Olivia looked up suddenly in the direction of the squad room and she looked at Peter. He'd been fighting a cold for the past two days and he was losing badly. His symptoms had just been getting worse.

Olivia picked up a spare box of tissues and approached the open door. Peter was leaning forward, his forehead resting on his hands that were clenched into fists. She announced her presence at her door with a gentle, "Peter?"

His head snapped up and he flexed his fists. His nose was red and raw around the bottom and Olivia noticed a crumpled paper towel from the bathrooms on the desk. She smiled gently and held out the box of balsam tissues. "I think these might be kinder to your nose."

"Thank you Liv," he croaked, accepting her gift. He immediately ripped two tissues out of the box and held them up to his face as he sneezed again. He noisily blew his nose and then looked up sheepishly. "Sorry."

Olivia dismissed his apology with a small smile. "Why don't you go home, Peter? It's already three o'clock. Take the weekend and rest and try to get better."

He hung his head and shrugged. "If I go home," he said slowly. "I won't know what the hell to do with myself anyway. And I have a meeting at four with the Jack."

Olivia waved a hand negligently. "Forget it. It can wait till Monday, surely?"

Peter nodded. "All right. I'll call him and cancel our meeting. I'll go home. I don't quite know what I'll do with myself, but I'll go home."

"I'll tell you what to do," Olivia replied. "You'll go home, dig out some Lemsip Cold Flu and then go to bed after you've consumed three large glasses of water.

"Yes sir!" he replied teasingly. He would have saluted her, but he didn't really think he had the energy to lift his arm. "Although I don't think I have any Lemsip; I'll have to stop at the chemist."

"I'l call Jack's office for you," she offered. "The last thing you need right now is to be dealing with that." Peter grimaced; he'd forgotten about Jack's receptionist. "Go to the chemist and then go home."

"Don't stay too late," he told her. "You've put in more hours this week than most of that lot put together. You deserve a break."

"I'll call the Jack and then I'll leave. Now go... before you infect my whole team."

Olivia watched him as he turned and left her office, leaving the preceint through the doors.

Olivia was startled out of her reverie by the appearance of Fin and Sonny. "We just passed Peter in the corridor. Has he gone home?" Fin asked.

"Yes, I convinced him to go home to bed."

"He wasn't in any fit state to be here," agreed Fin, "but I'm surprised you got him to see that."

"It must be that mystical power that Olivia has over him," Sonny replied cheekily.

"Oh my power is much more wide ranging than just Peter," Olivia replied, a glint in her eye. "For example, you are going to ring the Jack and cancel Peter's four o'clock meeting whilst I go home, aren't you Sonny?" She flounced passed them to her desk, where she shut down her laptop and gathered her things.

On her way to the lifts, she could hear Sonny trying to reason with Claire, the Jack's personal assistant. It served him right, she reasoned, but by the time she was in the lift she was feeling a little guilty; Claire could be very persistent! Olivia was so busy trying to think of a way to make it up to Sonny, that she missed her stop and before she knew it the lift had delivered her to the underground car park.

Olivia frowned when the lift doors opened and she saw that Peter was still in his car. She walked over and looked in. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes closed and his mouth open. She tapped lightly on the window. He jerked awake and turned his head towards her. He wound down the window before rubbing his hands over his face. "Shit, I must have dozed off. Thanks for waking me up."

He reached for ignition, where his keys dangled. Olivia reached in through the window and grabbed his forearm. He turned and she found herself inches from his face. "No," she said.

"Olivia!" he started to protest.

"Get out and get in the passenger side. I'm taking you home and that's all there is to it. I'm not having my relaxing weekend ruined by worrying whether or not you've wrapped your car around a lamppost after falling asleep at the wheel."

He snorted. "I'll be fine, Olivia. I just dozed off for a minute."

"You are not fine! You are sick and you are tired! Now get out and stop being so damn stubborn!" Olivia's voice had gotten progressively louder as she let her frustration get the better of her. She began to wonder what would happen if he did have a car accident. That thought brought tears to her eyes although she didn't let them fall by blinking rapidly. She swallowed hard, shaking her head to dislodge the thought.

She didn't hear him get out of the car, but suddenly he was in front of her, sliding one hand down her arm pressing his car keys into her palm with his other.

"I'm sorry Olivia. I didn't mean to upset you."

She shook her head. "It's nothing. It's okay."

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and stared at her face until she raised her eyes to meet his.

She swallowed and licked her lips looking at his broad chest. She looked up again to find his eyes riveted to her lips. He jerked his eyes up to meet her gaze.

One corner of his mouth turned up. His thumbs traced random patterns on her collarbones and she realized his fingers had slipped inside the collar of her blouse. She pulled back and turned, saying, "Come on. Let's go."

She slipped into the driver's seat and Peter, somewhat reluctantly, walked to the passenger side and slid in, fastening his seatbelt.

They rode in silence for about five minutes, until Peter sneezed, breaking the silence. Ruth pointed at the glove box. He opened it and pulled out a small pack of travel tissues, grinning. "Always prepared, aren't you? Were you a girl guide?" he teased.

He blew his nose, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He was a handsome man, but when he smiled, he was just so damn endearing. Something about all that bulk looking amused or sheepish just melted Olivia's heart. She knew she was dangerously close to falling for him, and it really wasn't a good idea. Better women than her had their reputations ruined by getting involved with someone from work. She knew Sonny and Amanda were quickly careering towards a relationship but that was different; no one seemed to care if they were together or not. With Peter and her it is different.

Olivia pulled into the car park of the local chemist and hopped out, waving off his offer of money. She trotted inside, going to the pharmacy section and grabbing what she wanted.

Olivia paid for the items and hurried back to car. Peter was resting his head again but wasn't asleep. His eyes opened slowly and he turned his head to look at her. His eyes widened when he saw the bulging bag. "More in there than Lemsip," he commented.

Olivia tossed the bag into the back of the car, before turning the ignition and backing out of the parking space.

Olivia was so lost in thought; she nearly drove passed his house. She hit the brakes and made a quick turn into his driveway. She followed him out of the car to his front door.

Peter gently pried the shopping bag out of her hands. "Jesus, Liv," he exclaimed as he felt the weight of it, "Did you buy the entire shop? What on earth have you got in here?"

Go and change; that suit can't be comfortable. I'll fix you some things," she said too quickly, moving to the worktop and emptying the bag, glad to have something to do.

She didn't turn around, but she heard him climb the stairs and close a door somewhere above her.

Flicking the kettle on, she grabbed a coffee cup from the mug tree and poured the Lemsip into it before unpacking the rest of the bag; soup, bread, energy drinks, nasal spray, several boxes of tissues. She got a saucepan and put it on the stove, pouring in the soup. She busied herself self for the next few minutes while she waited for the water to boil. She hoped Peter hadn't fallen asleep yet, not before she could get some medicine into him. She wasn't sure if he had a nasty cold, or really had the start of the flu, but either way, the medication would help.

A few minutes later Peter reappeared wearing grey tracksuit pants and a tight, white t-shirt. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Olivia hoped not. He leaned negligently against the doorframe, as the kettle clicked off, and she poured hot water into the mug. He approached and took out a teaspoon, handing it to her. She stirred the medicine while he peered into the saucepan. "Chicken soup?" he asked.

She looked up. "You don't like it?"

"I love it. Haven't had it in a while though."

"It's just out of the can, unfortunately," Olivia stated.

"Out of the can is the best!" he said.

Olivia handed him the Lemsip. "Drink up. Sit down. I'll pour this when it's ready.

He set his mug down after taking one sip and grimacing.

She poured the soup into the bowl and turned, asking Peter, "Do you want bread?"

"Yes, but I don't have any." Olivia pointed further down the counter to the bread rolls she'd bought. He smiled widely and said, "What would I do without you?"

"I don't know. But you don't look like you're starving to death."

"No, that's not one of my problems," he answered, chuckling. He grabbed a roll and a knife and began cutting it in half.

"No, it's not," Olivia said, finding her eyes drawn to his body. He paused in the action of cutting the bread and stilled, watching Olivia watching him.

I'm moving to the sofa. Come and join me?"

She walked into his living room and she rounded the end of the couch and opened her mouth, and stopped dead. He was half reclined against the corner of the couch, one leg on the floor, the other dangling half way off the couch. His head was back against the cushion, his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful and relaxed. It was then Olivia realized he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. She looked at his bare feet appreciatively, even they were sexy.

She tried to stand up but his other arm came up and grasped her hip, stopping her. She plunked back down from the few inches she had risen. "Don't go," he said roughly.

"You're sick, Peter. She tried to stand again but he held her in place. The hand on her hip slid around and up, exerting gentle pressure on her back, tugging her towards his torso. "Peter..."

"I want to hold my girlfriend, Liv," he said in rough whisper.

She gently laying her head on his chest, his chin on the crown of her head. But she still tried to hold up her own weight. "Peter…"she began.

"Shhh," he admonished. "Come here." He moved his legs up onto the couch and turned on his side, making room for her. He tugged gently and she fell next to him, rolling into his body. He lifted his leg and Olivia's slid in between, her knee rising as if it had a will of its own. She stopped when she felt it brush the heat of his groin. Her skirt was bunching around her waist, and her shirt was untucked and all askew. Peter groaned quietly as her thigh brushed against him and she felt him harden further against her.

"You're sick," she repeated not knowing what else to say. Her head was cushioned on his big bicep and his head lay against a small throw pillow that was on the couch.

"Just hold me," he whispered.

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