The rain was beginning to patter softly against Olivia Dunham's window as she stepped out of the shower and began drying off. It was the end of a very long, and very stressful week, and she was looking forward to getting some well-deserved sleep. Trouble was, she just couldn't seem to get to sleep. She supposed taking three "No-Doz" tablets a night for about two weeks may have had something to do with it. Glancing in to make sure Ella and Rachel were still sleeping peacefully in their room, Olivia padded to the kitchen and flipped the light on, finding the place surprisingly spotless. She had to admit, having Rachel around had come in handy. Her apartment had never been this clean—mostly because she never had time to clean it. She had just begun to reach for the tea in the cupboard when she heard the slightest knock on her front door.

For a moment she thought it was only a branch scraping, but then she quickly remembered that she lived in an apartment in Boston. There was no such thing as a tree scraping against a door here. Never taking her eyes off the door, Olivia retrieved her gun from the cookie jar and crept into the front door. To her surprise, she recognized the figure standing at her doorstep.

"Peter…!" She half whispered, her tone a mixture of excitement and concern. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Peter Bishop stood with his hands buried deep in his coat pockets, soaked with the rain that now poured from the freezing November night. "Everything's fine…" He laughed, his breath visible in the air. Olivia moved from the doorway and quickly ushered him in, mentally curing herself for her rudeness. "Come in, come in…Uh…So, what's up?" She asked, almost wondering if she might be dreaming. Peter stripped off his coat and hung it on the coat rack near the door. "I was just in the neighborhood." He replied, curiously not making eye contact. Olivia didn't buy it. "You were just in the neighborhood…at 1:30 in the morning?" she pressed, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Peter paused a moment, then sighed. "Alright, I wasn't in the neighborhood. Truth is, Walter discovered the joys of pork rinds earlier and, let's just say he's a very gaseous sleeper. I couldn't sleep and I knew you would be up, so I thought you might like some company." His eyes darted to his shoes as if he was suddenly embarrassed, and Olivia let out a tiny laugh at the sight. "Thanks, Peter…" She replied warmly. "I'd love the company. Rachel and Ella are sleeping so we'll have to keep our voices down, though." Peter nodded in response, and continued standing in the doorway saying nothing and looking deep in thought. Olivia wondered what he was thinking, but knew Peter well enough that she shouldn't ask. A beat passed, and finally she broke the awkward silence.

"You want some tea?"

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Peter grinned to himself as he followed Olivia into her kitchen. He hadn't expected her apartment to look so nice, to be honest. Her office had always been a bit of a mess, and he had always heard that one's home is a reflection of their workspace. It became obvious after a few minutes when Olivia was still searching the cupboards for the tea that if her sister hadn't been there to spruce up the place, it probably would look just like her office.

Olivia dragged a footstool to the stove and was beginning to climb it to reach the top cupboard when she felt Peter's hand on her shoulder. She ignored the electricity that shot through her body as she glanced over at him. "Let me do that, Liv…" He told her, motioning for her to step off the stool. She did as he said, and tried not to focus too much on the small swath of bare skin that peeked from under his sweater as he searched through the cabinet. "It should be on the top shelf….in the back…." She called half-heartedly, letting her eyes travel the length of his body while he wasn't looking. Quickly she was jolted back to reality as he hopped down with a thud, tea in-hand. He looked sheepish, and peeked over Olivia's shoulder. "Sorry…I forgot about them sleeping in here…." He whispered. Then, with a smirk, he added, "What were you looking at?"

Olivia could feel the heat radiating on her cheeks and she snatched the tea package out of his grip, turning away from him to fill the teapot with water. "Nothing!" She stammered unconvincingly. Peter let it go, pretending he had never asked the question in the first place. He stood a few paces behind her now, giving her space she maneuvered the heavy teapot from the sink to the stove which she was now trying to light. Her hair was still wet from showering, and plump droplets of water fell to the linoleum every minute or so, indicating that she hadn't been out of the shower long before he knocked on her door. She was wearing a snugly fitting black tank top with her sweatpants, and he knew she must still be feeling the effects of the caffeine pills she had lived off of for so long. They always did make him rather warm as well. She ran a hand through her hair as she watched the kettle, and Peter caught the whiff of lavender and green tea from her shampoo. The aroma, coupled with the sight of her, was too much for Peter Bishop to handle any longer.

Slowly and silently, he took a step towards her, his arms gently wrapping around her waist from behind. He had expected her to startle, but it was he himself who was startled when she instead pressed herself against him. She turned her head and lay her cheek against his chest, the black wool of his sweater rough against her face. His breaths were slow and even, though Olivia could hear his heart pounding wildly. She turned her eyes to his and felt her breath hitch slightly. The dim light of the kitchen cast the perfect shadow on his features, making him look more mysterious and more handsome than she could ever recall seeing him before. She brought her arms back, running her hands down the length of his waist. His breath caught, and he lowered his face to hers, the stubble pricking her smooth skin and making her crazy with desire. The warmth of his breath on her neck caused her to shiver as he drew nearer. His lips met hers cautiously at first, tenderly. They remained frozen for a moment, letting the shock dissipate before they went on. Olivia was the first to respond, parting her lips ever so slightly to allow their tongues to meet. His grip on her stomach tightened and he turned her to face him as they both explored the other's mouth and neck. Their breathing became deeper and more ragged as the passion intensified, and Olivia could very much feel the evidence of his need through his jeans as he pressed her against the counter. In an instant their shirts were shed and they each explored the other's body. Olivia ran her hands over the expanse of Peter's chest, relishing the coarseness of the hair that was splayed across it. She stifled a moan as he ran one hand under the waistband of her sweatpants, caressing her in such a way she thought she would explode right then. She responded by swiftly stripping him of his jeans and boxers and trailing her fingers ever so lightly along his shaft. Peter uttered a guttural moan, his eyes rolling back into his head as she continued her performance with more force. She brought him almost to the edge when he pushed her hands away suddenly, and lifted her small frame onto the counter where their hips could meet. They both hesitated for a moment, eye contact never breaking between the two for an instant. They both knew what was coming next.

Peter dipped his head and kissed her deeply, and entered her with a forceful thrust. Olivia matched every movement with her own, and she could feel the pressure building deep within her. Fingernails dug sharply into his shoulders as she moaned deeply into his pectoral when they both climaxed together, their bodies shuddering with exertion and pure satisfaction. Collapsing on the floor together, they were silent for a few minutes as they caught their breath.

"God…"Peter breathed finally, his mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. "That was highly unsanitary."

Olivia grinned, tracing her finger around his nipple absently. "I'll be sure not to tell Walter…" She laughed softly. He gazed at her angelic face just inches from his, felt the warmth of her nude figure against him and suddenly felt more complete than he had in his entire life.

"Olivia…" He whispered, feeling his heart begin to race yet again. "I—"

The sudden shrill whistle above startled them, and Olivia leapt up to grab the kettle before it woke her sleeping family.

"What was that?" She asked over her shoulder as she poured the water into the large ceramic mugs she had set out earlier. Peter dropped his head against the linoleum floor with a dull thud and ran his hand over his stubble defeatedly.

"Ah, nothing." He breathed as he hoisted himself to his feet.

Olivia said nothing in reply, and seemed oblivious to the disappointment in Peter's face as she turned to him with the mugs in hand.

"Tea?" She offered with a shy smile.

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He drank a few sips halfheartedly just to be polite, and set it back on the counter as he began to redress. Olivia followed suit, and they were mindful to keep their distance from one another like two awkward teenagers who had just experienced sex for the first time. The silence was back now, Peter too disheartened to say anything else, and Olivia not wanting to take any more chances of waking Ella.

"Guess I'd better get going…" He finally managed as he started toward the coat rack, eyes cast downward. "Get some sleep, Liv."

Olivia followed behind, watching intently as he buttoned his coat preparing to brave the rainstorm for the second time that night. As he reached for the doorknob she flew to his side, pulling the collar of his sweater until he was down to her level, and kissed him passionately on the mouth one more time as the door swung open.

"I love you, too…" She breathed, hoping he heard her as the door shut between them. Suddenly overcome with drowsiness, Olivia left the kitchen in its sorry state and headed straight for bed unsure if he had heard her or not, but almost certain he hadn't as she drifted off to the first decent night's sleep she'd had in weeks.

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As his father's old station wagon pulled away from the apartment, Peter Bishop beamed.