A/N: You have my girl Trinidas to thank for this update and also that heartbreakingly beautiful Olitz scene from last Thursday (even though canon Olivia doesn't deserve Fitz at all).
This chapter picks up from where we left off and we learn a little about Olivia's past and we see just how sprung Fitz is. Thank you all for your kind words regarding my mom. They're greatly appreciated.
Til next time.
-M
"Is that how you greet your dear old dad?" Eli Pope asks, stepping past Olivia and into her apartment, carrying a plastic tote.
"If I'd known you were coming, I—"
"It's July 15th, Olivia. You were supposed to come to me."
July 15th? Shit.
"Oh." Her brows knit together and she leans on her heels. A pang of guilt jilts up her spine and she frowns slightly. She forgot. How had she forgotten the date? Twelve years and she'd never forgotten, not once; not even when she was at boarding school.
"You forgot?" Eli asks, as he steps into the apartment, bemusement lacing his tone. He walks over to the island that separates her kitchen from the living room to deposit the bag. "But perhaps with good reason. Olivia, are you hurt?"
"Am I what?" Confusion colors her expression as she shuts the door, hands going to her messy hair and fiddling with the hem of her night shirt. Last night's escapades are written all over every inch of her body. She turns to find Eli standing above a shattered lamp and she gasps. For the first time since last night, when she'd damn near dry humped Fitz on her couch, she surveys the mess they'd made of her apartment.
The lamp on the end table next to her sofa rests in piece on her floor; a stack of books knocked from their shelves litter the floor; the fresh flowers that normally sit on her coffee table are tipped over, water drips onto her carpet, and her couch cushions and pillows are disheveled. All and all, to the naked and unknowing eye, her apartment shows signs of a struggle, not that of a year of pent up passion imploding. No wonder why Huck had burst in; her apartment looked like a crime scene.
"I told you about this neighborhood, Olivia. Are you hurt? Was anything taken? What is the point of that guard dog you have out there if he can't prevent this?" Eli questions, throwing his hands up in the air. "For god sakes, when are you going to stop playing martyr? You own an apartment in Foggy Bottom - a nice luxurious loft in walking distance of Georgetown. When you start law school you'll need it instead of making the trek from this...place." Disdain drips from his tone.
Olivia rolls her eyes, a headache budding. This is definitely not how she pictured her morning going, not after last night. How can she get rid of her father?
"No, you own an apartment in Foggy Bottom. I rent this and I teach."
"Yes, the fresh air fund kids. When will you stop playing with them and start living up to your potential?"
Frustrated, Olivia runs a hand over her face, sighing. This is a constant conversation between them. "Do we really have to do this today, dad? You even said it yourself, it's July 15th."
"You fail to show at our scheduled time, I call you several times, and when I receive only radio silence, I rush over here to make certain you're in one piece to find your apartment trashed. Imagine being in my shoes right now, Olivia; my only child missing on the day we spend together without hesitation every year. So, excuse me if I question your decisions when I've been going out of my mind with worry."
Olivia sighs, her eyes dropping to the floor. Guilt ricochets up her spine. "I'm sorry."
Eli's face softens. "It's fine. Have you filed a report with the police?"
"A what?" Confusion colors her countenance.
"A police report. What was taken? Anything of irreplaceable value? I can call Lou down at the station and see if he can get the ball rolling and we can get your things back before they're gone for good."
Understanding dawns in her eyes and she nods, briefly glancing towards her bedroom before turning her attention back to her father. Silently she prays Fitz is a heavy sleeper. Explaining her sexual proclivities to her father isn't exactly on her agenda for the day.
"They took some petty cash, it's nothing to worry about," Olivia lies. "It's fine, nothing that can't be replaced."
"Petty cash and they trash your home, but it's fine? How naive can you be? What happens when they decide to upgrade next time from petty cash to something else?"
"It's fine!" Olivia snaps, voice raising, a finality to her tone that she isn't used to taking with her father.
Eli seems taken aback; his head tilts and he looks at his daughter as if she's lost her mind.
"Dad, I mean…" she fumbles with her words, wondering if she should apologise. She isn't sorry; Eli Pope needs to learn when not to push, but she isn't looking for an argument right now either.
Olivia doesn't have to make that decision, though, because Eli's attention is no longer on her, but directed behind her. She turns to find a shirtless Fitz standing in the entryway to the hall that leads to her bedroom. A litany of hickies trail his torso and his hair is still mussed.
"I heard raised voices," Fitz offers. "I'm...I uhm."
A redness creeps up his neck and Olivia can feel heat ripple across her own cheeks. Her eyes drop to the floor. Silence fills the room.
Eli breaks the inadvertent standoff first. He clears his throat. "I'll be back in an hour, Olivia. See to it that you're ready. Breakfast is in the bag. We'll stop for flowers on our way up to the cemetery."
He keeps his head down as he exits the apartment, closing the door shut behind him.
/
The door clicks shut behind the older man and Olivia immediately locks it. Fitz stands awkwardly off to the side, his eyes following her as she pushes away from the door.
"That was just...oh my god," she cries, walking over to the bar. She props her elbows up and hides her face in her hands.
Fitz can feel a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It's not the right time to realise how cute she is, but she is. Hair sticking up in each direction, wrinkled nightshirt, and chubby thighs. He cleared his throat. "I don't think that was your neighbor?"
She shakes her head. "That was my dad."
Awkward, though Fitz had assumed as much. Either her father or a very disgruntled neighbor.
"I figured. I should get dressed. You should, too. He's going to be back in an hour."
"He thought I was robbed," mirthlessly laughter falls from her lips.
"He what?"
"We destroyed my apartment." Olivia motions towards the living room.
Fitz looks out into the living room, eyebrows raising as he takes in the damage they've done. There's a broken lamp, a disheveled couch, a tipped over vase, and tossed books.
"Wow." He breathes, a smirk tilts across his lips. "I see why Huck kicked down your door. I, uhm...I didn't hurt you at all did I?"
"Stop looking for me to fluff your ego even more." Olivia turns, leaning against the counter. A matching smirk teases her lips.
Fitz knows they have mere minutes before her father returns, but he can't stop his eyes as they roam her body. He remembers every gasp, sigh, and delicious moan that'd slipped from Olivia's lips throughout the night. Every furrow of her brow, tremble of her lip, and quiver of her stomach as she came. His hands twitch at his sides and he moves without thinking. He swoops Olivia into his arms and positions her on the counter, causing her to yelp. He comes to happily rest in between her parted legs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and caressing the smooth skin of her upper thighs.
Olivia shudders beneath his touch, her eyes slipping closed. Unable to stop himself, Fitz's mouth seeks out hers. Her mouth pops open and he slides his tongue against hers.
This is how he dies; holding onto her for dear life.
His lips move down onto her neck, hands gripping her legs to pull her towards him. She hums as he works his way down her collarbone, his teeth nipping at her flesh. Her hands hold his head, her fingers pull at his curls. Fitz smiles as he moves lower, ghosting over her breasts through the material of her t-shirt before sliding down onto his knees.
He forgets that she's on a time limit and that he should really be going.
One leg goes over his shoulder and he kisses his way up her thighs, pushing up her shirt. Olivia leans back on her forearms, watching him through hooded eyes, her lips glistening in the dull sunlight that peaks through her front window. What a sight she is, too. Pure lust on display. Those lips, her thighs, and her erect nipples poking against the cotton of her shirt. He wants nothing more than to rip the material over her head and have his way with her right here. And he almost does, too, until his lips ghost over her panty-clad center, her hips buck, and the bag of food next to her tumbles to the floor.
Styrofoam containers of pancakes spill out, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Olivia pushes Fitz away, hoping down off the counter.
"Shit," she mutters, clearly flustered.
Fitz is in his own daze as tries to settle the growing - almost painful - erection between his legs. They'd spent all night and well into the morning tasting, touching, and teasing one another, but he just can't stop. He's forty-one years-old. Even with a ten year break, he shouldn't be this insatiable. Should he? But this woman - Olivia - just does something to him.
"I'm going to need an insurance policy for the next time you spend the night - and morning," she jokes, throwing the containers onto the table.
"Sorry, I just...I want you," Fitz confesses. A flash of her bare back crosses his mind and his nostrils flare.
This is ridiculous. He's forty. He's over forty.
"I want you, too," Olivia admits, her eyes falling to the floor.
Fitz takes that as his signal to move forward, but Olivia steps back. She extends an arm, holding her hand out to signal him to stop. "We can't though. I have somewhere I have to go and my dad will be back soon. As much as I'd love to - and I'd really love to - I don't want it to be any more evident than it already is that I spent the night having sex."
"I understand. I have a homily to write still." He retreats to her room and dresses quickly, deciding to shower once he's back in the rectory. A stab of something not quite akin to guilt, pokes at his belly as he thinks of the rectory, his homily, and how happy he'd be to ignore it all in favor of spending the rest of the day in her bed.
Minutes later he emerges from her bedroom to find Olivia sweeping up her shattered lamp. He has to stifle a moan that threatens to escape his lips at the sight of her bent over. She stands as she hears him, a soft smile on her face though her eyes are tinted red.
"You okay?" Concern grips his voice.
"I'm fine," she assures. "Let me walk you to the door."
Fitz nods, choosing not to push. They reach the door and he opens it, stepping out into the hall. He pivots on his heel to say a proper goodbye, but Olivia's lips are already on his.
She's on her tippy-toes, fingers gripping his shirt, and body leaning into his. She nips and sucks at his bottom lip, dragging it into her mouth before pulling back and forcing him to chase her mouth. He does without pause, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her off the ground. Even when he was married, he hadn't been one for PDA, but right now he doesn't care who sees them. They exchange a few more heated, sensual kisses, humming and vibrating with want and need against one another before a snicker down the hall breaks them apart. Fitz turns to see Alicia, Olivia's thirteen year-old neighbor staring at them, making kissing face, and giggling.
"I'm going to talk to her grandmother," Olivia whispers against his lips, placing one last chase kiss to his mouth before stepping away.
"You should put some clothes on first." Fitz grins, then lets her go.
"Call me when you're free later. I should be home around 8."
"Will do, pretty girl." He runs a thumb over her bottom lip and presses a tender kiss against her forehead before turning away. He stalks towards the stairs, his steps extra light as he goes.
"So romantic!" Alicia gushes as she scrambles into her apartment, soliciting a chuckle from Fitz.
/
She picks through a lackluster bunch of pink peonies, each bouquet feeling lighter than the last. Every year she has a hard time picking just the right bunch; this year it's even worse.
"None of them are right," she huffs, frowning at a pink petal with a darkening tip.
"We do this every year, just pick one," Eli orders from besides her.
"I just want the best for mom, okay. Give me a minute." Tears spill over her eyelids and she wipes at her eyes. Eleven years and it's still as fresh as yesterday.
"The ground is going to be wet, you should've worn better shoes."
Olivia sniffles. Classic Eli, any time she shows too much too much emotion, he withdraws. "I was in a hurry and wasn't thinking." She glances down at her flip flops and rocks back on her heels.
"I can tell. What's his name?"
"This is a good bunch." Olivia holds up the flowers triumphantly. "You think?"
"They're nice. Now what's his name? You do know his name, don't you?"
Anger blooms in her chest and she scoffs, rolling her eyes before stomping away and over to a stack of baby's breath. She picks and pulls until she has a sturdy handful.
"I'll take that as a no. What happened to Jacob?"
Again Olivia scoffs. "I broke up with Jake before Christmas."
"Shame, I liked Ballard. So you've returned to old habits, then? Chasing the unattainable and taken?"
"No, I haven't. His name is Fitz. We've been dating since March." Satisfied with her flower selection, her eyes dance about the shop in search of a cashier.
"How'd you meet?" Eli asks as he holds out his credit card for Olivia to take.
She bypasses his card and finally spots an open register. "Why do you care? We don't discuss these things."
The cashier begins ringing up the purchase and Olivia searches through her purse for her own wallet. Before she even gets the chance to give the cashier her card, Eli extends his and the cashier takes it.
"I could've bought them." Olivia hisses as she snatches the flowers off the counter and makes a beeline for the car.
"Contrary to what you may think of me, Olivia, I do care about you. When I see you with a man who looks to be near my age and not yours, any father with sense would worry. Especially with your history."
His words are like knives slicing at her skin. They sting and cut, causing her eyes to narrow. If he'd smacked her it would've hurt less. "I was seventeen." She growls through gritted teeth.
"And nineteen. And twenty-one…"
"God, dad, do we really have to recount all of my fucked up choices in men before we get to mom's grave?"
"Choices that I'm obligated to remind you of if I see you going back down the same road. Do you remember how things ended with Senator Davis? How old is this man?"
At the mention of Edison's name, Olivia bristles. Her bottom lip quivers and she closes her eyes to block out the memories, the sounds of the sirens, and her father's pleas for her to stay with him.
"It's not like that with Fitz. He's nothing like Edison was. He's a good man. He is older than me, but its...we're...he's not taking advantage of me."
Eli holds open the passenger door and Olivia gets in, taking time to buckle her seatbelt around the flowers.
"Does he know about Edison and about what happened?"
"No, and I'm not telling him."
/
Save for the sounds of Stevie Wonder, the thirty minute drive to the cemetery is silent. Eli drums his fingers along the wheel as Olivia stares out the window, watching as large oak and maple trees weave along the road.
Her mother's grave rests atop a hill, beneath a Cherry Blossom tree, and it overlooks the ocean. The tears are imminent as Olivia reaches the stone. Shaky fingers brush the dirt from the marble and her heart aches as she lays the fresh flowers on the ground.
Maya Marie Pope
Beloved Wife and Mother
November 12, 1955 - July 15, 1995
"I miss you, mom," a sob catches in Olivia's throat as she leans forward to kiss the stone. "I miss you so much."
/
It's 7:59pm on the dot and Fitz holds his phone in hand, eagerly waiting for the clock to strike 8pm. She's been on his mind all day. He's barely managed to draft a solid homily for morning mass because he can't stop thinking about her. She's all over him, in him – in his head. Fitz wants nothing more than to fall asleep like he had the night before, with Olivia in his arms, snuggled into his chest.
8:01pm.
He dials her number, his finger hovering above the send button. He doesn't want to seem too eager, too desperate. She's his drug but he doesn't want to overwhelm her.
8:07pm.
His phone times out, her number vanishing as the screen goes blank. He dials again.
Does she know what she's done to him? Does she know how hard of a time breathing he has without her near? Now that he's touched her, tasted her, he can't imagine life without her.
8:14pm.
The phone goes blank again.
She's his saving grace and his greatest sin all rolled into one. He wonders if he means half as much to her as she does to him.
8:17pm.
A high pitched ring jolts him from his thoughts and he nearly drops the phone. Begrudgingly he answers, looking to rush whoever it is on the other end of the line so he can call Olivia.
"Hello?"
"Hi."
Olivia.
Relief floods his body. "Hi."
8:22pm.
"I thought you were going to call me at 8?" She asks. Her voice is thick and Fitz can tell she's been crying.
"I didn't know if you were home yet," Fitz lies.
"You would've never have known had I not called you."
Fitz laughs and takes a seat on his couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"How were things with your dad?"
"Fine. Did you write your homily?"
He doubts it, but again doesn't push. She sounds exhausted.
"I did. Maybe you can come in tomorrow and listen to it?" As soon as the words leave his mouth he looks for a way to take them back. Olivia at his sermon would only serve to distract him. He'd be trying to gauge reaction to his words instead of focusing on the gospel at hand.
"You know I don't really do the whole organized religion thing. Maybe one day, though. I missed you today."
He breathes a sigh of relief, sinking into the sofa. Flowers bloom in his belly at her admission.
"I missed you, too, Livvie. Are you okay?"
There's static on the other end of the phone, the sounds of shuffling filling the air.
"No."
"What can I do?"
"Just talk to me."
"Okay."