"Hi"
"Hi, you look a lot better than you did last time I saw you"
"It's amazing what a couple of hours will do for a guy"
"You want something to eat?"
"No, uh, no I'm ok."
"how do you feel?"
"I feel like I just woke up from a very strange dream... thank you for coming to get me."
"Well, it's not crossing universes, but I try. You're welcome"
"What are we gonna have to deal with next, huh?"
"I don't know, but for some reason I am not afraid to move forward anymore."
"Are you sure you don't want some toast?"
"No, uh, no I'm ok."
"Who is this guy? I saw him... in your mind. you had him trapped in a zeppelin just floating around."
"Oh, I dont know. I've never seen him before. But, I think... he's the man who is going to kill me."
Olivia finishes swallowing her bite, realizing what she just admitted, "shit... I didn't mean to tell you that..." She says as he stares at her, blankly.
She can't quite identify the emotion she sees in his eyes: fear, confusion, anger, still a little bit of high; a combination of all of the above.
"Liv," he hesitates, walking closer to her but unsure where to start, "what... what do you mean he's going to kill you?"
...
"I don't know," she laughs, looking down, almost embarrassed at her confession, "I only have vague memories of specific events, people, over the last two days," she looks up again, meeting his eyes, "...you," she smiles lightly, "but when I woke up I just had two overwhelming feelings, so sure that they were practically fact: I am not afraid to move forward anymore, and something about that man is going to lead me... somewhere you don't want me to go." She finishes, laughing again.
He opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off first, "Look, Peter, I don't want to talk about it, ok? And it's not one of those 'I'm avoiding it' topics, I feel fine, and we can talk about it later because I just got back... ok?" she says with a pleading, innocent smile, knowing that will make him cave. She still has him wrapped around her finger. Hell, when did she not?
He sighs, a sense of defeat but also relief in his breath, "ok." He smiles slightly; it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Ok," she says confidently, confirming that they can just go back to normality tonight, whatever normality even means for them. "Can we just watch a movie?" she asks. He nods, smiling more easily.
"I'm exhausted," she pauses, but he can tell she is still in thought, "whatever Bell said about me peacefully napping while all this was going on, was a bunch of bull shit." They laugh more freely, releasing any remaining tension from their conversation about the man in the zeppelin; she grabs his hand, with her plate of toast in the other, and pulls him over to the couch.
She crunches on her second bite of toast as she sits down, practically falling backward onto the couch, and then leaning her back into Peter's chest, as he stretches his arm around her shoulder over the back of the couch. She settles in, almost melting into him. Her body sways slightly with each of his breaths, and she can feel the touch of his skin across her body.
They may still be getting used to each other again, but something about this feels different to Peter. There is a certain sense of calm surrounding her, and it feels like she is accepting his comfort, presence, touch; it feels like she wants to accept him, like she wants to let him to take care of her.
He doesn't quite know how to catalogue this change, so he tries to refrain from it affecting his body language, and he focuses on picking a movie.
"What do you want to watch?" he asks.
"Something easy," she responds between bites of toast.
He scrolls through the channels, eventually finding a movie that just started 15 minutes ago, "Forrest Gump it is," he says teasingly.
She leans forward to put her empty plate down, "ok," and then curls back into his chest, every inch of her trying to seep closer into him. He has to pull away from her, look her in the eye, to see what the hell is going on, "seriously? Forrest Gump, first choice, no opinion from the opinionated Olivia Dunham?" He says in sarcastic shock.
She pulls her head off his shoulder, looks up at him, "yeah" she says as the smile grows on her face, "I'm happy." She continues staring at him so he can understand the significance of what she is saying, and... she doesn't need to worry... he gets it. Maybe he gets the message too clearly, because now the last thing he wants to do is sit on this couch in silence for hours while a movie plays in front of them. Hopeless romantic as always, he wants to know in detail what is going through her head, because you can sure as hell bet he feels the same way. Or maybe more.
...
The credits roll on the screen as he sits there, unable to move. She succumbed to her exhaustion slowly, but steadily, throughout the movie - sinking into him with each passing minute. Her head is now on his lap, her body lying fully horizontally on the couch, his fingers weaving through her hair. He doesn't want to disturb her, so he continues to take in the moment, feeling that he hasn't quite appreciated just how close he was to losing her.
He lets his eyes drift closed, promising himself he will wake her up in a few minutes. This, however, would turn out not to be true, as he falls into a much needed slumber after the stress and exhaustion of the last 48 hours. Soon, the credits end and the next movie starts playing. Light from the screen dances across the room as scenes change on the TV, flashing bright colors onto their faces. The sun has fallen and other than the light of the TV, darkness surrounds them.
…
She rolls over slightly, adjusting her head on his lap and the movement triggers him to wake up. His eyes open, slowly focusing on the ceiling as his head is splayed against the back of the couch. He blinks again, pulls his head up with very tired muscles and rolls his neck out after falling asleep with it bent backwards. The TV screen is bright in front of him, his pupils not adjusted to the flashing white light compared to the calm paint texture on the ceiling. He almost forgets where he is, dazed and confused in his slumbering state. He looks down to a sea of golden locks spread across his lap and his hand across her shoulder, holding her protectively. Subconsciously, a smile spreads across his face as he realizes just where he is... and who he is with.
"Liv," he whispers, rubbing his hand up and down her shoulder, "Liv... 'Livia, come on, let's go to bed."
All he receives is a combination of a grunt and a moan.
"Liv, I know. I'm tired too, but we'll be more comfortable in bed."
He feels her shake her head on his lap, doing anything she can to convince him to let her stay put.
He laughs, "Come on sleepy head," and starts to lift her up off of him. She is sitting up, eyes closed, but still looking straight at him.
"Come on, let's go," he says gently, coaxing her to her feet.
"Wait..." she musters.
Still seated, he turns to look at her, "what?"
She opens her eyes to meet his, pulling him in with that look alone. She glances down at his lips, then flicks her eyes back up to his. Her nose inches closer to his and soon they can feel each other's breath on their skin.
He has always let her lead, and doesn't really plan to change that. But when she does lead, he follows hastily.
He closes the gap between them, brushing his lips against hers. She follows suit, increasing the pressure of her skin against his, pulling him down to her level on the couch. Their body movement shows all of their emotions, revealing their stress, worry, and longing for one another after these last few days. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer into him, holding her as if he let go, he could lose her again. She holds onto his face and neck with equal fervor, feeling content in the safety of his arms.
She pulls back, catching her breath and then feeling his warm, quick, breaths across her lips. She smiles, kisses him again, and then whispers against his skin, "see, I knew this would work."
He opens his eyes to look at her, "knew what would work?"
She snickers in his arms, laughing at his naivete, or maybe it is just his flooded male brain.
He looks questioningly at her, waiting for her to answer. But, she doesn't.
"Are you saying..." he starts with light sarcasm laced in his voice,"...that you only kissed me to get me to stay on the couch with you?"
She smiles, and nods innocently, then adds on, "well, and because I wanted to kiss you."
He tries to say something playfully insulting back, but his genius mind can't come up with anything because he is too caught up in her. Too caught up in hearing those words come from her.
"And you couldn't have just done that when we got to bed?" he asks.
Again, she smiles, shaking her head and he thinks it might be the most adorable thing he's ever seen.
"Evil woman," he says sarcastically, "you and your sly trickery," as he leans in to kiss her again.
"But... we do fit..." she breaks away between kisses, "so... I think we should stay for a little," he finally lets her finish her sentence.
"You've convinced me," he says in his most serious tone, which makes her break out into a fit of laughter. When she recovers from said fit, she can see him staring at her, his expression unchanged from when he first spoke. Silence falls between them and they just look into each other's eyes, noses almost touching.
"I missed you," he says quietly.
She blinks in response, unprepared for him to say such a thing.
He can tell she is taken aback, so he reiterates his point, "I did... you know... miss you."
She smiles lightly, her lips just curling at the edge, but he can tell the smile reaches her eyes.
"I... didn't really know that I wasn't here..." she says hesitantly, "at least not until you came," she adds quietly.
She closes her eyes, and attempts to break the emotional barrier they have only started nearing in their few weeks together, "what was it like?" she asks, continuing, "when I was..." but she doesn't know how to finish the sentence.
"gone..." he finishes for her.
"yeah," she confirms, looking down again, uncomfortable in the vulnerability she is showing. He brings his hand to her chin, slowly lifting it up so her eyes meet his. He knows she second guesses herself, and as always, he believes she is more capable than she ever does - even for something as 'menial' as a conversation about what she's just experienced in the last 48 hours. He adds it to the catalogue of things that make this relationship... unique.
He rolls onto his back, and she lies her head on his chest. His arm is snaked around her back so he can hold her close to him. "Umm..." he starts, "it was weird. Really weird. I did not like it. Hearing you speak in Bell's voice was creepy," he fakes a shiver and they both laugh, "and he kept making moves on Astrid." She cranes her neck up to him in shock, looking for confirmation that he isn't bull-shitting her. He raises his eyebrows, nods in confirmation and continues, "yeah he kept touching her hands. And... he and Walter would just giggle together. They wanted to put his consciousness in Gene..." he says with irritation.
She can't help but laugh, "so what you're saying is you had a great 48 hours."
He looks down at her, scowling, "yes, Liv, it was fantastic."
She smiles, resting her head back on his chest, under his chin, "well I'm back now," she says contentedly.
They sit in silence for a few moments, and then she feels him take a breath to start talking again, "you almost died..." he admits.
She is frozen on his chest, unable to respond to him revealing the seriousness of the situation.
"I thought I lost you," he whispers into the darkness, his breath shaking slightly.
He can feel her heartbeat accelerating against him. He knows he's crossed a line they haven't crossed together, yet. They've talked about so much these last four weeks, yet it seems there is always more looming over them. And that something more just so happens to be related to inter-universal wars, kidnapped children, swapped doppelgangers, almost losing your consciousness to a dead man... all the usual things.
But he did almost lose her, so he can't push aside his thought. And he can't pretend like everything was OK.
He lets her sit in the moment, compartmentalizing, analyzing, letting the information sink in. When she is ready, she starts barely above a whisper, her voice breaking, "how?"
He knew this was the next logical question, but he still didn't feel prepared to answer it. "Well," he starts, "do you remember when you popped back here, just for a minute and talked to me? Asked me to help you?" She shakes her head no, holding onto him just a little bit tighter. "You, uh, came back for a minute, but then he... Bell took over again, and you started having a seizure and by the time you got to the hospital Bell was there again," he continues, "they almost gave him... well you a shock that would have killed him... err you." He gives her the chance to tell him to stop, or pause, but she doesn't, so he continues, "and basically he said his physiology was morphing into yours, and that if we didn't get you out within a day you'd be gone."
She finally breaks her silence, "gone?"
"Yeah... I don't really know how it worked, but we couldn't get you out, because he had started taking over. He says he was doing it unconsciously... but I'm not so sure," he doesn't hide the anger in his voice. "So... we had to go in... to get you."
"Oh," is all she can muster.
He brings his hand to her chin again to tilt her head up so he can see her eyes, "look Liv, we don't have to talk about it anymore, but I want you to know what happened." He can see the tears welling in her eyes, but as per usual she overpowers any emotion she shows and continues as if nothing bothers her, "I know. I do want to know. I guess... I..." she blinks back tears, "thank you."
"Liv," he whispers, "I'm not going anywhere. You know that right?" She nods her head on his chest, and he can feel the wetness of a tear soak into his shirt.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles into his shirt. He moves down so his eyes are even with hers, and rotates onto his side so they are looking at each other again.
"Sorry for what?" he asks. She shrugs her shoulders but doesn't answer.
"Sorry for what, Liv?" he asks again, his voice laced with concern, worry, fear, but mostly that hint of protectiveness. He lets the silence surround them, giving her the time she needs to build up the words she has to say.
"I don't know... sorry for making you wait so long..." He lets her keep thinking, unsure how to respond himself.
She breaks the silence again, "I know time heals all wounds... well not all, but it helps. And you gave me that time... but... I don't know. Toward the end I think I was just being stubborn. Or scared."
"I know," he says quietly, giving her confirmation to continue.
"And now you're saying I was almost gone... for good. And you know me, I don't care about that for myself..." he rolls his eyes snlaughs lightly, always beguiled by her recklessness for her own well being, "but you've made me care about it... for you. And I don't know. I just feel like I made us wait so long, and then we had each other, but barely, and all of a sudden it could have been taken away from us."
"Liv," he says softly, not breaking eye contact.
"I know I know," she interrupts him, "I shouldn't carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, I shouldn't blame myself, we're here now so it worked out... blah blah blah... I just... I don't think I realized how much I cared about you before. I don't think I let myself realize how much I cared about you before."
She looks back up at him, and for the second time that night, he doesn't have the words to describe how he's feeling. She can see the shock, and perhaps awe in his eyes, as if he is unable to comprehend that a) she was able to admit that to him and b) the content of what she actually admitted to him.
"I kept you at a distance, with Walter's secret and then the aftermath of... that other mess... and I think I was trying to protect myself. Because now that I'm here... with you... I don't think I'd ever be able to go back... to being without you. And the fact that that almost happened, or whatever the fuck would have happened if Bell stayed... I don't know... there is just still so much that's unspoken."
He looks at her, serenity in his eyes, as if he never thought he would hear her say these words.
"I know it's been a long time for you," she continues, "you're not as subtle as you might think," she laughs, pausing, "but it's been a long time for me too. And I came up with all these reasons as to why I shouldn't. Why we shouldn't... but, in the end, we could have been here over a year ago. And we didn't, because of me... and I could have lost you between now and then. But you stayed."
"Well technically I did leave for that short stint in another universe," he jokes.
She punches him playfully in the arm, "yeah and that sucked."
"I had to make sure you really had a crush on me," he says concededly; she smiles.
She looks at him, seriousness flooding into her eyes, "But even after you came back, I hated you... and you still stayed."
He looks at her, trying to hide the depth of emotion he has regarding that time - when he was stuck with Walter (who he hated) and was stuck without Liv (who hated him). He shrugs, "I don't know... I guess I had incentive to stay," he continues, using typical sarcasm-filled responses to avoid admitting how miserable he really was, "I guess... I just had this feeling that you still liked me. That we still had a chance."
She follows suit, using a much lighter tone now, "yeah, yeah, whatever Mr. 'I've liked you practically since we met'" she retorts.
They lie there, smiling at each other, but soon their smiles fade as the seriousness of what they are discussing dawns on them.
"Well," he says plainly, "you've got me there. I have."
"You have?" she asks with a bit too much surprise in her voice.
He shrugs and nods, unwilling to play his hand of cards so openly that it means admitting he's been waiting for her for 3 years.
"Since when?" she asks, "when did you know?"
"Parden?" he asks, she can see the genuine confusion in his face even in the darkness.
"When did you know you wanted to be with me?" she clarifies.
"Oh. Well.. uhh... I've never really thought about it that specifically."
She gives him a look of disbelief as he tries to be casual about this.
"Really!" he says, trying to defend his male honour, "I mean, I don't know... it wasn't like some memorable moment. There was just this point in time where I saw you as a part of my life," he shrugs again, "and then I couldn't see my life without you."
She smiles, and it's his favorite thing to watch her do, so he continues, "And like I said a couple weeks ago, I just... I don't know... pictured what my life would be like with you. Waking up next to you, holding you, protecting you," then he quickly adds with a smile, "even though you don't need protection."
She laughs, pulling him out of his love-struck stupor, but then he meets her eyes and he is pulled right back in, "you're the most incredible person I've ever met."
He says it so confidently she doesn't know how to respond. She takes a shaky breath, and if there was enough light in the room, you could see the blush in her cheeks.
"Huh," she half laughs, half questions his statement, "so this is full disclosure?"
"Yeah," he says, nodding. They lie there, looking at each other for a while. Thoughts racing through both of their minds, but a pit in each of their stomachs prevents them from telling the other person how they feel. Or how they've felt, over the last 3 years.
She thinks back to how their night started, and chooses to focus on that, for now, until she gains the confidence to delve deeper into a conversation about the past year they've experienced together - or, not experienced together.
"Is that why you were so... bothered by the man in the blimp? Because I did almost die?" She asks softly.
The relaxed look on his face fades; his lips tighten and his brows knit together, "Liv, my whole life with you for the last 3 years has been you almost dying," he says plainly.
She looks back at him, eyes wide with disbelief and confusion, not understanding the risk she puts herself in on a daily basis. He laughs at her inability to put herself first, or even think about protecting herself before protecting the greater good.
"Do you want me to name a few examples...?" he says sarcastically. She smiles slightly, bowing her head away from his. Her chin nears her chest, and her forehead rests an inch away from his chin. He knows she is uncomfortable talking about myriad subjects, but her dangerous level of selflessness is top of the list. He closes the inch gap between them, planting his lips with a soft kiss on her forehead. She doesn't want to hear what he has to say, which is all the more reason for him to say it, "when I first met you, I honestly thought you were out of your mind," he laughs, continuing, "You were so determined. I mean... stalking me in Iraq, forcing me to let Walter out, and then doing weird shit like going in that god damned tank."
She is still looking at his chest; she can see each breath he takes, and then feel the soft air flutter across her forehead as it tickles her hairline. She wants to look at him - maybe... but easily decides not to because she can tell he is lost in thought and she doesn't want to distract him. It's also a good excuse for her to be able to hide her facial expressions as he shares this history.
He closes his eyes, takes a breath, "maybe that was when I knew. When I had to pull you out of that tank. I mean I knew you were still in love with John, or you hated him, or both, obviously that was complicated. So it wasn't like I wanted to be with you, but I guess that is when I knew I couldn't be without you."
She smiles freely, safe in the knowledge that he can't quite see how happy it makes her to hear those words.
"Anyways..." he continues after a pause, "that's beside the point. You did that... for John, and you could have died. And then you did it again. And then... Jacksonville, and then... coming over to get me... and being stuck there," at this point, he is glad he doesn't have to look her in the eye because he wouldn't be able to speak another word if he saw the evident pain in her eyes, "I don't know what I would have done... if you hadn't found your way back... or if Walternate had -"
He stops to compose himself, then continues, "It would have been my fault, because you came over there for me."
She looks up at this point, meeting his eyes with tears in her own. "Peter...no..." she whispers.
"I know," he says after a few moments, "trust me, I've probably punished myself more over these last few months than you could ever punish me."
She closes her eyes and sighs, feeling guilty for how much blame she put on him.
"But Liv," he continues, "when I thought I lost you yesterday... It was miserable. Because I knew what it was like to feel that loss, even when I didn't really have you... but now that I do, I just -"
She opens her eyes again to see him take a breath to continue speaking, "I spent a lot of sleepless nights these last few months, replaying things over and over in my head. Like I said, I've probably punished myself more than you could ever punish me... but then these last two days, it all came rushing back. Walter literally had Bell sleep on our couch, which honestly I shouldn't be surprised by," he says resentfully, "But there you were, in my home, just out of reach. And I just laid there at night, wide awake, thinking about all the things I'd fucked up. And who wouldn't blame me for all of this anyways? I'm the one who started the chain of events that have led us here... by running and not looking back."
"But I'm the one who kept the secret from you," she interrupts.
"Well, yeah, but Liv come on... I -" He can't finish the sentence. He can't say the words out loud: I slept with an alternate version of you and had no idea.
"Things were... different. Circumstances... changed," she says, filling in the silence, trying to reconfirm some of the explanations he gave to her. Hoping to let him know she actually does understand now.
"Bull shit," he says, laughing sadistically. Mostly at himself. He was a fool, wasn't he?
"Peter..." she says under her breath, not sure where to start. His eye brows are knitted over his eyes, trying to hide the shame that is so evident in them.
She knows he won't say anything, so she starts, "I know you don't want to hear this.. but we can talk about her. In fact, at a certain point I think we have to." He grimaces at the thought of that conversation. She finishes her thought, "that morning Walter made us breakfast," she laughs slightly, reminiscing in Walter's not-so-innocent involvement in their relationship, "you said you hadn't told me everything... because I can't trust.. and you're right, I would have used each bit of information as just another reason why I should stay away from you.. why I should protect myself and put up walls."
"So it turns out you do actually know me just a little bit better than I know myself," she smiles, but his sullen face is unchanged, "because I needed this... I needed this time to settle in and realize how much I was holding us back. To realize how much I wanted you. And... how ridiculous it would be to hold all of those details against you, when it would be impacting my happiness... Our happiness... "
She looks for a response, or really any acknowledgement that she said he was right - but, nothing. He is still overshadowed by his never-ending shame.
"Peter," she starts, "Look, we don't have to talk about it tonight. I mean I was the one who started tonight saying I didn't want to talk about the man in the zeppelin because I just got back. We both have regrets, uncertainty for the future, and just a massive pile of shit to deal with," she smiles at the irony of her sudden ability to recognize everything they've been through and the fact that it will take both time and effort to go through it all, "but we can do this... together," She finishes.
He makes eye contact with her at last, acknowledging her words, and that she too, is right.
She can see she is getting through to him, ever so slightly, so she emphasizes her responsibility in this whole matter, "Peter... I broke your trust back then. I don't want you to disregard that. I should have told you," she admits.
He finally responds, "I mean... yeah... but what did you expect me to do if you did tell me?" He asks with genuine curiosity.
"Oh, I don't know," she laughs, trying to lighten the mood, "first of all, be super awkward about it. It's not like I would have actually told you how I felt."
"So it took the thought of never seeing me again, and oh this small thing called the end of your universe to actually tell me?" he asks teasingly, easily falling into the change of subject and tone of their conversation.
"Well, yeah. Have you met me?" She jokes back.
"Ok. Then tell me this - what would we have done that night after New York if you hadn't seen me shimmer?"
"Peter, please," she scoffs, "I don't know."
"I'm serious!" he says with a little too much enthusiasm, "let's just rewind to before everything got fucked up. I want to know."
"Seriously?" she asks again..
"Seriously," he says resolutely.
"Ugh," she complains, rolling her eyes in the dark, "ok... um, yeah, sure, we would have gone to drinks."
"Liv," he says shortly, raising his eyebrows in contempt, "we did go to drinks."
"Yeah I know but we would have gone to drinks. It would have been different."
He laughs now, "Yes, I know... that is kind of the whole point as to why I am asking this question. You know where I stood, but I didn't know where you stood... not until you came over there... to my apartment in New York," he raises his eyebrows again and winks, teasing her for being the one to kiss him first.
"God Peter, you are so childish sometimes," she laughs.
"Yeah... but you like it," he retorts, smiling, then leaning in for a kiss. The way her whole body responds, he knows she does, in fact, like it.
She pulls her lips away slightly, and says a little too seriously, "Get a few drinks in me, then maybe I'll spill the beans."
He fully pulls away from her face so he can read her eyes, "Really? Right now?" He asks with a hint of concern in his voice, "you'll talk through all the shit that happened to us... and then not about a hypothetical first date?"
"Again.. Peter... have you met me?" She laughs, "Plus, why the hell not? We made it through the week, hell we bridged the gap of starting that conversation without killing each other, shouldn't we celebrate that?" she asks cheekily.
"Umm.. I mean, yeah, but it's also nearly midnight... and the week is also not over yet, Liv," he says hesitantly correcting her.
She smiles, "yes, but I just had a fantastic two hour nap on your lap... and Broyles gave me the day off tomorrow. Plus now you've got me wide awake with all your talking and feelings and sharing." she says sarcastically.
...
She looks at him over the rim of her glass, which is pressed tightly against her lips. He swigs the brown liquid and puts his glass down, fighting the tiredness that is overcoming his body. They are sitting across from each other in the kitchen in comfortable silence. That was one of the things Peter really missed, he could always be comfortable in silence with her... that is until she found out about Walter's secret.
"You're deep in thought," she says, putting her glass down. His eyes tiredly rise up to meet hers, and a light smile spreads across his face.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks quietly, his eyes, half open, still staring at her.
"Nothing," he says, with a forced smile.
"Liar," she says back playfully, scrunching her nose and silently laughing.
"I'm tired," he says, then adds sarcastically "and you're a crazy person who doesn't sleep"
"That I am," she says confidently as she brings her glass to her mouth once again to finish the dark liquid within it.
"But you're stuck with me," she adds once her glass is empty, her voice quiet but ever so clear. That comment certainly gets his attention, and his eyes widen as he takes in what she said.
"I'm ok with that," he says smiling, still very low energy, "as long as you let me sleep at least..." he ponders how often he actually wants sleep versus how often he wants to be with her, "...every other night," he jokes.
"Sleep, as in... you, in your own bed? Are you kidding?" she asks shyly. It's only been a month since they truly got together and those first few weeks were all about building trust, which they did. But each of them had held back from jumping over the ledge and falling for the other person. Years had gone by while they tiptoed around each other, and they weren't about to drop their guard down immediately. It only took the consciousness of a dead William Bell to take over her body and force them to realize they actually don't want to spend another minute apart.
Their guard had started to drop when they agreed on full disclosure, but that lasted about 24 hours before... well before Bell came. Then they almost lost each other again... and now it feels almost impossible to hold back the flood gates.
So, while they spent nights together over the last month, it certainly was not every night. And it certainly was not routine to them yet.
He is slightly taken aback by her question, so he sits up in his chair and wraps his hands around his glass nervously, "uh, sure, whatever you want," he responds, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. He can never fault her for being uncomfortable before, and definitely won't question her confidence now. He still doesn't ever think he'll forgive himself for putting them in this situation in the first place.
She stands to grab the bottle off the counter behind him and fill their glasses, but to him, it looks like she is getting up to say goodnight and lead him to the bedroom. His heart rate quickens, and suddenly he feels very awake. He opens his mouth to speak just as he is turning his body around to call her back to the kitchen. But as his field of view rotates, he finds her standing right next to him, bottle in hand. She leans forward to pour and her face comes down to his level. She pours each glass with her lips centimeters away from his, then pauses, and turns to stand up and put the bottle back on the counter. His eyes follow her; he isn't even trying to hide the fact that he is staring.
"Are you awake now?" she jokes. She is still facing the counter but she can feel his eyes on her. She turns around to walk back and he doesn't break eye contact. He simply smiles and nods his head. So the answer to her question is yes, he and one particular part of his body are very awake.
"You did say you were wondering what would happen if you didn't glimmer that night... we didn't get to enjoy a drink then, so why not enjoy a drink now?" She finishes her whole glass in one gulp, reaching behind her to grab the bottle of whisky on the counter as she walks back to the table. This time, she sits on the same side of him, pressing her thigh against his and resting her head on his shoulder.
Her head bobs up and down slightly as he laughs, "I did ask that," he admits, "so is that what we are doing right now? Finishing that night the way it was supposed to...?" he asks cheekily, implying a move to the bedroom.
She stays resting on his shoulder, smiles, and answers simply, "No."
"Then, what?" he asks gently.
She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know, I just wasn't ready to stop hanging out with you yet." He sips his whiskey and smiles.
"So does that mean you're going to let me sleep tonight?"
"I don't know... probably not," she says with his token sarcasm rubbing off on her.
...
An hour and a couple drinks later, she is sitting with her chair perpendicular to his, her legs draped across his lap, and they are in an heated debate about whether red vines or twizzlers are better. They are loud, laughing, finishing each other's sentences, interrupting each other - syncing into their normalcy and comfort around each other they have been longing for these last two days.
Silence settles around them as the laughing dies down, and she looks at him decidedly, "Come on, let's go to bed."
He scoffs at her, "so now you want to go to bed?"
She giggles hysterically and pulls her legs off him. She picks up her glass to stand and rinse it out, but he pulls it out of her hand before she realizes. She's standing beside him, slightly wobbly, the room swaying with her, arm still held out as if she is holding her glass even though there is nothing in her hand. She sways into his shoulder, and he quickly switches which hand has her glass so he can wrap his arm around her waist to steady her.
He looks back at the table, stacking the glasses together so he can carry them to the sink, and her to bed. But then he feels her palms on his cheeks forcing his head to rotate back towards her. He smiles as he sees her looking down at him. Backlit from the ceiling light, her hair almost glowing and her smile serene. She leans down to kiss him and he meets her, his other hand slowly moving away from the glasses and wrapping around her to pull her down to him even more so. Her tongue slips inside his mouth and he doesn't think he's tasted something so sweet. Soon she rotates her hips to sit on his lap, her torso twisted so she can keep her lips sealed on his. She isn't the only one swaying anymore, his body pushing into hers.
He takes his right hand away from her face and wraps in around her back. He slowly moves his left hand from the back of her neck to find the two glasses sitting on the table. He flops his hand around on the table, not breaking the kiss, so he can feel for the glasses. Once he makes contact, he stacks them inside one another so he can hold them in one hand. And she is so caught up in him she doesn't realize any of this is happening... or maybe it's the alcohol.
He grasps tightly all the way around her back and ribs and stands up quickly, bringing her with him so their faces are still level and her feet can't touch the ground. She squeals into his lips, "Peter!" He can't help but laugh and savor each moment he gets to see this version of Olivia Dunham. He's holding her with one arm, grasping her tightly so she is pressed firmly into his chest, her feet still dangling at his shins.
"What are you doing?!" She asks quickly while his lips are still trying to constantly capture hers.
He has his left hand around the two glasses, and blindly walks to the sink, still kissing her. He places them down in the sink... not so carefully. The glasses clink and roll, but don't break, and he turns to walk out of the kitchen. His left hand free now, he uses the momentum of his turn toward the living room to swing her legs up and grab them under her knees, "we're going to bed," he says very matter-of-factly and meets her lips again. One arm under her back, the other under her knees, he holds her there enjoying the moment... and her reaction to it.
She can't contain her laughter anymore so she presses her forehead against his as their lips part. He takes long strides to the bedroom and she holds onto the back of his neck, along for the ride. He steps through the door and up to the bed, kissing her one more time - softly, gently now. But she knows him too well, and she can already predict that he is trying to trick her into false-comfort... before simply releasing his arms and dropping her onto the bed from 2 feet above the mattress.
His grip starts to loosen and she can feel herself slipping through his arms, "WAIT!" she yells.
Her arms are still tightly bound around his neck, but he has already half dropped her, so he is in the awkward position of half bending over to the bed as she pulls him down with her. His hands are holding her still, but barely.
He looks at her with actual concern, "what?"
She looks back at him with the utmost seriousness, "I have to pee."
He raises his eyebrows, silently asking, "all of this, because you had to pee? Come on."
She smiles radiantly back at him, as if to say "pleeeeease carry me to the bathroom."
"Alright," he says with a cheeky smile, and then suddenly he stands up, hoisting her and rotating her over his shoulder so she is in a fireman's carry - her torso draped over his back and her legs over his chest.
"PETER" she says, actually with some irritation in her voice now, "Your shoulder is digging into my bladder. My bladder!"
"I am just doing what you asked me to do..." he says cheekily and starts walking over to the bathroom with her over his shoulder. Each step he takes she bounces slightly on him, which comes with a threat of her own, "I will pee on you if you don't put me down."
He laughs, continuing the few remaining steps to the toilet, "I'll call your bluff... that's a risk I'm willing to take."
She kicks her legs and bangs her fists against his back, fighting to get down, then she moves to slapping his ass, he jokes, "careful there, you're going to make me keep you up there," simply because she touched his butt.
"Peteeerrrrrrrr," she pleads, and by the time she finishes dragging out the final syllable of his name, he's plopped her down standing right in front of the toilet, the cold porcelain barely touching her calves. She looks up at him, dazed and confused... and drunk, and he gives her shoulder a little push so she falls, sitting on the toilet behind her.
"Thank you," she says calmly, "now leave."
He bends down to kiss her one more time, lifting her chin up with his finger so she can reach his lips. Then, within a split second he's gone... or maybe, again, she is just drunk. She hears the door close and a muffled voice behind it, "don't forget to take off your pants first!"
The sad thing is - she thinks to herself - she actually needed that reminder...
Peter undresses and gets under the covers, sleepiness taking over his body. She comes out of the bathroom, grabs a large T shirt, and discards her bra on the ground with his clothes. She pulls herself under the covers and into his warmth, pressing every inch of her skin against him.
"Hi," she says drunkenly.
"Hi," he laughs back at her, and holds her closer to him.
"Just so you know..." she starts, her words slurring as she goes along, "I don't put out on the first date."
"Liv..." he asks, questioning how drunk she actually is, "This isn't..." he starts but then gets straight to the point, "you know we've already slept together... right?"
"Yeah," she says quietly nodding, but he doesn't seem to think she comprehends.
"At my house, after that apartment building case in New York... you came over... kissed me... we went upstairs."
"Yeah, yeah I know," she says, flailing her arm in the air, dismissing his words, "but... if we went to the bar that night, after Jacksonville... I wouldn't have put out," she says proudly.
"Oh... ok," he now realizes he is just dealing with an increasingly drunken Olivia, playing along with the "what if" plot of their first almost-but-not-really-date. She did go drink for drink with him tonight... maybe even more. And on top of that she is half his size.
He's enjoying it though, seeing her so unfiltered, "So, is this the part where you tell me what would have happened that night? If you didn't see me glimmer?"
"Noooo," she says, trying to cover up any tactless behavior she may be showing right now, "I will not crack that easily," she adds with new determination in her voice.
"But," she continues, almost harshly, which takes him aback. Her eyes are closed, but her face is animated and she continues using her hands to emphasize her point, "but... I did... have other plans... for how that night would have gone," she finishes. She is laying against the headboard, increasingly leaning into him for more support.
He looks down at her, smiling, and can't help but ask, "yeah? And what were those other plans?"
She leans her head down onto his chest, hiding her face from him, "ugh.. are you really going to make me say it?" she whines.
"You agreed.. full disclosure," he responds sarcastically.
"Yes," she sighs, "I know... but you are taking advantage of my... state," she pokes him in the chest with her finger with fake frustration as she speaks, "you are trying to coax me into admitting -"
"HA!" she sits up suddenly and looks at him intently, "you almost did it... you almost made me say it," she smiles confidently, proud of what little sobriety and awareness she has left. In reality, it's like she's in primary school trying and failing to tell a boy she has a crush on him.
"I didn't do anything," he laughs, "you're the one who wanted to have drinks in the middle of the night."
"Well you're the one who made me want to hang out with you," she says in an accusatory tone.
"Oh yeah? What did I do to make you want to hang out with me?" he asks, obviously implying more.
She smiles, almost giddily, breaking any resemblance of her serious act. She falls back onto the bed next to him, nestling her head in the crook of his neck.
"You suck," is all she says. He laughs and her head moves with his chest. He wraps his arm around her back again, his hand snaking under the hem of her T shirt, fingers lightly dancing on her skin just above her hip bone. Her hand lies flat across his chest, her nails occasionally grazing across his skin. Her breathing slows and she wraps her outside leg over his thighs.
He thinks she may have fallen asleep, until he hears a whisper, "you make me happy..."
He tries to respond, but she cuts him off, "ok? Is that good enough for you?"
"Liv," he chuckles, "yes, that is good enough. I'm just teasing."
"I know," she says, "but I'm not good at this... you know that." Her words are still slurring, but she continues, "I just... I like you.. a lot... like a lot a lot..." she pauses, and then quickly adds, "but you can't tell anyone."
He smiles and kisses the top of her head, "your secret is safe with me."
"Ok but really... it's like really really a lot a lot," she repeats.
"I know Liv," he says, lips and nose still pressed to her head, breathing in the scent of her hair and shampoo, pausing in this moment to realize that he actually has her, "but thanks for telling me."
"Ok... I just wanted to make sure," her voice drifts to silence as they both hold each other, silently speaking so many words, making up for all the lost time that they could have had with one another.
…
After many moments of silence, she starts talking plainly, still drunkenly, but plainly. As if these words are the easiest words she's ever said, "when I was a kid, I didn't think that I would ever be happy." He tries to pull his head away and look at her, comfort her, but she continues without moving to look up at him, "I just didn't think it was possible. Or maybe I didn't think I deserved it."
"I spent so long just being me, alone, and being perfectly fine with that," she shrugs her shoulders against him, "it was what I deserved. So it was fine... But then John came, and yeah.. sure... I was happy. But... was I?" She asks rhetorically, "I don't know. I think I spent more time worrying about if someone found out about us. Plus, motel beds twice a week isn't a relationship," she laughs at herself easily, her casual remark insulting her own life choices definitely helped along by the whiskey.
He stays exactly as he is, fingers gliding over her hip bone, lips and tip of nose lightly pressed to her skull. She continues, "And then you," he feels her smile more so than he sees it, "God, you were such a pain in the ass," and they both laugh at the thought of Peter fresh out of Iraq, "but even when we were still trying to figure out all that happened with John... honestly... my first thought about you was still 'God damnit' because no one had ever... I don't know... been like you." She rotates her head to look up at him, her first acknowledgement of his presence in a while.
"So is that when you knew? That early?" he asks, finally able to join the conversation.
"Knew what?" she asks, with an overly confused look on her face. He starts to answer, "Knew that -" but it's clicked for her in the time it took him to speak those two words, "Oh. Knew I wanted to be with you. HA! No!" She laughs loudly in his face.
He fakes shock and sadness for such an insulting blow, and she realizes how candid (drunk) she's been, "No..." she giggles, "not like that. I mean... I just was unaware. You know me, I'm so pre-occupied with the task at hand, I hardly ever stop to think about things," she continues, "so I don't know when it was, honestly probably around Jacksonville because I am just that thick," she laughs.
"So its a good thing I made the first move?" He jokes back.
"Yes," she says definitively, "I would have done jack shit. I think that's pretty obvious from this conversation. But, I do have to say, looking back I can see it."
"See what?" he asks.
"See that if I opened my eyes and looked up for just a second, I probably was already falling for you... even all those years ago." She's brought her hand from his chest to rest under her chin, so she can continue to look at him.
He simply smiles in response, and then closes his eyes contentedly and rests his head against the pillow and headboard. She rotates her head back so her cheek rests on his chest and shoulder.
"Can we not, not do this again?" She asks, just above a whisper. He laughs at her cute, but still drunken, stupor.
"Sure, Liv," he confirms, "but what exactly are we not, not doing?"
"I don't want you to leave," she says quietly as she rolls over onto her other side, facing away from him.
"I'm not leaving..." he says reassuringly just as she reaches back and pulls his body to her back. His arm slides over her hip and stomach, holding her close to him, his breath hot on the back of her neck.
"But like... you can't leave... ever..." she says, "every night has to be like this."
He smiles at the thought of spending every night in bed with her, waking up to see her face every single morning, "ok," he replies simply.
"Ok," she confirms, then after a yawn, she finally succumbs to her tiredness, "Goodnight Peter."
He kisses the back of her neck, "G'night 'Livia"
...
She hears light rustling around her, the clink of a belt, flush of a toilet, a whispered swear word after stubbing a toe in the dark. Her mouth is dry and her head is heavy, she squeezes her eyes shut to try and make the sounds go away, but they don't. She opens one eye to try and find the source of this disturbance, searching the room frantically with her eye, but not moving her head at all. She sees the handle move on the bathroom door in front of her, the knob twisting, slowly, gently, and then a large figure tip-toeing through the door. He is so focused on being quiet (and apparently failing at it) that he doesn't realize she is looking at him now.
"Where are you going?" she asks, groggily.
He looks at her, first surprised she is awake, and then apologetic for being the source of her clearly unwanted level of consciousness.
"Sorry," he smiles," I was trying to be quiet," he said.
Her tired facial expression doesn't change, "where are you going?" she asks again.
"I have to go to the lab, I do have a job," he says jokingly.
"But...?" she questions
"You have the day off Liv, not me," he says with enough disappointment for the both of them. "Don't worry, you need more sleep anyways, and I should be quick with Walter in the lab. I'll probably be back in the afternoon," he tries to convince her with a fake smile, because all he really wants to do is lay in bed with her all day.
"But..?" she asks again.
He finishes putting on his button down and then walks to the other side of the bed to find his shoes. He sits down to put them on, she rolls over to face him, and he answers, "I was going to leave you a note, I promise," he says with a genuine smile this time.
"But..." he says for her, predicting her rebuttal "you're a crazy person who doesn't sleep. So of course you woke up." He leans back onto his elbow to look at her more closely, and then moves in to kiss her, "I'll see you soon, ok?" he finishes.
Her face says everything - to the point where she doesn't need or want to respond.
"Can I put my shoes on?" he asks innocently.
She shakes her head and scowls.
"Ok, fine, you've convinced me," he says as he lays down next to her, "5 more minutes."
She immediately magnetizes to his chest, wrapping her limbs around him at the same time. Definitely trying, but failing, to prevent him from going into the lab.
"You are determined in all states," he snickers. She looks up at him questioning the meaning of his comment, "drunk, hungover, tired, awake, working, whatever... you are still Olivia Dunham," he laughs more openly at her.
"What?" she says offended, and of course, determined "I was not drunk last night, and I am not hungover."
"Ok," he says innocently, "I'm just saying you had a lot to drink last night... like... a lot a lot." He says as he tries, but fails to keep a straight face. She looks at him with confusion in her eyes, and then suddenly it clicks and she remembers what she told him just a few hours ago. Her eyes go wide in embarrassment and she grabs her pillow as fast as she can to cover her blushing cheeks.
Her hands press down on the pillow to hold it in place as he tries to pull it away from her, "Liv," he laughs, "come on... it was cute. I liked it!" he says with as much reassurance (but also sarcasm) in his voice as he can. He starts to out-muscle her and pull the pillow away, so she sits up quickly and grabs the pillow from one end and starts hitting him in the chest and face, "Peter." slam "Bishop." slam "You...Are...Just...The...WORST."
"Ok! Ok! I surrender, my white flag is going up," he says between laughs and blows to the face. But she doesn't stop (determined as ever) so he captures one arm at a time, grabbing onto her wrists and stilling her motion. Once he has hold of both her wild, flailing arms, he pushes his hips up against hers and rolls them over so she is on her back, him looking down at her, holding her wrists against the bed on each side of her face.
"I surrender," he says again, quietly. She rolls her eyes at him and opens her mouth to speak, but stops before she says anything, because she knows he will twist it into some sarcastic joke.
"Ok," she says stubbornly, "Fine. Go to work, then... Just leave."
He smiles widely, looking down at her and says carefully, "but you said I could never leave... ever..." and then bursts into a fit of laughter.
Her jaw drops in very real shock but very fake annoyance, "Peter! You are the Worst. The WORST." she says trying to hide her laughter too. His grip has loosened on her wrists so she takes the opportunity to pull the same move, pushing her hips up into him and rolling them over so he is on his back. He can't stop laughing, and he isn't even trying to hide it now, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasps between laughs, "I promise, I'm done... you just set me up too well. I couldn't resist." She thinks she sees a tear starting to fall out of his eye as he readjusts his jaw, trying to stretch and relax his cheek muscles.
"Sure," she says plainly back at him. But he can see the fire in her eyes, and he knows he is about to pay for what he said. She leans down so her lips are an inch away from his face, but does nothing else.
"You're going to make me late," he protests.
"Sorry," she says slyly, and she moves to do something very unexpected. Her hand grazes down his chest on top of his button down, to his belt and starts undoing it.
"Liv?" he asks, "what are you doing?"
"Nothing," she responds and then immediately starts to kiss him as she slides her hand to undo his pant button and slips it into his boxers.
"If you're trying to get me to stay..." he gasps as she grabs his full length, "its working," he says as he releases his breath out.
She continues, escalating her movements. Soon he reaches for the hem of her T shirt and lifts it over her head. She lets him remove it easily, and then her lips and fingers return to him. He rolls them over again, hips swaying into hers, and her hand never releases him as they reposition. He presses his chest into hers, and he starts to reach for his collar buttons while supporting most of his body weight on one arm. She grabs his wrist, stopping him from unbuttoning the second button, and starts to reach for the shirt herself.
To his surprise, confusion, disappointment, really many things, she re-buttons the top button he had already undone. He pulls his lips away from hers, looking into her eyes for answers.
"I thought you had to go to work," she says innocently.
"What?" he asks, his brain in a fog.
"You were leaving... for work. You should go... you're going to be late," she says with a sly smile growing on her lips.
His eyes squint and he looks at her in disbelief and frustration, "really?" he asks, practically begging her to let him stay.
"Really," she states, "when you get back, we'll re-evaluate whether you can never leave again... ever," she tilts her head and gives him a mischievous look.
He chokes out a laugh of disappointment and flops onto his back on the other side of the bed. He starts struggling to re-do his pants and belt, unable to get them to close, "what am I supposed to do with this?" he asks, pointing at his still very erect dick, "this is your fault, you know that right?" He finally gets his pants done, bends down to put on his shoes, and then looks up at her again with one last pleading look on his face.
She laughs, nods her head proudly, "I know," and simply states, "what can I say? It's my finest work."