Fall Into Sleep
Title: Fall Into Sleep
Fandom: Fringe (Drabble)
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter and Olivia
Prompt: Tired
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe or its characters.
It is exactly three o’clock in the morning and she cannot sleep.
The ticking hands of the old clock in her hallway seem to be made all the more audible by the silence that encompasses her. Tossing and turning on cotton sheets that had once shrouded a dead lover she was waiting.
Legs churned beneath the sheets as almond-shaped eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling. Lips pressed together and ears straining to hear that one welcome sound.
A knock at the door, dull thumping of a headache behind her eyes as she pads out of bed. Without thinking she opens the door before glancing through the peephole. Peter. His face is shadowed by a shared exhaustion, eyes haunted by some distant night terror.
He does not speak, he does not have to as she steps aside and he strolls in, the smell of hard liquor on his breath and cigarette smoke in his hair. She leads him mutely to her bedroom, to her bed which once shrouded a dead lover.
Never before did she recall being this tired.
He slips into bed beside her and an arm wraps around her.
“Go to sleep, Olivia.”
Magic words and she is gone.
Fandom: Fringe (Drabble)
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter and Olivia
Prompt: Tired
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe or its characters.
It is exactly three o’clock in the morning and she cannot sleep.
The ticking hands of the old clock in her hallway seem to be made all the more audible by the silence that encompasses her. Tossing and turning on cotton sheets that had once shrouded a dead lover she was waiting.
Legs churned beneath the sheets as almond-shaped eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling. Lips pressed together and ears straining to hear that one welcome sound.
A knock at the door, dull thumping of a headache behind her eyes as she pads out of bed. Without thinking she opens the door before glancing through the peephole. Peter. His face is shadowed by a shared exhaustion, eyes haunted by some distant night terror.
He does not speak, he does not have to as she steps aside and he strolls in, the smell of hard liquor on his breath and cigarette smoke in his hair. She leads him mutely to her bedroom, to her bed which once shrouded a dead lover.
Never before did she recall being this tired.
He slips into bed beside her and an arm wraps around her.
“Go to sleep, Olivia.”
Magic words and she is gone.