Fringe Fic: Son of Men Chapter 1
Title: Son of Men
Chapter: 1
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.
Author's Note: This was written for last year's fringeminibang. Due to RL, I never really got around to post this before, so I am doing it now. I started this about halfway through season 3, so this will completely ignore everything that has happened starting roughly at about episode 3x14 "6B". Many, many, many {hugs} to my lovely beta
raspberry_splat for being my lifeline the last few months.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there was one thing Olivia Dunham still wondered about when it came to Peter Bishop, it was his strange fascination for Humphrey Bogart. She had never pictured him to be the movie watching guy, let alone black and white movies from the thirties and forties. She'd always thought about him as the guy who'd watch a bad scifi B movie from the seventies while munching on a bowl of popcorn. But instead, he seemed to have a strange fascination with anything Bogart, from African Queen to High Sierra, and from The Big Sleep to Maltese Falcon - Peter Bishop's Bogart library was extensive.
Granted, there was something quite comforting about curling up next to him, his hands absentmindedly stroking her back while they watched a movie. It was so... wonderfully normal, to say the least. For a couple hours a night they could just be themselves and not have to worry about saving the world. Just like normal people.
Peter's feet were propped up on the coffee table, his arm tightly wrapped around Olivia whose head rested against his shoulder. Peter's choice of the night had been Maltese Falcon, a movie Olivia never had watched before simply for the fact that she had fallen in love with Hammett's novel during high school, and the version of private investigator Sam Spade she had created in her mind still looked like a cross between Luke Perry's Dylan McKay and Johnny Depp's Tom Hanson. Now, about halfway through the movie, she had to admit though that there was something quite enthralling about the way Bogart played Sam Spade.
Not that she had been able to pay a lot of attention to what was going on on screen though, with Walter constantly walking through the living room, blocking the TV each time and then either creating a ruckus in the kitchen or in his room upstairs that he had confined himself to. While Peter seemed to be rather oblivious to the older man, simply ignoring him for good reason, Olivia just could not. Maybe, in hindsight, it had not been such a good idea to leave the calmness of her apartment behind in order to move their movie watching to the Bishop house for a change.
So when, for about the fifth time during the movie, Walter decided to take the long path through the living room into the kitchen instead of just crossing the short distance from the stairs through the hallway, Olivia finally resigned to the fact that that big smirk she always noticed on Walter's face was most probably not the result of whatever experiment he was indulging himself in tonight and his trips to the kitchen a mere excuse to either check if they were really just watching a movie and not making out on the couch or to simply revel in the fact that, even while the world around them seemed to be falling apart, his son was happy.
"You walk in front of the TV one more time and I am gonna lock you into your room for the rest of the night, Walter," Peter's voice soared completely over Bogart's voice that was blaring from the TV. Olivia just chuckled. Maybe Peter wasn't as oblivious to Walter as she always thought he was.
"Would now be a good time to remind you that I've been saying the whole afternoon that movie watching at your place is probably not such a good idea?"
Peter just rolled his eyes at her while pulling her closer to him to place a quick kiss on her lips, "We've always got the choice of ditching the movie, going upstairs and locking the door behind us. No more interruptions from Walter."
His fingers brushed a strand of blonde hair away that had fallen into her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. He loved it when she wore her hair down. Twirling a lock around his fingers, playfully tugging at it to get her full attention, was something he thoroughly enjoyed but which, given her preference for the ponytail at work, he hardly ever got to do during the day.
"I thought you were so insistent on watching Maltese Falcon tonight," she replied, a naughty grin on her face as her eyebrow did that little twitching thing that almost instantly caused Peter's mind to go into overdrive. She knew just which of his buttons to push at the exact moment that they demanded to be pushed.
"And I thought you weren't particularly fond of Bogart?"
His nose was now nuzzling the side of her face while his lips found just that spot on her neck that gave her goosebumps each and every time his teeth gently grazed the sensitive skin. Her reply was a soft moan and her whole body relaxed as she allowed Peter's hand to slip under her shirt, splaying his fingers on her back, fingertips smoothly grazing over her bare skin.
"Walter is in the kitchen," she breathed shortly before his lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss. Ignoring her warning, he started to lay himself further back onto the couch when he noticed the light in the kitchen turning off, bringing her down on top of him, their kiss never broken.
"He took the shortcut back upstairs."
His voice was raspy when he said it before claiming her mouth with his again. His fingers were slowly traveling up her spine until they reached the clasp of her bra. It took him a mere second to undo it which prompted Olivia to grind her body against him, enticing a deep, guttural groan from him when he felt her hip, with just the right pressure, rub up against his crotch.
"Upstairs."
She just nodded at him before she lifted her body off him and, with her hand intertwined with his, pulled him back into a sitting position while she began stepping backwards slowly towards the hallway. Bogart bellowed out an appropriate "Let's go somewhere we can talk" just moments before Peter reached for the remote on the coffee table to turn off the TV, causing him to chuckle. His eyes were still fixed on Olivia who seductively licked her lower lip with her tongue while, once again, giving him that wink with her eyebrow.
In a swift move, he was off the couch and pulled her back towards him, her body crashing against his as his hand circled her body, snuck under her shirt again and came to rest on the small of her back. All he wanted that moment was to feel her naked skin against his, hear her moan and writhe under his his touch... but the insistent ringing of his cell phone brought him back to reality almost instantly.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned while Olivia just shook her head at him, signaling him to ignore the phone. He gave her a shrug as he released her from his arms and bent down to the coffee table where his vibrating phone was dancing like a little wind-up toy. With a sigh, he first glanced at the phone, then pressed the little green button on the screen to answer the call.
"Nina, what can I do for you at this hour of the day?"
He heard Olivia chuckle next to him, assuming it was caused by the widespread sarcastic grin that had spread over his face to mimic the tone in his voice. It was almost 10pm, and calls from Nina Sharp at this hour of the day, or at any other time of the day, usually meant nothing good. His grin quickly disappeared as he listened to what she had to say. Absentmindedly, he scratched the back of his head, seeing Olivia mouth a silent "what?" towards him.
"Are you sure?"
There was a slight hint of confusion in his voice and he continued to rub his neck while listening intently to the voice on the phone. Not even a minute later, he ended the call, then tucked the phone safely into the back pocket of his jeans.
"I don't like that look on your face," Olivia uttered, "I assume upstairs is no longer an option?"
He shook his head at her, "She wants me down at Massive Dynamic ASAP."
"You? Did she say why?"
"A message came through the typewriter. A message directed at me."
Chapter: 1
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.
Author's Note: This was written for last year's fringeminibang. Due to RL, I never really got around to post this before, so I am doing it now. I started this about halfway through season 3, so this will completely ignore everything that has happened starting roughly at about episode 3x14 "6B". Many, many, many {hugs} to my lovely beta
raspberry_splat for being my lifeline the last few months.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there was one thing Olivia Dunham still wondered about when it came to Peter Bishop, it was his strange fascination for Humphrey Bogart. She had never pictured him to be the movie watching guy, let alone black and white movies from the thirties and forties. She'd always thought about him as the guy who'd watch a bad scifi B movie from the seventies while munching on a bowl of popcorn. But instead, he seemed to have a strange fascination with anything Bogart, from African Queen to High Sierra, and from The Big Sleep to Maltese Falcon - Peter Bishop's Bogart library was extensive.
Granted, there was something quite comforting about curling up next to him, his hands absentmindedly stroking her back while they watched a movie. It was so... wonderfully normal, to say the least. For a couple hours a night they could just be themselves and not have to worry about saving the world. Just like normal people.
Peter's feet were propped up on the coffee table, his arm tightly wrapped around Olivia whose head rested against his shoulder. Peter's choice of the night had been Maltese Falcon, a movie Olivia never had watched before simply for the fact that she had fallen in love with Hammett's novel during high school, and the version of private investigator Sam Spade she had created in her mind still looked like a cross between Luke Perry's Dylan McKay and Johnny Depp's Tom Hanson. Now, about halfway through the movie, she had to admit though that there was something quite enthralling about the way Bogart played Sam Spade.
Not that she had been able to pay a lot of attention to what was going on on screen though, with Walter constantly walking through the living room, blocking the TV each time and then either creating a ruckus in the kitchen or in his room upstairs that he had confined himself to. While Peter seemed to be rather oblivious to the older man, simply ignoring him for good reason, Olivia just could not. Maybe, in hindsight, it had not been such a good idea to leave the calmness of her apartment behind in order to move their movie watching to the Bishop house for a change.
So when, for about the fifth time during the movie, Walter decided to take the long path through the living room into the kitchen instead of just crossing the short distance from the stairs through the hallway, Olivia finally resigned to the fact that that big smirk she always noticed on Walter's face was most probably not the result of whatever experiment he was indulging himself in tonight and his trips to the kitchen a mere excuse to either check if they were really just watching a movie and not making out on the couch or to simply revel in the fact that, even while the world around them seemed to be falling apart, his son was happy.
"You walk in front of the TV one more time and I am gonna lock you into your room for the rest of the night, Walter," Peter's voice soared completely over Bogart's voice that was blaring from the TV. Olivia just chuckled. Maybe Peter wasn't as oblivious to Walter as she always thought he was.
"Would now be a good time to remind you that I've been saying the whole afternoon that movie watching at your place is probably not such a good idea?"
Peter just rolled his eyes at her while pulling her closer to him to place a quick kiss on her lips, "We've always got the choice of ditching the movie, going upstairs and locking the door behind us. No more interruptions from Walter."
His fingers brushed a strand of blonde hair away that had fallen into her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. He loved it when she wore her hair down. Twirling a lock around his fingers, playfully tugging at it to get her full attention, was something he thoroughly enjoyed but which, given her preference for the ponytail at work, he hardly ever got to do during the day.
"I thought you were so insistent on watching Maltese Falcon tonight," she replied, a naughty grin on her face as her eyebrow did that little twitching thing that almost instantly caused Peter's mind to go into overdrive. She knew just which of his buttons to push at the exact moment that they demanded to be pushed.
"And I thought you weren't particularly fond of Bogart?"
His nose was now nuzzling the side of her face while his lips found just that spot on her neck that gave her goosebumps each and every time his teeth gently grazed the sensitive skin. Her reply was a soft moan and her whole body relaxed as she allowed Peter's hand to slip under her shirt, splaying his fingers on her back, fingertips smoothly grazing over her bare skin.
"Walter is in the kitchen," she breathed shortly before his lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss. Ignoring her warning, he started to lay himself further back onto the couch when he noticed the light in the kitchen turning off, bringing her down on top of him, their kiss never broken.
"He took the shortcut back upstairs."
His voice was raspy when he said it before claiming her mouth with his again. His fingers were slowly traveling up her spine until they reached the clasp of her bra. It took him a mere second to undo it which prompted Olivia to grind her body against him, enticing a deep, guttural groan from him when he felt her hip, with just the right pressure, rub up against his crotch.
"Upstairs."
She just nodded at him before she lifted her body off him and, with her hand intertwined with his, pulled him back into a sitting position while she began stepping backwards slowly towards the hallway. Bogart bellowed out an appropriate "Let's go somewhere we can talk" just moments before Peter reached for the remote on the coffee table to turn off the TV, causing him to chuckle. His eyes were still fixed on Olivia who seductively licked her lower lip with her tongue while, once again, giving him that wink with her eyebrow.
In a swift move, he was off the couch and pulled her back towards him, her body crashing against his as his hand circled her body, snuck under her shirt again and came to rest on the small of her back. All he wanted that moment was to feel her naked skin against his, hear her moan and writhe under his his touch... but the insistent ringing of his cell phone brought him back to reality almost instantly.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned while Olivia just shook her head at him, signaling him to ignore the phone. He gave her a shrug as he released her from his arms and bent down to the coffee table where his vibrating phone was dancing like a little wind-up toy. With a sigh, he first glanced at the phone, then pressed the little green button on the screen to answer the call.
"Nina, what can I do for you at this hour of the day?"
He heard Olivia chuckle next to him, assuming it was caused by the widespread sarcastic grin that had spread over his face to mimic the tone in his voice. It was almost 10pm, and calls from Nina Sharp at this hour of the day, or at any other time of the day, usually meant nothing good. His grin quickly disappeared as he listened to what she had to say. Absentmindedly, he scratched the back of his head, seeing Olivia mouth a silent "what?" towards him.
"Are you sure?"
There was a slight hint of confusion in his voice and he continued to rub his neck while listening intently to the voice on the phone. Not even a minute later, he ended the call, then tucked the phone safely into the back pocket of his jeans.
"I don't like that look on your face," Olivia uttered, "I assume upstairs is no longer an option?"
He shook his head at her, "She wants me down at Massive Dynamic ASAP."
"You? Did she say why?"
"A message came through the typewriter. A message directed at me."