I’m lost in the world. I’m down on my life. I’m new in the city but I’m down for the night
Title: "Let the Night Sleep"
Fandom: Fringe
Pairing/Characters: Olivia/Lincoln, blue verse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,701
Disclaimer: I own nothing Fringe wise
Warnings: None
Notes: For tellshannon815. Sorry it took a little longer.
This follows canon up to the very end and contains spoilers for Season 4, Episode 7: "Wallflower" Basically it's a re-telling of the end of "Wallflower"
Summary: Lincoln hasn't slept since joining Fringe division. He fears he'll never sleep again.
The humming and strain on his body relaxes immediately as he takes in his partner. Even when suffering from affects of a migraine and in her slightly rumpled “off” clothes Olivia still radiates and seems to fill up the whole small diner and like most times when he’s around her he feels he’s being pulled into her orbit.
Let the Night Sleep
Blissful ignorant sleep. Deep sleep. Comatose, sleeping like the dead sleep. This is the kind of sleep Lincoln remembers having or so he’s been told. His dorm mate in college told him he wouldn’t even stir when he brought a girl over.
“The girl never believed me but I told them you wouldn’t wake until you heard that alarm go off. You were totally conditioned, man. Like Pavlov’s dog or something.”
Conditioned. Lincoln can definitely contest to feeling like he’s been conditioned. Conditioned for a life to expect the unexpected, to be constantly on his toes and throw out the old rules of normalcy but he really does miss his sleep.
When things in his life don’t go his way, which he’s found has happened a lot, he throws himself in the job. Lincoln is nothing but practical. If something upsets him he can easily identify the problem and does admit it to himself. He has a strong pain tolerance-emotional and otherwise but he always buries it in his work which he can admit too. What are our faults if we can’t first admit them?
Insomnia is a new wrinkle and like all other things he throws himself into work hoping it’ll fix it.
Except not sleeping affects his work and how is he supposed to fix his sleeping problem when he feels he can’t work? It’s an endless viscous cycle that he knows deep down somewhere he can’t win until he’s spinning out of control and falling asleep face first in Walter’s candy dish of jelly beans minus the green ones. Walter explained the green ones had helped him with a particularly difficult sound equalization algorithm.
He’s losing his creditability with his new team, he’s tired all the time, he’s more on edge and prickly and he definitely has no idea what to do.
__
If Olivia had noticed a change in him she doesn’t say anything about it because really they have bigger fish to fry.
Lincoln doesn’t know how she does it-how she acts so cool, calm and collected any time all the time like nothing fazes her. He thinks she must really have great ways of coping like a guy to go home to and vent to without getting into specifics or maybe she journals everything or just jogs until she’s utterly exhausted and can’t think about it anymore. If Lincoln is honest with himself he knows all these things aren’t the case and Lincoln would ask Olivia how she really does it but he’s just the new guy on the team in the new city and seemingly the new world.
__
Sex would help. Lincoln blames lack of sleep for most of his thoughts these days but sex always helps everything right? It helps with headaches and normal aches and pains so why not insomnia?
Maybe if he had a chance to explore the city more he would happen across bars and meet more people but he’s married to the job and he seems to know nothing else these days.
So he tries to push through it because he got through his not always stable home life growing up, college and grueling time through the academy the same way he always has with undying perseverance.
He presses on even though he sometimes wears mix matched socks and bumps into walls getting side long looks from Astrid.
__
A rude shove to his shoulder jostles him awake. He blinks sleepily and takes in his surroundings. It’s getting harder and harder for him to keep track of things and by the way he was shoved he knows he must have fallen asleep at an inappropriate time.
His eyes sweep to his left to take in the surly expression of a waitress. The diner, right. Lincoln remembers now. When Lincoln can’t sleep which is always he manages to throw on some decent clothes and seemingly crawls over to the nearby, open twenty four hour diner-the holy grail for insomniacs.
The waitress gives him a tired scowl. She’s clearly dealt with deadbeats before.
Lincoln asks for a refill and tries to lay on the charm he knows he has somewhere buried underneath the heavy bags under his eyes and rumpled appearance.
He can’t focus on work so he tries a crossword, his pencil balanced between his teeth and for some reason it reminds him of Olivia. When she concentrates hard on something she puts her pen to her mouth and her face gets scrunched up and her eyebrows knit together dangerously.
He likes her hands. He likes her sloppy ponytail and the way she carries herself. He likes that she has no regard for how people see her or she thinks that no one ever thinks of her. For someone so astute she’s totally oblivious to people’s attention especially those who are close to her.
Is he close to her?
They’re partners after all but there are walls drawn up between them and Lincoln doesn’t have the foggiest idea how to even begin to bring them down.
His mind drifts off for a while with thoughts of his partner and he feels his eyelids drooping, his body unwinding unconsciously. It only happens briefly but it’s there. The reaction is curious and Lincoln files it away for later.
He picks at the puzzle like it’s a case to solve and whether it’s the puzzle of his life or the crossword Lincoln isn’t sure anymore.
__
Lincoln thinks it might the third day in a row where he’s gotten no sleep at all. He had managed some nights to get an hour or two but with all the recent cases they’ve been working on he can’t process it all when he lies in his bed at night.
He picks himself up, collects himself the best he can and slinks over to the diner. When he’ll go home he isn’t sure.
There’s a constant buzzing in his mind, bright spots dance at the corners of his eyes like bursts of fireworks and his whole body feels heavy.
He sits himself right at the counter when he comes in feeling confident now. The folks at the diner all know him now and the once surly waitress is now pleasant when she pours him his coffee and even flirts with him a little.
Lincoln tries to remember how this became his life. When was he up constantly? When did he stalk one particular haunt? How did he become that guy? He can only shake his head as he reads the newspaper again for the fourteenth time. His mind is lost to the black and white print that seems to meld together and dance in front of his vision. He’s so absorbed he doesn’t notice right away that someone is standing right beside him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
It’s like a beautiful mirage or a dream and for a brief moment Lincoln fears he fell asleep again at the diner.
Olivia looks a little taken aback like she can’t possibly believe that they’ve bumped into each other outside of work and Lincoln knows his expression of surprise mirrors hers quite well.
Lincoln had never in his wildest dreams, and yes he can admit he’s had thoughts and fantasies about his partner, thought that he would be meeting Olivia outside of work. It’s not like what Robert and him had. Thinking about Robert brings a fresh stab of guilt and pain to his system. No one would ever be able to replace Robert but with Olivia it’s different.
The humming and strain on his body relaxes immediately as he takes in his partner. Even when suffering from affects of a migraine and in her slightly rumpled “off” clothes Olivia still radiates and seems to fill up the whole small diner and like most times when he’s around her he feels he’s being pulled into her orbit.
They exchange awkward pleasantries and he’s pleased to find out where she lives. He’s even more pleased when she agrees to stay and have a cup of joe with him.
He blames a handful of things for his rambling on to her about not sleeping and not having a firm grasp on his new life. Lincoln isn’t prepared for her reaction. She listens and doesn’t judge him and for that he’s infinitely glad. He didn’t realize how anxious he was of her finding out. He didn’t know how much he wanted and needed her approval. It’s like a weight is lifted off of him and he feels more relaxed than he has in a week.
“Eventually it’ll just become your life.”
“Is that what happened with you?”
“Yeah…sort of…”
He knows there’s that wall appearing between again but by the way she looks around uncomfortably and almost shyly like she isn’t invincible herself instead of acting defensively or shutting down completely he also knows they’re making progress.
When it comes to the matter of his problem she doesn’t offer any real advice but she listens and by just getting it all out of his system it feels so good like a rush. She peers at him closely when he finishes. She studies and catalog things about him, seems to make a decision making his cheeks flush. It could be the tiredness but Lincoln swears he sees a hint of flirtation in the most intimate specks of her green eyes.
Lincoln can only bring himself to smile shyly back at her almost feeling grateful for once that this indeed is his life.
__
They wrap up the Eugene case and Lincoln chalks up Olivia’s gentle teasing about him not sleeping as a victory. They’re relationship had gotten easier, their exchanges looser and not as uptight. New foundations of trust and understanding were laid out that night at the diner Lincoln knows and he thinks maybe Olivia sees him as a person outside of a stuffy suit in a lab. He hopes she sees him just like he’s always seen her.
Lincoln tries to hide his bafflement and delight when Olivia casually mentions that maybe they’ll meet again at the diner that night. His heart skips a beat and muscles he didn’t know he was clenching seem to unwind and depress at her suggestion. They exchange a rare, private grin.
He’s almost too hopeful to think that it’ll become their “thing” to meet at the diner and commiserate on an insomniac’s life.
Lincoln gets the same booth they shared the other night when he arrives at the diner, branded: “their booth” in his mind. He adjusts the new glasses that Peter had given him, trying to get used to the feel of them.
He chews on the tip of his pencil and watches the steam from his coffee cup as he waits for his partner to show. His normal exhaustion is replaced by nervousness: something new and a much welcome thing. He can’t explain the reaction but he likes it all the same chalking it up to be Olivia in a nutshell-something that he likes a great deal but confuses him at the same time.
Five minutes becomes ten and Lincoln is almost worried she won’t show.
When he sees movement sliding into the booth across from his out of the corner of his eye he has to hide the sheer joy that threatens to explode across his features. He looks up at her as casually as he can muster. Her hands are folded neatly on the tabletop, the set of her shoulders relaxed, her eyes calm and steady. She looks so much better kempt like she was preparing to meet him and didn’t just roll out of bed. Lincoln’s cheeks flush at the thought. He turns to wave over the waitress in an attempt to hide it.
Olivia wraps her hands around the steaming cup after the waitress had finished filling both of theirs. She looks up at Lincoln almost tentatively.
“New glasses?”
Lincoln almost burns his tongue as he takes almost too large of a sip. He nods his head.
“Yeah…” he isn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Peter gave them to me? Lincoln still wasn’t sure what the whole deal with that was if he was being honest with himself. The look Peter had given him when he gave him the glasses spoke volumes and after the little chat they had at Peter’s house he had a pretty good idea what the gift meant. Lincoln just had a hard time wrapping his mind around Peter giving him his blessing. Blessing for what? It wasn’t like Olivia was interested in him or anything.
“They were a gift,” he finally decides.
Olivia nods. “Nice gift. Can I see?” she reaches a hand out towards them.
Olivia tucks some hair behind her ear; lower lip caught in her teeth and inspects them in her hand when Lincoln hands them to her. She flips them over and turns them this way and that. Lincoln watches her with blurry vision, a fleeting thought that she’s attempting to flirt with him enters his mind but he dismisses it. This was his partner after all. This was Olivia.
She looks up at him, his glasses still in her hand and Lincoln suddenly feels very exposed. She studies him for a while-a look in her eye that Lincoln can’t quite place but it doesn’t matter because Lincoln could very easily get lost in the look she’s giving him if he hasn’t already.
She hands him back the glasses and sits up a little straighter in her seat.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I kind of really do.”
__
Olivia’s apartment has the kind of feel to it like no one has really lived in it for quite a while and Lincoln knows the feeling because his apartment feels the same.
Olivia procures a bottle of whiskey and Lincoln quirks an eyebrow at her. She only smiles and motions her head towards a cupboard by way of explanation. Lincoln fishes out two glasses and listens to Olivia’s story about when she was in the military.
She doesn’t pull away when he rests his hand on the small of her back and leans into her space when she pours them both a generous amount.
Lincoln hasn’t had a drink in a while, maybe not since Robert’s funeral and he likes the lazy lingering taste on his tongue. He leans up against her counter, the conversation petering out and Lincoln doesn’t find it awkward or uncomfortable. They drink together in silence until both their glasses are drained.
Olivia kisses him lightning quick and feather light. Lincoln blinks several times, enough for it to be almost uncomfortable.
“Well, that was unexpected.”
Olivia smiles and laughs a little. “That was kind of the point.”
__
It’s slow and kind of perfect like they’ve both been needing this. Lincoln undresses them slowly liking the way Olivia’s hands never leave his hips as he undoes her pants like she needs to touch him in order to know this is real and to anchor them both. She runs her thumbs over his hip bones in lazy circles and hums in approval when he kisses her neck and cups her breast.
She removes his glasses slowly and pushes them up her own nose and he doesn’t stop kissing her until she’s beneath him on the bed.
__
Lincoln only stirs when he feels heat at his eyes. He blinks awake to sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Olivia’s bed is warm and comfortable and his body sighs in contentment from good sex and a full night’s sleep.
Lincoln stretches and reaches over to the nightstand where his glasses are neatly folded and apparently waiting for him. He throws on his boxers and undershirt and tries to smooth down his unruly hair.
Olivia is bent over the stove wearing his shirt and only his shirt. Lincoln slides up behind her and buries his face in her neck, his hands resting on her hips.
“You know for someone that doesn’t sleep you sure do sleep like the dead,” she pokes his side and steals a kiss.
Lincoln can only hold her closer to him and smile knowing he’ll have no more sleepless nights. There are no more walls between them now and the only basic truth he needs is in his arms.
Fandom: Fringe
Pairing/Characters: Olivia/Lincoln, blue verse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,701
Disclaimer: I own nothing Fringe wise
Warnings: None
Notes: For tellshannon815. Sorry it took a little longer.
This follows canon up to the very end and contains spoilers for Season 4, Episode 7: "Wallflower" Basically it's a re-telling of the end of "Wallflower"
Summary: Lincoln hasn't slept since joining Fringe division. He fears he'll never sleep again.
The humming and strain on his body relaxes immediately as he takes in his partner. Even when suffering from affects of a migraine and in her slightly rumpled “off” clothes Olivia still radiates and seems to fill up the whole small diner and like most times when he’s around her he feels he’s being pulled into her orbit.
Let the Night Sleep
Blissful ignorant sleep. Deep sleep. Comatose, sleeping like the dead sleep. This is the kind of sleep Lincoln remembers having or so he’s been told. His dorm mate in college told him he wouldn’t even stir when he brought a girl over.
“The girl never believed me but I told them you wouldn’t wake until you heard that alarm go off. You were totally conditioned, man. Like Pavlov’s dog or something.”
Conditioned. Lincoln can definitely contest to feeling like he’s been conditioned. Conditioned for a life to expect the unexpected, to be constantly on his toes and throw out the old rules of normalcy but he really does miss his sleep.
When things in his life don’t go his way, which he’s found has happened a lot, he throws himself in the job. Lincoln is nothing but practical. If something upsets him he can easily identify the problem and does admit it to himself. He has a strong pain tolerance-emotional and otherwise but he always buries it in his work which he can admit too. What are our faults if we can’t first admit them?
Insomnia is a new wrinkle and like all other things he throws himself into work hoping it’ll fix it.
Except not sleeping affects his work and how is he supposed to fix his sleeping problem when he feels he can’t work? It’s an endless viscous cycle that he knows deep down somewhere he can’t win until he’s spinning out of control and falling asleep face first in Walter’s candy dish of jelly beans minus the green ones. Walter explained the green ones had helped him with a particularly difficult sound equalization algorithm.
He’s losing his creditability with his new team, he’s tired all the time, he’s more on edge and prickly and he definitely has no idea what to do.
__
If Olivia had noticed a change in him she doesn’t say anything about it because really they have bigger fish to fry.
Lincoln doesn’t know how she does it-how she acts so cool, calm and collected any time all the time like nothing fazes her. He thinks she must really have great ways of coping like a guy to go home to and vent to without getting into specifics or maybe she journals everything or just jogs until she’s utterly exhausted and can’t think about it anymore. If Lincoln is honest with himself he knows all these things aren’t the case and Lincoln would ask Olivia how she really does it but he’s just the new guy on the team in the new city and seemingly the new world.
__
Sex would help. Lincoln blames lack of sleep for most of his thoughts these days but sex always helps everything right? It helps with headaches and normal aches and pains so why not insomnia?
Maybe if he had a chance to explore the city more he would happen across bars and meet more people but he’s married to the job and he seems to know nothing else these days.
So he tries to push through it because he got through his not always stable home life growing up, college and grueling time through the academy the same way he always has with undying perseverance.
He presses on even though he sometimes wears mix matched socks and bumps into walls getting side long looks from Astrid.
__
A rude shove to his shoulder jostles him awake. He blinks sleepily and takes in his surroundings. It’s getting harder and harder for him to keep track of things and by the way he was shoved he knows he must have fallen asleep at an inappropriate time.
His eyes sweep to his left to take in the surly expression of a waitress. The diner, right. Lincoln remembers now. When Lincoln can’t sleep which is always he manages to throw on some decent clothes and seemingly crawls over to the nearby, open twenty four hour diner-the holy grail for insomniacs.
The waitress gives him a tired scowl. She’s clearly dealt with deadbeats before.
Lincoln asks for a refill and tries to lay on the charm he knows he has somewhere buried underneath the heavy bags under his eyes and rumpled appearance.
He can’t focus on work so he tries a crossword, his pencil balanced between his teeth and for some reason it reminds him of Olivia. When she concentrates hard on something she puts her pen to her mouth and her face gets scrunched up and her eyebrows knit together dangerously.
He likes her hands. He likes her sloppy ponytail and the way she carries herself. He likes that she has no regard for how people see her or she thinks that no one ever thinks of her. For someone so astute she’s totally oblivious to people’s attention especially those who are close to her.
Is he close to her?
They’re partners after all but there are walls drawn up between them and Lincoln doesn’t have the foggiest idea how to even begin to bring them down.
His mind drifts off for a while with thoughts of his partner and he feels his eyelids drooping, his body unwinding unconsciously. It only happens briefly but it’s there. The reaction is curious and Lincoln files it away for later.
He picks at the puzzle like it’s a case to solve and whether it’s the puzzle of his life or the crossword Lincoln isn’t sure anymore.
__
Lincoln thinks it might the third day in a row where he’s gotten no sleep at all. He had managed some nights to get an hour or two but with all the recent cases they’ve been working on he can’t process it all when he lies in his bed at night.
He picks himself up, collects himself the best he can and slinks over to the diner. When he’ll go home he isn’t sure.
There’s a constant buzzing in his mind, bright spots dance at the corners of his eyes like bursts of fireworks and his whole body feels heavy.
He sits himself right at the counter when he comes in feeling confident now. The folks at the diner all know him now and the once surly waitress is now pleasant when she pours him his coffee and even flirts with him a little.
Lincoln tries to remember how this became his life. When was he up constantly? When did he stalk one particular haunt? How did he become that guy? He can only shake his head as he reads the newspaper again for the fourteenth time. His mind is lost to the black and white print that seems to meld together and dance in front of his vision. He’s so absorbed he doesn’t notice right away that someone is standing right beside him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
It’s like a beautiful mirage or a dream and for a brief moment Lincoln fears he fell asleep again at the diner.
Olivia looks a little taken aback like she can’t possibly believe that they’ve bumped into each other outside of work and Lincoln knows his expression of surprise mirrors hers quite well.
Lincoln had never in his wildest dreams, and yes he can admit he’s had thoughts and fantasies about his partner, thought that he would be meeting Olivia outside of work. It’s not like what Robert and him had. Thinking about Robert brings a fresh stab of guilt and pain to his system. No one would ever be able to replace Robert but with Olivia it’s different.
The humming and strain on his body relaxes immediately as he takes in his partner. Even when suffering from affects of a migraine and in her slightly rumpled “off” clothes Olivia still radiates and seems to fill up the whole small diner and like most times when he’s around her he feels he’s being pulled into her orbit.
They exchange awkward pleasantries and he’s pleased to find out where she lives. He’s even more pleased when she agrees to stay and have a cup of joe with him.
He blames a handful of things for his rambling on to her about not sleeping and not having a firm grasp on his new life. Lincoln isn’t prepared for her reaction. She listens and doesn’t judge him and for that he’s infinitely glad. He didn’t realize how anxious he was of her finding out. He didn’t know how much he wanted and needed her approval. It’s like a weight is lifted off of him and he feels more relaxed than he has in a week.
“Eventually it’ll just become your life.”
“Is that what happened with you?”
“Yeah…sort of…”
He knows there’s that wall appearing between again but by the way she looks around uncomfortably and almost shyly like she isn’t invincible herself instead of acting defensively or shutting down completely he also knows they’re making progress.
When it comes to the matter of his problem she doesn’t offer any real advice but she listens and by just getting it all out of his system it feels so good like a rush. She peers at him closely when he finishes. She studies and catalog things about him, seems to make a decision making his cheeks flush. It could be the tiredness but Lincoln swears he sees a hint of flirtation in the most intimate specks of her green eyes.
Lincoln can only bring himself to smile shyly back at her almost feeling grateful for once that this indeed is his life.
__
They wrap up the Eugene case and Lincoln chalks up Olivia’s gentle teasing about him not sleeping as a victory. They’re relationship had gotten easier, their exchanges looser and not as uptight. New foundations of trust and understanding were laid out that night at the diner Lincoln knows and he thinks maybe Olivia sees him as a person outside of a stuffy suit in a lab. He hopes she sees him just like he’s always seen her.
Lincoln tries to hide his bafflement and delight when Olivia casually mentions that maybe they’ll meet again at the diner that night. His heart skips a beat and muscles he didn’t know he was clenching seem to unwind and depress at her suggestion. They exchange a rare, private grin.
He’s almost too hopeful to think that it’ll become their “thing” to meet at the diner and commiserate on an insomniac’s life.
Lincoln gets the same booth they shared the other night when he arrives at the diner, branded: “their booth” in his mind. He adjusts the new glasses that Peter had given him, trying to get used to the feel of them.
He chews on the tip of his pencil and watches the steam from his coffee cup as he waits for his partner to show. His normal exhaustion is replaced by nervousness: something new and a much welcome thing. He can’t explain the reaction but he likes it all the same chalking it up to be Olivia in a nutshell-something that he likes a great deal but confuses him at the same time.
Five minutes becomes ten and Lincoln is almost worried she won’t show.
When he sees movement sliding into the booth across from his out of the corner of his eye he has to hide the sheer joy that threatens to explode across his features. He looks up at her as casually as he can muster. Her hands are folded neatly on the tabletop, the set of her shoulders relaxed, her eyes calm and steady. She looks so much better kempt like she was preparing to meet him and didn’t just roll out of bed. Lincoln’s cheeks flush at the thought. He turns to wave over the waitress in an attempt to hide it.
Olivia wraps her hands around the steaming cup after the waitress had finished filling both of theirs. She looks up at Lincoln almost tentatively.
“New glasses?”
Lincoln almost burns his tongue as he takes almost too large of a sip. He nods his head.
“Yeah…” he isn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Peter gave them to me? Lincoln still wasn’t sure what the whole deal with that was if he was being honest with himself. The look Peter had given him when he gave him the glasses spoke volumes and after the little chat they had at Peter’s house he had a pretty good idea what the gift meant. Lincoln just had a hard time wrapping his mind around Peter giving him his blessing. Blessing for what? It wasn’t like Olivia was interested in him or anything.
“They were a gift,” he finally decides.
Olivia nods. “Nice gift. Can I see?” she reaches a hand out towards them.
Olivia tucks some hair behind her ear; lower lip caught in her teeth and inspects them in her hand when Lincoln hands them to her. She flips them over and turns them this way and that. Lincoln watches her with blurry vision, a fleeting thought that she’s attempting to flirt with him enters his mind but he dismisses it. This was his partner after all. This was Olivia.
She looks up at him, his glasses still in her hand and Lincoln suddenly feels very exposed. She studies him for a while-a look in her eye that Lincoln can’t quite place but it doesn’t matter because Lincoln could very easily get lost in the look she’s giving him if he hasn’t already.
She hands him back the glasses and sits up a little straighter in her seat.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I kind of really do.”
__
Olivia’s apartment has the kind of feel to it like no one has really lived in it for quite a while and Lincoln knows the feeling because his apartment feels the same.
Olivia procures a bottle of whiskey and Lincoln quirks an eyebrow at her. She only smiles and motions her head towards a cupboard by way of explanation. Lincoln fishes out two glasses and listens to Olivia’s story about when she was in the military.
She doesn’t pull away when he rests his hand on the small of her back and leans into her space when she pours them both a generous amount.
Lincoln hasn’t had a drink in a while, maybe not since Robert’s funeral and he likes the lazy lingering taste on his tongue. He leans up against her counter, the conversation petering out and Lincoln doesn’t find it awkward or uncomfortable. They drink together in silence until both their glasses are drained.
Olivia kisses him lightning quick and feather light. Lincoln blinks several times, enough for it to be almost uncomfortable.
“Well, that was unexpected.”
Olivia smiles and laughs a little. “That was kind of the point.”
__
It’s slow and kind of perfect like they’ve both been needing this. Lincoln undresses them slowly liking the way Olivia’s hands never leave his hips as he undoes her pants like she needs to touch him in order to know this is real and to anchor them both. She runs her thumbs over his hip bones in lazy circles and hums in approval when he kisses her neck and cups her breast.
She removes his glasses slowly and pushes them up her own nose and he doesn’t stop kissing her until she’s beneath him on the bed.
__
Lincoln only stirs when he feels heat at his eyes. He blinks awake to sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Olivia’s bed is warm and comfortable and his body sighs in contentment from good sex and a full night’s sleep.
Lincoln stretches and reaches over to the nightstand where his glasses are neatly folded and apparently waiting for him. He throws on his boxers and undershirt and tries to smooth down his unruly hair.
Olivia is bent over the stove wearing his shirt and only his shirt. Lincoln slides up behind her and buries his face in her neck, his hands resting on her hips.
“You know for someone that doesn’t sleep you sure do sleep like the dead,” she pokes his side and steals a kiss.
Lincoln can only hold her closer to him and smile knowing he’ll have no more sleepless nights. There are no more walls between them now and the only basic truth he needs is in his arms.