A/N In order for this to work, you must pretend everything from the beginning of Season Two's Episode "Jacksonville" never happened. I mean it, NEVER HAPPENED. Also, pretend that it is still February, the fourteenth to be exact.

I also suggest you be a fan of Walstrid, enjoy a little angst in your romances, and simply adore AkashaIZ! Otherwise: You will hate this fic; you will want to kill AkashaIZ; you will contract rabies; no one will like you; you will be rejected; your friends will send you chain-letters more often than messages where they are actually trying to communicate with you . There will be no focus on Bolivia, just a mention here or there.

Now that that's out of the way, I have something to say! While writing this fic I was hyped up on 1200% percent of my daily recommended Vitamin C, therefore, there was no silliness except that which insanity brings. =]
Bah, Enough babbling, onto the fic that will undoubtedly make you go to sleep Monday night (You know it's gonna happen, you can just feel it, can't ya?)

I do not own Fringe, we know who does ( lucky bastards). When I uploaded this, all bold and italics were removed!! If you want the full experience go to this link on Google Docs (docs.g00gle ) .com/document/edit?id=1VFkfFvbiO_1nFA2rz5xBYXFC2K-y-J2qmLDhSLt00kg&hl=en

ENJOY!!!

So very early, Walter was up, clanking around in the kitchen. Peter breathed sleepily, not wanting to wake up, " Walter, what are you doing?!" He yelled into the still dark bedroom. The sun hasn't even clocked in yet, what the hell was going on?

"Did I wake you?" Walter yelled back, obviously unconcerned with the matter." I'm making breakfast." He said, just loud enough to be heard over the running water. What was he making?

Peter let his eyes creak open, turning towards the alarm clock by his bed. 4:53 AM. Walter was making breakfast at 4:53 AM! Peter let out an exasperated groan," Walter! It's too goddam early to be out of bed! Let alone making breakfast! Go back to sleep." he should know by now how cranky his son gets when rudely awoken.

"Peter, do you want your eggs scrambled or sunny-side up?" In the kitchen Peter could hear the scraping of pans, the cracking of eggs, the hum of an open refrigerator.

"All I want right now is to get my remaining two hours of sleep!" He whined like a child refused a toy they desperately wanted. " Please, Walter, go back to sleep!"

"I can't now silly, I'm wide awake!" Peter heard Walter laugh, as if he had just told a ridiculously bad joke. " I'm scrambling your eggs by the way!"

Sighing, he threw his blanket off of his body, clenching his hands and grinding his teeth. His feet made contact with the floor, and he rubbed his eyes violently." Walter, I'm serious! If I have to get up I swear --"

"Oh please do, I could use some help! You can cook the cream of wheat!"

"Walter, that's not what I meant!" Peter went to his drawer and pulled out a pair of sweats, yanking them on as he went out into the living room.

"Well, if you don't want to help cook, you can at least clean up, Peter. I mean, really, where are your manners?" Walter was pouring milk into a bowl, not bothering to measure it.

Peter walked into the kitchen, eying it with grand dismay. It was a complete mess! It looked like an experiment gone horribly wrong. " Walter..." he pinched the bridge of his nose, "... what exactly are you doing?"

"Making breakfast of course, " Walter glanced over a Peter and smiled," what else does it look like?"

"Why Walter? We could've just had cereal like every other day!" Peter threw his hands in the air.

Walter halted his stirring, " But, Peter, it's Valentine's eve! A major holiday!"

"There's no such holiday, Walter. Only Valentine's Day." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't be silly, Peter, now grab a whisk and start beating those eggs for me, will you?"