Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. I guess I'm onto something here. All right, more info: This is set in 2002 (throwing off all sorts of canon ages but I'm not sorry…), I did some tweaking on the ages (21 and 29, now) and like the show, I'm gonna have our heroes get nailed by the Thunderbolt and Cupid's AK-47. Canon Liv and Fitz had barely held out 2 weeks against their attraction before starting to bust lamps (and our Feels) to smithereens and even though I've never personally fallen in love…I'd like to think that it is possible for it to happen fast and actually work out. I don't know. Youthful naivety, maybe?
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
6 Months Earlier…
He couldn't look away from her…
"Don't do it, man! She's been like the Red Baron all night!" Jake Ballard advised him over the fast music, sending the rest of their tipsy group into laughter and the rat-a-tat of ammunition.
Like many others in the Indian restaurant, she had taken the dance floor after her meal, moving with skill. Although she was petite (maybe 5'5…), her body boasted full firm curves, curves emphasized by each swirling, twisting movement she made. Her dress was cherry red, sleeveless sans a thin halter like strap and when she spun, it flared out like an upside down rose, providing a prime view of her legs. Her feet were bare with snow white painted toes and the lighting gave her milk chocolate skin a near ethereal glow. What riveted his attention the most was her hair, loose and thick like unraveled kohl rope and her eyes…her eyes were deep chocolate, large and blazing with fire, joy, intelligence…
And now, those eyes locked firmly on his. They blinked once, twice and looking down at her pouty pink lips, he was intrigued to see them curve into a welcoming and gauntlet throwing smile.
To accent that smile, she did a sizzling slow move with her lower half that looked amazingly similar to a double helix, sending jaws to the floor and the last of his tumbler of scotch down the hatch.
"I'll be back…or maybe not." Fitzgerald 'Fitz' Grant III informed them with a wicked grin.
His comrades roared their approval.
/
He was coming over.
Olivia Pope had spotted him immediately after she came in that night. How could she not? He was not only part of a massive group of military men but he seemed to be the oldest, the tallest, and hands down sexiest. That thick mop of silver fox chocolate curls, the cerulean slate eyes that shone with mischief as two of his boys acted like hilarious fools, his lips, and his hands. They were a real man's hands: big, veiny, and looked like they held the perfect texture of soft yet calloused.
She had no shame in admitting that she wanted those hands on her in the worst way.
And it seemed like she was going to get what she wanted.
Happy Birthday to me, indeed…
Keeping eye contact, she backed herself into a far corner and one of those hands braced against the brick wall, effectively boxing her in. He was a big man, at least 6'2 and she could see an impressive amount of lean muscle through his gray t-shirt and uniform cargos. With his tags hanging out and the hint of shadow on his cheeks, he looked like something straight out of a tasteful centerfold.
"Hi."
His voice was deep and soft but held the promise of power.
"Hi.", she replied with a hint of sass "About time you came over, Flyboy. I've been trying to get your attention, all night."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really. Mission accomplished?"
"Very. I'm Fitz Grant."
"Like the California senator?"
"Unfortunately."
Both of them laughed and she could feel her cheeks tint pink as he shifted closer. Olivia was no stranger to flirting or the events that flirting facilitated but her gut was telling her that she had just plunged headfirst into the big leagues. This wasn't Edison Davis. This wasn't an awkward boy transitioning to a man. No, Mr. Grant here was already a man, a grown ass man and she wasn't exactly sure if she could handle…
She shuddered hard as he bent forward and started pressing feather light kisses to the side of her neck, the tip of his tongue flicking out to collect a bit of sweat.
"What's your name?"
"O-Oliv…Olivia Pope."
"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"Woman. I'm 21. Today's my birthday."
"Happy birthday."
"Thank you. Um…I'm gonna need you to stop doing that for a second. The last thing I want to do is get arrested for public lewdness."
He pulled away slowly and his now cobalt eyes held a curious gleam as he took a few steps back.
"What is this?" he rasped while gesturing between them slowly.
"I don't know." she replied honestly.
"But, you feel it too?"
"Yeah. Before we take this any further, I have to ask: there's not a woman in your life right now, is there? You look like you have a girlfriend. Hell, with the way you look, you could have a harem."
No man should have that beautiful of a smile. It wasn't fair…
"No, I don't have a girlfriend or a harem. Well, my father has someone in mind for me but…no."
"No?"
"Hell, no."
"There's a story there, isn't it?"
"A long and convoluted one that I don't mind sharing in the morning."
"In the morning? What kind of woman do you take me for, Mr. Grant?"
"Too much?"
"No. You're going to share your story in the late afternoon, if I have something to say about it."
