Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe.
Author's Note: Just a little Father's Day-themed drabble. I hope you like it.
Making Time
Father's Day hadn't been a good day for Olivia in a while, which made it all the more surprising that the little get-together had been her idea. It had come to her one night, about a week before, as she'd been plagued by insomnia. A sleepy Peter had agreed, not quite aware at that moment that it had forced him into the position of caterer. And so, it was how he had ended up in the kitchen the morning of, slaving over a mix of cake batter. As it turned out, Peter was quite the baker, much like Walter.
Olivia settled herself atop the counter, bare feet dangling, grinning coyly at him. Still stirring, he looked up at her and huffed,
"So, you're not going to help me with this?"
"Oh, quit it. This was your only job—I got everything else ready, and way in advance, too." Her brows rose. "It looks good, though."
"Yeah? It'd better." He rested one hand on her thigh, and the gold band on his finger glinted in the warm sunlight. Her smile widened. It was still so new, so novel. "I'm surprised that you managed to keep it a secret from Walter."
"So am I." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Lets just hope he stays asleep until we're finished with this."
"I think we'll be fine with that. I heard him up past midnight, working on something-or-other in the basement." The batter momentarily forgotten, he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "This is a really nice thing you thought of, Olivia, you know?"
She leaned into his touch, eyes flickering shut. "I just…want to feel like a normal family, at least for a little while. I thought this would be a good opportunity."
#
Their backyard—and how strange it was to think of it that way, but they'd made sure to buy a house with a spacious yard, and were still getting used to the new addition—was milling with people, mainly familiar faces. Peter even swore he saw the Observer standing in one corner, though he was gone before he could get a closer look.
And then Walter came in through the back doors, and stopped immediately at the sight. "What is this?" he asked.
Peter grinned, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Happy Father's Day, Walter."
"And a party, for me?"
"I thought it was well-deserved." He leaned in close. "You should really thank Olivia, though. It was mostly her doing." But Walter turned to him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Thank you, Peter."
Then he was off, of course making sure he was equipped with a slice of cake, before getting into a conversation with Astrid, whose name he still managed to butcher, after all these years. Peter had set off to find Olivia, but Nina approached him before he got the chance.
"This is a good thing you both did," she said, with a glint in her eyes. "Despite the problems Walter has caused, I'm glad you've still allowed him to act as your father, Peter."
Peter shook his head. "He is my father—more of a father than Walternate ever was to me. Maybe he didn't show that during my childhood, but he's made up for it these past few years."
When she left, having been distracted by Broyles, Peter continued his search. He found Olivia in the shade, smiling at the scene laid out before them.
"This is nice," she murmured, as he came up behind her, flattening his hands over her stomach, resting his chin in the crook of her neck.
"Yes, it is."
She laid her hands over his. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "Happy Father's Day, Peter."
He pressed his lips to her cheek. "And here's to many more."