FRINGE

The Suit

No inFRiNGEment intended.

Note: filler for "The Transformation". Mostly fluff. Bolivia.

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"A suit? You're kidding right?"

She laughed quietly and adjusted the length of her belt to fit her waist. Then she smoothed her black coat with both hands. She turned her attention to Peter, posing in front of a full length mirror with his hands on his hips, the perfect image of stubborn rejection.

"What's wrong with it? I find it rather becoming. You should try to dress like that more often…" she trailed with a smile. She pressed the stud against her ear and checked her reflection. She liked those earrings. She was not used to having this kind of consideration in mind but actually, she believed that they were really "her". She would have to find some kind words for agent Sally Cornish. It was a great find. Satisfied with the way she looked, she came closer and stood beside him.

"See, that works, don't you think?"

"What does?"

"Well, the both of us. Together."

Peter glanced at her with an interrogating eye.

"If I were those guys, I'd believe us."

"Now you're making fun of me! Why would it work? You don't really think they will picture me as a bodyguard or a hitman, do you?"

"You'd be surprised. People don't always look what they are."

"So you say. However, you're the one with the funky boots and the fancy earrings and I'm stuck with a polyester off-the-peg suit in a bad colour. I'm glad I took a change of shoes. At least, they don't look like crap. Well, I guess I can take comfort in the fact that should I get the porcupine treatment, my clothes will be ripped off of me."

"Peter, you're such a snob! I thought that the pocket handkerchief was a nice touch."

"Not even silk. And white. What's nice about it? At least, when I'm going on a suicide mission, I'd like to wear cool clothes. Get a proper send off. You should look into that next time."

"It's not a suicide mission. As a matter of fact, you're not even on a mission, it takes an agent to be assigned on a mission, after all."

"The fact that I'm not on the payroll doesn't make it less dangerous and last time I checked, potentially lethal."

"Technically you are," she smiled again, combing her hair with her hand. "But nonetheless, you're still a consultant," she teased him.

"Consultants don't go under cover with hard-boiled special agents."

"Oh, I see, that's what I am now? Hard-boiled?"

"You can't deny that Dunham. You're not that difficult to read even with your cards close to your chest. But I can see clearly what you're doing here."

"And what's that?"

"Showing off."

"Really?" she chuckled.

"Really. Or why would you have asked me to come along with your team to Chicago?"

"You don't like the windy city?"

"Oh, I'm a fan, but in summer or on St Patrick's Day. I can't help thinking that you had something else in mind."

She bit her lip and locked her eyes on him. "Maybe I wanted you to have a good time."

"If it's your idea of a good time, I'm glad we never had the chance to have that drink after all," he smirked.

"We could have that drink here, in Chicago. No pressure."

"No Rachel…"

"No Walter… We could catch an early flight tomorrow… What do you think?"

"Is that a proposition?" he asked.

He turned to her and brushed her hand. She tilted her head and he was rewarded by a challenging stare. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in for her mouth. She looked up, her lip twitched and she closed the distance between them. The loud pounding startled them. Jerking away for their unexpected embrace, they turned to the door.

"Liv, are you decent?" asked Charlie Francis. He had his back to the room and pushed the door open before turning around.

"Nice suit," he stated contemptuously. "I take it that Peter Bishop will have your back?"

"Yes," she sighed.

"You're aware that it is against protocol?"

"I am."

"Okay. Let's get this show on the road. See you later for debrief, Liv."

With that he left abruptly and they heard him bark additional orders in the background before the lobby returned to its usual silence.

"That was odd," said Peter.

"We should get going."

"So I guess we're on."

"Yes, we are."

"If we're not dead, of course."

"Obviously."