A/N: The prompt was suggested to me by Cerulean. Phoenix7. Thanks!


Red Vines.


Eight months and two days since their first meeting. 6:15 am.


It's Tuesday morning, and Olivia wakes up earlier than usual. As she pulls on her clothes, she hopes Mercant, NYC's high-end grocery store, hasn't yet run out of licorice. A new batch had come in earlier that week and she had intended to buy some sooner, but work had not allowed it.

But today she is free. Today is her day off.

She strolls into the store five minutes after opening time. She is relieved to find that she is the first customer of the day and that the "rare foods" aisle is still stocked partially with licorice. She scans the brightly colored packages until her eyes settle on the familiar, clear plastic tub labeled with the words "Red Vines." Smiling, she picks one up and heads to the check out counter.

The woman at the counter takes a look at the licorice and asks, "Special treat?"

Olivia nods. "It's for a friend's birthday."

"Alright, that'll be seventy-five dollars."

Olivia lets out a low whistle as she pulls out her wallet. "The last time I was here, it was only sixty-five." She pauses. "Is the price negotiable-?"

"Not on these Red Vines, honey. Several more acres of the licorice plant were destroyed by a tear last week, and we're already offering the best price in town." The cashier gives her a knowing look.

"Fine." Olivia hands over several bills, and the cashier rings up her purchase.

With her tub of Red Vines, Olivia makes the commute to Fringe Division's athletic facilities. She knows that the birthday boy will be there playing soccer with the Defense Department's Intramural League.

She first looks for him at the outdoor field, but it's closed for renovation. At the indoor field, she spots him kicking a ball around with another agent. She stands on the sidelines and waits for him to finish playing. She muses that he plays in a way quite different from the way he approaches fringe assignments. On fringe cases, he is calm and level-headed, while on the soccer field, he is aggressive and rash. She laughs when the ball is stolen from him in a heated moment, a sound that is enough to make him notice her presence.

"Olivia!" he calls, turning to wave at her, a goofy grin spreading on his face. "Come to see me play?"

She shrugs in feigned nonchalance. "Maybe. Are you any good?"

"Only the best." He turns back to the game, hands on his hips, when the ball flies right at him, smacking him squarely in the middle of his face.

"Agent Lee! Sorry!" His soccer partner calls, as Olivia jogs towards Lincoln with concern. Reaching him, she asks, "Lincoln, you okay? Are you alright?"

He brushes her questions aside and says, "I'm fine! I'm fine..." But when Olivia tugs his hand away from his face, she sees that he's not fine, not really, because right over his left eye is a massive bruise.

She intakes a breath sharply. "Ow, Lincoln. That...that looks pretty bad..."

He chuckles and turns away. "A bruise is a bruise, Liv. It'll heal. No biggie."

"I think I'll go get you some cooling ointment, though, before it swells up and you can't see. I'll be right back." She rushes off to the infirmary, disregarding his vehement cries of no, I don't need ointment—the words of his wounded ego—and retrieves several packets of FreEze. When she returns to the field, she finds him sitting on the bleachers, dabbing blood from his nose with a tissue.

"You just can't catch a break, can you?" she comments as she sits down next to him and rips open a packet of ointment.

Lincoln smiles ruefully, and says, "It's not much blood." He then extends a hand for the ointment, but Olivia swats it away and instead squeezes the ointment onto her own fingers and gingerly, gently, applies it to his yellow and green bruise.

The relief is immediate and evident, for the swelling stops and Lincoln whispers, "Thanks, Liv. It feels better already."

"Anytime, buddy," she answers, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose to stem the blood flow. "I bet this wasn't how you imagined the day to start out, huh?" He shakes his head, and chuckling, Olivia remembers she has something to give him.

She presents to him the tub of licorice. His eyes widen.

"Whoah, Liv! Red Vines?"

"Yep."

"What for?"

"For being alive. Though injured."

He laughs. "How'd you know I like licorice?"

"Charlie told me," she answers. "And I saw you eating some last month."

"Thank you." He smiles, looking down at the tub in his lap.

"Happy birthday," she replies.

He looks up at her, surprised. "How'd you know it's my birthday? Did Charlie tell you that too?"

She snorts. "Nope. I figured that out all on my own."

"How?"

"I pulled up your file."

He gasps. "Shame, shame, Olivia! That is classified information."

She punches him in the arm. "Yeah, well, I'm not one to follow the rules."

"No, you are not." He looks down at the tub in his lap again, falling silent.

Olivia looks at him. "Hey, whatcha thinking about, birthday boy?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Just that I'd really like to hug you right now, but then you'd be covered in blood."

"Well," she says, leaning towards him. "That has never stopped me before."