Spoilers for episode 3x14 '6B'-the most wonderful episode in the entire existence of Fringe.
It Was Beautiful.
Fears and doubts aside, this was nothing she could've ever imagined. Of course, that tiny—miniscule, insignificant—flicker of doubt, of mistrust, still lingered in the back of her mind, but the ecstasy and fervor that coursed through her veins did wonders to dispel any negative feelings she might have been feeling. His skin against hers, the touch of his lips—oh God, she couldn't have imagined anything better.
He was there with her, he wanted her, and there was nothing anyone could do to take that away from her—not now.
She had been the one to instigate it. Peter, she knew, would go as slow as she needed to. When she'd shown up at his house, had she thought their night would end up as it did? She hadn't known exactly what would happen, but she sure did have an idea of how she all wanted it to turn out. She didn't want to take it slow, anymore. It had been enough waiting.
This would not be classified as a mistake—it would not be a morning-after regret. No, they had barely drunk any of the alcohol she'd brought along. This was a decision made while both were sober, and it was one neither took lightly. She wouldn't have taken a hold of his hand—his calloused hand, that fit so nicely into hers—if she hadn't felt completely sure that she wanted this.
There was nothing she could compare to that night. Nothing could come close to those feelings she felt—because it felt so right. It had been her keeping them both apart, out of fear, because she was still so unsure of his feelings toward her, and toward the other Olivia. But she had realized how stubborn—how fucking blind she'd been—in not being able to see that it was her Peter wanted, not the other Olivia. She was not a replacement for something he couldn't have. She was the real thing—she was what he'd wanted all along.
And so, she gave them both what they wanted. She suppressed those sneaking suspicions, because they'd been concoctions of her mind, of something that wasn't really there. Peter would not hurt her. What he wanted was the best for the both of them—the rest of the world, here or otherwise, be damned.
He had been right. Waking up in each other's arms—well, it was something that she wouldn't have been able to describe if someone asked. The feelings that bounced off the sides of her skull could not be defined, but one thing was for sure: they were all positive. Absolutely no one could take this moment from the two of them. And they lay there, content simply to be where they were, as they slowly worked their way from the stupor of sleep.
There were no words that came to mind, though she had so much she wanted to say to him. But she couldn't form coherent sentences—her tongue wouldn't cooperate, and so she simply craned her neck to look up at him, and smiled. The corners of her mouth crinkled; this was a real smile, and she knew, just from the feeling, that she hadn't smiled like that in a long while. He was glad he could elicit this type of reaction from her…not to mention what he'd 'elicited' from her the night before.
"Olivia," he breathed. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, and shuddered pleasantly against him, as he pulled her closer.
"Mhmm?"
He couldn't think of anything else to say but, "Good morning."
"It sure is."
They both were silent, though she maneuvered herself onto her stomach, moving so that she could press her lips to his. And she could feel him smile.
Then, he said, "Thank you."
She would've asked 'for what?', but she had a pretty good idea of what he was thanking her for. Still, she said, "And thank you."
He chuckled, and she could feel the vibrations deep in his body as she laid her head onto his chest. His hand brushed through her hair, and he sighed, before continuing, "Really, Olivia. Thank you."
Now, she said, somewhat perplexed, and still half-asleep, "For what?"
"For trusting me. It's strange, you know, how things changed in just a few short hours." He paused. "I know it must've been hard for you, to get over your issues with trust..and with me, to be able to come here and do this."
She propped herself up on her elbow so she could look him straight in the eye. "This is what I wanted, Peter. This is what we both wanted. I wasn't going to deny it to either of us any longer." She smiled, and there was a hint of sadness to it. "It wasn't easy, but I didn't want to be apart from you. You're right about us. It's not easy for me to do this, and I still have trouble with vulnerability, but we can work through this. This isn't an end to our problems, but it certainly is the start to something beautiful."
To her, the words sounded contrived, but Peter smiled widely.
"You're right," he said, "It is. I never doubted it'd be anything but."
And he leaned toward her, and again nothing but goodness existed in the world, just for that moment. Not until the unexpected interruption, at least. They both froze as they heard the front door open, and subsequently slam shut, and then,
"Peter?" When Walter did not receive a hasty reply, he persisted, "Peter! What is Olivia's car doing here?"
They couldn't do anything—their clothes were in a heap on the floor, and the bathroom was too far for either of them to scramble to. They could only cover themselves with the blanket, and listen to Walter's heavy footfalls as he ambled up the stairs, then as he, without knocking, flung open the bedroom door.
Olivia sunk further beneath the sheets, her cheeks flushed, as Walter began, "I wasn't sure if you'd be home or not, it's quite late in the morning, and—" He stopped, as if just now noticing that the two of them weren't alone in the room. "Olivia!"
She smiled tightly. "Walter. Hi."
"Hello, my dear!" He looked from her scarlet complexion, to Peter's, admittedly smug, expression. "You two—? Oh, good!" He clapped his hands together, overjoyed, unsurprisingly. "At last," he murmured, "at last!" The two of them felt unnervingly exposed beneath Walter's gaze, though he seemed oblivious to their discomfort, as he said, with a wild motion of his index finger, "You two, take your time, and once you're decent—" He chuckled. "—come downstairs, and I'll whip up some breakfast. Pancakes! And this time, we can eat them. No cases to distract us, not so soon after that last one."
"Sounds good, Walter," said Peter, glaring at him pointedly. But he still stood there in the doorway, gazing fondly at the two of them. Peter jerked his chin toward the hallway. "Why don't you get a head start on breakfast? We'll be down soon."
"Oh, yes, of course."
They both heard Walter say under his breath "Finally!", before he retreated into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He hummed a joyful tune as he strode back down the stairs. Peter turned to Olivia.
"Looks like we've made someone else very happy as well," he said, with a small laugh.
She nodded. "He's wanted this almost as long as you, I think."
"Ha ha." His hand twined through her hair, and he kissed her cheek. Then, he said softly, "What's next?"
"What do you mean?"
"With us. What happens next?"
And, to his relief (because he hadn't really known what her reaction would be to that question—if it wasn't too soon to ask), she smiled. "What do you think? We'll continue on as we always have—solving cases, saving the universe." She moved closer to him, if that were possible, pressing herself against him, her lips against his, before she completed her answer. "But now, we'll do it together. I won't let anything else get in the way of that."
And that was enough. A few simple words could bring such peace to the both of them. And though they both knew that their troubles were far from over, they also knew that everything that would be thrown at them would now be easier to handle—because they were now a united front, in more ways than one.
They were together, and it was beautiful.
Author's Note: It needed to be written. That is all I will say. I couldn't wait a week without writing something about that episode.
I hope it's not out of character. I haven't much experience with writing the both of them—but I certainly had fun with it.