fringe_kinkmeme

This is a kinkmeme. You may just be familiar with the concept.

If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.

RULES

1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?

2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).

3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.

4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.

5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?

6. Go for it!

REMINDERS

7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?

8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here's

eliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.

9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

Peter had spent hours searching for Olivia. She wouldn't answer his calls and no one had even seen her in 24 hours. The last he had heard, she had stayed late at the lab, combing through details of previous cases, searching for answers to questions that haunted her. Answers that he knew she'd probably never find. And now here it was a day later and she hadn't turned up anywhere. They had been planning on making a trip up to Cambridge to visit an old witness. But when she never showed up on his doorstep and didn't even call, he knew something was wrong. Broyles said he had agents out looking for her, but after the incident with Mitchell Loeb, Peter couldn't trust anyone at the Bureau. He had to find her on his own.

Fear and worry tugging at his heart, he decided to try the lab one more time. "Olivia?" he called hopefully, his voice resounding in an echo. The lab was silent and slightly chilly. Gene mooed in the corner of her stall. After ducking his head into Walter's office and even checking the walk in supply cabinets, he still could not find Agent Dunham.

Peter was frustrated, his worry and concern bubbling within him, tearing and clawing at his throat they filled him with sorrow as well.

Wrapping his jacket tighter around him, Peter turned up the thermostat in the lab, reminding himself to admonish Walter later for not checking such things before he left. Biting his lip and turning away from the thermostat, he gave the lab another once over. His eyes came to rest on a peculiar array on the lab bench. Peter found a neatly folded pile of clothes, next to which lay a towel with an iphone on top. Confused, Peter picked it up in his hands. He went to turn it on and discovered it was Olivia's. After all she was the only woman he knew who had the FBI logo set at her wallpaper instead of a picture of like a cute puppy. She had a pass code set to it, however. Peter laid it back down with a sigh. He didn't understand. Olivia's things were here, but where was Olivia? If she had been taken surely they wouldn't have left her things behind like this, let alone in a neat organized pile.

"Olivia?" He called out again.

Upon further inspection of the items on the lab bench, he found a manila folder that lay open in a rush, things scattered all over the counter top. Carefully tucking the contents back inside, Peter closed it and examined the front. It was blank with no indication of what if contained. He knew it wasn't Walter's, Astrid had organized and labeled every box of paper Walter owned. And it wasn't from the bureau, it lacked the glaring red classified stamp and the ID number in the corner. Peter glanced around before opening it. Inside was Olivia's own personnel file. Everything about her, her history, her medical information. Everything. Disappointed because he had already been through these papers once before (unbeknownst to her) he tossed it back on the table, his frustration growing hotter in his blood.

A loud thump and clang startled him and he whipped around, his body already in attack mode. He relaxed though as he realized it had only been the furnace kicking on in the vents. Sighing and unclenching his fists, Peter put his hands in pockets and continued to look around for any more signs of Liv.

He caught sight of a computer monitor that had been left on. "Oh my god..." He breathed. On the screen was Olivia as she lay in the alter-tank. Her eyes were closed and the water was dead still, meaning she herself hadn't moved in a long while. Scared out of his mind, Peter scrambled down the steps and rushed to Walter's giant tank. He wrenched open the metal doors, each one landing with a loud clang.

"Olivia!" Peter cried. She lay still in the tank, her body in an awkward position. It seemed as though she had crawled in head first. None of it made sense.

"Livia!" Peter called again. When it had evoked no response from her, Peter knew he had to get her out and awake. Walter had expressed concerns that any prolonged exposure to an artificial dreamstate would cause severe side effects and even death.

Peter ducked his head and climbed into the tank after his partner. He was oblivious to the tight cramped space, concerned only about making sure she was safe. He touched her face, "Livy! Wake up, Olivia." He urged. "Please!" Tucking an arm under her head and the other around her body, he lifted her gently. She was limp and unresponsive in her arms and her body soaked his shirt and his jeans. The chilly water went unnoticed by him though. "Olivia." he whispered and gently shook her to no avail. She wasn't waking up. Tears were pushing at his eyes, building up in excruciating pressure. He wouldn't let himself cry; not yet. Not until he was sure. With quick fluid grace and gentleness, Peter removed the electrodes from the sides of her head where she had placed them. They left sickening red circles that screamed out in contrast against her pale white skin. He bowed his head to her mouth, searching for any exhalation. Peter pressed two fingers to her neck searching for her pulse; for any sign that she was still alive.

It was there, dangerously slow and faint, but the blood still pulsed beneath his fingers. He sighed in relief but knew he still had to act quickly to save her. She was clinging to life by a thread; he had to save her before it snapped and she fell into the darkness forever. He wouldn't lose her.

Moving fast and yet taking care not to hurt her, Peter lifted her completely into his arms. He carefully maneuvered them, turning his body to the side and sloshing back to the open doors to the tank. His back groaned and throbbed from bending over in such and awkward position and carrying her dead weight in his arms.

Peter was oblivious again however, focused only on getting her out of this damn water-filled coffin and into the lab. He struggled to climb out, paying careful attention to her and making sure he didn't smack her head in the process. Instead his own forehead made contact with metal. He stumbled, momentarily feeling her slipping out of his arms, he held her closer and pushed away the pain radiating in his skull. Peter pulled Olivia into open air and onto the lab floor. He gasped from the exertion. Peter gently laid her on the floor before scrambling to his feet and dashing to the counter to fetch the towel. "Hang on Liv, I'm coming." He grabbed a second towel on his way and rushed back to where Olivia laid still in a puddle of water on the floor.

He swiftly wrapped her body in the towels. He held her in his arms again. "Come on Olivia... Come on. Stay with me." He breathed, rocking her back and forth and rubbing the towels against her skin, trying to warm her up.

A minute or two passed by and she still hadn't shown any sign of respose. "Okay. Okay." Peter wiped his nose with the back of his trembling hand and tried to think of what to do. "Okay!" He struggled to his feet once more, carrying her to the table. He swept off the junk that littered the lab bench, sending several beakers and vials to the floor where they shattered. Peter laid her down gently and then began ripping open Walter's drawers searching for a syringe. He slapped one on the table and sprinted to the shelves of chemicals and medicines.

In a matter of seconds, his fingers closed around the glass vial of adrenaline and he rushed back to Olivia, thanking god for Astrid's organizing. Peter ripped off the top of the wrapper of the new syringe. His fingers trembled in rolling earthquakes as he withdrew the clear liquid from the vial and up into the needle. He held it in his teeth while he unwrapped Olivia from her towels and exposed her chest.

Peter raised the siringe in his fist. "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart." He told her before he brought it down to stab her square in the chest, pushing down the plunger. The drug was instant. Olivia's body bucked on the counter, her eyes flying open. She gasped for air and her fingers clawed, searching for something to grasp.

Smiling and finally allowing himself to cry, Peter pulled her close again. She gripped his shirt and panted tirelessly, shivering all the while. "Thank god. Oh Liv... Thank god." He murmured, kissing her damp hair over and over.

Eyes closed and rocking her gently, Peter held her there until her body calmed its convulsions. Her rapid gasps turned into little puffs of air. Her fingers eased their clasp on his shirt and her hand laid flat on his chest. Peter opened his eyes to find her looking straight up at him, eyes wide and scared, her face washed in tears. He moved his hand to brush her hair back and caress her face gently.

"Peter..." she whimpered.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're gonna be fine Livia."

She swallowed and looked around. "What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse. Suddenly a violent shiver rocked her body and she drew closer to his warmth, curling herself in against his chest.

"First let's get you into some dry clothes." He smiled.

She looked down at her current state of undress and groaned. "Oh god." she sat up and Peter pulled a fresh towel out and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Don't worry Liv, I think white is more fitting than the black you used to wear." He teased as he disappeared into Walter's office. He returned with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Olivia's stomach turned and her heart raced when she recognized the red lettering on the front. He handed the clothes to her. Peter was semi aware of her eyes on his own shirt, it was soaked and clung to his skin.

"These are a pair of clothes I keep here for when Walter pulls all nighters." He rubbed the back of his neck. "They're a little big of course but at least its better than freezing cold underwear." He smiled gently.

The FBI agent felt her face grow hot and she knew she was blushing. She clutched the clothes in her hand. "Thank you..." She whispered.

Peter's hand snaked behind her head and he pulled her close so he could kiss her hair once more. "No. Thank god you're okay." he murmured. He released her from his embrace and turned to walk away, to clean up the lab.

"Peter wait... I think I'm going to need help..." She called after him with a sheepish look.

He turned around, concerned.

"I can't... It uh- it hurts..." she admitted helplessly. She bowed her head in embarrassment.

Peter smiled in a sweet way, rather than a mocking manner she would have expected from someone in his position.

He unwrapped her from her towel. She looked up at him, begging for him to be gentle with her aching body. He was nothing less of course, his fingers light as feathers as he moved to the side and helped undo her bra. She covered her chest as he slipped the straps down her arms and tossed it to the floor. Olivia clutched the towel to her chest, covering her breasts from his view, not that he had even thought about looking.

"Arms up." He told her.

Olivia looked over her shoulder and stared at him. Uncertainty in her eyes.

He saw this and smiled reassuringly. "Er... Right. Okay well let's start with one arm up..."

Olivia obliged and he slipped her delicate hand through one of the arm holes in his MIT shirt. He gently slid it over her head, smiling at her. That smile made her feel safe and warm, without a care it the world. She hated that he had that effect on her.

The FBI agent switched her hand that was clutching the towel to her chest. She lifted the other to slip through the shirt. When she winced in pain, Peter was there to help.

Finally he pulled it down to cover her and removed the towel under her shirt. "There." He smiled and his hands went to the sides of her neck. For a moment Olivia though he was about to kiss her and her body tensed. But Peter only moved his hands behind her and flicked her hair out from under the t-shirt.

"Right as rain again, Dunham?" He asked.

She nodded once and rubbed her arm awkwardly.

"Good." Peter turned away and began to clean up the towels from the floor. "You know we have to talk about what it is exactly you thought you were doing going in there without any supervision. I'm not saying it has to be now, but whenever you're ready, we DO need to talk about it. Okay?"

Olivia frowned and bowed her head. "Yea." she said weakly.

"You scared me Liv." he told her as he continued to clean up the lab. "I thought I lost you..."

Olivia shivered and slipped off of the counter. She wobbled, unsteady on her feet. She gripped the table for support but ultimately failed. She collapsed to the floor.

"Olivia!" he shouted, dropping the armful of towels and running to her.

"I'm okay..." She moaned as he knelt at her side.

"No you're not... Liv." Peter murmured and touched her face. "I'm going to take you home okay? You need to rest."

She allowed him to lift her into his arms again. Olivia buried her face in his chest and closed her eyes.

tbc

From: (Anonymous)

Oh, please do continue -- this is so promising; I've always had what-if hurt/comfort thoughts about Peter holding Olivia fresh out of the tank and fresh out of the trauma it usually meant...