A/N: Hey fam! My first semester of grad school, as of Tuesday, is complete. I'll finally be able to write for fun again! I'm aiming at updating Metanoia next.
This here is something that managed to fall out of me after watching Lawless, with Tom Hardy and Jessica Chastain (hence the unoriginal title). It's a good deal different of anything I've written in the past. And it is a complete story. Hope you enjoy this incarnation of Olitz.
The first thing he notices about her as she stands at his bar, bright red nails tapping along the countertop, is that she's a tiny thing.
Even though she has heels on, she barely clears his shoulder. Everything about Olivia is so put together and pristine, from the way her lashes curl to the perfect pout of her plump lips. But that doesn't stop her from being a spunky little thing either.
When Fitz mentions making moonshine and warns her of his sometimes unsavory customers, she shrugs her shoulders. She tells him she's from Chicago, served food and drinks back there, too, and has never been afraid of little boys parading as men. Fitz is enamored from jump, taken aback by her classic beauty, but thrown off even more by her quiet ferocity. When she speaks, her voice demands his attention without so much as a raise in volume and he eagerly listens. He offers her the job as a helping hand on the spot and she gladly accepts by extending her perfectly manicured hand out to shake on it.
When their fingers touch, there's a spark he tries to ignore. He pulls his hand back and grunts his approval; he's never been a man of many words. He tells his younger brother Rick to get their new employee setup and then disappears out the front door.
He hears Rick back in the bar explaining things Fitz guesses she already knows.
Before Olivia, Fitz rarely spent much time around the bar, preferring to keep up with the moonshine section of the family business instead. Since hiring her, he can't seem to find a reason to be anywhere else. She's been in town nearly a month now and when she moves, he does, too.
He watches her, a lot, and wonders what makes her tick. She says and does things sometimes that he doesn't expect to come from her. Not a city girl.
Like a couple of weeks ago when Rick got so drunk off a bad batch of Shine that he tried to force a kiss on her. Fitz stepped up, anger in his eyes, to settle the situation, just to find that Olivia could handled it herself. A broken bottle over the head and a knee to the groin later, Fitz dragged Rick up the bar's back steps and into the apartment above the bar, to sleep it off. Both impressed and slightly scared, Fitz couldn't help the smile the spread across his face as he dumped Rick into his bed.
Four months into her gig at his bar, Fitz finds out that Olivia loves to dance. The old radio that sits on a table near a window plays what Fitz thinks is Blues. Outside of Bluegrass, he's not a huge music person and much prefers to hear it live.
He watches as she sways to the beat, hiking up her skirt mid-thigh and closing her eyes. Her long hair rolls over her shoulders and her mouth parts slightly.
"You just gonna watch me or you gonna come dance with me, Fitz?"
It's past closing and it's just them and Rick, who keeps his distance from Olivia since being on the receiving end of her beer bottle.
Fitz shrugs his shoulders and goes back to rearrange the anything he can get his hands on. Salt and pepper shakers, glasses, and plates. He turns his back, keeps his eyes glued on anything but her until he hears her heels sharp against the floor.
"Fitz…"
He turns at the sound of his name so sweet on her lips to see she's holding out a finger, beckoning him to her.
From his spot in the corner, Rick wolf whistles and takes a long drawn out sip from his glass. Fitz wants to tell him to shove it and to disappear, but he can't without fear of drawing a raised brow from Olivia. He doesn't want her to think he's trying to get fresh.
"Fitzy…" she tries again and this time when he doesn't respond, the sound of her heels grows closer.
He finds himself sandwiched between her body and the thankfully cool grill. She looks him in the eye before sliding her hands into his and encouraging him to move. When he does, he's stoic, unable to catch the syncopated beat and Olivia laughs. Her laughter is sweet, melodious, and he wants nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and take her to bed. But he doesn't. He respects her too much to pull what Rick did. Not to mention he also values what's between his legs. So he moves with her best he can, enjoying the feel of her body against his.
Later, as she slips on her coat and bids him farewell to drive back to her flat, he almost asks her to stay.
He sees red nearly a week after their impromptu dance session. She's serving up a customer, an out of towner, who keeps making lewd comments to her. Keeps offering her money to do things.
Fitz is ready to take the man's head off when Rick calls him outside to the front porch. Rick tells him that they're missing a case of Shine and before he has a chance to ask how, he hears glass shatter.
Both brothers rush back into the bar to find Olivia holding a bloody switchblade in her right hand, her shiny green blouse is ripped open, and her bra is exposed. There's a blossoming bruise just above her right cheek and she's shaking. Her normally perfectly coiffed hair is frizzy and out of place.
The man from earlier is holding his face with his left hand as blood pours between his fingers. "That damn colored bitch cut me!"
"Rick, take Livvie upstairs," Fitz says, the anger budding within him nearly blinding as he puts two and two together.
"Fitz, don't…" Olivia pleads as she shrugs out of an approaching Rick's hold and drops the blade. "Fitz."
"Go upstairs with Rick."
"No."
"Rick, take Olivia upstairs. Now."
"I'm not—" Her words are cut short as Rick tosses her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming the entire way.
Once Fitz hears the family thunk of the upstairs door, signaling Olivia's away from what he's about to do, he sees red.
It isn't until he feels Rick's hands on him, dragging him to his feet, that Fitz realizes his fists are covered in blood and bruises. The man gurgles on blood, choking beneath Fitz.
Once his breath evens out, he motions to the man he's nearly killed and then to his brother. "Do something with him."
"Like what?" Rick asks, grabbing the man's ankles.
"Drag his ass down to the creak and let him drown for all I care."
Rick nods and pulls the man towards the door.
/
It's his house, well really just two oversized rooms, a pithy closet and a bathroom, but that doesn't stop Fitz from knocking on the door. He knows Olivia's inside and he knows she's probably still on edge.
When the door swings open, he's surprised by a backhand to the face. It leaves him shocked and pressing bloody fingers to his cheek to feel the sting.
"Look at you, dumbass!" she screams, eyes full of fire. "What the hell were you thinking?Did you kill him? Do I need to tell you how that'll look while you're running your own moonshine business? Do I?" she continues, seething and pacing as Fitz shuts the door behind him. "And look at your hands. If the cops come around here about this, you'll never be able to deny it. What do you have to say for yourself?" Olivia stops pacing and approaches him. She reaches for his hands before looking up at his face. "Go sit down."
Fitz doesn't argue as he walks over to his bed and sits down on the edge. Olivia disappears out the door and Fitz hears water running. She comes back minutes later with a damp washcloth Fitz thinks might be already dirty.
She prods at the cheeks she's bruised before wiping at his bloody hands. "You didn't have to do that." Olivia hisses.
"He tried to hurt you. He did hurt you," Fitz defends. He stops her hands, catching both in one of his. "Did he do anything else…" Fitz asks, eyes falling to her ripped shirt.
Olivia shakes her head before pulling out of his hold. "Do you have something I can wear home?" she asks, tossing the washcloth onto his bed and gathering her shirt together in her hands.
"I don't want you driving all the way home tonight. Matter of fact, I don't want you having to drive back and forth alone by yourself any more. It's not safe for you. There's a perfectly good room right across from me. Take it."
"Fitz, I couldn't. You already gave me a job. You can't give…"
"I can do anything I want to do, Miss Pope. I own the place. Please, stay." His eyes meet hers and he can tell she's still rattled. The anger she had seconds ago is gone.
"I'll stay."
Having Olivia live with him is both a blessing and a curse. Especially on nights like tonight. Nights were she's forgotten to close her bedroom door. He knows he shouldn't be watching her like this, but he can't help it. She lays in bed, bare back to him. He can make out her silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight, and he wants nothing more than to go in there and hold her close.
Things have shifted between them since that night nearly a month ago. When he moves, she does, too. She sticks to his side a lot more and a little of that fire in her seems dampened, though her spirit is still bright. Fitz doesn't mind though. He likes having her close. He likes her, a lot, though his words and actions always fail him.
He knows it isn't traditional, his attraction to her, but it doesn't matter. Maybe one day before he's dead, or before she moves on, back to greener pastures and livelier cities, he'll find a way to confess his love to her.
But for now, he'll settle with this; watching her from afar. He shuffles on his feet in her doorway and takes one last glimpse at her sleeping form before grabbing the door handle and closing the door.
He retreats the six feet to his own bedroom door and settles in for the night, peeling off his jeans and flannel, kicking off his boats and letting everything pile up on the floor. He gets into bed, dressed only in his boxers, and brings the covers up to his chest. He sighs, eyes slipping closed as he thinks of Olivia, feet away. This has become his nightly routine. He watches her for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of her petite body breathing, before retiring to bed where she permeates his dreams. He imagines them sitting together in comfortable silence, watching the sky. He thinks of her reading one of her many fancy books out loud to him as he cleans his gun. He wonders what it'd be like to hold her body beneath his.
His bedroom door creaks open, halting his imagination. In front of him he sees Olivia. All of Olivia. Not one stitch of clothing covers her body. For a brief moment he wonders if he's dreaming. He has to be. But then again, his dreams could never compare to how perfect the real thing is.
Fitz's eyes roam her body, taking in her soft curves. Her breasts and perfect and pear shaped. Her stomach smooth and flat as her waist dips before flaring out into a pair of perfect hips. His breath catches in his throat.
"Uh…" he's at a loss for words and his mouth is suddenly dry.
"Were you just going to make me wait forever?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper. The floorboards creak beneath her toes as she walks further into the room, to his bed.
At a loss for a way to answer her question, he watches, as she pulls back his blanket and climbs into bed, onto him. She presses soft breasts against his bare pecs and brings her mouth to his. Her fingers find their way into his curls and she grinds against him. Fitz lets out a soft moan, his hands falling to her naked backside and squeeze. He feels her breath hitch, and she sighs into his mouth at the contact.
It takes him a moment but before long she's beneath him, his boxers have long been shed and their bodies are connected. They share tender kisses and soft pants as they work towards a budding release. He urges her thighs up higher and she encourages him to go deeper, heels locking together around his waist. It's a sensual dance of push and pull, oblivion and nirvana as their bodies come together over and over again.
Soon they both tumble over the ledge, breathless, dizzy, sweaty, and sticky as Olivia settles onto his chest. He runs his fingers down her bare spine and she fastens the fingers of her left hand in between those of his right.
"I love you, Fitz," she whispers into the night, left ear pressed to his bare chest.
"I love you, too," he replies, thankful that she's far more courageous and gutsy than he'll ever be.