Fringe: A Place We Both Could Hide
Title: A Place We Both Could Hide
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: Marionette
Rating: R
Summary: “It was never about her, Olivia, it was always about you, you have to remember that.”
Word count: 3,328
A Place We Both Could Hide
“If I could tear you from the ceiling,
I'd freeze us both in time,
Find a brand new way of seeing..
Your eyes forever glued to mine.”
(Placebo - Blind)
His original plan was to invite her to have milkshakes with them but what he found instead unsettled his heart even more.
She was crying. This time she didn’t even bother to hide it from him or pretend she was ok, what was a relief to some extent. Peter always thought she was thinking low of him when she tried to hide her feelings and, honestly, it annoyed him. Now she was sitting there, hiding her face in her hands and drying off tears.
He had expected that vent at some point, he had expected her to tell him what she really felt about his relationship with the other her. Hell, he even expected her to lose her temper and yell at him a little bit or even throw some objects or break something.
Of course she didn’t. She kept her voice low and the only sign that she was distressed was the pained expression and her pained eyes. How much pain could one person bottle up inside her, he often wondered.
The words ‘I don’t wanna be with you’ kept echoing in his brain. They kept echoing in a painfully dull manner, like she dismissed them without even trying. Obviously, why would she try, when he couldn’t even see who she was? At this very moment, Peter didn’t think he deserved Olivia either.
He sat there, still, as she was long gone, and felt a tear run down his cheek. Damn it. Where would he go from here?
Walter placed a gentle hand over his shoulder and only then Peter noticed his father was standing behind him. He was soft and warm and all fatherly. Strangely, the look on the old man’s face made Peter feel comforted.
“We should get you a milkshake too. A double-sized one. Come on, son, it’s cold here.”
Peter didn’t care that Walter saw him crying. There was something in his expression that was beyond empathy; Peter thought he saw understanding there. And maybe a little faith too.
He left the garden and walked behind Walter to their car.
* * *
Their days passed by, uneventfully at first, but then cases came up. Olivia eventually came back and called him, business-like, as he expected her to be. She showed up for the first time with case files and leads for them to follow.
It pained him every time he looked at her and saw that sadness in her eyes. After what she told him about Barrett, Peter started paying attention to those little nuances and details about her and such realization hit him like a truck.
He spent hours awake, thinking. In an ideal world, he would’ve noticed, he would’ve gotten back to the other side to get her from whatever captivity they held her. In an ideal world he wouldn’t be sleeping without her, missing her terribly when, in fact, he missed something that he came to realize wasn’t her. Maybe that’s what kept him awake, lying on his back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Maybe if he could stop replaying in his mind the image of Olivia’s face changing as realization hit her and she understood what Peter tried to tell her, in that hospital cafeteria, of all places to have such talk. If maybe he could stop seeing how hurt she was, then he could sleep again.
One day she arrived at the lab, quietly like she always did. Peter was aware that, even though all of them were happy with having her back, no one knew exactly how to deal with Olivia. What to say, what to do, the right thing to say. She talked and acted like she didn’t care, but her eyes said otherwise. Those green eyes, filled with sorrow and loneliness that she tried to hide from him, still pushing him away from her as much as she could, avoiding any personal matter.
While he waited for Walter to finish a test, Peter decided to help her work on the profiling, as she hid in the office. She was distantly staring at a sheet of paper, eyes blank, stilled.
“’Livia,” he said, softly, putting a warm hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, as if frightened, and looked away from him.
“Peter. Did Walter finish the tests?”
“No. Look, Olivia, I wanted to…”
“I’d better call Broyles to inform him on our advances.”
“Olivia.”
She stopped, looking at him but blatantly avoiding his eyes. Peter stood quietly, for a second, staring at her, trying to read her. She looked pale, freckles more visible on her nose and forehead.
“Look, I know we’ve been distant lately… I want you to know I worry about you. Is there anything I could do for you?”
Olivia let out a short and bitter laugh, while running her hand over her hair, trying to keep the stubborn strands of her bangs off her forehead.
“I have to send this report to Broyles. Excuse me.”
She left as quietly as she entered, making Peter let out a heavy sigh. He felt desperation growing inside of him, more overwhelming than the permanent frustration of not being able to do anything for her. If only she would let him in, to help her heal, to help them heal together.
It had been like that for a month now. He thought she needed time, but time didn’t seem to help at all. He thought she needed the space, but the more space he gave her, the more she detached herself from them and the already solitary woman now seemed lonelier than he had ever seen her. It drove him sleepless, this whole situation where he simply didn’t know how to fix or what to do.
“Peter?” he heard Astrid’s soft voice calling him from the door “are you ok?”
He sighed heavily once again. He obviously looked distressed.
“I guess.”
“I saw Olivia leaving the room and rushing out of the lab. What happened?”
“You’d better ask what didn’t happen. She won’t listen to me, Astrid, she won’t let me talk to her.”
“Give her some time, Peter.”
“No, I won’t give her some time. I gave her time and the more time I give her, the more distant she gets. If I give her more time, she’ll drift away from me, from all of us. Even more than she has.”
Astrid planted her small hand over Peter shoulder, squeezing it lightly, trying to show him some support and some comfort. What else could she do? Was anything beyond that after all?
* * *
Some other day Olivia was at her office, in the FBI building, trying to put together pieces of a puzzle that their current case was. She stared at case files and evidence like one stares at little pieces that are supposed to be put together and frowned. She barely noticed when Astrid entered, two mugs of coffee in her hands, placing one in front of Olivia.
“Thank you, Astrid.”
The other woman didn’t say anything else, just looked at Olivia with soft eyes, full of understanding. She noticed her stare.
“What?”
“You have to forgive him. There isn’t much to be done now, you know that.”
Olivia wanted to play dumb, to pretend she didn’t know what Astrid was talking about but at this point it was just pointless. She wasn’t as much as a good pretender she thought she was and the few people she still got in her life already knew what was going on with her. The whole inability to fit and adapt to her life again, the feeling of not belonging to a place she desperately wanted to, it was clear for all of them to see. And more clear by the sadness that seemed to cloak her lately.
“He cares too much about you. This thing you’re doing? It’s affecting him too, you know.”
She took some time to respond, staring at the mug of coffee.
“How?”
“Just let him in. Let us in. It was never about her, Olivia, it was always about you, you have to remember that.”
Olivia didn’t know at that point that Astrid trying to offer a similar advice to Peter, but what she said made sense. Like most things in her life, she knew the theory of it all. She knew the works and what she was supposed to do, what she couldn’t do yet was simply taking action.
She knew she had to forgive him. She desperately wanted to forgive him. Olivia simply didn’t know how.
* * *
If there was something he knew for sure was that he was stubborn. He had decided that he wouldn’t let her go that easily, he wouldn’t let Olivia drift from him like that because he knew how much pain she was going through. He could see it in her eyes.
Also, because he loved her too much to let that happen.
He went to her place late at night and felt a slight pain in his heart when he saw the lights of her living room on. She hadn’t gone to sleep.
She had never told him, but he was sure she hadn’t been sleeping. She had always suffered from insomnia and he didn’t know how much sleep she got a night, but it certainly wasn’t enough. Peter could see faint dark marks under her eyes, covered with make up that she had never worn before. He could see that she rarely looked directly at him, avoiding his eyes like she was afraid of something. And she avoided being alone with him.
And it pained him.
He spent nights awake, imagining in his mind different ways of telling her how sorry he was, how he would like to come back in time and do things differently. How he regretted hurting her like he did. Hurting her was killing him slowly and he wanted her to know that. He wanted to ask her help to stop it, to put an end to that horrible feeling that stood like a wall between then.
She opened the door at the second time he rang the doorbell. She was wearing the same clothes the other Olivia used to wear to sleep and he immediately pushed these thoughts away. Olivia didn’t seem surprised at all to see him; on the contrary, she seemed almost resigned.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Inside her apartment things looked different. She changed the furniture from their original place and, in a whole, it looked a bit like a catastrophe had happened there. There was a pillow and a blanket on her sofa but she didn’t seem to have had any sleep; Olivia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, looking weary.
“I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?’
“Yeah, of course. What do you want to talk about?’
“This thing you’re doing, Olivia, you gotta stop. It’s hurting you, it’s hurting all of us.”
She let herself fall heavily on the sofa, letting out one of those bitter laughs she had grown fond of lately, those joyless laughs that irritated him beyond logic.
“What exactly do you mean, Peter? I don’t think I follow you.”
He sat in front of her, on the coffee table, a desperate attempt to try to get closer to her and, for the first time, she didn’t move away or flinched.
“To say I’m sorry is not even close to how I feel, but that’s one of those things I feel right now. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, ‘Livia, for what happened to us, for what she did to us. I’m sorry for being so stupid and not noticing but now I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop seeing the differences and it hurts and drives me insane with guilt.”
“Are you here because you’re sorry or because you’re guilty, Peter?”
“I’m here because I want you to forgive me. I don’t know how to say the right thing or what to do, I need your help to tell me. But, please, Olivia, don’t shut yourself like you’ve doing.”
Olivia looked at him, for the first time since their talk when she returned, looking directly into his eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do. Being around you hurts me, that is the truth.”
“Is there anything I can do to help it?”
“I need you to give me some space. And time.”
Peter stood up, angry.
“No, I will not give you some time! I won’t let you shut yourself even more than you already have! I won’t let you do it to yourself and I’m tired of playing this game of pretending. You pretend you’re ok, I pretend I believe you. You’re not ok, I’m not ok! I can’t stand seeing this sadness in you, Olivia, I can’t stand living what she’s done to us!”
She recoiled in the sofa, looking taken aback. For the first time in a long time Peter saw something other than pain and sadness in her eyes and he knew he could still reach her.
“The reason why…” he said, sitting next to her on the sofa “the reason why I think I didn’t see it wasn’t you… I want so desperately to see you happy… I hate this sorrow in your eyes, the weight of the world on your shoulders… you don’t deserve that, ‘Livia, you don’t have to carry it alone. And, yes, I might have been stupid, but when I saw that she didn’t have this burden, I thought that maybe you had finally seen it too.”
Olivia was curled up against the corner of the sofa, still taken aback by his words. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t dare to fall.
“Please, hit me or yell at me if you want, just don’t push me away. Just…” Peter moved a tentative hand to her arm, touching her lightly “just don’t push me away again.”
She put her hand over his, squeezing him lightly and turned her eyes away from him once again. He moved his other hand to cup her face delicately, forcing her to look at him again.
“Please, ‘Livia, don’t shut me out…” he said, his voice broken and a whisper.
“Peter…” she said, leaning against his touch. In one fast move he pulled her so Olivia was in his arms, tightly secure in his embrace. He didn’t see at first, he didn’t notice she was crying, only when her soft sobs became louder and she was shaking against him, pouring out that feeling.
“Hey, hey… don’t cry…” he said, pulling away enough to see her moist face. It was probably the second time since he met her he’d seen Olivia Dunham crying. But, in spite of the tears he could see she was relieved, the closest to happy she could be right now.
“It’s ok,” she whispered, holding his hand against her face and smiling.
Once again he beat himself for not seeing it. How could he have mistaken her for someone else, when his Olivia had such a warm smile and warm eyes? When his Olivia had this sweetness within, in her voice, in her touch and in the way she looked up at him, trying to reassure Peter when he was the one who needed reassurance.
Her skin under his fingers felt different, she smelled different, more… real. How could he not notice that?
“Are you sure you’re ok?”
“I am now. I will be. Thanks.”
He pulled her close to him again, kissing the top of her head while he listened to her soft sobs calming down to silence. They sat in silence for some time, Peter caressing her hair and she clung to him, impossibly still. So still he thought she had fallen asleep.
“Did you sleep?”
She laughed. “Oh, if I could.”
He gazed at her for a moment, feeling his chest expand. He wouldn’t admit it, but one of the things that terrified him the most was the possibility of having fallen for the wrong woman. As he looked down at the Olivia in his arms, fighting within herself to hold back her tears, he realized that he had loved her all along. He admired her since the first ‘sweetheart’ and was in awe by her driven nature; and he had fallen for her long ago.
Peter caressed her face, smiling softly, and kissed her eyes, her whole face, peppering her forehead, kissing away her tears, kissing her nose and her salty cheeks, the corners of her mouth in feather-like kisses as gentle as his fingers still tangled in her hair. He kissed her lower lip, lingering, erasing her pain. Olivia opened her mouth slightly, closing her eyes and letting go into his lips.
And then their lips were locked together, gently, softly. Peter slid his tongue over her lower plump lip and he smiled when he saw her eyes fluttering as she relaxed in his arms and he deepened his kiss. She kissed him back, letting her tongue slid over his slowly, allowing him to explore her mouth.
Peter leant against the sofa, half lying half sitting, pulling her atop him in his embrace, never parting from her lips. He was startled by how incredibly light she was on top of him and that she let his hand skim down her frame, touching her through the fabric of her shirt, rubbing away the tension from her body.
And for the first time since this whole situation had started, Peter felt happy and light. He pushed away the lingering remembrance of the other her and how she kissed him, focusing on the one in his arms. Then he broke the kiss, gasping for air, before searching for her lips again, too continue the task of losing himself in her mouth.
At some point they simply laid on the sofa together, holding each other, fingers intertwined. Peter marveled at the feel of her head nested against his neck, her scent inebriating him.
“Maybe we should go to the bed?”
“No. I don’t want to go to that bed.”
He sighed, sad. Peter wanted to say something, anything, that could make it right, that could erase all the wrong between them. Instead, he pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing it slowly, running his lips over her fingers and down her palms until he was touching her wrist. She sighed, content.
When Peter went to Olivia’s house that night he didn’t have a plan, he just wanted to tell her how he felt, in hopes that she’d listen and understand him. Of course he knew she understood him but forgiving him was something else. He felt like he could breathe now, as he had her atop him, her soft breathing brushing against him, warm, slightly shaky, but real.
He wanted to hide from the world and from the problems, at least for that night, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave his mind. He wanted to talk to her, but, honestly, what could they say? She needed this physical comfort right now as much as he did, the soft touch of hands, of lips, the comforting silence and the unspoken declaration of love between them. She didn’t have to say it out loud for him to know how much she loved him and he could barely hold himself to tell her how deeply in love he was, but couldn’t bring himself to, not now.
He slowly lulled her into sleep, sliding his hand up and down her back, his mind still wrapped around those thoughts.
He wanted to hide away with her, at least for one night. At least for that night they could find a haven where everything was as it should be. And where they weren’t as broken as they usually were.
END
A/N: Fic completely inspired by Placebo’s ‘Blind’. Not really a songfic, but that song got me through while writing it because it’s so Peter/Olivia it’s painful.
Pairing: Peter/Olivia
Spoilers: Marionette
Rating: R
Summary: “It was never about her, Olivia, it was always about you, you have to remember that.”
Word count: 3,328
A Place We Both Could Hide
“If I could tear you from the ceiling,
I'd freeze us both in time,
Find a brand new way of seeing..
Your eyes forever glued to mine.”
(Placebo - Blind)
His original plan was to invite her to have milkshakes with them but what he found instead unsettled his heart even more.
She was crying. This time she didn’t even bother to hide it from him or pretend she was ok, what was a relief to some extent. Peter always thought she was thinking low of him when she tried to hide her feelings and, honestly, it annoyed him. Now she was sitting there, hiding her face in her hands and drying off tears.
He had expected that vent at some point, he had expected her to tell him what she really felt about his relationship with the other her. Hell, he even expected her to lose her temper and yell at him a little bit or even throw some objects or break something.
Of course she didn’t. She kept her voice low and the only sign that she was distressed was the pained expression and her pained eyes. How much pain could one person bottle up inside her, he often wondered.
The words ‘I don’t wanna be with you’ kept echoing in his brain. They kept echoing in a painfully dull manner, like she dismissed them without even trying. Obviously, why would she try, when he couldn’t even see who she was? At this very moment, Peter didn’t think he deserved Olivia either.
He sat there, still, as she was long gone, and felt a tear run down his cheek. Damn it. Where would he go from here?
Walter placed a gentle hand over his shoulder and only then Peter noticed his father was standing behind him. He was soft and warm and all fatherly. Strangely, the look on the old man’s face made Peter feel comforted.
“We should get you a milkshake too. A double-sized one. Come on, son, it’s cold here.”
Peter didn’t care that Walter saw him crying. There was something in his expression that was beyond empathy; Peter thought he saw understanding there. And maybe a little faith too.
He left the garden and walked behind Walter to their car.
* * *
Their days passed by, uneventfully at first, but then cases came up. Olivia eventually came back and called him, business-like, as he expected her to be. She showed up for the first time with case files and leads for them to follow.
It pained him every time he looked at her and saw that sadness in her eyes. After what she told him about Barrett, Peter started paying attention to those little nuances and details about her and such realization hit him like a truck.
He spent hours awake, thinking. In an ideal world, he would’ve noticed, he would’ve gotten back to the other side to get her from whatever captivity they held her. In an ideal world he wouldn’t be sleeping without her, missing her terribly when, in fact, he missed something that he came to realize wasn’t her. Maybe that’s what kept him awake, lying on his back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Maybe if he could stop replaying in his mind the image of Olivia’s face changing as realization hit her and she understood what Peter tried to tell her, in that hospital cafeteria, of all places to have such talk. If maybe he could stop seeing how hurt she was, then he could sleep again.
One day she arrived at the lab, quietly like she always did. Peter was aware that, even though all of them were happy with having her back, no one knew exactly how to deal with Olivia. What to say, what to do, the right thing to say. She talked and acted like she didn’t care, but her eyes said otherwise. Those green eyes, filled with sorrow and loneliness that she tried to hide from him, still pushing him away from her as much as she could, avoiding any personal matter.
While he waited for Walter to finish a test, Peter decided to help her work on the profiling, as she hid in the office. She was distantly staring at a sheet of paper, eyes blank, stilled.
“’Livia,” he said, softly, putting a warm hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, as if frightened, and looked away from him.
“Peter. Did Walter finish the tests?”
“No. Look, Olivia, I wanted to…”
“I’d better call Broyles to inform him on our advances.”
“Olivia.”
She stopped, looking at him but blatantly avoiding his eyes. Peter stood quietly, for a second, staring at her, trying to read her. She looked pale, freckles more visible on her nose and forehead.
“Look, I know we’ve been distant lately… I want you to know I worry about you. Is there anything I could do for you?”
Olivia let out a short and bitter laugh, while running her hand over her hair, trying to keep the stubborn strands of her bangs off her forehead.
“I have to send this report to Broyles. Excuse me.”
She left as quietly as she entered, making Peter let out a heavy sigh. He felt desperation growing inside of him, more overwhelming than the permanent frustration of not being able to do anything for her. If only she would let him in, to help her heal, to help them heal together.
It had been like that for a month now. He thought she needed time, but time didn’t seem to help at all. He thought she needed the space, but the more space he gave her, the more she detached herself from them and the already solitary woman now seemed lonelier than he had ever seen her. It drove him sleepless, this whole situation where he simply didn’t know how to fix or what to do.
“Peter?” he heard Astrid’s soft voice calling him from the door “are you ok?”
He sighed heavily once again. He obviously looked distressed.
“I guess.”
“I saw Olivia leaving the room and rushing out of the lab. What happened?”
“You’d better ask what didn’t happen. She won’t listen to me, Astrid, she won’t let me talk to her.”
“Give her some time, Peter.”
“No, I won’t give her some time. I gave her time and the more time I give her, the more distant she gets. If I give her more time, she’ll drift away from me, from all of us. Even more than she has.”
Astrid planted her small hand over Peter shoulder, squeezing it lightly, trying to show him some support and some comfort. What else could she do? Was anything beyond that after all?
* * *
Some other day Olivia was at her office, in the FBI building, trying to put together pieces of a puzzle that their current case was. She stared at case files and evidence like one stares at little pieces that are supposed to be put together and frowned. She barely noticed when Astrid entered, two mugs of coffee in her hands, placing one in front of Olivia.
“Thank you, Astrid.”
The other woman didn’t say anything else, just looked at Olivia with soft eyes, full of understanding. She noticed her stare.
“What?”
“You have to forgive him. There isn’t much to be done now, you know that.”
Olivia wanted to play dumb, to pretend she didn’t know what Astrid was talking about but at this point it was just pointless. She wasn’t as much as a good pretender she thought she was and the few people she still got in her life already knew what was going on with her. The whole inability to fit and adapt to her life again, the feeling of not belonging to a place she desperately wanted to, it was clear for all of them to see. And more clear by the sadness that seemed to cloak her lately.
“He cares too much about you. This thing you’re doing? It’s affecting him too, you know.”
She took some time to respond, staring at the mug of coffee.
“How?”
“Just let him in. Let us in. It was never about her, Olivia, it was always about you, you have to remember that.”
Olivia didn’t know at that point that Astrid trying to offer a similar advice to Peter, but what she said made sense. Like most things in her life, she knew the theory of it all. She knew the works and what she was supposed to do, what she couldn’t do yet was simply taking action.
She knew she had to forgive him. She desperately wanted to forgive him. Olivia simply didn’t know how.
* * *
If there was something he knew for sure was that he was stubborn. He had decided that he wouldn’t let her go that easily, he wouldn’t let Olivia drift from him like that because he knew how much pain she was going through. He could see it in her eyes.
Also, because he loved her too much to let that happen.
He went to her place late at night and felt a slight pain in his heart when he saw the lights of her living room on. She hadn’t gone to sleep.
She had never told him, but he was sure she hadn’t been sleeping. She had always suffered from insomnia and he didn’t know how much sleep she got a night, but it certainly wasn’t enough. Peter could see faint dark marks under her eyes, covered with make up that she had never worn before. He could see that she rarely looked directly at him, avoiding his eyes like she was afraid of something. And she avoided being alone with him.
And it pained him.
He spent nights awake, imagining in his mind different ways of telling her how sorry he was, how he would like to come back in time and do things differently. How he regretted hurting her like he did. Hurting her was killing him slowly and he wanted her to know that. He wanted to ask her help to stop it, to put an end to that horrible feeling that stood like a wall between then.
She opened the door at the second time he rang the doorbell. She was wearing the same clothes the other Olivia used to wear to sleep and he immediately pushed these thoughts away. Olivia didn’t seem surprised at all to see him; on the contrary, she seemed almost resigned.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Inside her apartment things looked different. She changed the furniture from their original place and, in a whole, it looked a bit like a catastrophe had happened there. There was a pillow and a blanket on her sofa but she didn’t seem to have had any sleep; Olivia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, looking weary.
“I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?’
“Yeah, of course. What do you want to talk about?’
“This thing you’re doing, Olivia, you gotta stop. It’s hurting you, it’s hurting all of us.”
She let herself fall heavily on the sofa, letting out one of those bitter laughs she had grown fond of lately, those joyless laughs that irritated him beyond logic.
“What exactly do you mean, Peter? I don’t think I follow you.”
He sat in front of her, on the coffee table, a desperate attempt to try to get closer to her and, for the first time, she didn’t move away or flinched.
“To say I’m sorry is not even close to how I feel, but that’s one of those things I feel right now. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, ‘Livia, for what happened to us, for what she did to us. I’m sorry for being so stupid and not noticing but now I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop seeing the differences and it hurts and drives me insane with guilt.”
“Are you here because you’re sorry or because you’re guilty, Peter?”
“I’m here because I want you to forgive me. I don’t know how to say the right thing or what to do, I need your help to tell me. But, please, Olivia, don’t shut yourself like you’ve doing.”
Olivia looked at him, for the first time since their talk when she returned, looking directly into his eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do. Being around you hurts me, that is the truth.”
“Is there anything I can do to help it?”
“I need you to give me some space. And time.”
Peter stood up, angry.
“No, I will not give you some time! I won’t let you shut yourself even more than you already have! I won’t let you do it to yourself and I’m tired of playing this game of pretending. You pretend you’re ok, I pretend I believe you. You’re not ok, I’m not ok! I can’t stand seeing this sadness in you, Olivia, I can’t stand living what she’s done to us!”
She recoiled in the sofa, looking taken aback. For the first time in a long time Peter saw something other than pain and sadness in her eyes and he knew he could still reach her.
“The reason why…” he said, sitting next to her on the sofa “the reason why I think I didn’t see it wasn’t you… I want so desperately to see you happy… I hate this sorrow in your eyes, the weight of the world on your shoulders… you don’t deserve that, ‘Livia, you don’t have to carry it alone. And, yes, I might have been stupid, but when I saw that she didn’t have this burden, I thought that maybe you had finally seen it too.”
Olivia was curled up against the corner of the sofa, still taken aback by his words. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t dare to fall.
“Please, hit me or yell at me if you want, just don’t push me away. Just…” Peter moved a tentative hand to her arm, touching her lightly “just don’t push me away again.”
She put her hand over his, squeezing him lightly and turned her eyes away from him once again. He moved his other hand to cup her face delicately, forcing her to look at him again.
“Please, ‘Livia, don’t shut me out…” he said, his voice broken and a whisper.
“Peter…” she said, leaning against his touch. In one fast move he pulled her so Olivia was in his arms, tightly secure in his embrace. He didn’t see at first, he didn’t notice she was crying, only when her soft sobs became louder and she was shaking against him, pouring out that feeling.
“Hey, hey… don’t cry…” he said, pulling away enough to see her moist face. It was probably the second time since he met her he’d seen Olivia Dunham crying. But, in spite of the tears he could see she was relieved, the closest to happy she could be right now.
“It’s ok,” she whispered, holding his hand against her face and smiling.
Once again he beat himself for not seeing it. How could he have mistaken her for someone else, when his Olivia had such a warm smile and warm eyes? When his Olivia had this sweetness within, in her voice, in her touch and in the way she looked up at him, trying to reassure Peter when he was the one who needed reassurance.
Her skin under his fingers felt different, she smelled different, more… real. How could he not notice that?
“Are you sure you’re ok?”
“I am now. I will be. Thanks.”
He pulled her close to him again, kissing the top of her head while he listened to her soft sobs calming down to silence. They sat in silence for some time, Peter caressing her hair and she clung to him, impossibly still. So still he thought she had fallen asleep.
“Did you sleep?”
She laughed. “Oh, if I could.”
He gazed at her for a moment, feeling his chest expand. He wouldn’t admit it, but one of the things that terrified him the most was the possibility of having fallen for the wrong woman. As he looked down at the Olivia in his arms, fighting within herself to hold back her tears, he realized that he had loved her all along. He admired her since the first ‘sweetheart’ and was in awe by her driven nature; and he had fallen for her long ago.
Peter caressed her face, smiling softly, and kissed her eyes, her whole face, peppering her forehead, kissing away her tears, kissing her nose and her salty cheeks, the corners of her mouth in feather-like kisses as gentle as his fingers still tangled in her hair. He kissed her lower lip, lingering, erasing her pain. Olivia opened her mouth slightly, closing her eyes and letting go into his lips.
And then their lips were locked together, gently, softly. Peter slid his tongue over her lower plump lip and he smiled when he saw her eyes fluttering as she relaxed in his arms and he deepened his kiss. She kissed him back, letting her tongue slid over his slowly, allowing him to explore her mouth.
Peter leant against the sofa, half lying half sitting, pulling her atop him in his embrace, never parting from her lips. He was startled by how incredibly light she was on top of him and that she let his hand skim down her frame, touching her through the fabric of her shirt, rubbing away the tension from her body.
And for the first time since this whole situation had started, Peter felt happy and light. He pushed away the lingering remembrance of the other her and how she kissed him, focusing on the one in his arms. Then he broke the kiss, gasping for air, before searching for her lips again, too continue the task of losing himself in her mouth.
At some point they simply laid on the sofa together, holding each other, fingers intertwined. Peter marveled at the feel of her head nested against his neck, her scent inebriating him.
“Maybe we should go to the bed?”
“No. I don’t want to go to that bed.”
He sighed, sad. Peter wanted to say something, anything, that could make it right, that could erase all the wrong between them. Instead, he pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing it slowly, running his lips over her fingers and down her palms until he was touching her wrist. She sighed, content.
When Peter went to Olivia’s house that night he didn’t have a plan, he just wanted to tell her how he felt, in hopes that she’d listen and understand him. Of course he knew she understood him but forgiving him was something else. He felt like he could breathe now, as he had her atop him, her soft breathing brushing against him, warm, slightly shaky, but real.
He wanted to hide from the world and from the problems, at least for that night, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave his mind. He wanted to talk to her, but, honestly, what could they say? She needed this physical comfort right now as much as he did, the soft touch of hands, of lips, the comforting silence and the unspoken declaration of love between them. She didn’t have to say it out loud for him to know how much she loved him and he could barely hold himself to tell her how deeply in love he was, but couldn’t bring himself to, not now.
He slowly lulled her into sleep, sliding his hand up and down her back, his mind still wrapped around those thoughts.
He wanted to hide away with her, at least for one night. At least for that night they could find a haven where everything was as it should be. And where they weren’t as broken as they usually were.
END
A/N: Fic completely inspired by Placebo’s ‘Blind’. Not really a songfic, but that song got me through while writing it because it’s so Peter/Olivia it’s painful.