WANNA GET OUT OF HERE? - OLITZ FAKE RELATIONSHIP AU (1/1) | A/N: Before any more of ya'll message me, I AM STILL WORKING ON ONCE UPON A TIME IN VERMONT It's a slow process but I have not given up on that story, I am still working on it, I will update ASAP. But I received a quick Olitz "Fake Relationship AU" prompt on Tumblr – and this was the result - 883 words of fluffy Olitz goodness.
His mouth went dry when he saw her and he momentarily forgot he was supposed to be acting.
He didn't need to pretend.
She was gorgeous.
When she smiled up at him and slipped her arm through his, he temporarily forgot his own name; the sight of her curves in that skintight white dress too tantalizing too ignore. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the words – stuttered and awkward – that stumbled out of his mouth, "Liv, y-you're-"
"I know," she giggled, looking up at him with huge brown eyes twinkling with mirth, her smug thousand watt smile flawless enough to make him want to get down on his knees and beg for mercy.
The truth was he'd been in love with her probably since the moment he laid eyes on her that first semester at Harvard Law and though they ran in the same social circles and flirted endlessly with one another through the years, nothing more had ever happened, something or someone always got in the way.
And now she was dragging him to some cocktail party where her ex would be with the new wife he had cheated on her with and she'd begged him to pretend to be her super hot, tall white boyfriend – "because that will really piss Edison off."
Ever resourceful and eager to spend as much time with her as he could (until he got the nerve to just tell her how you feel already), even under the pretense of a false relationship, Fitzgerald Grant jumped at the chance to pretend to be Olivia Pope's boyfriend.
Because he was determined to make that fantasy a reality.
And he was going to commit to the role.
She introduced him to everyone as "My boyfriend, Fitz," even to their mutual friends who knew better, and she tucked herself close to his side and led him by the hand around the bar. The scent and feel of her beside him nearly drove him mad with longing and made him ache to the very marrow of his bones for her.
His arm was slung around her waist rather possessively, palm slid low and molded to the curve of her hip, and he was so grateful for the pretense that allowed him to finally touch her this way.
"He's here," she whispered at some point, taking a long gulp of the red wine in her glass that Fitz knew was better enjoyed slowly and with a bar of fine Swiss chocolate.
Any wariness he might have felt was immediately quashed when he saw the man in question – he was tall, and somewhat handsome, but there was something so plainly dull about the man and something so cliché about the big boobed blond bombshell on his arm – that all of Fitz's anxieties instantly vanished.
The man – Edison was his name, and if he himself wasn't a Fitzgerald, he'd make fun of the pretension of the man's parents when naming him – made the rounds with the new wife on his arm, slowly inching their way toward the corner where he and Liv stood and Fitz felt her vibrating nervously beside him.
Why she gave a shit what this bland suit thought of her at all, Fitz could hardly understand – the man clearly didn't deserve her, didn't get her, didn't appreciate her and her beauty and intelligence and –
Something had to be done.
"Relax," he whispered to her, leaning down into her space until she tilted her head to look up at him.
Their gazes locked and time stood still. Those huge brown eyes fixed on his, swimming with so many emotions he didn't know which to catch and focus on. He held his breath, afraid to blink and break the connection, unable to form any coherent thought beyond the sudden need to touch – and taste her.
She must have seen the thought or question in his eyes because she nodded, rather imperceptibly, and then suddenly the distance was closed between them, lips meeting in a small, chaste kiss.
Her full lips were plump with gloss and her breath sweet with wine and Fitz groaned, unable to help himself, the subsequent sound she made in her throat utterly destroying him.
The hand on her hip tightened and she turned fully into his embrace, her body flush against his as his other hand danced idly up her arm to trace her jaw. He tilted his head, cupped her cheek and deepened the kiss, devouring her.
She whimpered, alighting to the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back, lips parting to eagerly accept his tongue, laving and slurping it expertly with her own as they began to make out in the middle of the bar like a couple of teenagers.
He had no idea how long they kissed – could have been minutes or days – when she finally leaned back far enough to rest her forehead on his shoulder, panting breathlessly as her hands tightened around his biceps for balance.
"Wow," she whispered, tilting her face up to look at him. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, eyes blown wide with lust.
"Wanna get out of here?" he heard himself ask, the bass in his voice deeper than usual.
She grinned wolfishly as she nodded. "Yeah."