A/N: I Don't really like this chapter, but this is about the case so I kind of had to throw it in here for plot purposes. It actually has some funny spats in here, so I'd read it anyways :)
Day 1: The Relatively Boring Day
Chapter 3: This IS A Scene
Six hours, 7 and a half minutes, 4 bathroom stops, and 12 cups of coffee later (you wonder why we needed 4 bathroom stops...) We pulled into Atlantic City around 1 in the afternoon. My blonde locks were blowing in the wind and I was belting out "Believe" by The Bravery, and I think I looked like I was high, but 1.) I was in a city filled with people who were probably stoned so I don't think I really looked too much out of place and 2.) I was with Peter Bishop who's seen me half naked, with bloodshot eyes, and watched me kill people. I really don't think this behavior shocks him. Okay, shocks maybe but it doesn't worry him.
"Here we are, Sweetheart," Peter said as if he was a little boy showing me his good report card. "Although I wish we would have come in at night so you could have seen the lights... It adds a little ambiance" A report card, tarnished by a single B among all the A's.
"Note to Self: Never feed Olivia sugar. Or Ecstasy. EVER. No matter how much she begs," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes. I was giggling like a giddy teenager.
"Okay the sugar I get... But the Ecstasy? I'm not high!" I pouted.
"Just seeing if you're actually listening. I need you in a semi-comprehensive state of mind right about now," He stated bluntly.
"Why's that?" I had the seat reclined back and was bopping my head to his indie music.
"Well, we just pulled up at the crime scene," He smiled and I heard his door shut. I bolted upright in the seat in a state of relative confusion, and he opened my door before I had the chance to even realize I should be getting out. Ugh, as if I couldn't just do it my self...
I stood up and was a little woozy from being in the car so long, but I didn't want him to think I needed help so I just smoothly walked out of the car. And... I also managed to smoothly fall backwards. And Mr. Chivalry-isn't-dead over there just felt the need to oh-so smoothly catch me.
My face flushed 10 hues of red in a matter of moments all the way down to my chest. A cocky smirk painted his face. Damn you, Peter. I got those weird knots in my stomach again... His face was only inches from mine, and I could smell the coffee on his breath. I licked my lips in anticipation. If I would just shut my eyes and move the smallest bit... NO! get a grip, Olivia. You are at a crime scene. There are other people here, people who you may not know but are co-workers! I jerked up.
"I'm FINE, Bishop..." I brushed my hair and lowered my head, straightened by back and walked swiftly away so he wouldn't see the desire painted all over my face. Fuck him for doing this to me; it's totally immoral. He pursued.
"You sure you didn't spike your coffee this morning, Dunham?" He questioned. I could feel the hurt in his voice and a pang can through my stomach.
"Yeah, sorry about that, Peter," I turned to face him and looked at him gingerly, giving a slight, embarrassed smiled. I'm such a bitch sometimes... "I think I'm just a little tired is all..."
"It's all good. Just pull through this and then we can go check into the hotel," Peter said and I turned to walk in and then I felt it. My face flushed again and I could feel my heart leap up into my throat. I swear to God there's no way he wouldn't be able to hear my pulse pounding away under my skin.
His hand was on the small of my back, leading me into the dilapidated club. I think I about passed out when I felt the light pressure and the warmth of his huge hands seeping through my attenuated dress shirt.
Agent Whatever-the-hell-his-name-is was apparently trying to explain to me who the bodies were and how they were nothing more than you're average streetwalkers, but I really only heard intermit in parts of the one way conversation:
"Third degree burns...prostitution...Krystal Moore and Shelly Stone...unexplained...devastating..." And then he asked me something, but I wasn't listening, much too focused on how to nonchalantly react to Peter's touch on my back. And now he required a response... I didn't want to ask him what he asked again, so I whipped out a few "Fringe Division Most Commonly Used Expressions" out of my expansive arsenal.
"We're going to need to send these bodies back to the lab at Harvard yes Walter you can ride with them call me if you have an leads on the case agent okay that's nice bye," And then I turned and walked out, praying that Peter wouldn't notice my awkward nervousness.
"Walter's not here," He bent down and whispered in my ear, sending my heart into rapid fluttering palpitations. I swallowed and I think I heard him chuckle huskily (sexily) under his breath.
PETER'S P.O.V.
Oh I am SO good. I could feel Olivia squirming under my fingers when we were listening to that doofus agent speak. He was actually a pretty attractive guy and was staring straight down at Olivia's chest. I shot him my best dagger eyes and he guy looked like he was about ready to shit his pants. I'm not sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing Olivia was too spaced out to notice this little exchange we had going.
"We're going to need to send these bodies back to the lab at Harvard yes Walter you can ride with them call me if you have an leads on the case agent okay that's nice bye," She said speaking nervous and quick in that way she does when she's anxious about something, and judging by her response to the agent's question "So... do you come here often" cherry topped with a wink, I think I can totally assume said anxiousness has nothing to do with the case. It had to do with yours truly.
And, considering she didn't run away screaming at my touch, I'm going to go for a long shot and take that as a positive response. SCORE! These next few days might actually not be as bad as I thought...
