Hey. I'm pretty much sworn off multichapter fics, because honestly I'm not much good at them, but this idea's been niggling at me for a while, so I thought I'd have a go.
It's set sometime in the future, where Peter's dating Rachel. I know... the thought sickens me too, but it worked better that way.
It's not too happy at the minute but I think it's going to be two or three chapters long in total, with a happy Bolivia ending, I promise.
The first time is a mistake.
It happens when they're in a bar in a quiet part of town, drowning their respective sorrows with shot after shot of tequila. The next day Olivia tells herself that the case was to blame, but she knows all too well there have been much worse. The simple truth of it was she'd had a catastrophic row with Rachel that morning, beginning over something so petty, and ending with Olivia throwing her sister from her apartment.
Tomorrow she would call. If she was feeling charitable, she might even apologise, but now, oh now she wanted to prove that Rachel wasn't the only Dunham girl that could bed Peter Bishop.
It takes her over an hour to make her final decision. After all although it seems that she is the master of office affairs, she's never been the other woman. She'd never before seriously considered stealing away her sister's boyfriend, and just thinking of it now sends waves of guilt through her. And so it takes one full hour before straight vodka overrides her conscience and she moves closer to Peter than she's sure is strictly necessary, and begins her ungainly attempts at drunken flirting. The next day, she'll claim to remember very little of what went on and true enough she does forget much of what went on, up until the moment that Peter leans forward and abruptly kisses her.
It's clumsy and rough and totally unlike any first kiss she'd previously shared with anyone. But with the sting of Rachel's earlier words still present it feels fiercely right and in the blink of an eye they're staggering into a taxi, back to her now gloriously free apartment.
Once through the door the bruising kisses resume, coupled now with two pairs of frantically roving hands. As they hit the bed, clothes are hastily discarded and Olivia's shirt loses a button or two in the process. It is only when they are both fully naked that they both pause, the enormity of the betrayal they're about to commit hitting them both hard.
In a drunken haze, Olivia decides quite firmly that she still doesn't care and pulls Peter to her. In the tangle of sheet, limbs and moans she's almost certain she hears the word love being uttered, but that night, in those circumstances, it's not something she wants to hear and so she pretends she doesn't. Peter doesn't repeat it again.
The morning after consists of a pair of banging headaches, about three minutes of hunting for missing clothes and a lot more avoiding the other's eye. They manage to share a cup of coffee without speaking so much as a word and just before half past eight, Peter walks to the door, muttering something about collecting Walter.
He hesitates for a moment by the door and she prays silently that he isn't about to make this any harder than it already is. With a shame filled voice, he all but pleads with her
"Please don't tell Rachel."
And with those four words, he is gone. Remorse strikes her at the mere mention of her sister's name and she wonders how she could possibly have allowed herself to do something like this. Like Peter she resolves to just forget the whole thing, and hopefully sometime within the next month she'll possibly be able to meet his eye again.
She seriously doubts it.
So the first time is a mistake. A strangely perfect mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.
What a pity the same couldn't be said for the second time.
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