Everything is perfect. She likes it that way.

Each morning she is greeted with an arm slung across her shoulder and the sun edging its way between the curtains. Her alarm always goes off after she's risen, and she'll set it to snooze as she whips her hair into a bun, just before her hit the pavement, thumping again and again along her journey. She takes the same route each day, around the lake and across the few blocks between, within half an hour her heart beats rapidly and her cheeks flush despite the crisp mornings that await her.

When she returns she'll close the door quietly, knowing he's still bathing in those last few minute of glorious sleep and she'll wait for him, standing in front of the mirror and repeating the brushstrokes over and over in the mirror. Her thoughts simmer in her head as she dresses and prepares for the day, her eyes scanning the huge array of garments that line her wardrobe, armour for her daily battles. Familiar arms will encircle her in the following moments and a sloppy kiss will be laid on her cheek, she will soothingly pat his face and him in return before shoving him into the shower to wash off the odours of sleep and his old pjs he refuses to part with.

She'll sigh as she enters the kitchen, an automatic process to select the familiar white china cereal bowls and pouring the typical brown sludge like porridge to it's brim before stirring in the milk. She downs a glass of orange juice and finishes her breakfast just as he emerges in a suite, his fingers clutching a tie that he extends to her in desperation. She laughs and shakes her head, her slight curls bouncing as she rolls her eyes and takes the tie, wrapping it around his neck.

"You know, sometimes I think you do this just to get my attention." She perfects a Windsor knot and he leans in for another kiss, reaching her neck this time as she turns her head away.

"Liv, honey, come on!" He begs as he leans in, but she pulls away, just out of his reach and swiftly turns to grab her bag off the kitchen counter.

"Jake, I don't have time. I have to go to work!" She throws a banana into it's depths and chucks him his keys as she twists the door handle.

"At least tell me you can come tonight?"

She freezes as she tries to remember any excuse that might ensure her freedom from him and his friends for the evening. "I… I think I have a work thing on-"

"Please Liv, it would mean so much to me if you could make it. It's not a work thing, just a reunion for my old naval pals. Nothing too fancy, I promise. Some of them are bringing their wives and I just thought maybe you might support me…" He sees her face and then turns his back to her, giving up, "Actually, don't worry, you're clearly way too busy with work. I mean, I thought I was married to you but whatever, don't feel like you need to actually be my wife or anything."

She sighs in defeat and places her bag next to the door, walking behind the counter to face him. "Jake, I don't want to fight with you."

He shrugs and stares into his porridge, "We're not fighting, you are not supporting me and I'm eating breakfast. Have a good day at work."

She makes a sound of exasperation and throws her hands in the air, "FINE! I'll go to your stupid dinner tonight, see you then." Picking up her things she boldly opens the door and then hesitates before turning and yelling at him, "Just remember this next time I have my next state dinner and you oh-so-conveniently feel a stomach bug coming on! How's that for support!" She doesn't bother to conceal the slam as she exits.

XxX

He makes his way through the crowded bar to one of the more secluded booths at the back, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and the top two buttons of his blue polo shirt laying casually open, leaving several chest hairs peaking out. He's not sure who he's trying to impress, but something tells him it's important to look good tonight, plus he hasn't seen these guys in forever and he need to at least look like he's taking care of himself.

The truth is Fitzgerald Grant is worried about becoming nothing more than a poster boy for his father's own campaign, he pushes and pushes his son into his dreams, so much so that even now he feels as if he's portrait of his class encased and jailed in a frame at a museum of things long gone and full of dust. He is a product of perfection, of good breeding and patience and now it's time for him to take his place in history, as was always the plan.

His parents have his perfect match, Millicent Huntington, blood as blue as the sapphires that her father mines and eyes as hollow as the old trees that lace the acres of their country house. She's perfection, just as he is, but she's mastered the craft of doing and acting and performing as the crowd wills, whereas he feels as if he's a poor copy of his father. But he seems to fool her well enough, she giggles girlishly at his jokes and twirls her hair when he throws her daring glances and she extends her hand gladly to allow him to slip on his grandmother's ring, much to her delight (and slight disappointment at it being half the size of some of her other diamonds).

But tonight he forgets all that, he simply arrives at 8pm, as instructed by the Facebook invite and takes his seat in the small quiet booth near to back. He glances at his watch, waiting for the others to arrive when he sees a gorgeous brunette with chocolate eyes and luscious skin saunter towards him. His mouth hangs open slightly as she looks at him with uncertainty and points to the table, "This is the navy get together thing, right?" She notices his stunned look and further explains, "The waiter sort of pointed in this direction but I can't find.." Feeling increasingly embarrassed by his expression she smiles politely, "I'm sorry to disturb you, I must have the wrong table. Have a nice night." She turns but stops as he grasps her hand, their eyes connecting and a jolt of electricity running thought their joined forms.

He sheepishly lets her go and gestures to the seat opposite him, "My apologies Ms?"

"Olivia," She grins and sits, "Pope. Pleased to meet you..?"

"Fitzgerald Grant, but friends call me Fitz."

She nods and meets his gaze again, "So, I'm a friend then?" She dares, flirtatiously blinking and raising an eyebrow.

"Without a doubt Olivia, I think you and I are going to be very good friends." He leans forward just as he hears the long missed jovial tone of a fellow friends, causing them both to pull out of their spell just as Jake gathers Olivia's form in a smothering hug as he sits beside her,

"That's good to hear!" He says as he turns to Fitz, completely chuffed, "Fitz, meet my wife, Olivia Pope."

Fitz's smile crumbles and his heart sinks. As he looks at Olivia Pope he knows that this woman can only mean one thing: Trouble.

NEW STORY! HORRAY! Hopefully you're as excited about this as I am? Let me know if you like and if I should continue! Should have another chapter up for Choices sometime before Thursday... we shall see! Please review/follow/favourite and show me your love to motivate me! Hope you've all been having a good weekend and staying warm.

Love and hugs,

Sam