TITLE: Second Fiddle
AUTHOR: Susan / apckrfan
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DISTRIBUTION: My site, AO3, FFnet, LJ.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters. They are owned by JJ Abrams, FOX, etc. No profit is made from this fic.
RATING: FRT
SPOILERS: Through episode 2x17, "Olivia. In the Lab. With the Revolver.".
SUMMARY: Sure he's third on Olivia's speed dial behind, but does that actually mean anything.
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles
DATE STARTED: April 2010
STATUS: Complete
WORD COUNT: 299
FEEDBACK: Please, I can't write better without it.
NOTES: Written for LJ comm fanfic_bakeoff Secret Ingredient 3: Yielding. I'm Team Pie.


Peter stood back as Agent Broyles and others arrived on the scene. So much in his life had changed since Olivia Dunham had come into it.

At first, he'd been hopeful, certain, something would happen between them. Her relationship with John Scott had prevented that. He should have known better than to think a woman as smart and attractive as she would be single.

He still wasn't sure she'd grieved for John. He'd gone from lover to betrayer to something else that Peter wasn't sure of. Running her off the road to maintain a cover seemed a little extreme. She never spoke of him beyond Walter's experiments. He'd assumed that the ghost of her deceased lover as well as the lingering doubt that he'd fooled her so entirely as to his character prevented her from thinking of anyone in that way.

That was until tonight, when he'd stepped back and let the good guys do their job. He was just along for the ride after all. No badge. No gun. Just the guy on Speed Dial 3.

Especially now that he had a moment to observe. To watch as Broyles touched her. It was a simple gesture, not one that would cause accusations or presumptions to be made. Her boss touching her arm after she'd, once again, come close to getting hurt. Or dead.

No, it wasn't the touch.

It was the look in his eye that accompanied the offering of comfort. He cared. For Olivia Dunham not Agent Dunham, and there was a difference.

And the way she responded.

The smile, the almost coy way she so obviously didn't want him to worry. And yet, worry he would. That's what you did when you cared for someone.

And that was something Peter wasn't sure he could compete with.

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