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"I always knew you enjoyed the classics… But I thought that was just Tony Bennett, and Dino.. I had no idea you were a Beethoven fan." Olivia Pope sidled up to her very old friend, her dazzling white ball gown simply iridescent against her mocha skin. She faced onward towards the pianist, delicately balancing a glass of champagne just above her waist line.

Without a sideways glance, Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi knew to which body the hushed voice belonged, could hear rather than see the expression on her face, sensed the vibrations from her skin as she was hyper-aware of her surroundings, and onlookers. "I appreciate a wide variety of classics, Liv." He raised an eyebrow at her as she turned to face him. "Whatever this is, your presence usually bodes poorly. What do you want?"

Olivia smiled gracefully at his growl, the man had as much tact as a bull in a china shop. "I want to help you, David."

David Rossi let out a low, harsh laugh, and narrowed his eyes at the slip of a woman standing next to him. "Even if I needed help I wouldn't take it from you, thanks. I have a vested interest in living another day, thank you." He knew the remark would sting, but his two Scotch's demanded he shouldn't care. "Is that all you're here for? I thought I saw a President or two lurking about…"

Olivia jutted her chin slightly, and squared her shoulders, a subconscious effort to still her pride. David registered the barely perceptible movements and felt a spark somewhere in his gut. While he had always enjoyed poking this proverbial bear, he knew that was a low blow.

"You do need my help this time, David. You know how to reach me." She finished her Champagne, set the glass on a waiter's passing tray and walked briskly, albeit gracefully, away from him. He had only a vague awareness of the music as the gentle sway of her ass under the white silk flows momentarily took him by surprise. Mostly, he was only aware now that she had ruined his perfectly good buzz with a reminder that he was slowly sinking under the shit-storm of an internal investigation at the FBI. In fact, he had only been vaguely aware of the female species for a long time now, it occasionally occurred to him. He had a fleeting thought about aging libido's, but the twitch in his pants as he watched her backside disappear the ballroom exits quelled the thought.

Ten years ago, he would have laughed when Strauss had told him he was suspended, and happily accepted his retirement papers on the spot. But now… Now things were different. His team was his family, and he enjoyed few things in life as much as working with them in the field. A sad testament to the state of your life, David Rossi, he internally chastised himself. When had work become his whole life? Ask any three of his ex-wives, they would have said it always had been that way, but it seemed now more than ever he did nothing else but eat, sleep and drink the job. Now… now more was on the line even that that. A slight shudder ran through his body.

"Just what I was looking for." He said dryly to a waiter who had brought him another Scotch.

As he listened to the end of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, and watched with boredom at the smiling, dancing couples, he suddenly felt overwhelmingly alone, and depressed. He was not happy about where he was, right now, and it had nothing to do with the black-tie event.

Not being one to wallow, he slammed down the rest of his sipping scotch in a rebellious way and darted off in the direction Olivia Pope had disappeared to. Christ, now I'll have to beg. He smiled bitterly, knowing Olivia would gloat, and only narrowly avoided knocking into a man and his martini. "Sorry – excuse me – coming through…" If anyone would enjoy watching the great David Rossi ask for help, it would be that meddlesome minx he enjoyed loathing.

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"Alright, alright!" He came to an abrupt halt on the mason stone staircase leading to the valet. Olivia turned from the opened door of her limousine and leveled a serious stare in his direction. "If I work for you, you do as I say."

He cringed, but agreed. "As you say."

"One hundred percent of the time."

"You're the expert." He said dryly, catching his breath.

"Your publicist will divulge total and all information requested."

He pursed his lips and inhaled deeply. "Olivia."

"Total. And All. Information requested."

By now he had a hand on his hip and his feet were shifting from side to side, and Olivia was laboring not to burst into laughter as she held steady to her best business glare.

"Fine."

"I'll have all of your electronics collected tonight."

"Confiscated, more like." He blurted, irritated.

"You'll go directly to Little Creek and wait for my call."

"Perfect." He said under a hand now anxiously scrubbing down his goatee.

"You'll wait for my call."

"Copy that." His tone was increasingly sarcastic.

"You will not call any one – not your team, not Strauss, not Hotch, not anyone until you've heard from me."

"Liv!" He was irate now, and took the last few steps down to stand toe to toe with her. "I have to tell Hotch –"

"No one. Until I call." She held out her hand, palm up, waiting for him to relinquish is cell phone.

Fuming, exasperated, he dramatically dug into his tuxedo jacket and slapped it down into her hand, remembering all the reasons she brought out his absolute worst.

"Go to the cabin, have another drink, and rest. We'll speak tomorrow before noon." She delicately deposited his smart phone into her silk hand bag and turned to her waiting driver, smiled a thank you and was off.

"Goddamn… crazy… bossy… MEDDLING.. WOMAN!" he said to the back of the limousine as he watched it pull off.

In the back seat, Olivia smiled to herself, allowing a moment of victory to be hers. If she could save David Rossi's career, she would consider herself God come woman. No doubt this would be her greatest professional challenge yet, and not only because she knew just how deep and twisted this thing was. But also because if she knew David Rossi, and she was sure she did, if she didn't intervene he would be bull-headed enough to try to represent himself during his day in court, as it were, with nothing but his temper and a 1911.

"Gladiators. Get some coffee. It's going to be an all-nighter." She sent the text to her team and watched the night lights fly by from her seat, unaware of the smile still on her face.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading!

I am fascinated with both of these fictional characters and I think their dynamics in a storyline together would be very humorous and yet serious, certainly dramatic, and incredibly intriguing.

Please let me know if you like it!