After their reunion it took all but about a second for every proactive instinct to come over him again, at full force. He had no control over it. He was her father, after all.
Of course, more often than not, those instincts were triggered by danger, or impending death.
Tonight was not quite in that context, and the fact that Olivia just sat there giving him a hard time, didn't help.
Olivia told him to relax for the hundredth time, and his only response was "It's late."
"She's working," she replied nonchalantly.
"She's with Simon."
"They're partners."
"We were partners," Peter argued.
"And you remember how late we used to work," Peter was starting to become pretty back-taken at how casual she was being.
"Exactly!" He replied, then, "and you know what more than half of our 'late nights' turned into."
Olivia rolled her eyes, "you're being ridiculous." Peter gave her a knowing look, "and do we really have any right to do anything about it either way? Up until a few weeks ago she lead a completely independent life, and I don't think we're in much of a place to change that." Peter started to respond, but she cut him off, again, "what are you going to do? Set ground rules, kick her out if she doesn't comply?" Olivia mocked, "I'm pretty sure we are living in her house, and if it weren't for her we would still be in amber right now."
He mulled it over in his head, in the grand scheme of things, if his biggest concern at the moment was what his daughter was doing with some guy, and not the fate of the world-then things were alright. "Fine," he huffed.
"Good," she affirmed, "I'm going to bed," Olivia informed, standing up from the table, "feel free to join me." It was more of a plea for him to stop waiting up than an invitation. Peter crossed his arms, pouting like a child, but then followed her upstairs anyway.
Though, that didn't last long. After ten minutes, Olivia pretended to be sleeping, and Peter found his way back downstairs again. Pacing like a dog. It was a while until he heard a car outside, and footsteps coming across the porch. He peered out of one of the front curtains, discreetly, in a way that neither of them would really notice him unless they really paid attention. He was so adamant on listening to their conversation, but couldn't make out a word. So caught up in it, he hadn't even heard Olivia come back downstairs to join him.
"What are you doing?" He was startled a bit, not knowing she was down there, and quickly jumped back to reality. He turned around, innocently. Olivia just stood there, arms crossed and scowling. All of a sudden he was the child and she was the disapproving mother.
"They…they're out there," he informed, shrugging.
"And?" she groaned, moving to look outside as well, "they're talking. You need to relax."
"I can't," he said, not even turning away from the window.
Olivia sighed and grabbed his arm, "come on, leave them alone."
But Peter wasn't budging, "wait," he said then, actually gesturing for Olivia to return.
"What now?" But she got her answer before he could vocalize it. She saw Simon kiss her, and she then watched Peter instead of the couple outside, anticipating his reaction. Olivia laughed, she couldn't help but laugh. Two parents spying on their daughter out the window, it was so cliché and so normal.
"Peter," she pressed with a chortle. "Peter come on," but he still wasn't complying. So she perched herself up, and started to kiss him, too. He was surprised, but returned in full. As always. She wasn't even sure what the point of it was, to mirror what was going on outside. Maybe she was just trying to prove something.
But it must have been a good enough distraction, because the only thing that broke them apart was the sound of the front door opening. They both pulled back, both in close contact though. Etta walked in, alone.
She noticed them, "hey," she greeted happily, and a bit confused. "You guys weren't waiting up, were you?"
Peter started to reply when Olivia hushed him, "No, no. We were just going to bed." Olivia told her, not looking at Peter. She walked up to her daughter, then, hugging her tightly for no real reason at all. "It's late," Olivia said when she pulled away, "is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," Etta replied, "just lost track of time." She smiled. Olivia didn't bother to turn around to look at Peter, but she knew he must be near screaming. "I'm tired," Etta said then, "I'm going to head to bed too."
"Alright," Olivia complied, patting her shoulder. Exchanging a 'goodnight.'
"Goodnight, Dad," she said, embracing her father. And despite whatever it was he was feeling, he just smiled back at her, "Goodnight, I love you." He unwrapped his arms from her. And Etta headed to her room.
Olivia was still ginning smugly at him, when Etta left the room. "What?" He bit, still not amused.
"You're cute," Olivia mused then, "remember when you used to be all protective over me like that?"
"I still am," he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist, "but, if I saw you kissing other guys like that; protective isn't exactly what the word I'd chose."
And like that, Olivia pulled herself up and kissed him once more. With different motive this time, not to distract him. But because she wanted to. To use it as a form of communication, telling him that he's the only one she'd ever need like that.
"Come on," she gestured again, "I'm actually going to bed now." Though she hardly waited for him to follow her, "you can hound her with knowing questions tomorrow."
He smiled and shrugged in defeat, because he knew Olivia was right. And tomorrow Etta would face much inquiry about the night before. As any father like Peter would give to his daughter. Another one of those rare moments, when things would feel normal.