More post-finale Fringe fluff. Kind of a sequel to "Blush," but I picture it taking place a few weeks later.

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Casserole

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Peter woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. He left Olivia sleeping soundly and rolled out of bed, heading to the front door. He glanced through the peephole and sighed. Walter. (Of course.) Holding a casserole dish. (Typical.)

He opened the door. His father walked inside immediately and went straight to the kitchen. "I'm going to heat this up."

"Of course you are," Peter mumbled, watching as Walter placed the dish on the counter and began pressing buttons on the stove. He yanked the oven door open with a bang.

"Hey, Walter, keep it down. Olivia's resting."

Walter turned, casserole in hand, and took in Peter's appearance. "Oh, I hope I didn't interrupt anything," he said with a smirk, eyeing Peter's uncharacteristically disheveled hair.

"Um, no. If you had, I wouldn't have answered the door. Believe me."

"Ah, yes. Makes sense."

He turned back to the oven, setting the dish on the rack and closing the door, softly this time. "How is Olivia?" he asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Peter smiled and sat down across from him. "She's fine. Just a little tired."

"Well, that's to be expected. She's experiencing the soporific effects of the increased progesterone in her system. Your mother—"

He paused. Glanced at the tabletop, his hands shifting nervously in his lap. "Well, a…version of her—she slept straight through her first trimester. Then as soon as she hit the fourth month she was all energy. Barely even slept. She redecorated my office. Three times."

Peter chuckled, suddenly realizing that Walter might have a lot of advice to offer. He'd been through this before. "Hey, Walter, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you may, Peter," his father replied. And he was his father, Peter realized, feeling a sudden appreciation for the man sitting across from him.

His biological father was gone, cut off, a universe away. But this was the man he remembered, the one he relied on and loved and hated in the way a son sometimes does. Home is where the heart is. And here was his home, sitting at the kitchen table, sleeping soundly one room away.

"Were you scared?"

"Of fatherhood?" Walter asked, looking surprisingly lucid. Serene. "Yes, I was rather…terrified. But you know what I did, whenever I got scared?"

"What?" Petered asked softly.

"I would look at my wife. I would see how she changed everyday. It was not always obvious—but I watched her as she turned into a mother, as my son grew inside her, and I knew I was becoming a father, too."

Peter smiled, feeling his eyes burn with unexpected tears. His throat felt tight. He suddenly wished Olivia were here, right in front of him, so he could look at her and just—

He was so in love with her.

As if in answer to his thoughts, he suddenly heard footsteps in the hall and then she was there, standing in the doorway, looking sleepy and beautiful and like a mother and like the woman he loved.

He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over in his hurry, and went to her. Her gaze locked with his, confusion and just a touch of worry shadowing her eyes. "Peter," she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair, breathing deeply. "Peter. Is everything alright?"

He nodding, feeling beyond words. Wordless. Olivia glanced at Walter who was still seated at the table, looking at them warmly, a fond smile lighting his face. She smiled back at him, before turning her face to the side, pressing her cheek to Peter's. "You okay?" she asked.

He nodded again, and pulled back slightly. He kissed her neck and her jaw and her mouth. He lifted a hand to her cheek, and she turned into it, pressing her lips to his palm. "It just hit me again."

"What did?"

"Everything. You're going to be a mother. I'm going to be a father. We're going to have a baby." He grinned. "And I'm in love with you. That too."

She smiled and kissed him, lifting her body into his, getting closer. "I'm happy," she told him simply—just two words, but he knew how much they meant.

The stove suddenly dinged behind them and Walter leapt up from his chair. He opened the oven door and clapped his hands happily. "Delightful!"

"Walter!" Olivia cried, when he began to reach for the dish without oven mitts. "You're going to burn yourself!"

She pulled away from Peter and grabbed the mitts out of a nearby drawer, handing them to the repentant scientist. "I get excited when I cook," he explained softly. "Sometimes I forget certain safety precautions."

"It's alright, Walter," she told him, giving his arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. "I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."

Walter nodded and turned back to his casserole, while Olivia headed over to Peter. He smiled at her and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You're a mom already."

She chuckled. "I kept him from setting his lab coat on fire last week. And the week before that, I stopped him before he could test out his bulletproof sunglasses. I've been mothering Walter for as long as I can remember."

"Still," he insisted. "It's extra cute now."

She just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before wandering back over to where Walter was studying his culinary triumph, poking at it experimentally with a spoon. "So what did you make, Walter?"

"It's called Kitty Litter Casserole."

"That sounds absolutely…disgusting," Peter commented, walking over to peer at the concoction as well.

"Don't be rude, son," Walter said. "It's actually quite a delicious combination of meat, cheese, and rice. And I like to spice it up a little with some crumbled Ritz crackers on the top."

"That actually sounds really good right about now," Olivia said.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. "You cannot be serious."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm hungry," she told him, but he kept right on scowling doubtfully at her, so she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. "The baby's hungry," she murmured.

He knew she was totally manipulating him, going right for his weakness, his giant, billboard-sized soft spot, but it still completely worked. "Fine," he said. He reached up and cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place for a few more seconds so he could kiss her again.

Olivia grabbed a couple plates and handed them to Walter, who piled them high with food. They all sat down at the table and a moment later Olivia and Walter were chowing down happily. Peter eyed the mixture of meat, rice and cheese doubtfully for a few minutes before taking a reluctant bite.

"What do you think?" Olivia asked.

He shrugged. "Not bad."

She grinned at him. "Told you."

"You're right," he said. "Silly me. Why did I ever question you? Won't happen again."

Olivia giggled, but Walter silenced her by lifting his fork in the air and announcing, "Always a wise course of action when it comes to a woman."

Peter nodded in agreement and gave his father a quick salute. "Amen."

Olivia rolled her eyes and went back to eating.

—

"Are you done yet?"

"Nope."

"Leave the dishes. Come talk to me."

Peter grinned. How could he resist? He turned off the faucet, quickly dried his hands on a dishtowel and walked into the bedroom. Olivia was lying on top of the comforter, hands folded neatly over her stomach. She smiled as he knelt on the bed and moved up her body until he was hovering over her. His hands rested on either side of her shoulders, his knees bracketed her hips.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.

She sighed softly. Pressed a palm to the center of his chest, fingers curling around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. "Nothing really. I was just starting to feel lonely."

"I was washing the dishes."

"The dishes can wait."

He grinned, feeling practically giddy with happiness. He lowered himself just enough to brush his lips across hers. "You're gorgeous."

"Liar."

"You are."

"We'll just have to agree to disagree."

"Fine," he huffed. "But I'm right."

She just shook her head at him and looped an arm around his neck, pulling his lips back down to hers. He groaned quietly, feeling the way her lips parted into the kiss, her body arching into his.

He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, until their positions were reversed and she was lying on top of him, her face hovering over his. "You know," she whispered. "You're not so bad yourself."

He just smiled foolishly at her. So in love he could come undone. She ran her hands across the breadth of his chest, humming appreciatively, and kissed him. She let out a long breath, her body relaxing into his.

"Walter will be a good grandfather," she said softly.

He stilled beneath her, caught of guard by the comment. "You think?"

She smiled. Nodded. "Kitty Litter Casserole? Plus he has the whole mad scientist thing going for him. And Gene. Kids loves cows."

"You're right," he murmured. "As unconventional as our little family is, we are uniquely suited to entertain a child."

"Entertain and love. You know Walter will love our baby fiercely and completely. The way he loves you."

Peter swallowed thickly, gazing up at her beautiful, kind face. She was so lovely. "We'll be okay," he whispered.

"We'll be okay," she agreed, a promise in her voice that made his heart stutter and his breath catch. "We'll be happy."

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Polivia love! Review!