Peter and Olivia weren't really into weddings.
Prima Nocte
They lay beside each other, sprawled out in the dark, an arm up each between them meeting at entwined fingers, much like the legs slithering around one another under the covers. The air in the room was damp, hot breath and sweat still lingering, floating above their skin like an aura as it cooled down akin to rain washing away the summer. Olivia brought their hands to her bare chest, her other hand slinking between their fingers, still twiddling coyly in the calming aftermath of their late night activities. She turned her head to loll her tired eyes on Peter, her lips curled up in a smile nearly undetectable, and as he felt her eyes on him he rolled over to cocoon her in his embrace, carefully, perfectly tessellating their limbs together as his gentle hand caressed the swell of her stomach, now evident in its fourth month. They were encased in the dark but he found the green of her eyes and didn't leave them, and as his blue began to shut in weary contentment, hers grew increasingly alert. Olivia was painfully nuanced as a person, but the cues were no longer indiscernible to Peter.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly, eyes half closed, his thumb drawling lazily over the skin of her stomach.
Olivia opened her mouth to say something, but then a sharp breath somewhat resembling a laugh immediately escaped her lips instead. She shook her head. It was nothing. She was just happy, she said. Olivia's hand came down to rest on top of Peter's on her stomach, the inexpensive white gold bands they had purchased earlier that day clinking together as her fingers fell between his. For months their quiet pillow talk tossed around the marriage idea and all the whys and practicalities, and then they would tuck it away, but today they confronted the improbability of a normal life and hyphenated last name qualms for good. Just them, a judge's office, Walter and Astrid and a celebratory lunch at the pub before ducking back to an ongoing case. It was mundane as it was perfect.
His thumb brushed over her stomach for the last time as they dwindled into slumber, their first as Dunham-Bishops.
{fin}