Hello all! I've had this idea in my head for the past couple of days now and I just had to get it out. I hope you all enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal, its characters, plot lines, etc. They all belong to the amazing Shonda Rhimes and Co.
Olivia sat on her couch, drinking wine and eating popcorn, per usual. She was finally getting back into the swing of things, slowly, not completely, starting to feel comfortable in her own home again. She still had flashbacks and was still suffering from PTSD, but she was moving in the right direction. She would be fine again, eventually.
Two weeks ago she made the decision to sleep with some mysterious, yet extremely attractive, man from a bar. It was amazing. He made her feel her alive again and she loved the recklessness of it. However, she couldn't help but feeling like she was cheating on Fitz. Right now, she wanted nothing to do with him, but that didn't mean that she didn't think about him. She missed him. She missed the way he smelled, the way he smiled and looked at her, the way he tasted. She missed the way that she felt completely comfortable with him and how they could talk like they were best friends. That's what she missed most of all. Fitzgerald Grant was her best friend. Yet in her mind, her best friend, the man that she was completely and irrevocably in love with, betrayed her. Not only did he betray her, but he betrayed the entire United States of America. He went to war and risked millions of people's lives for one person. In her mind, that wasn't right, nor will it ever be right.
She twirled and played with the ring that she was wearing again on her index finger. Putting that ring on didn't make things okay with them again, but it was a big step that made hope for Vermont seem possible again.
A knock came upon the door, as she looked at the clock on her end table. 11:52. Who the hell would be visiting her this late at night? Suddenly, her PTSD kicked in. She quickly sat her glass of wine down and reached for her gun, instantly removing the safety. She slowly walked over to the door, looking through the peephole.
She sighed, setting the gun down on the table beside her door. She unlocked each lock that Huck placed on her door and opened it. On the other side stood Fitzgerald Grant and two Secret Service agents. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, but were merely seconds.
"What are you doing here?" she scoffed.
"The President of the United States and the Commander of Chief of the army is standing at your doorway and you have the audacity to ask what he's doing here?"
"You're not here as the president. You are here as Fitz. So I repeat, what do you want?"
"Maybe I am here as the president. That is what you want, isn't it? Me to be the president 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?"
With that sentence, he walked straight into her apartment and stood there with his hands in his pockets staring at her.
"I don't believe I invited you in, Mr. President."
"I don't believe the president gives a damn. Close the door."
She stared at him in shock, trying her best to keep her mouth from dropping. She gulped, sort of scared of what he was there for, and closed the door.
He quickly spotted the gun sitting on the table beside the door, making him physically sick at the sight. He hated that she was still suffering from PTSD and that she felt the need to come to the door with a gun before she saw that it was him. He looked around her apartment, seeing if anything had changed. Nothing too drastic, thankfully. He looked at her coffee table where a half empty glass of wine and bowl of popcorn sat. He smiled. At least something was the same as it used to be.
"Fitz," she said.
He kept looking around, taking everything in. He then turned around and looked at her, noticing how nervous she was. He also made sure to look at her hand, making sure the ring that she was wearing at Cyrus' wedding was still there.
It was.
"Are you going to say something or did you just come here to inspect my apartment?"
He took a deep breath, mentally figuring out what he was going to say. He didn't come here to fight. He came here to make her understand.
"It's been a little over a month since you returned, but it's also been a little over a month since my life fell apart. It fell apart when you blamed me for going to war for you. It fell apart when you threw the ring I got for you at me, shattering every ounce of my being. I've been trying to give you your space. I understand that you are recovering and trying to get things back to normal, but it's been killing me. I can't live without you, I can't breathe without you."
That sentence gave her a flashback of the rose garden and the emotion that was displayed that night. The love that they finally expressed to each other. It was one of her favorite memories.
"I'm sorry that I went to war for you, but you need to understand why I did what I did. You expected me to be the president. I get that. But all I could be was a man. A man who had the love of his life taken away from him. A man who stayed up all day and all night wondering what was happening to you and if I would ever see you again. The thought of someone touching you or hurting you made me sick. You cannot imagine the mental pictures I got, the nightmares I had. I had come to the realization that if I lost you, it would one, be my fault, and two…kill me. If you would've died because of me, there is no way in hell I could live with myself. I would rather die than spend a day without you. I'm sorry that your kidnapping made me be a man rather than the president. I tried to be strong, I was strong. But the man in me overpowered the president part of me, and all I wanted was to have you back. I wanted, no I needed you home safe and sound, even if that meant starting a war. I know there's nothing I can do to bring those soldiers back, or to probably get you back, but I just wanted you to understand what I was feeling and why I did what I did."
She stared at him, not knowing what to say. He stared back at her, not knowing what she was thinking. When she didn't say anything, he took that as a sign for him to leave.
"That's all I wanted so…I'll just leave."
He began walking towards the door, grabbing the door knob.
"I slept with someone a couple weeks ago," she confessed. He stopped, gripping the knob tighter and harder.
"I needed to get my groove back. I needed to feel alive again."
He slowly let go of the knob and turned around. He noticed that she had tears running down her face. He walked towards her, hesitantly. He put his hand on the side of her face and stroked her tears away.
"The entire time I felt like I was cheating on you," she whispered.
He cupped her face with both of his hands and put his forehead to hers.
"I don't blame you for that, okay? I understand. It's okay."
She looked up at him, tears running down her face.
"Sweet baby," he whispered, looking down at her hand.
He picked it up and gently ran his hand over the ring, his great-grandmother's ring. She slowly moved her lips and placed them on his. She was relieved when he kissed her back.
They began making out, turning into a passionate frenzy as they started stripping each other's clothes off.
"Bed," she got out in between the heavy breathing. He picked her up as she wrapped her arms around him and he guided them into the bedroom. He threw her down on the bed, not forcefully but not too gentle.
He slowly hovered over top of her, sliding her pants off as he did so. He made his way up to her head and started kissing her neck.
"I want you…now!" she exclaimed, as he smiled down at her.
"I've missed you so much," he said.
"I've missed you too, now make love to me," she replied.
About a half hour to forty five minutes later, they lay with their legs intertwined and her head on his shoulder.
"You should get back to the White House. The press will start a frenzy in the morning if they catch you here."
"When I am with you Olivia Pope, there is no place I'd rather be. Losing you made me realize that things can change in the blink of an eye. I don't ever want to be without you."
"Me neither, but how are we supposed to do this?"
"I don't know, but we will figure it out…together."
She looked up at him and smiled as she repeated his words.
"Together."
Olivia Pope thought that she got her groove back two weeks ago by sleeping with a random stranger. However, in all reality, Fitzgerald Grant was her groove and tonight was the night that she finally got him back.
Thoughts? I hope you all enjoyed it! :)