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seriousficTitle: In place of friends and relationships, you have sarcasm and a gun
Fandom: Fringe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 976
Characters/Pairings: Lincoln/Altlivia
Spoilers: 3x18 Bloodline
Summary: Lincoln Lee thinks men shouldn't be held responsible for things they say during hostage situations. Or kidnappings. Or pregnancies.
Lincoln doesn’t like paperwork. It's one of the sucky aspects of being the boss, because when he was a field agent he could just bring donuts and Olivia and Charlie would do that crap for him, but as the boss, he's kinda obligated to put in his two cents on what was up with that evil seal thing. Like, seal as in a gate, that would be understandable, but seal as in balances a ball on its nose? That's just freaky.
But tonight he's loving the paperwork. He's powering through it. He was blowing through paperwork like the Titanic through icebergs. And then he's done and there's no paperwork and he's double-checking that they have enough toilet paper rolls on queue when he realizes why he and paperwork are eloping—it's because he dropped in on Olivia four hours ago, with Charlie, pulled the old "boss stuff to do" two minutes in, and has been here ever since. Same principle as when his dad got sick in high school and he started picking up extra credit assignments. He's avoiding the soap opera stuff.
Lincoln's not going to let this be a thing. He's not going to let Charlie get wind of it and have a convo about it and have things be awkward with Liv and have everything end up in a group hug. He's going to man up and go visit Olivia in the hospital. Just as soon as he's done requisitioning some more toilet paper.
***
"Hey, it's Uncle Lincoln. Hi, Uncle Linc." Olivia waves the baby's hand at him, then sinks it back down into her lap again and does this little horse whisperer thing with her hand and its head to put it to sleep. And although Lincoln respects women and especially respects Olivia in the 'she could drop something heavy on me, like an anvil' way… damn, those maternity boobs are working for her.
"I'm his uncle now?"
"You don't get a say in it," Olivia tells him. "You wanna hold him? It's pretty cool."
"Yeah, sure."
Lincoln takes a seat by her bed—should've straddled it, been really macho—and accepts the baby from her. It—he—barely weights anything. It's about the weight of a baby-sized Marshmallow Peeps.
"Wow. Miracle of life," Lincoln says instead of sharing that thought. "So, have you named him yet?"
"Nah. For now I'm just calling him Mr. President. Hoping to get on the ground floor with this stuff, ya know."
"Aw. Cool." Man up. Be the hero of your own story. You handled the giant seal, you can handle this. "So, about earlier…"
"When earlier? Evil twin, undercover assignment, Secretary of Defense's grandson, kidnapping…?"
"Remember the time you gave birth in a Chinese restaurant?"
"I am officially leaving that out of my son's childhood. As far as he's concerned, he hitched a ride with the stork."
"Duly noted." Lincoln bounces the President on his knee. Olivia looks charmed. Was it possible to pick up chicks with their own baby? He stops. "So, we're cool?"
"Why wouldn't we be cool?"
"I'm taking that as a yes." He passes her the baby. "So, enjoy your maternity leave, and the miracle of life and whatnot."
"Oh, is this about you being in love with me?"
He'd stood, he'd walked, and he was so close to the door he could taste it. "I meant that platonically, in a surrogate family, workplace-appropriate, Batman/Robin sort of way… I'm an enlightened male, I wear nice clothes, I go to spas, I can be emotionally open."
"You think I'm gorgeous, you want to kiss me…" Olivia says, sing-song.
He orbits back toward her. "Don't make this gay."
"You want to huuuug me... You want to loooove me..." Now she's bopping the baby in time to the… flirting? The baby doesn't look thrilled about it. "You want to smoooooch me..."
"I'm the boss, you're the employee, how is it possible for you to sexually harass me?"
The baby settles back into Olivia's arms. "Relax. I'm not going to hold your amour for me against you. Really, why wouldn't you fall in love with me?"
"There are rumors that you can be a little smug."
Olivia's grin didn't disappear. "Those bitches don't know what they're talking about. Anyway, you should get some worms, like Charlie. Apparently, they're a chick magnet."
"I know, that is freaky, right?" Lincoln says in a rush, sitting back down. "He found the one girl who thinks having crabs is a turn-on and she's a redhead."
Olivia's eyes flutter upward to her own bangs, then drop back down to him. "Jealous?"
"You know what, I bet it's the scar. Scars are so low-maintenance. Artful stubble, much harder. Do you know the odd hours I shave to get this quarter-beard? Five o'clock stubble is a sick joke of a phrase."
She laughs and for a moment, he's gone.
"Alright, gossip later," Olivia says. "My mom-sense is telling me he needs to breastfeed, and I'm having a hard enough time knowing my breasts can do that. I don't want to put you through that."
He stands and doesn't want to go. He's also surprised at how emo his inner monologue got all of a sudden. "You're so sensitive. Must be those maternal instincts kicking in."
"Shut up or I'll sit on you with my child-bearing hips."
The door beckons. He's chalking this whole evening up to the euphoria of getting his paperwork backlog done when she calls after him...
"I just got out of one and a half long-term relationships. But you can totally be my rebound."
At least he's finally figured out why he told her he loved her. Both because it's… accurate… and because childbirth's the one time she wouldn't have a quip ready.
Although he does like the quips, so…
Maybe he should triple-check the toilet paper allotment.
Fandom: Fringe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 976
Characters/Pairings: Lincoln/Altlivia
Spoilers: 3x18 Bloodline
Summary: Lincoln Lee thinks men shouldn't be held responsible for things they say during hostage situations. Or kidnappings. Or pregnancies.
Lincoln doesn’t like paperwork. It's one of the sucky aspects of being the boss, because when he was a field agent he could just bring donuts and Olivia and Charlie would do that crap for him, but as the boss, he's kinda obligated to put in his two cents on what was up with that evil seal thing. Like, seal as in a gate, that would be understandable, but seal as in balances a ball on its nose? That's just freaky.
But tonight he's loving the paperwork. He's powering through it. He was blowing through paperwork like the Titanic through icebergs. And then he's done and there's no paperwork and he's double-checking that they have enough toilet paper rolls on queue when he realizes why he and paperwork are eloping—it's because he dropped in on Olivia four hours ago, with Charlie, pulled the old "boss stuff to do" two minutes in, and has been here ever since. Same principle as when his dad got sick in high school and he started picking up extra credit assignments. He's avoiding the soap opera stuff.
Lincoln's not going to let this be a thing. He's not going to let Charlie get wind of it and have a convo about it and have things be awkward with Liv and have everything end up in a group hug. He's going to man up and go visit Olivia in the hospital. Just as soon as he's done requisitioning some more toilet paper.
***
"Hey, it's Uncle Lincoln. Hi, Uncle Linc." Olivia waves the baby's hand at him, then sinks it back down into her lap again and does this little horse whisperer thing with her hand and its head to put it to sleep. And although Lincoln respects women and especially respects Olivia in the 'she could drop something heavy on me, like an anvil' way… damn, those maternity boobs are working for her.
"I'm his uncle now?"
"You don't get a say in it," Olivia tells him. "You wanna hold him? It's pretty cool."
"Yeah, sure."
Lincoln takes a seat by her bed—should've straddled it, been really macho—and accepts the baby from her. It—he—barely weights anything. It's about the weight of a baby-sized Marshmallow Peeps.
"Wow. Miracle of life," Lincoln says instead of sharing that thought. "So, have you named him yet?"
"Nah. For now I'm just calling him Mr. President. Hoping to get on the ground floor with this stuff, ya know."
"Aw. Cool." Man up. Be the hero of your own story. You handled the giant seal, you can handle this. "So, about earlier…"
"When earlier? Evil twin, undercover assignment, Secretary of Defense's grandson, kidnapping…?"
"Remember the time you gave birth in a Chinese restaurant?"
"I am officially leaving that out of my son's childhood. As far as he's concerned, he hitched a ride with the stork."
"Duly noted." Lincoln bounces the President on his knee. Olivia looks charmed. Was it possible to pick up chicks with their own baby? He stops. "So, we're cool?"
"Why wouldn't we be cool?"
"I'm taking that as a yes." He passes her the baby. "So, enjoy your maternity leave, and the miracle of life and whatnot."
"Oh, is this about you being in love with me?"
He'd stood, he'd walked, and he was so close to the door he could taste it. "I meant that platonically, in a surrogate family, workplace-appropriate, Batman/Robin sort of way… I'm an enlightened male, I wear nice clothes, I go to spas, I can be emotionally open."
"You think I'm gorgeous, you want to kiss me…" Olivia says, sing-song.
He orbits back toward her. "Don't make this gay."
"You want to huuuug me... You want to loooove me..." Now she's bopping the baby in time to the… flirting? The baby doesn't look thrilled about it. "You want to smoooooch me..."
"I'm the boss, you're the employee, how is it possible for you to sexually harass me?"
The baby settles back into Olivia's arms. "Relax. I'm not going to hold your amour for me against you. Really, why wouldn't you fall in love with me?"
"There are rumors that you can be a little smug."
Olivia's grin didn't disappear. "Those bitches don't know what they're talking about. Anyway, you should get some worms, like Charlie. Apparently, they're a chick magnet."
"I know, that is freaky, right?" Lincoln says in a rush, sitting back down. "He found the one girl who thinks having crabs is a turn-on and she's a redhead."
Olivia's eyes flutter upward to her own bangs, then drop back down to him. "Jealous?"
"You know what, I bet it's the scar. Scars are so low-maintenance. Artful stubble, much harder. Do you know the odd hours I shave to get this quarter-beard? Five o'clock stubble is a sick joke of a phrase."
She laughs and for a moment, he's gone.
"Alright, gossip later," Olivia says. "My mom-sense is telling me he needs to breastfeed, and I'm having a hard enough time knowing my breasts can do that. I don't want to put you through that."
He stands and doesn't want to go. He's also surprised at how emo his inner monologue got all of a sudden. "You're so sensitive. Must be those maternal instincts kicking in."
"Shut up or I'll sit on you with my child-bearing hips."
The door beckons. He's chalking this whole evening up to the euphoria of getting his paperwork backlog done when she calls after him...
"I just got out of one and a half long-term relationships. But you can totally be my rebound."
At least he's finally figured out why he told her he loved her. Both because it's… accurate… and because childbirth's the one time she wouldn't have a quip ready.
Although he does like the quips, so…
Maybe he should triple-check the toilet paper allotment.
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Date: 2011-03-27 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 04:56 am (UTC)