A/N: Two today! And more fluff for ya ;)

FIREPLACE

Staring at the flames as they moved lazily and gracefully in the hearth, only feet away from where they lay, Olivia could easily have fallen asleep. She was so close to the fire that she felt its warmth, as it slowly dried up the sweat that still layered her skin, and its gentle crackling sounds only added to the drowsy atmosphere.

Sleep would not be an option for a while, though. There was another source of warmth behind her, in the form of the man who was pinned against her back, his nose pressed in the curve between her shoulder and neck. And while his hand had been immobile on her stomach moments ago, if not for the indolent way his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, it was now on the move again.

As his fingers drew patterns on her shivering skin, she couldn't help a sound that was between a chuckle and pained groan from escaping her.

"Seriously?" She asked, turning her head to try and look at him, but their position wouldn't allow it. "My ass is suffering from severe rug rash right now."

Peter's hand moved again, cupping the sensitive flesh in his palm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "My bad. I did offer to be the one with my ass on the rug, though."

She wiggled in his arms and hands, turning around so she could face him, quickly entwining their legs to keep their warmth mingled –and offering her sore behind to the soothing heat of the flames.

With his face inches away from hers, she now saw the smile on his lips and the amused glint in his eyes. But beyond it, there always was this insatiable hunger, a look that never failed to liquefy every inch of her, even when he didn't say a word or didn't make a move.

"What about that big bed that occupies most of the room?" she whispered with a smile of her own. "Mattresses are not as overrated as you think."

His fingers really were unstoppable, now lightly tracing her spine, while his gaze kept on matching the heat of the fire behind her. "We can use a mattress at home. Vermont is all about rugs and fireplaces. And sore asses."

She chuckled again, bringing a hand up to his stubbly cheek as she shook her head. "I still can't believe you convinced me to do this."

Even though there still was a small smile on her lips, there also was a note in her voice that contained everything she was not saying, everything they had left behind in Boston, if only for twelve hours.

His gaze became even more intense then; in the dim and soothing light of the fire, he was more beautiful than ever.

"Do you wish you'd chosen differently?"

Just like her, there was a hidden meaning in his words, one that she heard as clearly as she felt the regular beat of his heart against her palm, her hand now resting on his chest.

He knew how frustrated it made her, to be so off balance with the entire world, being only "sixty percents" of the person she used to be, according to her psychologist.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, though, offering him a reassuring smile. "No," she told him. And she meant it.

Because she might be off balance with the entire universe, she was perfectly in phase with him.

And that was really all she needed.