Chapter 2 – Season 1

Even with all the windows open, the lab was sweltering. Walter refused to allow them to use fans, saying it would disturb his samples and blow his test tubes around. Peter's eyes had rolled dramatically at that, but Walter was insistent… so, no fans.

Facility Services had promised to restore the cooling system by the end of the week. Unfortunately, they had a case right now. Peter was working with Walter anyway, and insisted that Astrid could do her research from any terminal, so Astrid escaped to the Federal Building and working air conditioning.

Olivia couldn't decide which was worse – shutting her office door and turning on a fan to circulate the overheated air, or leaving the door open in hopes of diverting the slight breeze that occasionally drifted in. Peter tried to talk her out of staying as well, but she refused to ask them to keep working if she wasn't willing to sweat along with them.

And sweat she did. She shed her jacket as soon as she walked in that morning. At 10, she considered removing her sheer blouse, since she had a white camisole underneath. By noon, her decision was made; she couldn't stand the rivulets of sweat trickling down her décolletage any longer.

By mid-afternoon, Walter was deep into his research. Earlier, Peter had helped him prepare slides, but now he was at loose ends. He sat on a stool across the lab table from Walter, mindlessly tapping a pencil to some internal rhythm.

"Peter! Must you do that?" Walter exclaimed. "You're driving me mad, son!"

Peter was tempted to make an impolitic comment, but decided instead to take out his boredom on the piano, shoved aside to a corner of the lab near the offices. He stood up and stretched, just as Olivia looked up from her desk.

Olivia smiled to herself as she watched Peter amble over the piano. In the year that they'd been working together, their relationship had gone from caustic encounters to an easy partnership. His cynical remarks hadn't decreased, but the sharp edges had been smoothed by his easy grin.

He sat at the piano, his back to her. He did a couple of experimental scales and chords, as if his hands needed to relearn the keyboard. As his fingers danced on the keys, the muscles in his back tensed and relaxed, exaggerated under the paper thin t -shirt he wore.

Satisfied that all the keys were where he left them, he fell into a jazz riff, setting an easy rhythm with his left hand. He played around a bit with the high notes, finally settling into "Take Five", his fingers skimming over the keyboard.

The sounds brought Olivia out of her office, and she leaned against the doorway, watching Peter as he moved effortlessly into another song. As he continued to play, the t-shirt began to cling to his back, and a damp spot appeared between his shoulders. His close-cropped hair was a little longer than usual, probably due to their persistent caseload during the last month. As his playing continued, his hair formed little curls at the back of his neck, and Olivia wondered idly what those curls would feel like under her fingertips.

As Peter gained confidence, he drifted into a more complex tune and his hands wandered the length of the keyboard, his fingers fully extended to play the octave+ chords. Olivia closed her eyes and tried to imagine that the music was a cool breeze drifting over her body.

Instead, her imagination conjured up images of Peter's fingers sliding over her bare arms, tangling in her hair. She could almost feel the force of his body moving against her as his back rippled under her fingers, and his hot breath on her exposed shoulders.

She blinked, realizing that the music had stopped and Peter was calling her name. He was standing in front of her, well within her personal space, with an infuriating smirk on his face. "'Livia? You ok?"

She felt her face flush, both from the image of Peter's naked back in her mind, and the shock of seeing him not a foot away from her, t-shirt clinging to his chest, and more damp ringlets framing his face. Heat seemed to radiate off his body; she felt as though her temperature had soared.

"You hiding an arctic breeze somewhere that you're not telling us about?" He murmured just loud enough for her to hear. When he saw the look of confusion on her face, he pointedly dropped his eyes to her camisole, where her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the thin layers of fabric.

He smirked again as he strolled off. "I didn't realize you enjoyed my playing so much," he tossed over his shoulder. I'll have to do that more often..."

Blushing furiously, Olivia retreated to her office and didn't leave until she'd heard the Bishops call out their goodnights that evening.