I definitely do not own Fringe. That would be quite funny, wouldn't it?

This is just a short little story I thought up while actually waiting for Fringe to start today (finally, after three weeks). I just love the sweet, dysfunctional relationship between Peter and Walter! And since I don't see many fics about it, I decided that I must get one up.

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The Comforting of a Son

Peter awoke with a strangled gasp, bolting upright on the couch. The pain had been so real...and God, it had hurt so badly.

His knuckles grew snow white as he gripped onto the blanket which was strewn around his legs. He trembled and struggled to breathe, but no air could seem to get through. He did manage to choke out a sob as his heart refused to stop racing. He was completely lost in the darkness, not knowing what was right, left, or straight in front of him.

"Peter?"

He could only whimper in response, the darkness pressing on his senses and smothering him.

"Oh, my son…" muttered a small voice. Peter could hear the shuffling of slipper-clad feet as they came up beside him. His father knelt down by the couch, touching Peter's leg tentatively. The younger man jerked away, still lost in the throes of his nightmare.

Walter hummed to himself as he stood, only to sit on the couch, pressing lightly against his son's back. Peter pulled a hand roughly through his hair, and was unsurprised to find his hand shaking. He rocked slightly back and forth, breathing sharply through his nose.

In a moment, hands slipped around his chest, holding him firmly against something warm and solid. Peter, shocked, went rigid as he realized that Walter was holding him. Holding him.

"Row, row, row your boat…gently down the stream…merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…life is but a dream…" was being sung gently near his ear. Peter found himself leaning into the warmth, the voice strangely soothing. His tremors eased slightly as Walter ran a gentle hand across his forehead and through his hair.

"Walter," rasped Peter after a few minutes of the continuous embrace. He tried to pull away, his mind snapping at him to cut off the contact. He tried once more to sit up, but Walter merely hugged him tighter, arms wrapped firmly around his stomach.

"Peter?"

"Walter."

"You were having a bad dream."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." he whispered.

"I am merely trying to help you, Peter."

"I…" The arms let him go, and Peter was left shivering. His father got up from the couch and began to shuffle back to the bedroom. He stopped suddenly, looking back and grinning like a small child in a candy shop. Peter stared back at him, eyes blurring.

"Can we leave to procure some onion soup tomorrow?" Walter asked hopefully. "I am in the mood for some." Peter blinked.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, whatever."

Walter smiled and moved back to his room, but left the door partially open. Peter remained on the couch, mind buzzing restlessly. As he slowly lay back into the cushions, he felt a single, hot tear burn its way down his cheek. He didn't bother wiping it away…

It reminded him vaguely of his childhood.

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A/N: So, what did you think? Please let me know; I am a review addict and proud of it! :)