I don't own anything! This is my first Fringe Fancfic (A show that has very quickly become my new obsession:)) It's just a simple, cute little thing that popped into my head after 6B. Oneshot. Hope you enjoy!
Agent Olivia Dunham sighs heavily as warm water cascades through her hair. She rubs her tired eyes, thinking back over her past years working in the Fringe Division and reasons she has never had a day that has felt so long. The morning she had woken up to felt decades behind her, and a slight pang of guilt rose in her chest. He had booked them reservations ... but then the case had come along and dinner felt like a lifetime away. By the time they had finally settled the matter in hand, Olivia wanted nothing more than to have a hot shower and watch a movie. He understood; he always understood ... if it wasn't so nice she'd find it frustrating.
Her shower felt hours long, and her mind ran through most everything. Just the kind of showers she loves, she thinks, wiping the steam from her mirror and turning the water off. The pipes groan as she wraps a towel around her body, when suddenly a creak meets her ears. She whips her head round quickly towards the closed door, making her hair stick to her body.
My gun's on the coffee table. Shit.
She moves cautiously, not unlike a predator about to attack an unsuspecting pray, searching the bathroom for anything that could help her in a fight. Silently, Olivia fiddles with the towel rack that has been broken for many months, removing the bar in the most careful way possible. Hardly her gun ... but it would have to do. She moves towards the door, gripping the handle and taking a deep breath in. Swiftly was surely the only way to do this.
She yanks the door with all her might, but stops suddenly at the sight which meets her eyes.
Candles. Candles on almost every surface she has in her apartment, two bottles of beer and a large pizza sitting in the middle of her coffee table, her gun, right there beside the new additions.
Her eyes moved swiftly from the table to see him, standing with a certain smugness on his face. She raises her eyebrow, letting her arm swing back down towards the floor and leans against the door frame. "How'd you get in? I moved my spare key after she was here."
He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, "I picked the lock." The smile springs back onto his face as he moves towards her. She makes no attempt to budge and instead watches him get closer.
"You broke into my house?" She mocks as he slides his arms around her waist.
"Yes. But then, I figure the pizza will make up for that," he moves in for a kiss. She pulls back.
"Oh, well I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure it's my duty as a citizen of Boston to report you. Breaking and entering when a helpless woman is showering, that's pretty illegal," she smirks, shaking her head with mock disapproval.
His right brow rises, eyeing the bar in her hand. "Helpless?"
She stares down at the bar, laughs and throws it back into the bathroom. "Yeah ... okay." He kisses her lips quickly, and guides her towards the sofa. "You really didn't have to do all this Peter," she says, gratefully.
"I wanted to," he says simply. Her smile widens as she wonders how, even if it's only for tonight, she actually got what she always wanted.
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