A/N: SR and crew are taking too long to give me Vermont so I'm going to write my own stories about it. I'm also willing to take requests. Tell me what you guys think! XOXO
Olivia frowned at the nightly news. It was never anything interesting anymore. She got up to get more wine from the kitchen at the exact moment that one of her phones began buzzing on the coffee table. Just as she was about to check which one, the doorbell rang. She left the phones without checking to see who was calling and went to the door.
"Did you just ignore my call?" he asked in a huff, his face jokingly indignantly. She grinned like an idiot at the sight of him, waved at Tom over his right shoulder. The agent nodded, taking a seat on the little folding lawn chair he had begun bringing along whenever Fitz rendezvoused at Olivia's place.
"Sure did," she replied as she stepped back to let him in. He scooped her into his arms immediately, kicking the door shut. She wound her fingers in his hair, covering his face in wine-laced kisses. He smiled against her mouth, enjoying the rare display of affection from her. He was surprised when she murmured, "I missed you," against his lips. He had been in England for a week and they'd only gotten to talk three times. She was surprised by how much she'd missed his smile, and his laugh, and those eyes.
"Do I get to spend the night since you're so happy to see me?" he asked, knowingly pushing his luck. Olivia was wary of overnight visits because she was terrified someone would see him leaving her apartment so early in the morning. She frowned, wanting to say no. But he had been gone so long, and she had missed his face so much.
"Well it's already so late…" A smile tugged at her lips. "I guess one night wouldn't hurt."
"You missed me. You missed me. You missed me," he teased in a sing-song voice. He carried her to the couch and sat down, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her lips repeatedly, savoring the taste of her lips. He murmured against the hollow of her throat that he had missed her like crazy, and that she was coming along on his next trip. She didn't comment as she buried her nose in his curls, mostly because she didn't want to tell him how much she would love to go with him somewhere they didn't have to constantly look over their shoulders. His hands slipped inside the leg holes of her powder blue silk romper, grabbing hold of her soft bottom and squeezing appreciatively. His lips between her breasts, he announced, "I'm ready for bed."
"I wanna hear about your trip," she replied, leaning back on her haunches, trapping his hands underneath her.
"We can do that in bed." He hoisted her into his arms, wrapping her shapely legs around his waist as he carried her to her bedroom. He sat on the bed and leaned back against her plush silk pillowcase-covered pillows as he kicked his shoes off. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down so that her chest was against his. She couldn't resist kissing him, her mouth missing the taste of his tongue. His hands found the spaghetti straps of her romper and slipped them down. She reluctantly took her mouth away from his.
"I thought you were going to tell me about your trip." She smirked at him. He sighed, playfully tossing her onto the other side of the bed. She got under the covers and waited for him to do the same. He stood and slipped off his dark blue pajama pants. She laughed. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen you out of the White House and not in a suit."
He smirked as he folded his pants, a remnant of his Navy days, and placed them in the chair next to her window. "I wore pajamas because I was planning to spend the night making love to the woman I love after being apart for a whole week. If I had known I was going to have to recap my trip, I would've worn something a little more interview appropriate."
She laughed as he climbed into bed with her. "Excuse me for taking an interest in my man's life. I'll try not to care so much."
He gave as goofy grin as he made himself comfortable, pulling her against him. "You just called me your man."
She smiled, rolling her eyes as she realized she that she had. He was so sentimental. "Don't read anything into it."
"Too late," he declared, still grinning at her. "I'm your man. I'm gonna get a t-shirt that says I'M OLIVIA POPE'S MAN on the front in big black letters and wear it everywhere."
She laughed. "That might be fun until Cyrus kills us both."
He laughed then began peppering her lips with feather soft kisses that made her eyes close. He murmured, "Call me your man again."
She smiled against his lips. "Tell me about your trip."
He smirked at her. "Honestly, England is cold and dreary and crowded like you wouldn't believe. We got approximately one hour of sunshine the whole week. The food is inedible. Tea is the only thing to drink in the whole country, unless you want warm beer which frankly tastes like urine. I don't understand why you're so interested in hearing about it, really."
"You're a shitty storyteller, Fitzgerald." He poked her side and made her giggle. She was the only person who got away with calling him Fitzgerald.
"Okay, so there was one high point," he said as he pulled her close, laying her head on his chest. "I met the Queen."
Olivia looked up at him. "What's she like?"
"She's…impressive," he answered.
"You really spare no detail." He poked her side again, making her giggle.
"You know, you're a real smartass."
She scoffed. "You're one to talk."
He laughed. God, he loved her. "She's very small, probably about your size. And she loves Game of Thrones, believe it or not. I made her laugh. She hardly ever laughs, and I made her laugh."
He sounded so proud of himself that Olivia's heart practically bled with affection. She couldn't remember the last time he'd sounded so pleased about anything he did. She asked, "What did you say?"
"I broke out my joke collection." Olivia groaned sarcastically. Fitz laughed.
"Please tell me you didn't tell the Queen that joke about the two guys and the prostitute with the glass eye," she replied.
He laughed. "No, I'm saving that gem for the Pope. I told her the one about the married couple and the horse. She cracked up."
"It's not my personal favorite but if Her Majesty laughed, it must be funny." She snuggled closer, putting her right leg between his legs. "So what else happened?"
"I had the best ice cream of my life," he replied. He had an adorable sweet tooth, like a child. Olivia had taken to keeping candy in her purse at events because he always complained about wanting sweets.
"Best ice cream of your life. Really?"
"Yeah. It was coffee flavored." He smiled down at her. She had the biggest and most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. "You would've liked it. We should go back and get some."
She laughed. "We should go to England for ice cream?"
"Yeah," he answered. "We should do everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"Like what?"
"Everything there is. We should ride bikes in the street, and get tattoos, and talk about the universe at 3 AM while we sit on the kitchen counter." He laughed. She did too. "And go hiking, and fishing, and watch bad movies. We should go on road trips, and eat bacon cheeseburgers at 4 in the morning, and have barbecues, and water balloon fights. We should have babies, and adopt dogs, and sing along with the radio, and run around in the rain then get warm in front of the fireplace."
Olivia wrapped her arms around him tighter, closing her eyes as he built her a world of dreams. In a soft voice, she said, "Tell me about Vermont."
He smirked at her. "I thought Vermont wasn't an option."
"Stop being a smartass, Fitzgerald," she admonished, smiling as she poked his side.
"Well, we live there for a few years before I actually run for mayor. It isn't until you're pregnant for the second time that we actually talk about it seriously. You manage my campaign and I become Burlington's best looking mayor by a landslide. You work in the DA's office, highest closure rate in the city. You could make millions in private practice, but you love wearing the white hat."
"How many kids do we have?" she asked, her eyes still closed. Listening to him talk about their fairy tale made her want to meld into him.
"Four." He smiled. "There's Isabelle. She's the oldest. She just turned 6. She looked like me but she's you through and through. Stubborn as an ox, smart as a whip, and cute as a button. She's in kindergarten and she's reading and writing faster than everyone else in her class.
And then there's Thomas. He's 4. He looks just like I did at that age, but he's got your eyes. He's so mischievous. He loves sneaking into the backyard to run around with his toy airplane. And he's not supposed to, but he's his mama's baby so he hardly ever gets in trouble for it.
Then there's Noah. He's 2. He looked just like you, like you spit him out. He's the sweetest baby. He has the kind of laugh that makes the worst days okay. He's learning to use the potty and he runs around the house announcing it to everyone when he goes. He says he wants to be me when he grows up. Or Batman.
And last there's Rosie. She's 9 months. She is the best and worst of us. When she's happy, it's magic. But she's hell on wheels when she isn't. She has my eyes, and your smile, and the cutest dimples in the world. She's crawling and pulling up on stuff. She's got two little bottom teeth and she chews up a pacifier a week. I want to take it away, but you won't let me.
And you make jam, and cookies, and Sunday dinners, and Easter eggs, and arts and crafts. Isabelle helps you make her lunch every day before school. And I take her to school on my way to work because I refuse to let her ride the bus. You work from home unless you have to be in court. You didn't think it would work, but no one's better at your job than you so they let you do it. You held Isabelle with her homework every day. She's learning to make sentences. She taught Thomas to write his name, and they both make the s backwards. She's teaching Noah to count, but she can only count to 25 so it's a rather slow process. And every evening when I get home, we make dinner together. It used to be exotic cuisine from all over the world, but now it's chicken nuggets or frozen pizza or veggie bites. After we give baths and put on pajamas, we all pile up in our bed to read bedtime stories. It's always Goodnight Moon because it's Noah's favorite. It used to be me and you reading, but now it's Izzy.
Thomas is always the first one asleep. He won't let me carry him to bed though. It always has to be you. Rosie's out next and I tuck her into her crib and turn on her princess mobile. She smiles in her sleep. Isabelle won't fall asleep until the story is finished, even though she's always half-asleep by the time she's halfway through. And she walks herself to bed because she's a big girl now. Noah fights tooth and nail to stay awake even though he's exhausted. But a hug and kiss from his mama puts him down immediately. And then it's just me and the missus."
"What do we do?" she asked before yawning. Something about his scent and warmth made her so relaxed that she could barely keep her eyes open.
"We share a bottle of wine and watch trash TV. And when the wine is gone…" His index fingertip made small circles in the small of her back, prepared to give her a demonstration. But he looked down and found her eyes shut. Her breathing was so soft and even that he didn't have the heart to wake her. He kissed the top of her head and murmured, "Goodnight Mrs. Grant."
"Who said I was taking your last name?" she asked, surprising him.
He chuckled. "If you're going to be my first lady, you have to take my name."
She smiled at the thought of being his first lady, being Mrs. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, finally standing in the sun. "I love you, even if you are a caveman."
"I love you too, stubborn little woman." It amazed him how much he loved her, how much he loved just being close to her. He was jealous of her clothes because they touched her more than he did, and of her lipstick because it got to spend all day on her lips.
The next morning, Olivia awoke alone in bed. Her heart sank as she sat up, looking around for a sign of him. His pajama pants were gone from the chair. It didn't seem like him to leave without telling her goodbye. She wondered if he had even been there with her, or if she'd dreamed the whole thing. The right side of her bed smelled like him. He had been there, but where had he gone? She pulled the covers back and gasped at her left hand. On her left ring finger was a princess cut diamond surrounded by rubies gleamed up at her. She jumped out of bed and raced to the kitchen in search of him. When she didn't find him, she came back to her bedroom and sat on her bed, her mind jumping from thought to thought at a dizzying pace as she stared at the ring.
"All your soap smells girly." She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. He stood before her, a white towel around his waist. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face.
"What is this?" She held out her slightly shaking hand.
"A very nice piece of jewelry," he replied with a silly smile.
"Fitz…" Her tone was testy and anxious.
He surprised her by kneeling between her legs and taking her hands in his. "Liv, it's just… It's not the ring I want to give you, and I know you won't wear it like it is—if you wear it at all—but while I was in England, I got to thinking about us. You were the only person I wanted to talk to and when I got home, I didn't want to see anyone but you. And right now, I can't give you the vows or dress or all the things you deserve…so I got you the ring as a promise. When all this is over, when I'm done being president, I'm going to give you everything: the wedding, the honeymoon, Vermont, babies, the whole dream. I love you, Liv, and I can't shout it from the rooftops like I want, but I can be okay knowing that you know how I feel when you look at that ring."
Her eyes were glassy with tears as she took the ring off. His heart sank when she took the ring off, then leapt when she slid it onto her right ring finger instead. She cupped his face in her palms and kissed him, only letting the tears fall when his eyes closed.
Tom knocked gingerly on her partially open door and they sheepishly stopped kissing. "Mr. President, I got your clothes. And your breakfast is in the kitchen… Good morning Ms. Pope."
"Good morning Tom," she replied, smiling at his nervous face. He put the overnight bad down then scurried away. She looked back at Fitz and rubbed his stubbly cheek with her fingertips. She had never loved him so much. He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. She kissed his bare chest, right where his heart was. He wrapped his arms around her, taking her right hand in his, and brushed his lips against her temple.
"Promise me something," he half-whispered. She looked up at him, willing to give him anything. "I know I don't have the right to… I mean I can't ask you to… Just…"
She had never known him to be so tongue-tied. She stared into his eyes. "What is it, Fitz? You can say anything to me."
"I can't ask you to stay faithful to me. I don't have the right to ask that. Just promise me that you'll try not to fall in love with anyone else," he said softly, winding one of her curls around his index finger. It didn't even occur to her that she might fall for someone else. She didn't have room for anyone else in her mind or heart. The idea that he could have been worried about something as illogical as that made her laugh. Confusion etched his handsome face.
When her laughter subsided, she looked at him very seriously. "You don't have to worry. I can't… breathe without you, Fitz. I can't think or feel or sleep when I don't talk to you. When we're apart… I'm not dead, but I'm alive either. I'm a ghost with a beating heart. I can't even imagine falling for someone else."
The smile that spread across his face made her heart swell. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her chin, and finally her lips. She kissed him deeply, trying to meld into him. He laid her back on the bed, his hands on her thighs.
"Fitz…" she breathed as his lips found her neck. She wasn't sure how she was able to resist him. "I have to go to work, and you have to run the country…"
"You're your own boss, and if everyone is to be believed, I'm the leader of the free world. I think we can take a personal day," he murmured as he slipped off her pajamas. He was trailing kisses up the inside of her thigh when his phone began buzzing on the nightstand. Cyrus and Olivia were the only people who had his cell number so he knew who was calling. He sighed. She ran her fingers through his hair as she sat up. He smiled at her as he went to answer the phone. "I'm coming back tonight. This isn't over."
She smiled as she slipped on her robe. "I hope not."