Chapter Text
"Medford?"
"No"
"Holliston"
"Um, only if I'm being punished"
"Woburn"
"Only if I'm dead"
"Alright, how about Lexington? Three beds, central heat and air, dog run... Did you know I had a lab when I was growing up?"
"I thought you were allergic?"
"I was, but Walter made him non allergenic. It's got a working fireplace in the bedroom."
"Nursery?"
".... Nursery?" He asks, taken aback.
"Nursery." She nods with confidence.
Queue phones ringing.
------------
She can feel him looking at her as they get ready. For her, it's throwing on slacks, a jacket, and gathering her hair into a low ponytail. For him, it's running his head under the shower, definitely not shaving (exposing his baby-face), and throwing on jeans and a button down. She rushes through the living room of the apartment gathering all of her open case files. Although having Peter in her life has made her more domestic than she'd like to admit, there are still plenty of gory case files to be found scattered on tables. An assurance to Peter that this aspect of her will not ever change. Not that he expected it to - or even wanted it to.
She finishes stuffing the files in her briefcase and he is standing at the door now, his jacket on, keys and her jacket in one hand and two slices of wheat toast in the other. She looks at him, smiling at their actions that seem so routine now. She grabs the jacket out of his hand, puts it on, and then kisses him while she takes the keys. She still drives of course.
He hands her a piece of toast and she bites into it, holding it in her mouth while she walks out the door, briefcase in hand, and locks it behind them. She shuffles down the stairs, him following, and by the time they get to the car her toast is gone. He's only munched half of his, so he continues eating in the car while they make the quick trip to the lab.
He takes a bite and looks at her while he's chewing. She can feel his eyes on her, so she turns to him, "Peter," she says it more as a statement: either tell me or stop staring.
But he doesn't, so when he takes his next bite, his eyes haven't left her. She looks at him again, sarcastically exacerbated, "what?"
He chews and swallows his toast before responding, "... nothing," hesitantly. She knows what he wants to talk about. Obviously she knows. But she's not going to be the one to bring it up again, she already did that this morning which was her bold and romantic quota for the year.
She asks him again, this time without saying anything, but the very clear message her eyes give at the end is still: either tell me or stop staring.
And with that, he looks ahead at the busy morning streets of Harvard.
...
The day goes on and she continues to catch him staring at her from across the room. Him, sitting at the lab table with Walter, obviously not paying any attention to what Walter is saying. His elbow on the table and hand under his chin, he just looks at her - not so subtly - subtleness never was his strong suit.
Movement, people, chaos, casework: all part of a normal day's work. In the afternoon Broyles meets them at the lab for an update and goes straight to Walter, "status?"
"Ah! Yes, Mr. Broyles, we have excavated the specimen and we are just about to finish the autopsy. He most definitely had Tachycardia and Orthopnoea from Ischaemic HD... and strangely, Peripheral oedema as well," he finishes, biting off the end of the red vine he has in his other, un-gloved hand.
Broyles looks to Peter for a translation, who without even lifting his eyes from the microscope or stopping the pinching (tweezing? sewing? pincer-ing? who knows..) motion with his hands, "guy had heart disease and definitely shouldn't have been in the woods alone, otherwise, nothing substantial," he finishes, finally looking up to meet Broyles' eyes.
"Thank you," he replies and makes his way over to Astrid and Olivia who are in the office combing through paperwork and files. "Sir," they both greet him, almost simultaneously. Olivia starts updating him without the need for prompting, "no records of his doctor doing any work with Massive Dynamic, no sign of any academic experience that would warrant an entire chemical lab under ground in the woods, no evidence of close family or friends to start questioning yet."
He nods, thanking her, and with that exits the lab to return back to the Federal Building. Silence fills the room as both female agents read through file after file, only the sound of turning pages in the air. Astrid is focused, comprehending an in-human amount of words per minute, but Olivia finds herself staring into space over the top of the current file she has in her hand.
"Astrid," she asks, almost startling her.
"Yeah?" She looks up quickly thinking Olivia may have found something.
"Has... umm, has Peter been acting weird to you... today?" She asks with a little... ok a lot of embarrassment in her words.
Astrid tilts her head in confusion, both toward the subject of the question and how she is going to answer it, "uhh, I don't think so?" she responds, unsure what kind of answer Olivia is looking for.
"Hmm," is all she responds.
"Is something wrong?" Astrid prods softly, not wanting to cross the line. Olivia is staring into space, checked out of the conversation already, "what? oh.. no, Astrid," she laughs, "nothing is wrong."
Astrid waits for her to continue, not really sure what she would even say in the silence, "he's just... I don't know, not telling me something. And he keeps looking at me... with some weird stare like he is trying to decide something... like squinting his eyes and tilting his head," she says, unknowingly repeating the actions as she says them.
"Oh," is all Astrid responds. Then, she adds, "do you think you know what it's about?"
"I mean, yeah," she answers quickly, and in classic Olivia fashion she buries any temptation to actually ask him about it, to have a conversation about it. Of course he’ll have to prompt it… which he will, she knows.
"Well then, why did you ask me?" she chuckles in confusion.
"I don't know... I guess it just seems so evident this time.”
“And what?” Astrid asks, “you had to see if someone else could see it too?”
Olivia shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know. It just seems like he’s acting all…” she waves her hands in front of her, unsure which word would be right to describe her thoughts.
“And that’s a bad thing?” she asks. Olivia stops, smiles, and actually turns to Astrid for the first time in their conversation, “no, it’s not a bad thing at all….”
“Ok…” Astrid responds, thoroughly confused at the point of this conversation.
“Sorry,” she responds, “I didn’t mean to-“
“Olivia, no,” Astrid smiles back, “I’d be more than happy to have girl talk, but you’ve never told me anything about him before… really. Or your relationship.”
“Oh,” Olivia suddenly feels quite awkward.
“Olivia,” she says in a patient tone, “you don’t have to… at all. I’m just saying you can if you want to. I’ll listen.”
Olivia’s face returns to agent mode, still unable to open up to anyone besides Peter or Rachel. And really, Rachel hasn’t been on that list too often recently. She pulls out her worst fake smile and simply says, “thanks,” before walking out of the room. She walks into the lab, barely announcing her presence before she goes to Peter and says, "can I talk to you for a second? Alone?" She tugs him away from his task, giving him very little choice in the matter.
"What?" he asks smiling as she pulls him into the hall. But quickly his smile fades as he realizes this important chat is not work related. And she never talks about personal things at work... so it must be serious.
“What are you doing?” She asks him
"Umm nothing. My job? Why? What’s up?" He asks, sincerely confused.
"No, Peter," she says with exacerbation, like her question was the most obvious thing in the world, "What are you doing? You’re looking at me, like all swoon-y. And I don’t like it. Not here. You have to stop." She finishes decidedly.
“Liv, I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He laughs.
"Oh come on," she starts, "you keep looking at me like that. The way you did when you first appeared in this timeline. It’s not subtle, Peter. And it’s freaking me out."
“Freaking you out?" He chuckles, quite enjoying this conversation now, "am I not allowed to look at you?"
You know what I mean, her eyes say. They also say she is unnecessarily angry at him... already. And he doesn't even know what it's for.
"Wait a minute…" he gasps, trying to hold in a laugh, "you’re freaking out about this morning, aren’t you??"
She looks at him with the most stern eyes he has ever seen. Eyes that could kill a man. "Shhh no, STOP," she whisper-yells at him, "we cannot talk about that here. Of all places Peter, really?" She says this all too seriously, looking around him to see if Walter or Astrid could potentially be eavesdropping.
"You’re totally freaking out," he smiles, loving this power he has over her.
"No I’m not," she says tersley. "You doing that thing, with your eyes, and we're at work, Peter. Work!"
He looks at her innocently and chooses not to respond.
"Ugh," she accuses, "just stop trying to impregnate me with your eyes. I'm actually trying to work here."
He’s openly laughing at her now, “Liv, I promise, I’m not--”
“Oh.. but you are” she says skeptically, not even letting him finish his sentence.
“Can’t I be happy? I'm sorry if I looked at you and smiled.” He chuckles, “but that still doesn’t change how I feel.”
She rolls her eyes at him, as if having a man who was happy and in love with you was the worst thing that could happen to a woman. “I can’t focus," she says, "with you here. Looking at me like that.”
He's honestly laughing too hard to respond, which is obviously not helping the situation nor her level of annoyance toward him.
"That's it," she announces, "I'm going home." And with that she turns to walk down the hallway, back into the lab, and collect her things.
He stops laughing to get his body to react to her movement. He reaches out for her arm as he closes in two steps away from her, "No, Liv. I'm sorry," he lets out one more chuckle, "can I at least come with you?"
She gives into his hold easily and does not continue down the hall. She whips around and gives him glaring eyes, "that defeats the whole purpose, I need to focus and clearly I can't do that with you looking at me every 5 minutes."
He takes a serious tone, for once, "yeah, but maybe I’d like to actually talk about this… like adults?" She doesn't answer so he does what he does best, "and clearly you’ve got something on your mind…" straight back to sarcasm. Ugh he just knows how to push her buttons.
She still isn't acknowledging him. He smiles, tilts his head slightly, and lets his eyes rest on her pupils for just a second too long.
"THAT," she emphasizes, "that’s the face." She pulls out her most threatening look, but he can't ever see her that way: threatening. Oh but she tries, "Stop it, Peter," almost seething now, "I mean it! It's not funny!"
He looks back at her with a serious gaze, "oh, so you're saying you don’t want to make a baby right here, right now? Because that’s the face I’m giving you," he teases.
She closes her eyes and quickly turns away from him, "that’s it, I'm leaving."
She walks into the lab and hurriedly starts to gather her things. Her head down, focused on the task at hand, she says formally, “I got to go guys, sorry. I'll take the files on the road and see you tomorrow." She swiftly turns and walks toward the door without looking back, really hoping Peter isn't following her.
Oh, but he is.
Peter runs to his lab station to grab his reports, then toward the door. He realizes he forgot his jacket so he stops cold in his tracks, turns back to grab it, and then sprints out the door behind her. He can't lose his ride home...
Astrid turns to Peter as he's collecting his jacket, actually concerned now, “Peter, is everything ok?"
Olivia is already half way through the door. He looks at the locks of blonde hair sweeping through the doorway to make sure he can still catch her before she drives off, and then looks to Astrid, smiling widely, chuckling. “Yeah, Astrid. Everything’s great.”
...
He barely makes it into the passenger seat before she starts reversing the car out of the parking spot. In fact, his door is still open while he gathers the many items in his arms as she reverses into the open car lot. He throws his jacket and files in the back and slams the door shut before she races out of the parking lot in a fierce (albeit, fake) rage.
The car ride home is silent. She can feel him looking at her, smiling at her, and she can't stand it. She refuses to give in to his childish game and keeps her sights set on the road in front of her. Once home, she marches up the stairs to the apartment door and unlocks it. She turns to acknowledge his presence for the first time since he barely got his ass in the car and takes the files from him. Harshly.
Without a word she puts on her glasses and sits on the couch to start reading them. She really did come home to do work. He knew she would. He sits across from her on the chair, reviewing his own pile of paperwork.
...
Suddenly she is the one who is looking at him too often. He catches her in the act multiple times and her eyes dart away from his. After the fourth time she's caught red handed, "still freaking out?" He asks in a monotone voice, not even lifting his eyes up from the page.
"No," she replies too forcefully.
"That answer tells me yes," he replies, still reading, still predicting her every move and every reaction. She doesn't respond, so by the time he gets to the end of the page and flips to the next, he asks, "do you want to talk about it?"
"...No," she hesitates, saying the word like a shy child would to a parent.
He finally looks up at her and confirms what he suspected the whole time, she hasn't gone through a single page of the file she's holding, he chuckles at her immaturity, "that answer also tells me yes." She sticks her tongue out at him in response. Very adult reaction; quite mature.
He puts down the packet of papers he is looking at and laughs fully now, "you're the one who brought it up this morning." He's trying to hold the laughter in, but he just can't. He forces his cheek muscles down, trying to show her that he is taking her seriously and not laughing at this situation at all...
She looks back at him and just shrugs. So much for taking this conversation seriously. But it's Olivia, so what did he expect? "So," he starts, "you're going to bring it up, freak out about it, and then expect me to be the one to talk about it?"
She looks at him, faking confusion as to why that hasn't actually happened yet, "yeah... isn't that how every milestone happens in our relationship?"
He thinks back to their almost kiss, their almost date, their almost relationship and then the complete downfall and consequences of their almost relationship. Yepp, it checked out, that is how every milestone in their relationship happened. He looks back down to the page and continues speaking, "Look, if you want to have a conversation about it, I am more than happy to. But I am not going to start it for you. You're a big girl and you can do it yourself."
She huffs in frustration a) knowing he is completely right (all the more frustrating) and b) knowing that he is the only person in the entire world who could mutter a sentence containing 'you're a big girl' and still have his balls attached to his body. I mean they are a pretty key part to this conversation they are having... or not having.
"Well haven't you been thinking about it all day?" She asks in exasperation, clearly unable to focus on anything else but this.
He finally puts the paperwork down on his lap, noticing she hasn't even been pretending to hold a file for the last 15 minutes, "of course I’ve been thinking about it all day," he smiles genuinely, "how could I not?" He asks her, then continues, "but I've been thinking about it for a lot longer than just today," he says casually, tilting his head down to start to read again.
"You WHAT?" she asks in shock of his admission, and how absolutely casual he was about it. She tries to hide the fact that her eyes are wide and brows are lifted... "I mean," she clears her throat trying to contain herself, "you... what?"
"See, freaking out," he says indifferently, holding the paper in front of his face again, "immediately, freaking out."
"What? So you were just going to wait until I brought it up, even if that was never?" She asks.
He responds, still reading, "no, not necessarily, I hadn't really defined some exact timeline-"
"-Peter! Can you put the paper down?" She interrupts. He does as he's told and smiles, "so are you saying there's something you want to talk about?"
"Ugh," she sighs, "why do you have to make this so difficult?" She asks, when they both know she is in fact the one making this so difficult. "Am I?" he asks, peak sarcasm coming out. "YES," she responds with fake, but also real, irritation.
"Oh, sorry, was there something you wanted to talk about, then?" he pleads, knowing just how far to push her.
"PETER!" she practically shouts, trying to contain her laughter at how ridiculous (but very accurate) this situation is, "Fine... ugh, ok fine," she continues resentfully, before pausing and opening her mouth to admit it "----,"
but nothing comes out. She closes her mouth, bringing her jaw back in line so he won't notice how much she hesitated. But yes, he noticed. He simply looks at her, not breaking eye contact, daring her to say it.
"Fine!" she says, taking a breath and admitting, "I WANT TO TALK ABOUT HAVING KIDS WITH YOU."
He smiles so wide he thinks his cheeks might fall off; he's almost dumbfounded that she actually gave in and said it to him. The words floating in the air like he is trying to capture them in this moment, store this memory away for safekeeping. She still looks irritated, which only makes him smile more, "ok," he responds simply, still beaming, "me too."
He won't wipe that stupid grin of his face, so she stands and walks over to him to wipe it off herself, "you are..." she starts laughing, "just the worst." She gets to him and punches him in the arm with one hand, using the other to pull his cheeks together and get the stupid, yet very adorable, but mostly stupid, grin off his face. She squeezes her hand tight enough that his lips start to protrude from his face, her fingers pressing into his teeth through his skin. She is pulling his skin tight across his cheeks and pushing it out around his mouth - again, just like a child.
He mumbles through his squished lips, "yauhh.. but you wanna hve my children, soooo," she immediately starts punching him again and he uses the opportunity to grab her completely and pull her onto his lap. She sits with the back of her knees resting on the arm of the chair, feet and ankles dangling in the air. His right arm is around her back, supporting her so she is sitting up, looking at him, "you love it," he finally finished his sentence just inches away from her lips, moving in for a kiss.
"Do not," she says far too seriously, trying to evade the kiss. "Plus you're taking advantage of my whole broken family, broken childhood, lack of trust... the whole history. It's not fair," she says in a matter of fact tone, "I should have a handicap. I shouldn't have to instigate any type of serious conversation," but then she smiles widely.
"Hey," he says, "don't diminish my childhood trauma! I'm messed up too... and I bring this kind of shit up all the time," he winks at her.
"Ok fine, I guess you're better at it than I am," she responds, and before she can continue, he butts in, "Me?! Better than you?! At something? What? No, that can't be!" which gets him another punch in the shoulder.
"You do realize you're an FBI agent so when you punch me, it does actually hurt", he whines back.
"Ugh, so dramatic," she rolls her eyes, "now come on, let's go get dinner, we have a packed agenda tonight.. clearly," she jokes.
"Ok, yes," he says absolutely seriously, "but I have one more question before we go."
"Yeah?" she responds, expecting a real question.
"You wanna go make a baby?"