"Fitz," she grumbled sleepily, her voice deeper than usual. He made some groan of acknowledgement but didn't open his eyes. Instead, his arm moved forward to wrap around her waist and slide her forward, the gesture making her smile as her eyes opened.
It felt new every time, to see him laying in her bed, his cheek resting against the ecru of her own sheets, to watch sunlight move over his peaceful features. The ink on the divorce papers was barely dry, but he seemed eager to steal more moments with her. No, she chided herself. He seemed eager to build something resembling a life with her. And that was everything.
"Fitz," she repeated, this time accentuating her point with a soft brush of her palm over his shoulder. He silently, blindly, leaned his head forward, kissing the side of her jaw. Her quiet laugh in response made him open his eyes finally. For a moment, they were caught, tangled up in their past crimes, each singular second imbued with meaning. But now, it was simpler, and that desperation was beginning to subside.
Letting out a little grunt, he rolled slightly to grab his watch from on top of her bedside table and looking down at it with a frown before he looked back at her.
"It's 6:15 am," he said, the corners of his mouth enticing her.
"Mhmm," she responded, wriggling out of his embrace while he was distracted with putting the watch back on the table. She moved toward her closet, making his frown turn into a full pout.
"Why are you putting on clothes at 6:15 am?" he asked, making no move to sit up, not bothering to hide how he watched her lithe movements as she slipped into underwear. He never tired of committing each little bit of her to memory, even now when he had the luxury of reminders.
"Because we're going to the gym," she answered without turning around to face him. His noise of frustration clearly illustrated that he had no interest in this.
"Why are we going to the gym at 6:15?" he wondered aloud, making her grin as she could hear the whine under his words.
"Because regular exercise is the key to a healthy heart, and a healthy heart is the key to a long life."
"Was that a disclaimer on one of your wine bottles?"
The side-eye she gave him over her shoulder made him feel appropriately chastised. Running a hand tiredly over his face, he slid his legs out of the bed and stood, leaning in to kiss the tender spot directly behind her earlobe. When she shivered slightly in response, he forgave the earliness of the hour.
/
If he had to exercise, so did his Secret Service agents. He couldn't stop the gleeful grin that formed as he watched Hal's clumsy efforts in working the handles of the elliptical. Though he would've preferred running outside, the freezing winter weather and the desire to avoid being photographed demanded he stay indoors. But there were perks, like watching Olivia gracefully exercise on the elliptical beside Hal. Her hair was neatly arranged in a ponytail, leaving her neck bare, tempting him as he ran faster on the treadmill.
He still wasn't quite accustomed to their time together. Part of him felt like any free minute together had to be used appropriately, that every bit of them had to be consumed wholly. It was an effort, a constant consciousness of reminding himself that it wasn't necessary, that days like this would be repeated. That spending time with her could become mundane, commonplace. A modern-day fairytale. Without the fiction.
"Alright, President Grant, you're done for the day," a voice said from beside him. The trainer looked up at him, the nervousness clear on his face as Fitz offered him a comforting smile.
"That was easier than I expected," he answered, hoping to make the man feel more at ease.
"I'll make sure to turn it up next time," the trainer spoke, the confidence returning to his voice as Fitz stepped off the machine to get a sip of water and stretch out his legs.
"Well, you sure look healthier," Olivia told him as he stretched his hamstrings, feeling the muscles tightening, then loosening.
"You didn't have any complaints about my health last night," he retorted before handing her her own bottle of water. There was a light sheen of sweat on her skin, demanding he kiss the spot where neck and shoulder met. He acquiesced.
"That's because I was on top." Her smile was quick and unabashedly smug, making him let out a soft chuckle.
"I think I deserve a reward for all this strenuous exercise."
"Like waffles?" She asked, taking a sip of her water.
"Like shower sex," he responded. Though she swatted a hand against his side, he could the familiar sparkle in her eye before she looked away.
As they exited the gym, she reached out and slid her fingers through his, her palm still a little warm from their exercising, but he didn't mind. He didn't tell her that he believed his healthy heart had nothing to do with working out and everything to do with the way her hand fit inside of his.
A/N: One of my favorite Gladiators jokingly suggested mini-Olitz-vignettes about mundane topics. And she mentioned elliptical machines and I laughed it off, and went off to the gym. But lo-and-behold, this popped into my head somewhere around mile 3 on the treadmill, so here you go. A little dose of happy since that's so rare for me to write.