A/N: Hi guys! This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic, so bear with me. I'm definitely not a writer, just have some ideas of what I wanted to see in Fringe and thought I might as well write them down :)

A little background:

This story starts on Christmas Eve 2015, so like four months after the finale of the show (the timeline reset).

I don't know exactly where this is going, but if anyone is interested in keeping with it, leave me a review!

Olivia walked into the house, shutting the door against the swirling snow and dark sky. Sitting next to her were two pairs of boots and a heap of wet snow gear forming a rather large puddle around the vent. Olivia shook her head with a smirk and went to grab a towel to clean up Peter and Etta's mess, but stopped when she heard their laughter emanating from the living room.

As she peeked around the corner, Olivia smiled at the scene playing out in front of her. The family's large fireplace illuminated what appeared to be a rather large and intricate fort constructed from nearly all the furniture and blankets on the lower level of their home. Using the light from the fire, Peter was enthusiastically showing Etta how to make various shadow puppets onto the sheet making up the nearest wall of the fort.

"I wasn't aware your bedtime had gotten pushed back, Miss Etta," Olivia called into the room, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

"Mama!" shouted Etta as she ran into her mother's arms. "We were just waiting till you got home because I want YOU to tell me a bedtime story tonight."

"Really?" Olivia inquired, "Because from what I remember, you liked Daddy's stories better."

"Well maybe if your stories had more princesses and dragons, they would be satisfactory," Peter smirked, kissing Olivia on the cheek. "Did you get all your paperwork done?"

"I did, but Broyles ordered a raid on the suspect from yesterday and I have yet to get everything documented. I brought home some work so I wouldn't get snowed in at the federal building. Besides, I was feeling the need for some hugs from my favorite little girl." Olivia squeezed Etta more tightly and pressed her nose into the three-year-old's curls, eliciting a small giggle from her.

"I'm glad you got home before the roads got too bad," Peter said, "and it appears this one is glad to have her mom home," to which Etta nodded eagerly, "but aren't you getting tired, sweetheart?"

"No, Daddy, I wanna show Mama the fort we made!" she whined.

"It'll be there in the morning, baby girl. If you don't get to bed soon, Santa might not come," Olivia warned her.

Etta dropped from Olivia's arms, giving her parents an extremely alarmed look before ambling up the stairs to her room as fast as her small legs would take her.

Peter chuckled quietly slipping his arms around Olivia's waist and setting his head on her shoulder. "I thought you weren't too keen on the whole 'Santa' thing? Didn't you say you feel uncomfortable lying to her about something so trivial?"

"Yeah, but it would probably be more difficult to prevent her from spreading the word that Santa's not real to the entirety of her preschool. At this point, I've decided to just go with it."

"How very diplomatic of you," murmured Peter.

"MOMMY, I'M STILL WAITING ON THAT STORY," Etta bellowed from her room, eliciting a chuckle from her embracing parents.

"Better get on that. You hungry? I'll make you something," offered Peter.

"Sure," Olivia smiled, "I'll be down as soon as I finish story time."