On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
ten important thoughts
Actually, only one important thought... for now. Will there be more? WE SHALL SEE.
[Title] Man's Best Friend
[Fandom] Fringe
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Walter has an idea.
“I’ve been thinking,” Walter says. He speaks as if they’d just broken off a conversation a moment ago. Peter groans, and tries to make his eyes open. With anyone else, he’d glance at the clock and then lead with, It’s three a.m., go back to bed, but there’s no point in having that conversation with his father.
“What have you been thinking about?” he asks, and almost stops it turning into a yawn.
“That poor young lady today had a dog, didn’t she?” Walter says, sounding perkier than he should considering said poor young lady was out walking her dog when she was murdered by a serial killer. “Well, I doubt her family want to worry about looking after the dog when they’re grieving. It’s a very difficult time. Funeral planning and such. I was thinking -”
“Walter, please tell me you haven’t stolen the dog.” Peter sits up, rubs the sleep out of his eyes, looks around for an illegally purloined rough collie swiped from a traumatised family. Thank god, his home is as quiet as ever. Walter, sitting on the edge of his bed, looks hurt. “What do you take me for? Of course I wouldn’t just go and - and steal somebody else’s pet.” He clears his throat. “I was simply thinking that it might help, and… well, you know, we never had a pet when you were growing up, did we?”
Right. It’s another father-son bonding exercise.
“I mean,” Peter says, “I’m not saying I’d never get a dog, but it’s probably not practical right now, is it? Given the nature of our work. We’re out all day -”
“Oh, but it could come to the lab, I’m sure it would enjoy it -”
“I’m not sure Gene would,” Peter says. “And… a lot of weird stuff goes in and out of that lab. We wouldn’t want a dog to get hurt. Eat something it shouldn’t.” There’s enough of a risk for people eating something they shouldn’t, he manages not to say.
Walter’s shoulders slump a little. Peter knows as you get older you’re meant to start seeing a shift in roles between you and your parents (though he could never imagine it happening with his father, not with how his father used to be). He didn’t expect it would be this pronounced, though.
“I just thought it might be good for you,” Walter says.
“Well, it might,” Peter says. “One day. I wouldn’t mind a dog.” He realises as he said it that it’s kind of true. He’s never been in a position to have any kind of pet, what with all the travelling and semi-legal activities, but he could stand to have a dog. Even if having one while sharing a house with Walter might feel like just another step to creating this funhouse mirror version of family life. “Just, not while we’re dealing with fringe science run amok on a daily basis. And not a victim’s dog. I’m sure her family will find it a good home, okay?”
Walter considers: “Well, I suppose so.” He nods, satisfied. “Glad we had this talk.” And he gets up to wander back to bed of his own accord. Peter figures that has to be a win. He resists the urge to reiterate no bringing home any dogs without discussing it with me, especially if you didn’t ask their owners about it first. His father will respect the sanctity of pet ownership. Probably.
ten important thoughts
Actually, only one important thought... for now. Will there be more? WE SHALL SEE.
[Title] Man's Best Friend
[Fandom] Fringe
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Walter has an idea.
“I’ve been thinking,” Walter says. He speaks as if they’d just broken off a conversation a moment ago. Peter groans, and tries to make his eyes open. With anyone else, he’d glance at the clock and then lead with, It’s three a.m., go back to bed, but there’s no point in having that conversation with his father.
“What have you been thinking about?” he asks, and almost stops it turning into a yawn.
“That poor young lady today had a dog, didn’t she?” Walter says, sounding perkier than he should considering said poor young lady was out walking her dog when she was murdered by a serial killer. “Well, I doubt her family want to worry about looking after the dog when they’re grieving. It’s a very difficult time. Funeral planning and such. I was thinking -”
“Walter, please tell me you haven’t stolen the dog.” Peter sits up, rubs the sleep out of his eyes, looks around for an illegally purloined rough collie swiped from a traumatised family. Thank god, his home is as quiet as ever. Walter, sitting on the edge of his bed, looks hurt. “What do you take me for? Of course I wouldn’t just go and - and steal somebody else’s pet.” He clears his throat. “I was simply thinking that it might help, and… well, you know, we never had a pet when you were growing up, did we?”
Right. It’s another father-son bonding exercise.
“I mean,” Peter says, “I’m not saying I’d never get a dog, but it’s probably not practical right now, is it? Given the nature of our work. We’re out all day -”
“Oh, but it could come to the lab, I’m sure it would enjoy it -”
“I’m not sure Gene would,” Peter says. “And… a lot of weird stuff goes in and out of that lab. We wouldn’t want a dog to get hurt. Eat something it shouldn’t.” There’s enough of a risk for people eating something they shouldn’t, he manages not to say.
Walter’s shoulders slump a little. Peter knows as you get older you’re meant to start seeing a shift in roles between you and your parents (though he could never imagine it happening with his father, not with how his father used to be). He didn’t expect it would be this pronounced, though.
“I just thought it might be good for you,” Walter says.
“Well, it might,” Peter says. “One day. I wouldn’t mind a dog.” He realises as he said it that it’s kind of true. He’s never been in a position to have any kind of pet, what with all the travelling and semi-legal activities, but he could stand to have a dog. Even if having one while sharing a house with Walter might feel like just another step to creating this funhouse mirror version of family life. “Just, not while we’re dealing with fringe science run amok on a daily basis. And not a victim’s dog. I’m sure her family will find it a good home, okay?”
Walter considers: “Well, I suppose so.” He nods, satisfied. “Glad we had this talk.” And he gets up to wander back to bed of his own accord. Peter figures that has to be a win. He resists the urge to reiterate no bringing home any dogs without discussing it with me, especially if you didn’t ask their owners about it first. His father will respect the sanctity of pet ownership. Probably.