AN: Hello Fringe-verse. For the show on its own is awesome enough this may stay my only contribution to this fandom.
Hope you enjoy anyway, Sunny.
When he was little, he didn't know what his father was doing.
Now that he's a grown man, his father an old man, he still doesn't understand what Peter does for him.
The day Agent Olivia Dunham walked up to him and asked -threatened actually- him to get his father out of the clinic had made him want to do one thing: roll his eyes and don't see her after that. Must've been the heat. A mirage or something.
And when he'd seen his father it was as if something dark from deep down, from the furtherst corner of his brain had come to pull him with it down.
All the years he'd spent trying to get to know his father, catch up with his experiments. Than the realization that his father would never treat him like other dads treated theirs sons: catch a ball in the backyard, drive him to school, pick him up and go to get junkfood.
Peter's father put patches on his head in a cold and way too bright basement, forgot to fill up the car with gasoline, never got the right time in picking him up- if he even remembered that he had a son. Not a lab-rat to feed with drugs.
All this time Peter wanted to get throught the wall around his father. To get the dad he wanted to have.
He'd failed.
Over the years he had shoved the guilt to Walter, for being all but never a daddy.
And he became bitter. Even the thought of the man who got his mother pregnant left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"You don't get it, do you?" He'd asked Olivia. She never gave up. She fought for the man she loved, even stayed optimistic after all that'd happened to her. That the universe burdened her with.
How could he think about the universes, care about the people in them, when his goal failed?
He'll never bring his father to acknowledge the things he did for him- babysit him, bring him clothes in the morning (whenever between 12pm and 12am that was), cook, wash, tidy for and after him. He never wasted one thought that Walter would eventually thank him one day for what Peter had done. That was not something that was going to happen. A thanks from Olivia and the looks Astrid gave him were the only things he was rewarded with. And even if his head screamed to fly to the next place, pull the next act, he didn't give in. Although he wanted to. Badly. His father wasn't like a child that would grow up, move out and live an own life. Walter was a job for life. No vaction, no calling in sick.
All the guys at crime scenes and women in supermarkets he had to tell that his father was joking about getting a finger from them to see if it works in a plant a limp too. Walter was in sweet oblivion. And those little moments, when he do was somewhat of a dad, actually grew from disturbing to strange to wanted to loved.
But everytime Walter patted him on the shoulder for finding a complicated substance was some chemical Peter knew, it hurt.
Because then he wanted to cry, to hit his father, to throw him into the nearest table and beat him up as long as it took Walter to see that /finding some chemicals/ was one of the easiest things for Peter.
Fishing a tablecloth with a whole piece of butter out of the oven was something entirely different. It as straining.
But with all the things Peter gritted his teeth about and the messes he fixed because of Walter, soon he came to realize one thing himself: there were lots of people dealing with the most dangerous threats on an everyday basis.
But he was the only one who knew how to handle Walter Bishop.
x-_-x