Disclaimer: I do not own FRINGE and make no profit from this work of fiction
AN: I wrote this with the premise of "What I want to happen on Fringe". Or what I call Fringe Season 6 in my mind, lol. Please review/favorite/etc. if you'd like me to continue this story. -FTH
Peter could sleep anywhere.
On a bus, train, on the couch, in the car, on the lab table. It was- cute, she supposed. It was their last late night, their last few hours at Harvard and he was fast asleep, his head on his hands on the desk. They needed to be on campus to oversee the moving of goods :theirs to the first official Fringe Division building in Boston, and Walter to Massive Dynamic in New York.
Peter had opted to pull an all-nighter packing all of their belongings into boxes. They'd be there all night anyway. The trucks were coming in at 2AM to haul their things away, any earlier and they'd have a handful of questions from the grad students down the hall.
They had to inventory everything and she had just finished their office with 'One Large Desk- Double-Sided, 10 Drawers'. Peter's half had permanent marker smudges and coffee stains, while her half was in pristine condition. He had also carved 'PB+OD' inside one of the drawers and if she ever needed a reminder of the love he had for her, it was there for her to see. This lab, their office was their life. And now it was packed into 815 boxes.
She had her own corner office now. And to quote Broyles, 'A position befit of the best agent I could ask for.' And Director Dunham did have a certain ring to it. There was a coffee machine ten feet from her office and she had an assistant and Astrid had gotten a promotion or six, they were moving on. It didn't mean she wasn't going to miss it.
"I'm gonna miss this place." Olivia couldn't help the tear from escaping. She had gotten to know Peter here. She had loved and lost and saved lives here. She can't help but stare at Peter as she was sitting across from him, in the chair she had come to call her own. They'd never break cases here, never pour over documents.
One eye opens cautiously at her before blinking awake, "I must have fallen asleep. Where's Walter?"
"He left ten minutes ago. They needed to get another truck to get the desk and your books." Her tone implied that he was a pack rat (which he was) and he just chuckled in response.
"There are only 16 boxes." He covered lamely. 16 boxes was about 10 too many. He had three copies of Gray's Anatomy, two Spanish dictionaries and that was just the tip of the iceberg. It took the two of them three hours to catalog all of those damn books and she couldn't remember Peter using them once.
"When were you going to give me the ring you hid in your desk?" A direct approach usually worked best in these situations. Gauging by his reaction, he wasn't surprised she found it, but wasn't exactly happy about it either.
The job had made her suspicious so she checked every nook and cranny of their desk, anything not inventoried properly might get sent to Massive Dynamic and then getting it back would be another hassle. It was taped to the back of the third drawer, in the secret compartment he'd made where he stored his extra gun and emergency cell phone. She didn't inventory the ring of course; she was so afraid that Peter was going to catch her trying it on while he was coming back from Damiano's, she just shoved it into her pocket sans box. While she was eating dinner, it burned a hole in her pocket. When he finally went back towards the leftover lab equipment she finally got a good look at it.
The ring had a green diamond in a tulip setting, it was gorgeous. It wasn't traditional by any means, the white-gold was intricately melded together, curling around the setting to imitate leaves. Gently placing the ring on her finger she held it up to admire it, the ring fitting her finger perfectly.
"I couldn't decide if I should give you my mother's ring or your mother's ring from Rachel, and I was walking around Manhattan and it reminded me of your eyes, so I bought it."
His hand went for her fingertips, running his thumb along her fingernails. He was trying to distract her from something, but she knew his tricks by now. He probably bought it weeks ago, "When did you buy it?"
"September2010."
Thinking back, there was only a small window of time that he could have possibly been in Manhattan, "I was in the other universe with William Bell."
"So? A man can't buy a ring?" He sounds so amused.
"We weren't even dating."
"So?"
He was being smarmy and arrogant and so Peter that it was infuriating, "So you're telling me that you bought me an engagement ring, before we were dating, when I thought you were dating my sister, before I knew you were sticking around, before all of the Fauxlivia crap. And it's just been sitting here, in this box, in our desk, for the past five years?"
"You knew I was sticking around, Olivia. And honestly I'm not surprised you found it sooner."
It would have been relatively easy to find it, but she respected that Peter had secrets he could never tell her about. She had read his file years ago and that was only the stuff the FBI knew about. Knowing about his past wouldn't change anything about how he felt about her. Or how she felt about him.
"Sometimes, Peter-"
He's crossed into her personal space, his face near inches from her own and she can't help but go a little weak in the knees. Accommodating to him, she rearranged her body to be flush against his, her hands going to his face, like he had done many times before. He seemed to be waiting for something, and his face suddenly feels warm-
"I can get on one knee? You're kinda leaving me hanging here, Livia."
"Mr. Overconfident, unsure about something? Shaking in his boots?" Teasing him would never get old and she liked to think that it kept them interesting. They could have fun if the occasion called for it.
He knows the question and she knows the answer. They probably would have kissed on it, if not for Astrid and the second truck arriving at a particularly inconvenient moment.
"Why did we decide to move the same weekend as the new office?" Peter grumbled from the other side of the couch they were currently lifting. Her lease was up and the Bishop house had mold or something equally vile growing in the basement, so the two of them packed up their belongings and moved into a brownstone in Chelsea.
"Because that thing growing in your basement was getting toxic and you were already packing Walter's things so you might as well pack yours too." Lincoln chimes in, getting the front door for them, "I hear congratulations are in order."
She supposed he warranted a phone call, but apparently Walter told Astrid who told him worked much faster than her remembering to tell people. They had been together long enough that most people probably assumed it was just going to happen anway.
"Thanks, Link."
"And may I remind you, as your only friend, that I am an excellent candidate for Best Man."
"I don't know, I was thinking Brandon." Peter smirks from around the couch cushions at her.
Couch successfully in the living room, she points Lincoln towards the kitchen to start unloading boxes. She had already labeled all of the boxes with their intended location, a combination of insomnia and her photographic memory definitely expediting the process of moving.
New flooring, new carpet. The price was a bit steep, but there were three bedrooms, a basement for Peter to put his semi-illegal stuff in, and an office for her to work from home if they ever decided to have kids. It was beautiful, her dream home. She also figured it was about time she and Peter lived together, the ring on her finger a welcome reminder.
"Where do you want these?"
Olivia craned her neck to see Peter unpacking the bathroom, her box marked "unmentionables" being mistaken for feminine hygiene products. The box, while rather small held three guns, one taser and stun grenade. It also "Emergency Checklist" in case something creepy, gross and/or scary was about to kill them.
"Really? A 9mm? Where's the sniper rifle? Where's the glock? Where's my backup emergency gun?"
Lincoln is looking at the two of them, jaw dropped. She supposes most people don't see the normal Peter, her Peter. The one who eats ice cream until he's sick because he can't let it get gross in the freezer. The one who laughs and is a genius and so sarcastic and walks around the house in a labcoat because it helps him think. She's also the senior officer and can't really say she kids around at work, so that's probably new for him too.
"You can have the one Walter built into a garter belt." Olivia reassured him, flattening the box that held their DVDs. Five hours, two coffee breaks and a pizza later: her house is moved in, Lincoln was stealing their leftovers and Walter was attempting to skype them from his apartment in New York.
"I have an assistant Peter! And interns, although Agent Farnsworth has informed me that the word intern is not as exchangeable with labrat as it once was."
"Walter, you promised Nina you wouldn't experiment on humans without her consent." Peter reminded him, picking up the paper plates and throwing them away. "Thanksgiving is in a couple weeks and we'll do it at your swanky new pad."
"That would be lovely. Thanksgiving in New York City. I suppose I should tidy the place up a bit before then."
"Walter you just moved in." Olivia reminded him, mentally adding garbage bags to the list of things to buy. They could unpack the rest of the stuff tomorrow. And Walter could keep his apartment as messy as he wanted. "Good night Walter."
She doesn't catch the rest of the conversation but when she brings a coffee mug to the sink, Walter perks up immediately,"Peter remind Olivia that I predicted you two would be married long before you were dating."
"I'm sure she recognized your many not-so-subtle hints."
"What hints?"
"Peter, doesn't Agent Dunham look lovely, Peter do you think she'll call me Dad, Peter open the door for Agent Dunham, it's what a gentleman caller would do, Peter, do you think Olivia would like Blueberry Cream Cheese Waffles? I could make them for your wedding! Oh, did you need the room? I noticed Olivia liked pickles so I picked her up a jar from the market. Peter do you think Walter is a suitable middle name for a child?" Peter listed them from memory and it warmed her heart that Walter felt that highly of her from the get-go.
"Goodnight, Walter." Peter adds before turning off his laptop.
Padding up the stairs Olivia stood in the hallway admiring the master bathroom, two showerheads, very large bathtub. They had empty rooms and an extra bathroom-
"I want kids." Olivia blurts, not exactly sure why she was even saying it, "Do you want kids because I was just thinking-"
"Yes, I want kids. We can start right now if you'd like-"
"Nope. We have an early day tomorrow."
She had a feeling that this was the beginning of the rest of their lives.