So despite everything I said, I've decided to continue this fic. Ever since I published 'Wants and Needs' and its companion 'A Certain Type of Fear', what happened next has been playing out in my mind. I tried a few different versions of before I got distracted by other things. Now I've come back to this again and I have the whole thing pretty much written, but I'm not entirely sure I like how some of it flows, particularly in what I've got coming up next, so input is always appreciated.
Just to recap- It's set the night Charlie dies in Momentum Deferred, and Peter doesn't know anything about it yet. He was out in a bar trying to pick up a girl, before Olivia called him to tell him that she needs him.
The point of view jumps around a lot, so sorry if that sort of thing annoys you.
Fourteen minutes passed between Peter's muffled goodbyes and his knock on Olivia's front door. He had arrived a lot quicker than she'd expected- he certainly couldn't have come from home or the lab- but yet that quarter of an hour somehow seemed like the longest of her life. It was a time in which she'd fidgeted, turned the heating down and then up again, rearranged her bookshelf and above all, tried oh so hard not to think about Charlie just yet. It was only when she heard Peter's firm knock that she realised she didn't have the first clue what to say to him.
**
It was only about half ten, but Olivia opened the door to him in her university sweatshirt and pyjama pants. He frowned a little as he drank in her appearance. She looked… different somehow. Paler than usual, maybe and there was a dullness about her that concerned him. Her hair was loose about her shoulders for a change, framing her face beautifully. He didn't know if it was the alcohol talking, but as usual she looked absolutely delectable. Even with her hair unstyled and wearing no makeup, she still managed to upstage every single one of those girls in that bar.
A beat later, and he realised he was staring. Swallowing hard and trying to regain full control of his actions he dragged his gaze up to her face and it was only then that he met her eyes for the first time. Overwhelming emotion resided there, but in his semi inebriated state he couldn't quite tell if it was fear, sadness, or another emotion entirely. She had, however, called him for a reason, and he was eager to resolve it. Maybe that way he could return to the bar before it closed.
"What's wrong?"
**
She blinked at his question, still unsure how she could possibly voice what had happened today. Instead, she took a step backwards out of the doorway and beckoned to him.
"Come in." She caught Peter giving her another obvious once over before he complied, and almost subconsciously she found her eyes trailing over him in a similar manner. He looked different, almost. He was wearing a button down shirt for a start- not unusual in itself, but he'd also done something to his hair and she could smell a faint tinge of alcohol on his breath. And perhaps most damning of all, she saw a trace of pink lipstick smudged on his lower lip. At once, her mind jumped to a single, horrible conclusion. Peter had been on a date, or at the very least had been kissing someone.
"What's wrong?" Peter repeated, sounding faintly annoyed this time.
"I…" she tried, but still words failed her. Charlie's dead, she remembered with a pang. Charlie had died, months ago, most likely on a mission she'd sent him on, and now Peter was seeing other women. The second realisation registered much lower on the scale than the first but it still added to the ever growing reasons as to why Olivia's life was falling down around her. First John, then Charlie, and now it seemed Peter was destined to leave her too.
"Liv?" Peter prompted as he took one step towards her, a strange mixture of frustration and concern on his face, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."
She knew that what he was saying was true, that unlike Broyles, Nina Sharpe, or maybe even Walter he didn't have an agenda when it came to her. She trusted him more than anyone on this Earth, especially after everything that had happened that day. She swallowed again, trying very hard not to think of her best friend and what it had felt like to put a bullet in his skull and focused on her newer dilemma instead. Peter had clearly been on a date, but he was here now. What did that mean? All she'd told him was that she'd needed him. Had that really been enough for him to up and leave wherever he had been? A sudden, very real affection for him sprung from nowhere, and without thought, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled him into a crushing embrace. And worst of all, when he turned his head to look at her, she just happened to brush her lips against his.
**
Peter froze as Olivia slowly began to kiss him. It took about half a second for his mind to catch up with exactly what was happening here because if she had called him here for this, this was the strangest attempt at seduction he had ever experienced. Still, odd circumstances or not, this was Olivia Dunham- the woman that he'd abstained for over a year for, and it seemed now that some God somewhere was finally paying him back.
Finally reacting, he quickly took control, backing her firmly against her front door and kissing her furiously. He'd imagined this going a million and one different ways over this past year- a slow and gentle goodnight kiss, versus a hard and fast screw; in his bed or on her desk he had never exactly been picky. But now that something was actually happening, he found he cared very little about their surroundings. He just knew he didn't want to come up for air anytime soon.
**
Peter took a while to respond but when he did, it was with a lot more passion than Olivia had expected from him. He quickly dominated her, pressing her into the front door as the full length of his body tried to get as close to hers as possible. He tasted strongly of whiskey, his tongue was sliding along her bottom lip just begging her for entrance and through two sets of pants she could feel the beginnings of an erection against her thigh. She'd wanted something with Peter for a long time now, but not like this. As eager as he seemed to continue, she had called him here tonight for an entirely different reason.
She didn't want to push him away completely- that could lead to a bruised ego and some harsh words that she really didn't need right now- but she needed things between them to slow down now before they could get any further. She did want Peter, of course she did, but not like this and not tonight.
**
"Peter, slow down." she whispered when he pulled back for air and terrified of screwing things up he at once took a step backwards, allowing them both room to just breathe. He examined her openly, unsure of what to do next. She was breathlessly beautiful, but still utterly unreadable, and he didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for.
She said slow down his head prompted, not to stop. And so content with this knowledge, he slowly lowered his lips to hers again, giving her plenty of time to evade him if she didn't want this. They finally made contact, and his head was swimming with a mixture of elation and sheer drunkenness but he forced himself to keep a steady pace; to just kiss and nothing more. Did the fact that he'd only just realised he'd rather share one breathtaking kiss with Olivia than go home with that girl from the bar mean he was more smitten than he'd originally thought?
**
Peter was kissing her again, but this time it was slower, softer and a lot more in keeping with the way she'd always imagined a first kiss with him would be. His left hand was still caught up in her hair, and his right was against the door behind her, almost as if he was bracing himself. His kiss was gentle, affectionate and altogether frighteningly loving, and while part of her was just as pleased that this was happening as he appeared to be, this all just seemed too intimate for a first- or indeed a second kiss. Especially tonight.
From the way he was acting, it appeared that he liked her a lot more than she'd suspected. She would like to blame it on the booze that he'd so clearly been downing earlier, but she knew Peter, and knew he wasn't the sort to take this all back in the morning. If she were honest, right now, kissing Peter Bishop, she had never been more terrified. People who loved her had a funny habit of winding up dead and she didn't want that for this beautiful man who was pouring his soul into kissing her.
Before she could stop them, the tears had already begun their slow path down her face.
**
Peter heard her breath hitch, but the significance of it didn't quite register in his mind. Indeed, it was only when he felt a few drops moisture run along his cheek and down to his lips that he realised that anything was at all wrong with his partner. Surprised, his eyes flicked open and he drew back, his tongue slipping out subconsciously to taste the salt water that now streaked his face as well as hers
"What's wrong?" he asked her for the third time this evening, wondering how he could have misinterpreted all of this so badly. Olivia did nothing but shake her head, and the tears poured relentlessly from those emerald eyes, sending a horrified shiver through him.
"I'm sorry" he tried, backing away slightly, "I shouldn't…I guess I thought you wanted…" he broke off, not knowing what to say. She had kissed him first, after all, "I'm sorry. I'll just go."
"Charlie's dead." she suddenly blurted out and his eyes widened, unsure he'd heard right.
"Charlie's what?"
"Dead" she choked on a sob, and feeling at once sober, he took one large stride and enveloped her in his arms.
**
Olivia choked on a sob as Peter embraced her, holding her tight against him. He pressed a light kiss onto her head, and was mumbling something to her that she couldn't quite hear above the sound of her own crying. She felt him shift slightly and as a countermeasure she tightened her grip around him, clinging to him so tightly that he again shifted uncomfortably.
"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, and it was only then that she forced her grip to relax.
They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, Peter just holding her, allowing all of her built up sadness to just wash through her. Finally, when it felt like she had nothing more to cry, she slowly pulled away. Peter stepped back, regarding her with an open concern.
"Come on, let's just sit" he prompted and she just let him lead her to the sofa, feeling utterly drained of everything. He sat down at one end and although she was sure he expected her to perch nervously at the other, she sat as close to him as she could without physically sitting on his lap. Despite the fact he had practically mauled her by the door, he was almost laughably hesitant as he slipped an arm around her shoulder.
She turned her head to look at him without quite knowing why, and was terrified when she saw the expectant look on Peter's face. He assumed she was about to tell him the horrible details about her confrontation with that thing that was most certainly not Charlie, but there was nothing she wanted less right now than to relive the worst moment of her existence.
**
"I don't want to talk about it" she said abruptly, sounding on the verge of yet more tears, hot on the heels of the first batch that had just soaked his shirt through.
"You don't have to." he promised, ensuring his voice was no louder than a low murmur. He didn't want to scare her away now. After a moment's hesitation, he let his fingertips glide lower down her back, and he began to rub what he hoped was soothing circles through the thick sweatshirt.
**
Peter was clearly nervous as hell. His hands were half trembling against her back and when she dared look at him, his expression resembled that of a deer caught in headlights. Obviously he didn't know what to do or to say, but somehow that was okay because she was feeling pretty lost herself right about now. However, now that she could sense just how terrified he was of putting a foot wrong, she found an inexplicable bravery and she shifted even closer to him on the soft old sofa cushions, allowing her head to rest in that comfortable little spot in between his neck and his chest.
His gently trailing fingers ceased for a moment, and without even quite knowing where it came from, she found herself whispering,
"No, don't stop." With her words came the startling knowledge that she was reluctant for him to pull away- now or indeed ever.
"Okay" he agreed, and just like that the calming motions resumed. She shut her eyes and focused on her breathing. For the first time since she'd returned to her empty apartment that night, she felt at peace, and for now she was just willing to enjoy it.
**
"Tell me about him" Peter said in the same gentle tone as before, but as he felt her tense against him, he remembered her earlier words and quickly corrected, "Not about the shapeshifter. Charlie. Tell me about the first time you met him." She didn't say anything for too long a time, and he swallowed before he added.
"You don't have to, of course. I just thought…"
"It's a good idea" she interrupted, rewarding him with a weak smile.
**
She talked for the best part of an hour about meaningless little things about Charlie. How he looked after her on her first day. How he'd turned a blind eye to her forbidden romance with a colleague and how he was the only person, other than him and John that she'd trusted enough to tell about her stepfather.
Peter for his part listened commendably, laughing and smiling sympathetically when required. It was only, in fact when she eventually grew uncomfortable in her position that she reluctantly drew away, Peter releasing her without a second thought.
"Do you want a drink?" she asked, if only to give him a concrete reason for pulling away so suddenly.
"I think I've had enough for one night" Peter smiled a little, reminding her that although she'd had a few glasses herself prior to calling him, he was certainly ahead of her. She was grateful for that however, because he certainly seemed to be on the right side of drunk- he had been a little tipsy when he'd arrived perhaps, letting his guard down enough to let her in, but still sober enough to be unmistakably Peter.
She gave him a shrug and walked into the kitchen to fetch a drink of her own. Although it hadn't been her intention he followed her, watching her pour as he leaned against the kitchen counter. She took a long drink from her glass, before turning back to him, finally allowing herself to ask the question that had hovered in the back of her mind all night, just behind the more pressing matter of Charlie.
"Where were you when I called?"
"A bar" his answer was instant and honest, but she knew there had to be more to it. Watching him carefully over the top of her glass, she asked her next question.
**
"Were you alone?" The question surprised him enough to draw his gaze to her instantly. An action he regretted almost as soon as he did it. To look away now would be an admission of guilt, and he had nothing to be ashamed of, but if he continued to stare into her eyes, she would be able to read him like an open book.
"No. Not really" she gave a short, clipped laugh and thankfully looked down. He gratefully too allowed his eyes to fall to the floor.
"So what's her name?" If she wasn't so fragile tonight he might have found himself drawing this out, taking it as an admission of jealousy rather than simple curiosity. As it was, he knew it would be better to be straight forward.
"I don't remember it."
**
Olivia looked up again, unsure if he was being honest with her or not, but she berated herself the second she did so. Peter had never made a habit of lying to her, especially over something as trivial as this. She knew that she really shouldn't care what he did with his time, but it didn't prevent a certain sadness overcoming her. She struggled to find something, anything to say to that, and in the time it took her to come up with something coherent, an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the room.
On a normal day, she knew that she and Peter could just sit with one another without any uneasiness, but this quietness was quite simply unpleasant, and she really didn't want it to be like this, especially given how sweet Peter had been all night. He wasn't hers, she reminded herself. She had no more claim to him than Astrid did. She had never given him the slightest sign that she wanted him, so naturally he was free to sleep with as many girls as he liked in his own time. Finally meeting his eyes, she forced herself to extend the olive branch.
"I'm sorry" she offered him a rueful smile and he gave another weak one in response, "It's late. I'm not thinking straight. I shouldn't have asked you that."
"It's fine" he nodded, but it was clear the awkwardness hadn't completely faded between them.
A bad place to leave it? Maybe, but there didn't really seem to be a natural place for me to stop.
I'll have the next chapter up on Thursday, if anyone's interested.