Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal

Mix Up

Olivia Pope let out a loud groan that was followed by a flash of lightening. Waving her hand frantically, she hoped the next cab came to a stop in front of her. The overhang at Dulles was not enough to protect her from the rain. The wind was whipping it right in front of her.

She sighed two minutes later when she was sitting in the back of a cab, looking for all the world like a drowned rat. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and gave the cab driver her home address.

Forty-five minutes later, thanks to the fact that no one could drive in the rain, she was paying the cabbie and hauling her suitcase into her apartment. Leaving it next to the door. She immediately started stripping, pieces of clothing falling to the floor as she walked to her bathroom, knowing the only way she was really going to relax was with a hot shower, followed by a bowl of popcorn, a glass of wine and the news.

It wasn't until the next morning that she opened up her suitcase and found a bevy of men's clothing. "Damn it!" She shouted into the empty room. Moving back to the entryway, she picked up her purse and dug through her phone. It was still off from the plane ride the day before. Last night she'd had no intention of speaking to any other human beings or reading any emails. She needed a day to just decompress alone. When her phone finally booted up, she saw that she had twenty-two missed calls and seventeen text messages from the same unknown number. She only listened to the first voicemail to confirm it was the man with her suitcase before hitting redial.

"Fitzgerald Grant." The voice was deep on the other end of the phone.

"Hi, this is Olivia Pope. Sorry, I left my phone off yesterday after getting in. I just opened the suitcase and I believe it belongs to you." She rattled off quickly.

The man on the other end chuckled, "Yeah, I think you're right. You could only imagine my surprise when I found a dress instead of my slacks." He paused, "Not to sound impatient or rude, but I could really use my clothes this morning. I have a meeting in three hours and I'm plane rumpled."

Olivia chuckled, "Yeah, where are you staying?"

"The Watergate." He paused, "But I can meet you anywhere that's"

"That's not far from my house. I'll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes." She bargained.

"You, Ms. Pope, are an angel sent from the heavens. Thank you." Olivia just chuckled at his response before hanging up.

SCANDAL

Exactly fourteen minutes later, Olivia was rolling the black suitcase through the lobby of The Watergate. She'd looked up Fitzgerald Grant on her way. She knew what he looked like. And he was probably in town for the seminar on the Revolutionary War. It seemed that he'd taken a detour from the usual Grant politics and was a Professor of History at UPenn.

"Ms. Pope?" A voice sounded behind her and she turned. She'd seen a picture of Professor Grant, but she was in no way prepared for the man in person. "I'm Fitz Grant." He held out his hand.

She cleared her throat quickly, "Olivia Pope." She shook his hand, "Here's your suitcase. I'm sure you want to go change."

He chuckled, "I do, but I have some time before my meeting, can I buy you lunch?" He asked.

Olivia stepped back, not expecting that. "Of course." She agreed after a moment.

"Great, I'll just go change. I'll be back down in just a minute." He grinned at her, moving back towards the elevator with a parting wave.

Biting her lip, Olivia snapped a quick photo of him walking, attaching it to a text to her best friend, Abby.

I'm having lunch with that. Professor Fitzgerald Grant. Details to follow post-lunch. Started as a luggage mix-up at the airport.

She'd just settled herself in a chair to wait for Fitz, when her phone buzzed.

I'm on it. Details as soon as you're back in your car.

Olivia grinned. She should have some specs on the man she'd agreed to have lunch with before he even got back downstairs. Not even five minutes later, she wasn't disappointed. Apparently he was a veteran, with a degree in history from Harvard. He was supposed to go to law school, but instead wound up at an interview in the History Department. He got his PhD in Colonial America before moving back to California to teach full time. He was speaking at the conference in town tomorrow. Today he was supposed to meet with other professors speaking before dinner and drinks. He was single, having dumped his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Melanie Carswell, eight months earlier. He hadn't even been noticed on a date since then. He did have three articles published since he lost the dead weight, and was working on a book deal.

Abby was damn good.

"So, what are you in the mood for?" She looked up from her phone to find Fitz wearing a pair of dark jeans and a light blue button up with the sleeves rolled up.

She grinned at him, "How do you feel about burgers and fries?"

"I'd say you were a woman after my own heart." He teased. "Gettysburg Burgers?" He asked.

"You sure you aren't after mine?" She shot back with a teasing grin.

Four hours later, Fitz was late to his meeting with the other visiting scholars, and Olivia was giving Abby a play-by-play of their lunch over a glass of wine. She'd found Abby reading a magazine outside of her apartment when she got home.

Not even ten minutes into Olivia's description of the lunch, Abby was grinning widely, "You're going to marry him." She predicted. "Oh, can I be your maid of honor?"

Olivia shook her head, "You're crazy, I'll probably never hear from him again."

"Famous last words, future Mrs. Grant." Abby chuckled.

SCANDAL

One Year Later

"Want to get out of here?" Fitz murmured in her ear, his arm wrapping around her waist.

Olivia looked up at him disapprovingly, "Fitz, we can't just leave. We have to talk to everyone and dance and eat and"

"I was thinking Gettysburg Burgers sounded awesome." He ignored her disapproving look.

Her mouth opened, "You really are a man after my own heart." She echoed their words from a year earlier. "Race you to the limo?"

"You're on." He dashed out the side door, making a break before she could herself.

When they arrived at the burger joint fifteen minutes later, the patrons turned to stare. "Dude," the cashier nodded, "did you like steal a bride or something?" He asked, motioning to Olivia in her wedding dress.

Olivia laughed and shook her head, "Nah, we just wanted some good food, so we ditched our own reception." She linked her hand with Fitz's, her thumb rubbing over his wedding band. "Thank God for Gettysburg Burgers." She murmured as she stared up at the menu.

"Actually, I prefer to thank him for identical luggage." Fitz countered lightly. Olivia hummed her agreement.

SCANDAL

XOXO

MAS