Fringe: The Education of Miss Dunham
Title: The Education of Miss Dunham
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: none
Rating: PG
Summary: a quiet movie night at the Bishop household.
Word count: 1,558
Olivia sighed, sipping at her wine and letting her body sink deeper into the comfortable sofa at the Bishop household. It was moments like these that made life worthy, she thought to herself.
She looked at the empty card box that once contained a pepperoni pizza on the coffee table, feeling comfortably sleepy against Peter’s heat, his left arm heavily thrown over her shoulder as he possessively pulled her towards him. She was listening, amused, to a heated discussion between Peter and Walter about some sci-fi movie whose name she couldn’t relate to at the moment. She chuckled lightly, enjoying the normality of the situation.
It had been like this all night long, since she arrived at their house. Peter had dragged her to the living room for a movie session with his father, who had been insisting on a crazy Star Wars theory and somehow they ended up watching three movies in a row, spread on the huge couch. Walter seemed to take the discussion quite seriously, even standing up to better argue with his son at times. Peter, not willing to accept defeat, argued back, rewinding the DVD to prove his point.
Olivia watched the whole scene in silence, not really paying attention anymore to what was onscreen, mostly because the warm sensation of her stomach full of pizza and happiness seemed to wrap her, pretty much the same way Peter did, his fingers entwined with hers, pads softly caressing her palms. His discussion with his father still heated.
“No, that’s not a possible concept, that could not be achieved the way it’s portrayed here,” Walter said, pointing at the screen and turning to them.
“Walter, give it a rest. It’s a movie. It’s possible in this reality because of the technology they developed.”
“But that’s not possible because of laws of physics, son!”
Peter sighed, turning to look at Olivia, who by that time had her head resting against his soft shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. She had been quiet most of the time, paying attention to their conversation. Neither one of them were actually watching the movies anyway.
“What do you think, Olivia?” Walter asked, making her raise her sleepy face to look at him.
“Walter, leave Olivia alone, she wants to watch the movie and you won’t let her.”
“But her opinion is important to me,” he said, standing up and walking to her.
Olivia looked at both Bishop men, who were staring back at her, as if she was the jury to decide their cause. She shook her head. Sometimes they were like children in a fight.
“I think Walter is right,” she said, her voice with a hint of sarcasm, as she looked at Peter. He groaned.
“You are supposed to support me, Olivia!”
“Ha! And with that, I rest my case!” Walter said, leaving the living room and going to the kitchen.
Peter pulled her arm away from her to turn his whole body to face her.
“You disappoint me, Dunham. You disappoint me.”
Olivia laughed, at the hurt expression on his face. He turned off the TV and grabbed the last slice of cold pizza, eating it with gusto.
She knew she probably had the dumbest look on her face as she gazed at him, but she couldn’t help it. Peter finished eating his pizza while he talked, his mouth full, about Star Wars and how Walter was wrong. If she said she was paying attention to every word he said she would be lying. Instead, she poured more wine in her glass and changed positions on the sofa, resting her legs on the coffee table.
Olivia already felt more comfortable at their house as she did in her own.
A soft instrumental song started playing, when Walter turned on his old gramophone to listen to an old vinyl. The song was familiar and yet she couldn’t point her finger at what that was. It soothed her still.
“I guess this is a definition of a wonderful night,” she said.
Peter chuckled, holding both her feet, which were still clad in her work boots, and placed them over his thighs. He slowly untied her shoelaces, pulling out her boots each one at time and throwing them aside. He did the same with her socks.
“I was going to offer you some foot massage, but if you’re already happy…”
Olivia hummed lowly, closing her eyes at the feel of his warm hands touching the soles of her feet.
“No, you can go on,” she said, shifting lightly on her spot. He ran his finger over her toes, smiling amused as they wiggled, and squeezed them lightly, rubbing her foot in a circling motion.
“You should indulge your father very now and then,” she said, watching him from under her eyelashes.
“Why? He loves these debates. We’ve been doing it almost every week now.”
“Yes, but why do you waste so much time arguing?”
“It’s not a waste of time, it’s fun!”
Olivia shrugged, the feel of his warms hands touching her wouldn’t allow her to care enough to continue this conversation and she sighed, content. Peter caught her reaction.
“That good, uh?”
“Yes. You have magic hands, Peter.”
He laughed out loud at her comment, grabbing her other feet to apply the same treatment, when Walter changed vinyls and the soft sound of Duke Ellington’s piano invaded the living room.
“Now, I think that’s one of the best music Walter plays. I love this album.”
She rose her head slightly, trying to catch a better hear of the song. It was indeed beautiful, a soft instrumental jazz song that seemed to fill the room in a soothing way.
“I don’t know it.”
“You’re kidding? You don’t know Duke Ellington?” he said in disbelief, caressing her ankles and the ball of her feet.
“No, not really.”
“I have so much to teach you, then.”
Olivia smiled sheepishly at his enthusiasm.
“Well, this is a performance with John Coltrane from 1962, a true gem. I’ve been listening to this song since I was a kid, Walter and my mother used to play it all the time. If I’m not mistaken it’s this very same vinyl.”
His face changed as he mentioned the old memory, looking slightly lost in a good period of time in his childhood. Olivia smiled, watching him.
Peter stood up in one fast move and reached out a hand for her.
“Come on. Dance with me.”
“What?”
“If you never danced to this song you don’t know what’s slow dance. C’mon.”
She held his hand and let him pull her up, sluggish, refusing to move. The mix of the tingling sensation from the wine and full stomach plus Peter’s soft rubbing on her feet made her drowsy, in a good way.
But then he wrapped an arm on her waist, tenderly, pressing her close enough to him, his other hand placing her arms around his shoulders. Olivia felt him leading her in a soft dance on the living room, both barefoot, stepping on the rug beneath them.
“I used to work at a piano bar for extra cash, in New Jersey, and this was my favorite song to play. You know, for the moment where almost everyone in the bar is drunk and everything seems is foggy yet no one wants to leave?”
“Really?” she said, surprised by this new-found fact about him.
“Yeah. There is something interesting about couples dancing, especially when they are interested in each other, the way their gaze meet, their body language…” he whispered, leaning against her in a not subtle manner at all. He kissed her cheek, lightly, rubbing his lips against her in the softest of the caresses. Then he kissed her nose, her closed eye lids and her forehead, as his hand slid down her hair, fingers running through the long golden strands to touch her back.
“And what did you learn from that?” she whispered back, leaning against his touch after he twirled her slowly and pull her back against him.
“Usually, when a woman leans towards a man, it means she is interested in getting intimate with him,” he said, a lopsided grin playing on his lips, as he looked down at her.
Olivia laughed, realizing her own body language and that she was, indeed, leaning towards him. Or against him, since they were so close to each other it felt like the air around them was cold.
“Well, who knows, you might get lucky tonight, Bishop.”
He hugged her, wrapping both arms around her at once, his cheek pressed against her.
“Oh, I already did. Have you seen the woman in my arms tonight?”
She smiled sweetly at him, pressing her forehead against his so their faces were close enough again. Olivia caressed his cheeks, the tip of her fingers running over his stubble until they found his lips and she traced them lightly, the curve of his chin and the soft wrinkles on his face. She felt her heart swelling with a feeling that made her whole body and warm.
“No, I’m the lucky one here,” she whispered, so low he thought for a second she didn’t intended him to hear it.
But he did. And his smile got broader, as they spun softly in the living room, gazing goofily at each other.
THE END
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: none
Rating: PG
Summary: a quiet movie night at the Bishop household.
Word count: 1,558
Olivia sighed, sipping at her wine and letting her body sink deeper into the comfortable sofa at the Bishop household. It was moments like these that made life worthy, she thought to herself.
She looked at the empty card box that once contained a pepperoni pizza on the coffee table, feeling comfortably sleepy against Peter’s heat, his left arm heavily thrown over her shoulder as he possessively pulled her towards him. She was listening, amused, to a heated discussion between Peter and Walter about some sci-fi movie whose name she couldn’t relate to at the moment. She chuckled lightly, enjoying the normality of the situation.
It had been like this all night long, since she arrived at their house. Peter had dragged her to the living room for a movie session with his father, who had been insisting on a crazy Star Wars theory and somehow they ended up watching three movies in a row, spread on the huge couch. Walter seemed to take the discussion quite seriously, even standing up to better argue with his son at times. Peter, not willing to accept defeat, argued back, rewinding the DVD to prove his point.
Olivia watched the whole scene in silence, not really paying attention anymore to what was onscreen, mostly because the warm sensation of her stomach full of pizza and happiness seemed to wrap her, pretty much the same way Peter did, his fingers entwined with hers, pads softly caressing her palms. His discussion with his father still heated.
“No, that’s not a possible concept, that could not be achieved the way it’s portrayed here,” Walter said, pointing at the screen and turning to them.
“Walter, give it a rest. It’s a movie. It’s possible in this reality because of the technology they developed.”
“But that’s not possible because of laws of physics, son!”
Peter sighed, turning to look at Olivia, who by that time had her head resting against his soft shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. She had been quiet most of the time, paying attention to their conversation. Neither one of them were actually watching the movies anyway.
“What do you think, Olivia?” Walter asked, making her raise her sleepy face to look at him.
“Walter, leave Olivia alone, she wants to watch the movie and you won’t let her.”
“But her opinion is important to me,” he said, standing up and walking to her.
Olivia looked at both Bishop men, who were staring back at her, as if she was the jury to decide their cause. She shook her head. Sometimes they were like children in a fight.
“I think Walter is right,” she said, her voice with a hint of sarcasm, as she looked at Peter. He groaned.
“You are supposed to support me, Olivia!”
“Ha! And with that, I rest my case!” Walter said, leaving the living room and going to the kitchen.
Peter pulled her arm away from her to turn his whole body to face her.
“You disappoint me, Dunham. You disappoint me.”
Olivia laughed, at the hurt expression on his face. He turned off the TV and grabbed the last slice of cold pizza, eating it with gusto.
She knew she probably had the dumbest look on her face as she gazed at him, but she couldn’t help it. Peter finished eating his pizza while he talked, his mouth full, about Star Wars and how Walter was wrong. If she said she was paying attention to every word he said she would be lying. Instead, she poured more wine in her glass and changed positions on the sofa, resting her legs on the coffee table.
Olivia already felt more comfortable at their house as she did in her own.
A soft instrumental song started playing, when Walter turned on his old gramophone to listen to an old vinyl. The song was familiar and yet she couldn’t point her finger at what that was. It soothed her still.
“I guess this is a definition of a wonderful night,” she said.
Peter chuckled, holding both her feet, which were still clad in her work boots, and placed them over his thighs. He slowly untied her shoelaces, pulling out her boots each one at time and throwing them aside. He did the same with her socks.
“I was going to offer you some foot massage, but if you’re already happy…”
Olivia hummed lowly, closing her eyes at the feel of his warm hands touching the soles of her feet.
“No, you can go on,” she said, shifting lightly on her spot. He ran his finger over her toes, smiling amused as they wiggled, and squeezed them lightly, rubbing her foot in a circling motion.
“You should indulge your father very now and then,” she said, watching him from under her eyelashes.
“Why? He loves these debates. We’ve been doing it almost every week now.”
“Yes, but why do you waste so much time arguing?”
“It’s not a waste of time, it’s fun!”
Olivia shrugged, the feel of his warms hands touching her wouldn’t allow her to care enough to continue this conversation and she sighed, content. Peter caught her reaction.
“That good, uh?”
“Yes. You have magic hands, Peter.”
He laughed out loud at her comment, grabbing her other feet to apply the same treatment, when Walter changed vinyls and the soft sound of Duke Ellington’s piano invaded the living room.
“Now, I think that’s one of the best music Walter plays. I love this album.”
She rose her head slightly, trying to catch a better hear of the song. It was indeed beautiful, a soft instrumental jazz song that seemed to fill the room in a soothing way.
“I don’t know it.”
“You’re kidding? You don’t know Duke Ellington?” he said in disbelief, caressing her ankles and the ball of her feet.
“No, not really.”
“I have so much to teach you, then.”
Olivia smiled sheepishly at his enthusiasm.
“Well, this is a performance with John Coltrane from 1962, a true gem. I’ve been listening to this song since I was a kid, Walter and my mother used to play it all the time. If I’m not mistaken it’s this very same vinyl.”
His face changed as he mentioned the old memory, looking slightly lost in a good period of time in his childhood. Olivia smiled, watching him.
Peter stood up in one fast move and reached out a hand for her.
“Come on. Dance with me.”
“What?”
“If you never danced to this song you don’t know what’s slow dance. C’mon.”
She held his hand and let him pull her up, sluggish, refusing to move. The mix of the tingling sensation from the wine and full stomach plus Peter’s soft rubbing on her feet made her drowsy, in a good way.
But then he wrapped an arm on her waist, tenderly, pressing her close enough to him, his other hand placing her arms around his shoulders. Olivia felt him leading her in a soft dance on the living room, both barefoot, stepping on the rug beneath them.
“I used to work at a piano bar for extra cash, in New Jersey, and this was my favorite song to play. You know, for the moment where almost everyone in the bar is drunk and everything seems is foggy yet no one wants to leave?”
“Really?” she said, surprised by this new-found fact about him.
“Yeah. There is something interesting about couples dancing, especially when they are interested in each other, the way their gaze meet, their body language…” he whispered, leaning against her in a not subtle manner at all. He kissed her cheek, lightly, rubbing his lips against her in the softest of the caresses. Then he kissed her nose, her closed eye lids and her forehead, as his hand slid down her hair, fingers running through the long golden strands to touch her back.
“And what did you learn from that?” she whispered back, leaning against his touch after he twirled her slowly and pull her back against him.
“Usually, when a woman leans towards a man, it means she is interested in getting intimate with him,” he said, a lopsided grin playing on his lips, as he looked down at her.
Olivia laughed, realizing her own body language and that she was, indeed, leaning towards him. Or against him, since they were so close to each other it felt like the air around them was cold.
“Well, who knows, you might get lucky tonight, Bishop.”
He hugged her, wrapping both arms around her at once, his cheek pressed against her.
“Oh, I already did. Have you seen the woman in my arms tonight?”
She smiled sweetly at him, pressing her forehead against his so their faces were close enough again. Olivia caressed his cheeks, the tip of her fingers running over his stubble until they found his lips and she traced them lightly, the curve of his chin and the soft wrinkles on his face. She felt her heart swelling with a feeling that made her whole body and warm.
“No, I’m the lucky one here,” she whispered, so low he thought for a second she didn’t intended him to hear it.
But he did. And his smile got broader, as they spun softly in the living room, gazing goofily at each other.
THE END