Title: The Long Morning
Author: crammit
Fandom: Guiding Light
Rating: M
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Summary: A staff meeting brings about unintended consequences when simmering passions are brought to a boil.
A/N: Guiding Light and its characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them. But I promise to put them right back where I found them.


"Natalia! I can't find my other sneaker." I hear Emma's high-pitched voice call out to me from the top of the stairs. The edge of panic in her voice making the drumming of her feet somehow sound louder as she runs from room to room.

"Which sneaker? And you know you shouldn't yell down the stairs, sweetie." The well-worn admonishment follows my inquiry and I crinkle my nose as I realize my voice isn't exactly quiet. I make my way through the doorway in the kitchen in time to hear Emma's voice ring out again.

"I'm not yelling!"

"You are yelling, Emma. Natalia said no yelling." Your sleepy voice raises in volume as you shuffle around the bottom of the stairs. Stopping in my tracks, I watch you as you walk with your eyes closed in the general direction of the kitchen.

"You're yelling!" Footsteps tromp through the hallway and a quick thud follows that last outburst. All I can do is smile as this morning ritual plays out. Yet again.

"I'm not…" Resting your hands against the back of the couch, I can see you grit your teeth and you continue in a much quieter tone. "I'm not yelling."

"Now you're not." Her petulant tone serves its purpose and the corner of your mouth lifts in a smile.

Self-consciously adjusting the hem of my pale blue button-down, I continue walking towards you, skirting the couch to stand at the bottom step.

"Emma, honey, did you find it?" At the sound of my voice, your sleepy eyes open and you fix me with a lazy smile. I almost expect a conversation bubble to float above my head, "Gulp" featured prominently in its open space. I'm sure you're just tired. You're just tired and that's why it took a few seconds for the corners of your mouth to curve, slowly warming the green of your eyes.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

I smile at you and work really hard to keep that nice smile plastered to my face as I see your eyes dip briefly to take in my outfit for the day. Skirt. Why did I wear the skirt? Pants are perfectly acceptable for a budget meeting. Why did I wear this?

Because my eyes are still on you, I notice the blush that tickles your cheeks before you bring your hands to scrub at your face. Oh yeah. That's why I wore the skirt.

I opted to pass on the pantyhose and I am acutely aware of my thighs resting against each other as I prop one heeled foot on the bottom step. I turn my attention towards the top of the stairs but not before I catch you checking out my legs. Bad, Natalia. Very bad.

"Emma, you have the sneaker?" I keep my voice level even as I sense your body moving from the couch to stand closer to the stairs.

"No. Yes! Yeah, I have it." Looking up at the ceiling,I hear a bang and the sound of something rolling across the floor and I sincerely wonder where that sneaker could have been.

"Well, Jellybean, get a move on it so you're not late. The bus is almost here." You bring your arms to rest on the banister and pillow your head on the crook of your arm. Your skin must still be warm from sleep because I swear I can feel you despite being separated by a couple of feet.

I shoot a quick glance in your direction and experience a quick flash in my chest as I notice your eyes watching me, their expression unreadable.

Nervously, I tuck a few errant strands of hair behind my ear and swallow as your eyes track my every movement. Some unspoken tension swirls at our feet, rising like heat to dance around our bodies.

I take a breath to say something, though I'm not sure what exactly when Emma comes tearing down the stairs, red sneakers firmly on her little feet.

Flying through the tension between us like a hummingbird, she skids to a stop in front of us, her backpack canting her shoulder to one side.

"Do you have everything now, honey?" You lean away from the banister and kneel in front of Emma, your hands automatically tugging her backpack into place.

Emma kicks her one foot out and shakes it from side to side. "Yup, I've got everything now." Your hands brush against her hair, some maternal instinct driving you to fix her freshly plaited braid. She opens her arms for a hug and a rush of warmth eases its way into my blood as she returns your hug with a loud kiss on the cheek.

Is there anything more beautiful than a mother with her child?

The telltale rumbling of an approaching bus propels Emma out of your arms and into mine. I have just enough time to hug her to me and wish her a great day at school before she's running out the door.

You walk past me to stand at the open door, folding one arm around your waist to keep your robe closed tight against the morning chill.

"Bye! I love you! I'm yelling!" Emma's voice carries down the driveway, her laughter following her through the open doors of the school bus.

I can't help the giggle that bubbles out of my mouth and don't even bother to hide my amusement as you turn around and fix me with that patented Olivia Spencer stare.

It doesn't work as your messy hair and still sleepy eyes ruin the effect. I pick up the faint pillow lines marring the soft skin of your cheek and tamp down the urge to brush them away with my fingers.

I fight the need to take a deep breath and sigh. When I woke up this morning, I promised myself that today would be the day that I talked to you. Today would be the day when I finally didn't play things safe anymore and made you talk to me about this thing between us.

Not that I know what this thing even is. All I know is that whatever it is, it's driving me crazy. In every way imaginable. And while you are at the center of this confusion, you are also my best friend and I need to talk to my best friend. Even if said best friend is foremost in my dreams, day and night.

With Emma scheduled to stay after-school and help with the decorations for the winter talent show and this being your day off, I thought today was it. D-day. Declaration Day.

But no. Instead I'm here in my skirt suit getting ready to sit through a dull budget meeting. I don't know whether to be relieved or angry and since the thought of actually talking to you makes me feel like I'm about to pass out, I choose to accept the relief.

Either that or I'm going to have to accept the fact that you are standing in front of me with your arms crossed over your chest, pushing the swell of your…must go.

Abruptly, I turn from you and grab my suit jacket and overcoat from living room chair. As I pull the suit jacket on, I feel you lift the overcoat behind me, holding it open for me. "Thanks." I smile at you over my shoulder and reach my arms back to slide through the sleeves.

You ease around me and bring your hands to buttons of my coat, buttoning them for me.

You smell like sleep and secrets and I only let you get three buttons down. "Thanks, Olivia but I can get the rest. I've got to get to that budget meeting before Francis allocates all the funds towards for her design department."

I hear you laugh as I bend down to pick up my bag. "Well, it takes money to get those little chocolate wrappers just right."

Swatting at your arm, I grin at you and head towards the door. "I just made some fresh coffee and there's french toast staying warm in the oven. This shouldn't take too long so I can be home by lunch time to make you something to eat."

"Don't worry about me, Natalia. I'm sure I can rustle up some food."

"The fact that you just used the word rustle in a sentence assures that I'll be here by lunch time." You poke me in the shoulder and try to act offended but the laughter in your eyes gives you away.

I reach for the doorknob and pull the door open, bracing myself for the chill waiting to sneak up on me. Shifting my bag to my other hand, I pull you in for a quick embrace, allowing myself these few pitiful seconds of contact.

"You sure you don't want me to come in and handle this?" You tighten your arms once and then release me, leaning to one side against the door.

"Nope. It's just a follow-up meeting really so I'll be fine. It's your day off. Enjoy it. You can go have all the budget meetings you want tomorrow." Navigating the porch stairs, I open my bag and reach inside.

"Ah yeah, no thank you."

"Exactly." Digging the car keys out of my bag, I finally look up to say goodbye to you. The white puffs of smoke floating around my head are suddenly cut off as I take in the sight of you leaning against the door.

Your robe has opened at the top slightly and despite the chill, you're making no move to close it. The only testament to the cold are your nipples, visible beneath the fabric of your robe.

I have to go. I have to go right now.

"I'll see you later, Olivia!" Walk away, Natalia. Walk away.

"Bye, Natalia." Your soft voice trails behind me as I make my way to the car.

It's going to be a long morning.


"But who doesn't like chocolate?" Francis' incredulous voice peals into the conference room and shocks the pencil from my fingers. For the fourth time.

The clatter goes unnoticed as the Housekeeping Manager's voice leaps back into the fray. "Have you ever tried to get chocolate stains out of 200 pillowcases? Now, unless you want to allocate some of your precious wrapper funds towards new bedding every week…"

"Jack, there is no need for sarcasm. Listen, if everyone in your department would just be a little more diligent in checking for chocolates that may have fallen, we could avoid that problem. It's not my job to teach your people how to properly change the sheets."

"Wait just a minute, Francis. You listen…"

Keeping half an ear to this current verse of round robin, I drag my pencil lightly over my notepad. Just a few more strokes and voila! A perfect little dragon, eating the bottom half of the fourth row of numbers.

Smiling just a little, I add some eyelashes and make the dragon's mouth just a little bit fuller…a little more…like you! Blushing, I cast a quick glance around to see if anyone at the conference table has noticed my detour into fantasy land. Lucky for me, chocolate squares are still getting their due so my drawing is safe from prying eyes.

Very slowly, I pull the notepad closer to me and bring my pencil to hover over the figure, wondering if there were any other details I could add. Not that I could ever actually keep this drawing. I'm pretty sure not even my tuna casserole could soothe your temper at having been compared to a dragon. Even if she is a very lovely dragon.

I shift my legs under the table and use the momentum to let my hair fall over one shoulder. With the semi-privacy of my hair blocking prying eyes, I turn my attention back to my notepad and feel myself flush as I imagine what other parts I can add to this drawing.

Can female dragons even have breasts? The silliness of this thought makes me laugh out loud and as if on cue, eight pairs of eyes instantly track to my face.

I watch as Francis' eyes narrow, her hands fisting on her hips as she turns to face me. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Probably not. But I was." Your lazy drawl pushes into our meeting from your casual perch against the side door and like teetering bowling pins, we all work our bodies around in our chairs to look at you. I'm the last one to turn around and I use those few precious seconds to steady myself. Once I'm reasonably sure that I'm not going to just slide down in my chair to kneel in supplication at your feet, I cross my legs and meet your gaze head on.

In one glance, I take in your black pumps, black pinstriped…oh my…skirt, peach colored camisole, softly curled hair and glossy lips. Your suit jacket is draped over one arm as a testament to the notorious heat generated in this conference room during the colder months.

With winter being so predictably frigid here in Springfield, none of us thought to have it fixed and chose instead to treat it as our sanctuary against the morning temperatures accompanying snow and sleet. As I watch you slowly push away from the door and make your way to the head of the table, I say a little prayer thanking God for making winters so cold and this room so warm.

I hear voices to my left addressing you and, as your mouth is moving, I'm pretty sure you are responding to whatever it is they are saying. I can't bring myself to focus on any of the words flying around my head and have to cough lightly to cover an involuntary moan as your eyes seek mine again. Right before you sit, you wink at me, so quick I might have missed it had I not been staring at you. A lifetime of a second passes before you release my gaze and again focus on everyone else at the table.

"So, Jack. Fill me in." Your businesslike voice triggers the same in people who were barely a few minutes ago almost resorting to playground name-calling.

I should feel guilty about that, I realize. As your assistant, it is my job to keep order and run meetings in your absence exactly as they would run if you were here. Organizing my papers, I scan them briefly and feel a little bit better that there are some actual notes and figures that were written down.

Sure, a little dragon is eating some of them but I can't really be blamed for that particular doodling excursion. Honestly, there are only so many arguments about the merits of gold foil covered chocolates vs. green-foil covered mint chocolates that one person can process at a time.

Besides, once Francis went on her tangent about what color green-foil better represented the hotel's true essence, I was a goner. There is only one color green that would be perfect and it's the color of your eyes. That lush green…the color of fresh paint…showcased by those long, exotic lids and gently curling eyelashes and…

"Natalia? Do you have the Q4 projection sheet broken down by department?" My cheeks answer you first and do their part to increase the heat in this conference room. Your face is impassive as you wait for me to answer your request. The only indication that you've caught me daydreaming manifests itself in the tiniest smile playing around the edge of your mouth.

Everyone is waiting expectantly and I can feel my distress grow as the undercurrents swirling between us break for the surface. Feigning a nonchalance that ran screaming from the room the minute I heard your voice, I grab the projection sheet from my pile of papers and rise from my seat, making my way slowly over to the head of the conference table.

There are few hushed discussions going on separately around the table so I don't feel so conspicuous walking to stand next to you. Speaking in a playful tone with the Head Chef seated to your right, you keep me at your side with a light touch of your hand to my wrist.

I freeze as the image of my racing pulse bumping against your fingertips assaults my senses. How could I explain that away? It's not as if you crawled across the table to come get this piece of paper from me, with your skirt getting a little higher with each…

Get a grip, Natalia! With Herculean effort, I put my libido on a time out and force myself to focus on this one simple task: Hand you this piece of paper and then go sit down in my seat. Not so hard, right?

I faintly hear you excuse yourself from your current conversation and then your whole body is shifting in the chair, facing me directly.

"Is that for me?" Is it my imagination or did your voice just get a little deeper?

"What?" My libido is snapping and snarling at its restraints and it's all my brain can do to come up with that one word question.

Your hand slides from my wrist to take the piece of paper that I'm holding and I force myself to take a step back, my lungs begging for the space to breathe.

I break eye contact first, looking around the conference table with all the fascination of a toddler gazing at Christmas lights. Judging by the dwindling number of papers on the table, I think this meeting is finally starting to wrap up. Oh thank God!

I turn to head back to my chair when again, your hand reaches out to stop me. The pressure on my wrist is a little harder this time and instinct has me trying to discreetly pull my arm away from you. I see your eyebrow rise at my challenge and something I can't quite name flashes into your eyes. You release my hand and push the chair back to stand, your eyes daring me to move now that everyone in the room is looking in our direction.

Your fingers start to tap on the paper I handed you and while you run through some last minute items for everyone, I angle my body to better read the whatever it is you are pointing out to me.

My little dragon.

My little dragon with eyelashes and full lips and…and…boobs. Closing my eyes briefly, I take a deep breath and wonder at whatever it was that compelled me to not only doodle on the quarterly report but also have that be the one that I presented to Olivia.

On a slow exhale, I open my eyes to find you smirking at me, your eyes flickering between my face and the faces of the other people at the table. Attempting to extinguish my blush with my dimples, I smile wide at you in what I hope is a very professional smile.

A few more instructions and then you set us all free. "This meeting is over. I'd like to thank you all for attending and I hope that everyone has a good rest of your day. I'll see you here tomorrow."

I'm planning on using those first few minutes of a meeting wrap-up to gather my things and slip out of the same side door you came in from. I have so many questions for you, the least of which is what you are even doing here on your day off, but I just need five minutes to myself. Five minutes to figure out how things are slipping a little from my control.

My promise to myself this morning was to talk to you about the things that have been going on between us, whatever those things are. While I don't feel I'm necessarily breaking that promise by making a run for it, the stronger part of myself is pouting.

As I stuff the last few things into my purse and say my good-byes, the earlier image I had of you crawling across the conference room table bursts into my consciousness. I need to get out of here.

Holding my breath, I only get two steps from the table to the door before your voice takes my knees out where I stand.

"Natalia? A moment please. If you could shut the door."

Before my brain can get my body moving, your voice calls out again. "You know, on second thought, come sit down. I'll get the door."

Glancing down at my heels, I hesitate briefly, curious as to whether I could actually sprint in these things and dash out of the room before you got to the door. I hear your own heels clicking against the floor as you round the table to head in my direction and a flash of heat dances across my chest.

I turn towards the table, fully prepared to take the seat furthest from wherever you are. Not the most mature decision but seeing as how my five minute reprieve has been derailed, I think I can reconcile myself with this choice.

Swinging my bag behind me, I almost upend the whole thing as I come face to face with you. I hold back a yelp by the slimmest of margins and reach out to steady myself, my fingers gripping the top of one of the chairs.

"Perfect. I'll join you in one minute." Your hand reaches out and your tapered fingers indicate the chair I currently have a death grip on.

Placing my bag back onto the table, I step forward to lower myself into the chair. You don't move so I'm forced to squeeze into the open space between your body and the chair. I let a nervous smile play around my lips as I meet your gaze. The same unreadable expression from earlier this morning is back and I falter in my movement, half of me leaning down toward the chair and the other half leaning away toward the sanctuary of the open door.

With a half smile, you make my decision for me, reaching out to brush against my shoulder, guiding me gently into the chair. The pressure of your hand is light but unmistakable and I'm quickly reminded of what just transpired a couple of minutes ago.

"Don't move, Natalia. I'll be right back." Without another glance, you stride off through the open door, your voice rising in a greeting as you head down the hallway.

What are you doing? Keeping the chair turned so my back faces the door, I give over to my nerves and my desire and drop my head into my hands. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on getting my breathing under control as my brain scrambles to keep up with this morning's events.

If I thought the half-closed robe saying goodbye to me this morning was something, the power ensemble assaulting my senses during that budget meeting is in a category all on its own. Tucking away the question of why you even attended this meeting in the first place, my mind leaps quickly to the image of you walking toward me in that skirt.

How can I be expected to line up my thoughts in regards to this potentially blossoming relationship, ramifications and all, when my libido can so easily come along and swipe everything off of the proverbial table like a playful toddler?

I can't think when you are near me during the best of times but today? For some reason today, my willpower went missing like Emma's red sneaker.

Rubbing my fingertips over my face, I lean back into the chair, crossing my legs and letting my knee rest against the edge of the conference table. I can't remember another time in my life when I was so consumed with thoughts of another person. Even with Nicky, it wasn't like this. I'm not sure I know what that means for me and for the first time in my life, I don't know that I care.

A guilty blush slides along my cheeks and I let my head drop, my hair brushing against the sensitive skin of my overheated face. I watch my fingers play with the bottom button of my shirt and I can feel myself getting more and more nervous.

I'm not really in any position to talk to you about any of this right now. I thought I was, earlier this morning, but there's still too much going on, still too much that I can't seem to wrap my brain around. The fact that I want to wrap myself around you, that I can accept that so easily should bother me more than it does. Shouldn't it?

Sigh. I can't do this. Whatever it is that you needed to address with me regarding the budget meeting is going to have to wait. I'll pencil in an appointment for us to meet and just clear your schedule.

Your schedule was clear today and you should have been home. Instead, you're here. Wearing that soft, peach camisole and that fitted black skirt and how am I supposed to have a serious conversation with you when the only thing I can think about it taking my hand and…

Okay, enough. I'm done. A trickle of sweat has broken loose from under the collar of my shirt and is making its torturous way down the middle of my back. Resisting the urge to untuck my shirt and fan the edges against my skin, it occurs to me that my excuse has just presented itself. It's just way too hot in here now and we'll just have to go over everything at a later time in a different location.

Sounds plausible. In fact, the more I think about it, the better that idea seems. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I plant my feet and suddenly freeze in the act of standing.

"Thanks for waiting. I had to clear some time for this conference room so we wouldn't be interrupted but we are all set now." I hear your voice speaking calmly and smoothly but not one word registers.

Two things do sneak through, however, and erupt into my consciousness. The first, the quiet snick of the office door closing, might not have rendered me dumb at most other times in my life. At least, I'd like to think so.

The second sound? That sneaking second is the one that drops my stomach and causes me to spin slowly until I'm facing you.

Your hand is still finishing its motion and I watch helplessly as the lock slides into place.

Nervous laughter bubbles up and spills over and I can feel every nerve ending standing at attention. "What are you doing?"

You continue further into the room, looking straight ahead as you walk past me to gather the papers left by your seat. Bringing my hand to my mouth, I bite my palm softly as I watch you lean over, your skirt tightening and lifting as you reach forward on the table.

Forgive me Father, but Jesus! Who would have thought that I'd be sitting here, drooling, over another woman in a skirt? Well, to be fair, not just any woman. You. And you are most definitely not just any woman.

In the ten seconds it takes for you to organize the papers and turn back to me, I feel a loosening inside me. Never in my life, at any point, would I ever believe that the feelings I could develop for a man could be the same feelings I could develop for a woman. It just never happened. Never even crossed my mind. Why would it? But here you are, very definitively tossing all those notions out the window. I'm not sure when the shift happened and I know I'll have to think about it and more than likely, have to talk to you about it. I may have put my intentions to talk to you on the hold for the time being, but they are still there.

Right now though, right now my curiosity is piqued and I'm content to see what exactly you have in mind with this impromptu meeting. The flutter in my stomach lets me know that whatever it is, I'm in it with you.

Dropping my hand to my lap, I smile at you as acceptance settles like a warm blanket around me. Okay, more like a heating blanket since with acceptance comes knowledge. Or at least, thirst for knowledge. And I'm pretty sure I could drown in you right now. Happily.

Quietly, I watch as you push the chair next to me away from the table and lean back against the edge, crossing your legs at the ankles. Very deliberately, you place the front page of the quarterly report in front of me, tapping a manicured fingernail against my dragon.

Leaning back, I fake a nonchalance I don't feel and calmly meet your stare with a smile. Your eyes trace my face briefly and I feel my smile tremble at the edges. Holding your weight on one hand, you lean forward into my personal space and I can actually feel the strain of the effort it's taking me to not look down to where your camisole is drifting forward from your chest.

Eyes…eyes…eyes.

Your lips curl in a patient smile and your voice comes out softly, the steel resting just below the surface of your polite tone.

"Explain this. Please."