Since recently finishing my Fringe rewatch I've picked up the old hobby of resurrecting old fics. This was born from my unforgiving need to write Pregnant!Olivia and that's basically it. :))))))))

They would stay at the old Bishop house sometimes, it was much more convenient after a long day. Sometimes the four of them would all spend time there, just having drinks, pretending like they were normal coworkers. Tonight was one of those nights. Astrid had gotten a cab home, and Peter had had one-or three-too-many drinks to be allowed driving. Olivia, who was now eight months pregnant, couldn't stay in the same position for more than ten minutes at a time lately, it seemed, so she hadn't done much driving-plus she was tired. She had absolutely no problem staying at that house. There was something so familiar about it, so comforting. Walter still lived primarily at the lab, but even he would agree with her. He liked being there. With Peter back in his life, for reasons even he, Walter Bishop, couldn't quite understand, the house didn't remind him of a life that once was anymore.

Peter was peacefully unconscious next to her. His body carelessly motionless in the way that comes from an alcohol-induced slumber. However, she was just jealous of his ability to be at rest, that's how she's felt for weeks, and probably months, now. She wasn't mad though. Olivia was by all means probably driving him nearly insane. With her cliche mood swings and general heavily pregnant self, lately he deserved a drink, or five. Olivia laughs to herself at the thought, however, she still can't sleep. Tonight it's not only caused by the child growing inside of her, her mind is restless as well, which this is nothing new.

And, as of lately, she grants herself distraction from her problems in a way that humans have since the beginning of time, probably. With food. Olivia awkwardly throws her legs over the side of the bed and pushes herself up. A task that's getting annoyingly more strenuous by the day. Most of the time Peter has to help her. Once she's up she places a hand on the wall to stable herself, letting out a frustrated sigh at her marked clumsiness.

She reaches the bottom of the staircase and isn't surprised to hear Walter in the kitchen. Rarely is there a time where everybody is asleep in that house at once. However, she doesn't mind. She has come to like his company. Yes, maybe he's not the Walter she remembers, not exactly, at least, but at the same time he is. Especially in moments like this. No pants, wearing his floral apron, Bunsen burners on the kitchen table, the waffle iron smoking. She smiles and he quickly notices her presence.

"Olivia," he chimes excitedly, "did I wake you?" She shook her head 'no', smiling with slight defeat. "Well, I am trying to make orange soda, would you like some? I promise it's caffeine free" He drips some food coloring into a tube.

She shakes her head again, "no, thank you, Walter," but she's not annoyed.

"I understand," he nods rapidly, continuing to fiddle with his soda experiment. "I'm also making some...some waffles," he gestures towards the questionably smokey waffle iron, making his way towards that, "would you like some of those?"

Endeared by him now, "now you're talking," she answers, amused, scrunching her face when he opens it. He fans away the smoke with an oven-mitt. Olivia lets out a quiet laugh, "maybe," she continues her initial answer.

The moment takes her back to a conversation she had with Peter only the week before.

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He'd woken up on his own, finding Olivia absent from the bed. He faded in and out of consciousness but it had been over twenty minutes and she had not returned. The house seemed quiet, he didn't think he could hear the TV downstairs. After going to investigate he finds her in the kitchen. There was water boiling on the stove and various condiments strewn across the counter tops.

Peter watches her from the hallway for a second. It's not like he's going to stop her, but he's cautious as he's also learned his lesson about startling her in her current physical, and mental, state. More skittish yet somehow slightly more aware,even more than usual, simultaneously. He was sure she'd heard him come down the stairs.

"Liv," he barely whispers, working his way closer to the kitchen.

She looks up to acknowledge him and shrugs, as if she knows he's about to ask her what she's doing. Then she turns her attention back to the cabinet she's rustling through. "Do we have paprika?" She asks. Peter walks over and grabs it from the shelf slightly out of her reach. Of course. "Thanks," she says, he smiles at her.

"Did the baby want deviled eggs?" He quips.

"Not really," Olivia trails off, "I was just bored."

He halfway rolls his eyes before saying "most people who are bored at 2 in the morning go to sleep,"

"Most people," she enforces.

Fair enough.

"You know," Peter starts, "I lived with Walter for three years, so this is something I'm used to. I'll tell you that man makes a surprisingly delicious garlic carbonara an hour before sunrise. Maybe you and him should get together, conspire."

"Maybe we will," she muses, "just not on Tuesdays."

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"Perhaps I'll make a new batch," Walter muses, "I must have gotten distracted, but don't worry. This is the waffle maker that Peter got me, it has an automatic shut off when it gets too hot, as to not pose a fire hazard..."

She just smiles at him, in a rare moment of contentment, she doesn't have anything to say.

But it's like Walter catches a glimpse of this contentment, scraping charred batter off of the grates, he says "You know, when Elizabeth was pregnant with Peter...my Peter...She-"

Olivia quickly raises a hand and abruptly cuts him off. She has definitely heard enough horror stories from him about his Elizabeth's pregnancy, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, "Walter," Olivia states, "that's okay," quickly, she's shaking her head.

"Oh," he responds in slight defeat, "don't worry dear, this story isn't as ghastly as the others. I was just going to say, that, she loved-Elizabeth loved when I made breakfast for dinner...when she was pregnant."

The smile returns to her face, she sighs in relief "yeah?"

Stirring the fresh waffle batter he nods, "I've been thinking about her a lot lately." Not like it was out of the ordinary, especially since Peter came back, since another version of her came to visit him one day. But especially in these last few months of Olivia's pregnancy. He kind of sadly closes the waffle iron, again, "you remind me of her, sometimes."

"Walter," she barely whispers, as if she doesn't want him to say anything. It's sad. She presses her cheekbone to her shoulder and thinks for a minute, it is sad and it pulls at her heart, because she's heard Peter tell her the same thing. And maybe in a way they were speaking of different versions of the same woman, but were they really?

He doesn't stop, however, "It's true," he affirms, "more than you realize."

Olivia brings a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes fill with tears that she still tries to fight besides her unrelenting hormones. Granted, in her exact hormonal state Walter probably could have told her she had pretty hair and she would have lost it, but that didn't undermine his words. From the way both men spoke of her, of Elizabeth, the comparison made Olivia very emotional. She laughs, embarrassed, almost-as if the crying is anything new.

"Don't be sad dear," Walter comforts, he walks across the kitchen to retrieve the new, properly made waffles. He sets them down in front of her and uses a thumb to wipe a tear away, "It's a good thing." He assures, "a very good thing...she would like you."

"I'm not sad, just...thank you, Walter." She tells him honestly, trying to compose herself.

"You're welcome," Walter smiles, "now eat up." his tone has changed back to his ever-so-Walter enthusiastic tone. He pushes a plate of fruit toward her as well as various flavors of whipped cream he's purchased. She obliges, shifting uncomfortably on the kitchen stool, which feels like it's getting smaller, and she stifles a yawn as she reaches for one of the cans.

"You haven't been sleeping much lately, have you?" Walter asks, Olivia just nods, "and I take it that's not entirely due to your...physical duress."

"No," she just whispers, "it's not."

She's been thinking a lot lately, too. About that time, years ago in another timeline, the 'first' time she met Walter. He was insane, by every sense of the world, sticking metal rods into her neck, all for someone she loved. She never thought that someday they'd be here. Having this conversation.

"Don't worry," he tells her, a lightness in his voice, "you can't screw up any more than I did. That's for sure."

She wants to tell him he's wrong. But she takes his 'advice' for what it's worth. Walter once crossed universe to save a son that he loved. She understood that love now, and she hadn't even met her daughter yet. But she didn't imagine anything getting in their way that would constitute breaking the universe again.

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This is a bit too long for a 'drabble' anyway, but I didn't think it held up much on it's own. Oh well.