After writing Bullet I felt the need to write something happier... so here we have a fluff piece. Enjoy.
You have mixed feelings about Sundays. On one hand it's still (theoretically) a day off; on the other, you know what's coming when it ends, when you're tossed abruptly back into Monday and the stack of paperwork waiting patiently for you on your desk.
Peter must know that you feel like this, you think, because he always tries to make the day calm and leisurely- grocery shopping in the morning, to restock both your apartment and his house (there's never been so much food in your refrigerator and cupboards as there has been since you've started dating); next is lunch at the little corner cafe that you both love so much. Then you split up to put the groceries away before you drive back over to the Bishops' house for dinner and an evening of playing board games to entertain Walter. And as you fall asleep that night, safe in Peter's arms, you realize that you spent the entire day not thinking about what Monday will bring.
You hate Mondays.
Provided that you got the entire weekend off- which isn't often, give that Fringe events happen on their own sense of time and not yours- there is almost always a case waiting for you as soon as you walk into the lab, or mountains of paperwork to catch up on if there isn't. Which almost always means a late night sitting at your desk, downing cup after cup of coffee (and normally some Chinese takeout too, since Peter has taken it upon himself to make sure that you remember that you are human and need to eat) until some ungodly hour, at which point you give up for the night, even though the mountain of paperwork still isn't gone.
You really, really, hate Mondays.
The only good part about Mondays, you think, is waking up the next day.
The Bishops' house is closer to the lab than your apartment- it was, after all, one of the (multitude of) reasons (since Walter had a list of requirements more stringent than the security checks you underwent when you joined the FBI) they chose it- and you find it easier to just crash there on those late Monday nights rather than driving all the way back to your apartment.
Not there there aren't other perks, of course.
Although finding Walter wandering around the house in nothing but his slippers on that first Tuesday morning was a shock, you find that you adjust to it rather quickly- after all, if that's the strangest thing you see all day, you're probably in pretty good shape.
After you get over that part, though, you have to admit that Tuesday mornings are pretty fantastic. Waking up with Peter (and maybe something a little more fun than just waking up), blueberry pancakes (at least by that point Walter has an apron on if nothing else), and laughing and joking the whole way through breakfast and on the way to work. And it takes a few weeks for you to realize why you love Tuesdays so much, but when you do, you can't believe you didn't see it before.
For those precious few hours, your life feels normal.
Wednesday. "Hump Day" to the rest of the world, to those who don't spend their days investigating the bizarre. The day that signifies that the week is halfway over and the weekend is almost here.
If only your work weeks were so predictable.
Part of you still feels the need to make an effort to be normal, though, and so on Wednesday mornings you get up early and go jogging, sometimes with Peter in tow if you can manage to get him out of bed. And on Wednesday nights you settle down into the bathtub with a glass of wine (Peter finds this a much more enjoyable activity than getting up early to go running) and try not to think about the horrors that you're sure to encounter in the days to come.
When you first started dating, you and Peter both agreed to set aside at least one night a week that you would spend apart- time to yourselves, time to regroup a little before the weekend, and Thursday seemed to be the logical choice.
In practice, however, that rarely happens. There are too many near-death encounters for the two of you, too many grotesque events, too many unexplainable things that no human being should ever have bear witness to. And so more often than not you still spend the night in each others' arms, clinging to each other, anchoring one another back to this world, reassuring yourselves that you're both still alive and in once piece.
Normal couples, you reflect, would need more time away from each other, would self destruct after spending nearly every minute of every day together.
But then, for all of your pretenses, nothing about your life is normal.
Friday. Fridays are, by far, your favorite day of the week. It's not even a contest.
Because it doesn't matter how rough your week has been, or how many nights you've had to stay late at work, or what unbelievable things you've seen. Because you know that at the end of the night, no matter how late it is, you'll get to curl up on the couch with Peter and watch some cheesy horror movie that neither one of you will pay close attention to while you eat takeout from Damiano's. And it's the one night of the week that you know it'll be just the two of you, no phone calls, no distractions, no interruptions from Walter. It's one of those rare moments that you get to pretend that you're a normal couple.
Friday nights get you through the rest of the week.
Saturdays- the ones that don't get interrupted by the bizarre happenings that constitute your livelihood- aren't bad, either. You and Peter try to surround yourselves with your family on these days, so it's always walks in the park, bike rides, visits to the amusement park (where Walter tries to explain the physics of all of the rides to strangers), or canoeing (something you will never do with Walter ever again) when the weather's warmer; ice skating (Ella's favorite), sled riding, or snowball fights when it's not, and always with Walter or Rachel and Ella (or all three). These days off are all too scarce, you know, so you try to get out into the mundane world with your loved ones, so you don't lose sight of why you do what you do, what it is you're fighting for.
And even though you're always exhausted at the end of the day, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.