Green Eyed Monster

I Just Wanted to Say: I'm Sorry

Peter was plucking up his courage to go over to Olivia's place all afternoon. He witnessed a heart-breaking encounter between Walter and Carla's mom, worried at first, observing them carefully, but then, seeing the two of them chatting like old friends and simply enjoying in recreating the memory of a deceased lab assistant, he relaxed and smiled, leaving them to it. She was right, he thought. She understood Walter and the whole situation better than he did. Oh, well, she did say she was good at reading people. That was sort of something he did too, but his ability had apparently deteriorated over time. Peter didn't want to question the reasons for that. Not that night. He just wanted to forget how he offended her, the woman he loved. And all because of the fear he felt for his father. Of course, he had a good reason, but all the same. He behaved like a bastard to her. And she was always looking out for him. That was sort of what partners did. So... An apology was definitely in order.

He went to the small improvised kitchen. It was very late already. Walter was standing there without clothes, humming happily to himself, and melting cacao and butter in a pot. After all, it was Tuesday night, Peter remembered.

-Walter, it's almost midnight. That counts as Wednesday, so you'd better put something on.

-Hello, son-Walter beamed at seeing him. –I was just making some home-made chocolate. Aspen got me some cocoa powder this afternoon as a gift! She told me I behaved very well with the pretty lady who came to visit me this afternoon. And seeing how we already had milk, butter and sugar at home... I decided to make chocolate.

-Of course you did. Why stroll into a supermarket and just grab a bar of 2 dollar chocolate when you can spend one hour of fun making it by yourself?-Peter said sardonically.

-Exactly, my son.

-And by the way, Walter, that pretty lady who came to visit you this afternoon... She was your lab assistant's mother, in case it slipped off your mind.

-I know that Peter, don't treat me like a child! I will not be babied.

-Whatever you say. Listen, I'm gonna go out for a while. I'll be back soon. Don't burn the house down or lock yourself in the bathroom, OK? And don't go out anywhere alone!

-Don't worry, son. I understand. I will stay right here. After all, it is nighttime and you should have some time to yourself. You need to have an intercourse.

-Walter, just stop, OK?

-Intercourse is a perfectly normal human physiological need, Peter... You should know that.

-I do know that, Walter. Now just calm down and put on some clothes, you'll catch a cold. See you in a bit.

He went out in the cold, wondering if Olivia was already in bed. After all, it really was pretty late. But he simply had to tell her what he had on his mind or else he wouldn't be able to get much sleep that night. He was also chuckling inwardly at Walter's words. "I do need to have an intercourse", Peter thought. "It's been… How long? I'm guessing almost seven months. It's longest I went without since I was a teenager." But somehow it wasn't working for him anymore. There were pretty girls, of course, but Olivia was all he could think about. And he hated her a little for inflicting this feeling upon him with her strong, radiating aura. For making him feel like this, for not reciprocating those sentiments he had for her. Heck, she was so robotic, civil and polite with him. As if he were someone she's just met, and they've already been through quite a lot. Olivia Dunham was determined not to let him in her life, but he didn't care about that. There was one wrong he felt needed to be righted.

His feet led him to the same bar where he and Olivia were undercover couple of weeks ago. "Brother"-he thought. "I wish. If I were her brother, I'd at least get a hug, just like Rachel does. Right now, I don't get anything. It's just: Peter, bring Walter and meet me at _the place of her choice. I'm Walterbringer, not Peter Bishop."

A bartender seemed to recognize him.

-Hello, brother Rick.

-Hey-he smiled. –How about a bottle of whisky?

-You sure? You're gonna drink it all up?

-Well I've been downing some shots recently; I think I can handle my liquor.

-Sure thing, champion. Whatever you say. How's your sister?

-She's fine.

-Glad to hear it.

After he got his bottle, he went into a semi-darkened corner and started pouring one glass after another rather quickly. He needed to relax, to ease himself before he was able to open up to her. Whiskey burned inside him as the feeling of guilt overcame his mind, and everything soon became foggy and blurry. At one of the other tables, there were two girls sitting, chatting and laughing loudly. One was a redhead, and he could see her face, she was glancing at him occasionally as he was drinking. The other one was a petite blonde, with long soft hair. He couldn't see her face, only her back. She was wearing a black blouse. Her laughter was melodic and almost contagious. Peter felt nostalgia creeping up on him and suddenly he wanted to go to them and to look at blonde's face. He wanted her to be Olivia, happy Olivia who was laughing about something, whose life was unburdened and filled with joy. The redhead probably noticed he was glaring in their direction and she leaned toward her friend. The blonde girl glanced quickly over her shoulder to check him out. Then they both giggled about something and he flashed a smile in their direction. He liked to call it Bishop's smile number 1. Boyish, but mysterious and inviting at the same time. He needed a boost in self-confidence and quickly. Then all of a sudden, the blonde girl walked over to his table and joined him. Her friend remained where she was, winking shamelessly at both of them. Peter now got a good look of the blonde. Her heart-shaped face was pale but attractive, with prominent and high cheekbones and full lips. She had green eyes and he lost himself in them. His heart was painfully throbbing, calling Olivia's name, looking for her in this girl.

-Hey cutie-she purred in a seductive voice. –Drinking alone on a fine night like this?

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Olivia in front of him, remembering the night they spent here as drinking buddies. She was like a little girl back then, enjoying his company and smiling, joking around. She never really sounded seductive. Her green eyes were serious, clear, determined; also, Peter could've sworn she was mind-reading and probing everyone she met. This girl's eyes, however, were in a happy-go-lucky mood, careless, flirty and naughty.

-Not alone anymore, I see-he murmured. His eyes travelled down her neck and stopped at her breasts. They were quite big, full, rounded and nicely shaped. It wasn't hard to imagine his hands fondling them, or his head resting on them after a pleasant night they might spend together. He felt his cock hungrily stirring in his pants, wanting to delve in a slick and wet softness, not wishing to endure another night in Peter's rough hand... Peter was famished for sex.

Their eyes locked in understanding and he felt her small foot in his lap under the table. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt her toes slowly and expertly massaging his now massive rod that was bulging in his underwear, becoming harder with every passing second.

-Mmm… You're big-she sighed erotically, licking her lips. –Let's see what we can do about that little problem down there, shall we?

Peter's hands fumbled blindly around the zipper on his tight clad jeans, but it was stuck. She smiled widely.

-Do you need help with that, sugar?

-What's your name?-Peter asked, breathing heavily through his arousal, but suddenly feeling the urge to know.

-Why?-she was genuinely surprised he'd asked that.

-I… I just wanted to know, that's all-he said lamely, without understanding what got into him.

-Ella-she answered reluctantly. –So, where were we-she moaned, watching him intently. –You have beautiful eyes. I like them.

He felt a knife of regret stabbing him in the heart after having heard her name, remembering Olivia's cute little niece. He could've had the blonde girl there and then, he could've sated his lust temporarily. But sex wasn't the only thing he was after. Peter was desperate for love. And he wanted Olivia to love him just as much as he loved her, to think of him every night before going to bed and to whisper his name every morning after she wakes up…

-Sorry-he said slowly, averting his gaze from the blonde and standing up slowly. His head was swimming. He was completely intoxicated.

-I just… I just gotta go someplace and… -Peter slurred. He carefully got up, paid and headed for Olivia's house, leaving the girls to stare after him, wondering what the hell just transpired. It was smarter to simply walk over. He wasn't in condition to drive. Minutes were passing at snail's pace and he started cursing himself for what he had done. It began to snow. It was so goddamn cold and he was walking around Boston, freezing his ass, with a raging, aching hard-on between his legs. "I should've just gone with the flow. Bishop, you're officially a dumbass". Peter thought that by now, he could've been in a cozy, warm hotel room, rhythmically plunging into blonde's willing wet pussy, relieving the sexual tension that's been building up for months. "Dammit, Dunham!"-he cursed her under his breath. "What have you done to me?"

Olivia was preparing to go to bed. It was already half past twelve. She felt bad about Ella. Her niece would wait for her to come back from work, because she wanted her aunt Liv to tuck her in and to read her a bedtime story. But that always meant that she stayed up until midnight and Olivia didn't think that was good for her. She was going to have a talk with Rachel and to see what could be done about that. They'd figure something out. She was sitting in her armchair, cross-legged, reading The Advanced Forensic Science by Anneman. It felt good to memorize all those data: to Olivia, it was like mind-training. At the same time, it would stop her from thinking about the "fight" she had with Peter in the car. It was the first time he was angry with her. He actually insulted her sulkily and told her to mind her own business. She was wondering if he was right. And what was it to her, anyway? It was their problem. They were colleagues, and nothing else. Maybe it wasn't her place to comment on anything. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. It was so strange… That tension between them. He was never angry with her before and it felt very awkward.

A doorbell interrupted her train of thoughts and she stood up, surprised. Who could that be, at this hour? Her heart skipped a beat thinking of younger Bishop. That's silly-she reprimanded herself. Why would he be here at this time of night? He's probably in his hotel room, yelling at Walter for creeping up into his bed while he was sleeping, or for using his toothbrush.

But when she opened the door, he really was there, with half-closed eyes, his tall figure leaning on the door frame.

-Hi, sweetheart-he muttered in his husky voice, fighting to stand upright.

She could see immediately that Peter looked bad. He had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble was longer than usual. Also, his shirt wasn't ironed and it was simply showed under a carelessly unbuttoned pea coat. There was some resolution in his eyes she'd never seen before. She decided to let him speak, without commenting on the time, or the way that he appeared at her door. He probably had a good reason and she didn't want to commit yet another mistake in their already strained partnership.

His eyes were glued to hers. God, she was so heavenly beautiful. Those green pools of hers always clear, kind and attentive. It was like being in presence of an angel and confessing your sins, knowing you wouldn't be harshly judged, that you would get nothing but support and comprehension if you were completely honest. And he intended to be.

His erection hadn't subsided, far from it, it was becoming quite painful, and he tried hard not to dwell on her sensual pouty lips or on her cleavage. Peter knew he'd have plenty of time to relieve himself later, as always, in the bathroom of his hotel room. He swallowed hard locking his gaze with Olivia's and started pouring his soul out. He wasn't really sure how all that sounded to her. She was still as a marble statue, calm and considerate. She nodded several times without interrupting him and he was grateful for that.

There was something about drunken Peter Bishop that made her heart beat faster. His voice was lower, softer and gentler and his darkened eyes didn't leave hers for a second. That gave her an excuse to freely contemplate his boyish face. His ears were red and he looked like a child who'd eaten all the cookies without having asked for permission from his mother. Yet there was an unnerving steadiness behind these eyes, something profound and dangerous, like a deep blue ocean on a stormy day, and that frightened and attracted her at the same time. His apology and his thankfulness were so sincere and she got caught up in him without meaning to, without saying anything, just looking into his big pleading eyes. He struck her as sad, for some reason, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Olivia understood his fear of losing his father. She was so glad they cleared this thing up between them. But there was still something in his stare that was so melancholic and full of longing… It was almost like he was waiting for something. Was she supposed to invite him inside?

And then his face suddenly lit up. He was looking past her shoulder and Olivia saw Rachel standing there behind her, smiling.

-Hey-Peter saluted her pleasantly.

-Hey-Rachel replied kindly, with a twinkle in her eye.

Olivia couldn't control herself and her eyes traveled quickly between the two of them. She could feel a bond Rach and Peter shared; it was definitely there, but… She didn't know when and where it was formed; but then she recalled the night he spent in her apartment making an omelet with Ella and Rach. Green eyed monster started growling in her chest and she did her best not to change the expression on her face no matter how hard it was. She was angry and afraid at the same time. She tried thinking of John. That always helped, no matter what. But it didn't quite work this time. The monster wouldn't stop roaring until Rachel left and Peter's tired and sad eyes full of reverence and emotion focused on her again. That calmed her immediately for some reason and she felt uneasy because of that.

-Will I see you tomorrow?-Peter asked nervously, drinking in her soft angelical features. When he saw her nod affirmatively, he was relieved. He just wanted to kiss her then and there, to hold her against him, to tell her how he felt about her. But she looked so kind, friendly and composed. He didn't want to ruin the perfect reconciliation moment. Peter Bishop just had to control himself and to shield his heart in the best way he could, until… Until when, he wondered. "Until she begins to feel the same as I do or until I stop feeling like this? The worst thing will be, Bishop… If none of those two things happen".

He walked away slowly to the bar where he'd left his car parked. Olivia watched him go, his hands in his pockets. She climbed up to her bed shortly after that but the sleep wouldn't come. Those deep eyes haunted her very soul, and that significant look he gave to her sister was etched in her mind…

Peter entered his hotel room as silent as he could. He was wondering where Walter was. He found him blissfully resting on the sofa. Well, at least he put a bathrobe on-Peter thought. He carried Walter in his arms like a baby, onto a big soft bed, and covered him with a warm blanket, kissing his forehead. Then he went to the kitchen. He felt sick. He grabbed some chocolate from the table and spat it out second after- apparently, Walter added something else in his home-made sweet, making it bitter and spicy. "Leave it to Walter to concoct a recipe for original Mayan chocolate". He thirstily drank almost two liters of water. "The marvelous hangover is kicking in. And I haven't even gone to bet yet". His head felt like a beehive; it reverberated with all kinds of different buzzing sounds.

Peter was actually pleased about how his conversation with Olivia went that night, and he chastised himself for expecting something more while he was cleaning up the kitchen and washing the dishes. He should really be happy that she accepted his apology and simply continue to be there for her. When he finished in the kitchen, he felt so exhausted that he barely had the strength to change into his pajamas and fall on the couch.

But he couldn't fall asleep immediately and he wondered why. His eyes traveled down his body and he quickly got an answer. His unsated desire protruded from below his belly, asking for his immediate attention. "Same old, same old. It's time to bash the bishop"-he chuckled at this word play. He would do that every evening before falling asleep. Sometimes even during the day, in the lab, which depended of the fact if Olivia came to visit or not. The mere sight of her was enough to painfully harden his cock in an erotic salute.

Peter turned the light on and locked the door. He leaned his burning forehead on the welcoming cold bathroom tiles on the wall and his hand naturally slipped around his shaft, holding it in stroking position. He imagined Olivia's soft breasts in his hands, being fondled and caressed by his nimble fingers. His mouth went slack. In his mind, his fingers were pulling on her hardened nipples. Peter drooled at the very thought of that sight. He could hear her moaning loudly in his head, begging him for more, wanting him in her fiery core… He stroked his cock, slowly beginning to pump his hand up and down the shaft, imagining that it was enveloped in her wet moistness, that her hips were grinding into his while she rode him relentlessly, straddling his legs, spinning skillfully around his dick, and occasionally bending over to kiss him, looking at him with those beautiful green eyes and smiling, telling him that she loved him…

-Olivia… Oh my God… Jesus! Liv! Liviaaa…-Peter whimpered, without being able to stop himself from repeating her name like a mantra. And then he erupted without warning, spewing semen all over the floor, shaking uncontrollably… His breathing was ragged and he was gasping for air. When he recovered enough to stand up straight, he looked at his flushed and desperate face in the mirror. "You're a goddamned fool, Bishop"-he told himself. "And a pathetic loser".

Peter recalled vividly that night after the No-Brainer case. He knew perfectly that he cleaned up after himself, feeling miserable. Good side of all that was, that he was able to fall asleep immediately. Of course, Broyles was kind enough to wake him up at six, after he had slept merely three and a half hours, and to tell him that they have a new case on their hands. It was a case of the human porcupine. While Walter was giving his morning lecture on the one half nipple rule, he remembered his last night fantasy and wisely kept quiet on the matter…



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