Jazz and Firecrackers
Spoilers: up to "Jacksonville"
Rating: Teen-Alcohol Abuse and Sexual Reference (if you squint)
Paring: Peter/Olivia
She made him think of jazz and soul, Canada and firecrackers.
He made her think of old black and white movies and wine, blue skies and five o'clock shadow.
It was fear that triggered these dangerous thoughts.
Her fear of letting go, his fear of losing her.
They had their reasons to stay three feet away at all times. And they did, at first.
Every day was longer glances, quicker touches, and drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Because that's what normal people do. They go out for drinks.
Only they weren't normal. All she had to do was look at him and know, they would never make it work. She kept his father's secret, but only at the price of information. And she couldn't help but look at him and think, he's dead. He's not here.
But he was, and he was making it increasingly harder for her to ignore that fact.
The first time, he kissed her, and it was raining and they were finishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels. And she tasted like liquor and orange, and he liked it.
It was a forty six days until she returned the favor, laughing at how his face opened up in surprise and loving the taste of burning coffee still on his tongue. They spent the rest of the day trying not to smile.
But for a while that's how it ended, for so long that's how they left it. Everything hanging in the air, filled with promise, or maybe just denial. They never agreed on that part.
It took them three months to realize they were in love, and by then it was too much, too deep, for them to stop.
They spent that night yelling, throwing things, and kissing new places. And it was enough. Because they were both broken and they were both keeping secrets. But that was okay, for them. Because they were jazz and wine and firecrackers and all the shadows in the world. And they liked it that way.