped her, pushing down and out her blouse and running his hand over her chest, over and around the curve of her bra, sending shivers down Olivia’s spine; he smiled when he saw her nipples hard and her breathing catching in her throat. It was a good thing she was as aroused as he was because at that moment he thought he might explode of anticipation.
“Liv…” he whispered, opening the front clasp of her bra, leaving her bare in front of him, pink nipples taut and the sight making him hard. He ran his hand over her breasts, rubbing her nipples, testing her reactions and teasing her, watching as Olivia’s restraint expression seemed to break and another Olivia was taking control now. She pushed him so he sat on the bed and straddled Peter, removing his jacket and shirt as he eagerly lapped and sucked at her breasts, groaning in appreciation. Soon he was naked from waist up too, his chest hair tickling her.
Olivia moaned when she felt his hands working on her belt, unzipping her pants and finding their way under her panties, unceremoniously, finding her hot and wet, ready for him. She felt her limbs heavy, as if she was melting under his touch, like his fingers could send small jolts of fire to her system. She was vaguely aware when he pushed her down so she was lying on the bed, under him; he pulled down her pants and panties along, watching him as Peter pushed down his own, kicking them to the side. She felt tipsy, even though she didn’t even have alcohol that night.
“Are you ok, Olivia?” he asked, now lying by her side on the bed, caressing her cheeks. His erection pressing against her.
Olivia chuckled, remembering that the line which led them to this was ‘I’m scared’. She didn’t feel scared at all now; she felt oddly foggy, inebriated, but not scared. She grinned.
“I’m fine. And you?”
Peter grinned too, caressing her hair. He chuckled, leaning to whisper on her ear.
“I feel horny. There is this impossibly hot woman, naked under me and I’m so hard and eager to be inside her.”
She laughed “are you, really?”
Olivia touched his hard cock, slowly rubbing him from head to its base; Peter groaned against her ear, burying his face into her hair, buckling lightly against her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and laid on the bed, pulling her so she was on top of him now, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain.
She rose on top of him, once again straddling his thighs, the soft yellow light in the bedroom borrowing a golden color to her naked body. Olivia leant over Peter once again and kissed him, running the tip of her tongue over his lower lip before sucking it in her mouth. She bit him when she felt his hot hands grabbing her hips possessively.
Peter opened his mouth to speak something, but stopped when she held his cock, raising herself a little bit so his tip brushed her opening, making them both moan together, their moan getting louder as she lowered herself, taking him into her slowly, feeling him stretching her from inside. Olivia let out a ragged breath, eyes closed, getting used to the sensation of him inside her. It was intense as she started to move, slowly, riding Peter as he guided her, hot hands squeezing the flesh on her hips. Olivia laid her hands on his chest for support, leaning against him.
“Ah… Peter…” Olivia whimpered, when Peter’s hand moved from her hip to caress her belly and the way under it, to find her clit, rubbing at her. She was wet, hot, as if on fire, feeling the sweat starting to gather on her forehead and on her chest. The familiar sensation starting to build up inside her, making her inner walls clench around him as he rubbed her faster.
“Come for me, ‘Livia… come on, I wanna see it…” he coaxed, encouraging her to ride him faster.
Then it happened. Peter watched as an orgasm hit Olivia, her flushed face changing, a loud moan coming out of her pretty mouth and her hair damp around her frame, her strong grip on him from inside nearly sending him off as well.
Olivia slowed her pace as her orgasm sent her limbs tingling and her eyes unfocused. Peter took the opportunity to push her against the bed, moving so he was atop her now, pumping faster inside her until he came too, face buried into her neck, her scent all around him now.
For a moment the only sounds in the bedroom were their heavy breathing and Peter’s low groan, he still inside her and once again his hand grabbing a handful of her golden hair.
“I had no idea how much I needed that,” Olivia managed to say with a laughter, running down the tip of her fingers on his back. Peter shivered.
“Glad to help,” he replied, rolling on his back and laying in all his naked glory. He had his chest covered with a thin layer of sweat too, still breathing hard. Olivia leant against him to lick it off, humming at the salty taste of him. When she felt his hand tenderly caressing her face she stopped, looking up at him; there was a look of awe on his expression.
“Hey, Beautiful,” he said, removing unruly strands of hair off her face, sliding down to caress her shoulder and back. Olivia smiled, a smile that seemed to lighten up her face.
She kissed him again on the lips and let her hands roam freely over his body, touching him, testing sensitive spots, mapping his frame in her mind; they spent that first night together mostly in silence, touching, kissing, caressing. To his surprise, Olivia fell asleep in his arms soon to only wake up at the dawn of the morning; it was probably the first in a long time that she actually slept.
* * *
One of these days she would be the death of him, he thought, holding her close, looking down at the dead shapeshifter on floor, silver mercury dripping off him and spreading on the floor. If he had taken one second longer… Peter shut his eyes to try to avoid these thoughts, still holding Olivia in his arms.
“You’re fucking insane, don’t do that!” he said, angrily, letting go of her.
Olivia ignored him, moving to the shapeshifter, trying to find the chip in him.
“Olivia!” he yelled, now it was his turn to ignore his surroundings. About ten FBI agents were around them, gathering evidence. He held her arm and pulled her closer to him “you nearly got yourself killed.”
“I’m fine, Peter,” she said, looking flustered.
“You are but I’m not. Don’t do that again, I can’t afford to lose you. I’ve lost you once, can’t lose you again,” he whispered, holding her elbow, his blue eyes were unsettled.
Olivia looked at him, realization hitting her. For a moment he thought she was about to cry but then the stoic façade returned.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And she meant it, as she allowed him to hug her again for his own comfort, to believe that she was there with him, alive and breathing. There, hearing his heavy breathing and the strong beating of his heart, she understood what he felt for her and how vulnerable it made him feel. What amazed her a bit was how he didn’t try to deny it or hide, not even in front of the FBI agents; still he held her close to him, trying to calm himself.
* * *
She convinced him to spend the day with Ella at the park. Olivia was responsible for her niece for the weekend and Peter took them to spend the day outdoors, just for the sake of seeing the sunlight on her skin and how it made her freckles more visible. The wind blowing on her hair made it unruly, wild, messily dancing around her face when she turned to look at him, an apologetically look on her face after Ella decided to dare her aunt for a race.
It was the closest he could imagine of normal, sitting under a tree to enjoy the cool shadow while observing Olivia and Ella playing at the distance until a few minutes she returned to sit next to him, Ella entertained by something she found by a pond.
“I guess she’ll be busy for while now,” Olivia said, laughing. He marveled at how at ease she was when she was around her niece. Peter smiled, planting a kiss on top of her head.
“It’s cool being outside, doing something different, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I like the sun. We should spend some time at the beach someday.”
“Hmm, I like the idea of you wearing a bikini…” Peter whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Olivia laughed. Yes, that would be a good change. Maybe someday they could just sit for a whole day, enjoying the sand under her feet and the salty windy blowing against her face. She closed her eyes, a smile on her lips as she leant against Peter.
That’s the closest to normal they would get. Maybe someday.
END
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: Over There Part 1 & 2
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What if our Olivia had returned with Peter?
Word count: 4,150
He smiled as he saw her walking towards him wearing nothing but a pair of glasses and she looked gorgeous while at it. Olivia climbed onto the bed slowly, crawling in his direction with a smile on her lips. Peter’s smile got bigger as she straddled him, getting comfortable over his thighs. He groaned loudly, his cock getting impossibly harder.
“Is it what you wanted?” she asked, lowering herself to plant a kiss on his lips.
“Yes, that is perfect” he whispered, as his mouth covered hers and his hands moved to her body, eagerly finding her breasts.
That was something he couldn’t get enough of, no doubt of that. The sight of Olivia, naked, on top of him, hair tousled and slightly wavy falling down her naked chest and the sly smile on her lips when he knew she had some plan in her mind. Not a plan to save their universe, but a plan to do something naughty and delicious with him in bed. She seemed completely bare of her worries or anything else there, with him, her body bare of clothes and her mind bare of worries. Beautiful, like a painting. Her face bare of make up, freckles peppering her skin and even some lines of expression at sight.
Peter closed his eyes as she held his cock and led him inside her, a restraint moan echoing in the bedroom.
* * *
She was shaky, nervous. It had been a tough night, a tough day for all of them. She told herself Peter needed his time out, to spend time with Walter and to come in terms to what had happened. But deep inside she wanted him there with her. That’s the least you expect from a man after you pour out your heart to him, she thought.
Olivia poured herself a glass of whiskey and went to the bathroom, turning on the faucet of the bathtub, the burning hot water rapidly filling the tiny room with steam. The soft scent of magnolias filled her nose and she sighed at the familiar comfort of a bubble bath. Maybe that’s what she needed in order to relax. Maybe she could even get some sleep that night.
The doorbell rang about one hour later, when she could already feel her muscles softened and the slow torpor or the alcohol in her system. She wanted to yell at who ever it was to get the hell out but instead she put on her robe and went to the door, gun in hand.
“Hi,” Peter said, leaning against the doorframe. She was sure he could hear her heart skipping a beat. How could he do that to her? How could he get her so whipped, to the point where she crossed universes to get him back?
“Hey. Are you alright?”
“I… well, I guess so. I mean, I don’t know. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She could tell by one look at him that he had been drinking more than he should have.
He was familiar with her apartment by now. He unceremoniously sat on her couch, supporting his elbows on his knees. Peter looked beyond distressed.
“I can’t look at him. I had to get the hell out of there, ‘Livia. Everything he’s done… all I saw over there… I can’t even…” he stopped, looking at her. Peter was looking for words but couldn’t find them. He was in a struggle within himself, trying to make out what to think of Walter at that point.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Olivia said, still by the door “That must be hard right now, Peter, but you have to try and see things the way he did.”
Peter stood up, walking in silence around the room to stop again and look at Olivia, as if waiting for her to say something else, something that he could cling to. But what could she say?
“I can’t right now. I can barely be in the same room with him. At least not now.”
There was some tension between them, electric in the air. Peter felt as if every muscle in his body was tense, his mind still racing. He shook his head.
“And you… God, Olivia, I was thinking about what you told me…”
Peter walked to her and held her face in his hands; she felt cool against his hot hands, cool from the lack of hot water, cool from the chills she started to feel when he entered her apartment and slight fear he might tell her he thought it through and didn’t feel the same as she did.
“You mean so much to me, ‘Livia…” he whispered, pulling her into his embrace and breathing into the soft scent of her hair, still auburn, still reminding him of the other her.
Then their lips met in an urgent kiss. Peter’s lips felt soft, brushing against Olivia’s as he eagerly invaded her mouth with his tongue, tasting her, their tongues mingling. She felt wonderful, tasted like coming home and something familiar. Peter couldn’t describe it, not that he really cared about it at that moment. Instead, he decided he would enjoy the moment with her, the softness of her fingers finding the skin of his neck, moving to touch his face slowly, tenderly, lovingly, cherishing him.
If what she done didn’t make him feel cherished, he didn’t know what else would.
His hand tangled in her soft hair, so soft and so smooth around his fingers, like silk, just like he imagined it would be. The feel of her skin against his as he slid his fingers down her neck to touch the exposed skin of her chest, lightly, almost tickling her, never parting the kiss. Soon he felt light-headed, from all the tequila and from the scent of her, the taste of her, the taste of her skin under his lips, of her hair around their faces; soon he had his mouth full of Olivia, exploring her skin, hands tracing a path down to find her breasts and touching her through the thick fabric of the rope. Before he could realize, he had pushed her against the wall and was pressing his body against hers.
Olivia gasped into his mouth, taken by surprised with his eagerness. She closed her eyes, allowing him to kiss down her neck, a little too rough, scratching her with his stubble. For a second she worried about the hickeys she’d get the next day, but if that’s what he needed to feel better, she didn’t mind. She tried to encourage him by running a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp with her fingernails.
Peter stopped and sighed, eyes closed. He had the look of sheer frustration on his face, confusing Olivia.
“Peter?”
He blinked twice, staring at her, clarity dawning on him as he seemed to sober up.
“I’m sorry. You deserve it better, ‘Livia,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger over her skin one more time. Only now it was softer, his gesture full of a whole new meaning.
Olivia looked at Peter with furrowed brows. She was lost, of course, what changed his mind?
“I don’t want this to be some pity fuck, me coming to you because I feel sorry for myself. You deserve it better. I don’t want to be drunk; I don’t want to feel as miserable as I am right now. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t give her much time to respond. Peter ran his hands, slowly, through her long strands of hair before planting another kiss on her lips. Without another word he left her house, as she stood there, by the door.
* * *
It’s been a long time since she had done it. She honestly didn’t see the point, but it seemed to be important for him, so she did it. Olivia put on a pair of jeans, heels and a low cut black blouse, allowing a good view of her cleavage. She even tried to get her hair styled but gave it up, letting it down her shoulders, like a blonde cascade. She put on some make up and perfume, admiring her frame in front of the mirror as she put on a necklace and matching earrings as a final touch, smiling at the other version of her she hadn’t seen for quite some time.
Peter whistled when he saw her, a vision when she parked in front of his house, and they went out on their first date. Or second. Third, if one considers checking on a suspect a date. They had spent enough time by themselves to feel comfortable even when moments of silence in conversations came up or to be embarrassed by anything at this point. He had seen her in her underwear and had held her when she cried; she knew almost anything there was to know about Peter Bishop but still there was plenty he could show her.
They talked; they made jokes and had fun together. They talked about their lives before Fringe Division, told anecdotes and shared a few embarrassing moments. Peter marveled at how beautiful Olivia’s laughter was and the soft glow on her skin when she blushed; he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at her sitting across the table from him, a hint of demure in her expression.
And they dated. They had dinner - and to his utter surprise, Olivia Dunham did eat! - they had drinks and they laughed together. They kissed on the way out of the restaurant and never stopped until the dawn of the day. And they spent the night awake just sitting on her couch chatting and laughing, making out like a young teenage couple, enjoying each other’s company while fondling. It’d been so long since she laughed, anyway, to the point her belly ached.
For a moment Olivia did believe she could feel completely happy, until she got a call from Broyles for them to check on a body. Peter could see the green in her eyes get cloudy.
* * *
Walter needed a file he didn’t know where it was. He fumbled around his lab but so far he hadn’t been lucky. He felt the tension in the air, both Peter and Olivia seemed too worked up because of this case in particular. Even agent Farnsworth was distressed.
His son had been discussing theories with Miss Dunham in the office for over an hour now. He saw when he quickly left to grab some sandwiches for lunch while Olivia stayed, still reading, still thinking. Sometimes he felt like telling her to take a break. He felt like she needed a father to tell her something like that, but he wouldn’t dare. Walter knew she wouldn’t listen anyway.
He didn’t want this life for his son. He wanted Peter to have other worries, different worries, not share the burden of saving two universes with Olivia. He actually wanted them to share a life together other than such burden. Daily amenities, like any other person should have.
Two hours later and they were still there. Walter could hear their voices talking theories and then Olivia’s raising a tone as she seemed to get angry. He walked to the office and found the door ajar, Peter sitting in front of Olivia, holding her hand tight. She looked distressed, a pained expression on her face and neither of them noticed Walter there, watching them from the corner of the room.
“It’s not your fault, ‘Livia, you have to listen to me.”
“Peter, I…”
“No. Stop blaming yourself. You have to accept the fact that you can’t save the world, as much as you try. We are going to fail sometimes, we are going to lose some battles,” he said, in a hushed tone of voice.
Peter held her hand close to his face and kissed it, caressing the skin of her forearm while he did so. He saw when a tear ran down Olivia’s face and she rushed to dry it, trying to prevent Peter from seeing it. He shook his head and touched her face with his knuckles, using his free hand.
“Stop acting as if you are alone in this, you aren’t. I’m here. This is my fight too, remember?”
There was something about Agent Dunham that Walter couldn’t point his finger at yet, but she was able to come out as this impossibly strong woman yet fragile. He knew behind that impenetrable barrier she hid a fragile heart that desperately wanted someone to take care of her. He also hoped Peter could see it as Walter did.
“Thank you.”
Peter moved closer to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, another under her eye, kissing away her tear, to finally plant a kiss on her lips.
Walter smiled. Then he knew they’d be all right.
* * *
It’s been the first night in a really long time that she managed to sleep more than six hours without waking up, without a nightmare, without hearing an imaginary cell phone ringing or an alarm clock. Olivia smiled, as she opened her eyes, feeling refreshed, revitalized, happy. As she tried to stretch, she realized the strong male arm pulling her close to him, keeping her in place, holding her tight to Peter‘s chest. She carefully turned around to look at him, feeling her smile getting bigger as she saw his sleeping face buried into the pillow and the soft snore coming out of him. Olivia ran a hand softly over his face, his stubble, thicker, tickling her fingertips, stopping at his jaw. She laughed, low, leaning against him, breathing the scent of his skin, so raw and so him. If she had any doubt before, at that moment, snuggled against his chest, breathing into his scent while he was sound asleep, Olivia Dunham was sure she was in love with Peter.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, as they entered her place. It was dark, aside from a soft yellow light coming out of her bedroom, from the lamp on her nightstand.
Peter smiled, as he held her and pulled her into his arms, a tight grip on her waist. How he loved that, having his arms around her and keeping her pressed tight against his chest.
“No. I just want to do what I’ve been doing all night and can’t seem to stop. It’s addictive,” he said, leaning to kiss her.
Their lips collided in a hurry, hungry, and Peter grabbed a handful of her hair, feeling it silky against his fingers. He wanted to push her against the sofa and ravish her body right there.
Olivia smiled against his lips, running her fingers down his chest, shyly stopping near his belly-button. She gasped when she felt his hand holding hers and pushing it down to the bulge between his legs, pressing against it. He parted the kiss and hissed as he raised a hand to touch her face, his thumb touching her lower lip and she held it, slowly licking the tip of his thumb with a playful expression.
With a coy smile, she took a step backwards and away from him, pulling Peter by his hands in the direction of her bedroom, until they were by her bed. Peter leant eagerly against her to resume their kissing, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. Realization hit him when Olivia started unbuttoning her blouse slowly, exposing her black bra and her freckled skin to him one more time, but this time in a whole different context.
Peter helped her, pushing down and out her blouse and running his hand over her chest, over and around the curve of her bra, sending shivers down Olivia’s spine; he smiled when he saw her nipples hard and her breathing catching in her throat. It was a good thing she was as aroused as he was because at that moment he thought he might explode of anticipation.
“Liv…” he whispered, opening the front clasp of her bra, leaving her bare in front of him, pink nipples taut and the sight making him hard. He ran his hand over her breasts, rubbing her nipples, testing her reactions and teasing her, watching as Olivia’s restraint expression seemed to break and another Olivia was taking control now. She pushed him so he sat on the bed and straddled Peter, removing his jacket and shirt as he eagerly lapped and sucked at her breasts, groaning in appreciation. Soon he was naked from waist up too, his chest hair tickling her.
Olivia moaned when she felt his hands working on her belt, unzipping her pants and finding their way under her panties, unceremoniously, finding her hot and wet, ready for him. She felt her limbs heavy, as if she was melting under his touch, like his fingers could send small jolts of fire to her system. She was vaguely aware when he pushed her down so she was lying on the bed, under him; he pulled down her pants and panties along, watching him as Peter pushed down his own, kicking them to the side. She felt tipsy, even though she didn’t even have alcohol that night.
“Are you ok, Olivia?” he asked, now lying by her side on the bed, caressing her cheeks. His erection pressing against her.
Olivia chuckled, remembering that the line which led them to this was ‘I’m scared’. She didn’t feel scared at all now; she felt oddly foggy, inebriated, but not scared. She grinned.
“I’m fine. And you?”
Peter grinned too, caressing her hair. He chuckled, leaning to whisper on her ear.
“I feel horny. There is this impossibly hot woman, naked under me and I’m so hard and eager to be inside her.”
She laughed “are you, really?”
Olivia touched his hard cock, slowly rubbing him from head to its base; Peter groaned against her ear, burying his face into her hair, buckling lightly against her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and laid on the bed, pulling her so she was on top of him now, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain.
She rose on top of him, once again straddling his thighs, the soft yellow light in the bedroom borrowing a golden color to her naked body. Olivia leant over Peter once again and kissed him, running the tip of her tongue over his lower lip before sucking it in her mouth. She bit him when she felt his hot hands grabbing her hips possessively.
Peter opened his mouth to speak something, but stopped when she held his cock, raising herself a little bit so his tip brushed her opening, making them both moan together, their moan getting louder as she lowered herself, taking him into her slowly, feeling him stretching her from inside. Olivia let out a ragged breath, eyes closed, getting used to the sensation of him inside her. It was intense as she started to move, slowly, riding Peter as he guided her, hot hands squeezing the flesh on her hips. Olivia laid her hands on his chest for support, leaning against him.
“Ah… Peter…” Olivia whimpered, when Peter’s hand moved from her hip to caress her belly and the way under it, to find her clit, rubbing at her. She was wet, hot, as if on fire, feeling the sweat starting to gather on her forehead and on her chest. The familiar sensation starting to build up inside her, making her inner walls clench around him as he rubbed her faster.
“Come for me, ‘Livia… come on, I wanna see it…” he coaxed, encouraging her to ride him faster.
Then it happened. Peter watched as an orgasm hit Olivia, her flushed face changing, a loud moan coming out of her pretty mouth and her hair damp around her frame, her strong grip on him from inside nearly sending him off as well.
Olivia slowed her pace as her orgasm sent her limbs tingling and her eyes unfocused. Peter took the opportunity to push her against the bed, moving so he was atop her now, pumping faster inside her until he came too, face buried into her neck, her scent all around him now.
For a moment the only sounds in the bedroom were their heavy breathing and Peter’s low groan, he still inside her and once again his hand grabbing a handful of her golden hair.
“I had no idea how much I needed that,” Olivia managed to say with a laughter, running down the tip of her fingers on his back. Peter shivered.
“Glad to help,” he replied, rolling on his back and laying in all his naked glory. He had his chest covered with a thin layer of sweat too, still breathing hard. Olivia leant against him to lick it off, humming at the salty taste of him. When she felt his hand tenderly caressing her face she stopped, looking up at him; there was a look of awe on his expression.
“Hey, Beautiful,” he said, removing unruly strands of hair off her face, sliding down to caress her shoulder and back. Olivia smiled, a smile that seemed to lighten up her face.
She kissed him again on the lips and let her hands roam freely over his body, touching him, testing sensitive spots, mapping his frame in her mind; they spent that first night together mostly in silence, touching, kissing, caressing. To his surprise, Olivia fell asleep in his arms soon to only wake up at the dawn of the morning; it was probably the first in a long time that she actually slept.
* * *
One of these days she would be the death of him, he thought, holding her close, looking down at the dead shapeshifter on floor, silver mercury dripping off him and spreading on the floor. If he had taken one second longer… Peter shut his eyes to try to avoid these thoughts, still holding Olivia in his arms.
“You’re fucking insane, don’t do that!” he said, angrily, letting go of her.
Olivia ignored him, moving to the shapeshifter, trying to find the chip in him.
“Olivia!” he yelled, now it was his turn to ignore his surroundings. About ten FBI agents were around them, gathering evidence. He held her arm and pulled her closer to him “you nearly got yourself killed.”
“I’m fine, Peter,” she said, looking flustered.
“You are but I’m not. Don’t do that again, I can’t afford to lose you. I’ve lost you once, can’t lose you again,” he whispered, holding her elbow, his blue eyes were unsettled.
Olivia looked at him, realization hitting her. For a moment he thought she was about to cry but then the stoic façade returned.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And she meant it, as she allowed him to hug her again for his own comfort, to believe that she was there with him, alive and breathing. There, hearing his heavy breathing and the strong beating of his heart, she understood what he felt for her and how vulnerable it made him feel. What amazed her a bit was how he didn’t try to deny it or hide, not even in front of the FBI agents; still he held her close to him, trying to calm himself.
* * *
She convinced him to spend the day with Ella at the park. Olivia was responsible for her niece for the weekend and Peter took them to spend the day outdoors, just for the sake of seeing the sunlight on her skin and how it made her freckles more visible. The wind blowing on her hair made it unruly, wild, messily dancing around her face when she turned to look at him, an apologetically look on her face after Ella decided to dare her aunt for a race.
It was the closest he could imagine of normal, sitting under a tree to enjoy the cool shadow while observing Olivia and Ella playing at the distance until a few minutes she returned to sit next to him, Ella entertained by something she found by a pond.
“I guess she’ll be busy for while now,” Olivia said, laughing. He marveled at how at ease she was when she was around her niece. Peter smiled, planting a kiss on top of her head.
“It’s cool being outside, doing something different, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I like the sun. We should spend some time at the beach someday.”
“Hmm, I like the idea of you wearing a bikini…” Peter whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Olivia laughed. Yes, that would be a good change. Maybe someday they could just sit for a whole day, enjoying the sand under her feet and the salty windy blowing against her face. She closed her eyes, a smile on her lips as she leant against Peter.
That’s the closest to normal they would get. Maybe someday.
END