Olivia awoke with a start when her stomach growled so loudly it nearly made her reach for her gun in alarm. As she took in her surroundings and realized she was in her guest bedroom, she was a little confused. Hadn't she fallen asleep on the couch with Peter, or had that all been a dream?
Jumping out of bed, she walked briskly into her living room to find Peter making pancakes, indisputably the reason her stomach had woken her up in hunger. Her whole body relaxed as she watched him from behind, standing over the stove with a spatula in his hand, his hair sticking up every which way from sleep.
It hadn't been a dream. He had really come to her home and comforted her as she cried, promising to never leave her side. He had really convinced her to open her heart to him and let him take care of her. He was really here.
When she walked closer to him, he sensed her presence and turned around, that special smile crossing his face that he saved for her, and her alone.
"'Morning, Liv. I know you told me I was only allowed to make you breakfast that one time, but since we didn't get the chance to eat it, I decided that—"
He was cut off by surprise when Olivia wrapped her arms around him tightly, resting her head against his chest. Her fingers clasped to the back of his shirt as if she were afraid he would float away from her. She inhaled him deeply, his scent enveloping her like a thick, wool blanket and making her feel warm and protected.
"Hi," was all she could mutter as she reveled in the feel of his strong, sinewy arms wrapping around her like a shield.
"Hi yourself," he intoned against her hair, the vibrations of his low voice making her shiver with delight. He held Olivia against him for a while longer, enjoying this new, unguarded side of her, until he smelled something burning.
"Shit!" He cursed, turning around to find the pancake as black as tar and smoking. He moved the pan off of the burner and frantically waved the smoke away, praying the fire detector wouldn't start wailing.
When the smoke had dissipated without making the alarm go off, Peter relaxed and leaned back against the counter. He stole a glance at Olivia, who was biting her lip to stifle a grin, which she was failing miserably at.
"You think that was funny?" He sneered playfully.
"A little, yeah."
When Peter looked away, not saying a thing, Olivia was baffled. He always had some sort of clever comeback. But then he looked at her, his eyes full of mischief, and lunged. Olivia shrieked when he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, throwing her playfully onto the couch and straddling her.
He began to tickle her relentlessly, her body writhing and squirming against him as she giggled wildly.
"Say you're sorry," he insisted.
"Peter!" She cried between fits of laughter, her stubborn refusing to comply.
"Say it!"
"I'm sorry!" She blurted, not able to take the pleasurable torture any longer. When his fingers stopped tickling her, he brought his face down to hers. She suspected he was going to kiss her and closed her eyes in anticipation, but instead, he breathed in her ear:
"I win."
He simpered at her and stood up, walking away and leaving her lying breathless on the couch. Didn't he see how badly she'd wanted him to kiss her, or was he doing this on purpose to make her crazy? She guessed the latter.
"Breakfast is ready, Olivia!" He called from the kitchen. "Unless you're still pouting about losing?"
If she hadn't been so hungry she would've made him wish that he'd never messed with Olivia Dunham.
"This isn't over yet, Bishop," She warned, narrowing her eyes at him as she took a seat at the table.
Peter grinned and set a plate full of blueberry pancakes, a cup of mixed fruit, and a steaming mug of coffee in front of her.
"Oh Peter, thank you. This is wonderful."
"Don't mention it," He spoke softy, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, wondering why she hadn't let him in sooner.