A/N: Y'all have DaPrince&Me, KW's birthday, and Monica's 'Love All Over Me' to thank for this update.
Working on other updates, as well.
My goal is to finish this story shortly after it's one year anniversary.
Thank you for all your comments. To the guest that asked about a Olitz/Edison triangle: have no fear, there will be NO triangles here. Though Eddison is a dark part of Olivia's past that she is indeed hiding. All will be revealed in due time. Thanks for joining me on this ride.
I hope you enjoy this.
Chapter is rated M.
-M
A 3a.m. bedtime is not an appropriate bedtime for a priest, especially when morning mass is 8a.m. sharp. Fitz stands at the pulpit, eyes bleary as he tries to shake off the tiredness buzzing through his body. Olivia had asked him to stay on the phone with her until she felt tired and he had. They'd talked nonsense for hours, discussing everything from childhood dreams to what they each ate for dinner until the sounds of her soft snores lulled him to sleep. He woke to a dead phone and a full heart. At the time there'd been no regrets - Olivia's voice is the sweetest sound he's ever heard - but now a slight twinge of remorse tugs at his tired eyes.
"Our faith grows in strength when we profess it and live it even though everyone around us is making different choices…" Fitz speaks to the parish. A small yawn escapes his lips and he shakes his head in an attempt to brighten up. He's drank two cups of coffee and he's still not fully awake. After mass he has confession for a half hour and then he needs to crunch some numbers for the education budget meeting tomorrow, too.
"When we give up possessions and leave behind a materialistic lifestyle to live according to Jesus' words, then our faith multiplies. It moves the hearts and minds of those whom we meet. It uproots sin and ignorance," he continues, slate eyes moving around the church. People nod along and children fidget in their seats. Another yawn slips from his mouth and he smiles apologetically, silently hoping no one besides God is paying attention to his current state.
But there is someone else paying attention.
He catches her out of the corner of his eye and almost forgets what he's doing and where he is. He pauses longer than necessary between words and stutters slightly, unable to take his eyes off of her. A lopsided smile dances across his face.
Olivia. She's here.
She slips into the back of the church, the large doors creaking slightly as they close behind her causing a couple of heads to turn. She's dressed in a soft yellow sundress that cuts off just above her knees and she's paired it with a white cardigan. A pair of white canvas sneakers adorn her toes and they squeak against the marble of the floor as she inches towards the second to last pew and quietly takes a seat. Her normally curly hair is bone straight and pulled back away from her face in a low ponytail.
'Beautiful' doesn't aptly describe Olivia; she puts Aphrodite to shame.
Fitz's lopsided smile stretches into a full on grin he has to force down, one she returns briefly before ducking her head low and reaching for a hymn book. From the first row, someone clears their throat, catching Fitz's attention and forcing him back into the moment.
"As we stand to profess our faith in an all-powerful God, let us entrust ourselves, our world and our Church to Him and commit to living His word with renewed fervor and confidence. Faith be unto Him. Amen."
/
The rest of the service is a blur. Fitz moves through the motions, collecting, blessing, kissing, advising and celebrating. He steals glances at Olivia as he goes, his heart nearly skipping straight out his chest at the mere sight of her. She stays away from the hubbub and above the fray, only joining in to drop a few dollars in the collection plate and hold hands during universal prayer. She isn't comfortable. Months ago she'd confessed to him her hesitancy with church and religion in general; a hesitancy she's faced to come here today.
After mingling with the crowd for a few moments, Fitz retires to the clergy quarters on a mission. He's determined to hang his robes and get back out to Olivia as quickly as possible. Last he'd seen of her she had been swarmed by a few students and their parents.
Tunnel vision clouds his sight as he reaches his office, pulpit robe partially over his head. He knocks his right knee into the corner of his desk and grunts as pain shoots up his thigh.
"Shit," Fitz mutters beneath his breath, huffing as he finishes dragging the robe over his head and tosses it onto his desk.
"In a hurry, Father?" Fitz hears. He turns at the sound of the voice to find Father Beene staring at him, still dressed for service.
Father Beene has been apart of St. Gabriel's parish for almost three months now. He's a lifelong priest and like Fitz, he has a background in education. That's all Fitz can gather about the man so far; their conversations are always one sided when it comes to sharing personal information.
"Just running a little warm," he lies. "Is there something I can do for you, Father Beene?"
"I saw Miss Pope in the pews today. I didn't expect to see her until August for school prep. I wasn't aware that she was Catholic."
Fitz stills at the mention of Olivia's name. He hasn't forgotten what Father Beene saw at the close of the school year almost two months prior; the incident they didn't discuss and Father Beene silently assured wouldn't go past the school walls.
"I don't believe she is, but this is a church; turning someone away isn't what we do," Fitz answers, tone terse. He turns to lean against his desk.
"Yes, yes. You're right. You two probably discuss her faith in great detail one on one," Cyrus says.
A surge of protectiveness rockets up Fitz's spine and he stands up straight, eyebrows raising. "What exactly are you trying to insinuate, Father?"
Cyrus raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back. "Nothing at all. Commendable really, the personal approach you've taken with this parish."
Anger pools in Fitz's gut, paired with a tinge panic. He hasn't thought much about the ramifications of their relationship yet because it isn't anyone business at this moment. Minus the night club near her apartment a couple of nights ago, they've rarely ever done much in public besides hold hands and exchanged stolen glances. And the couple of times they held hands, they'd been in areas far outside of Mount Pleasant.
"Is there something I can do for you, Cyrus?" Fitz asks, an edge to his tone as he drops all formalities. He grips the lip of his desk until his knuckles turn ghostly white.
"God understands and forgives far more than man. Man is hypocritical and stubborn. He holds others to standards he refuses to meet himself. I understand, Father."
"Excuse me?" Confusion flits across Fitz's face. What is Father Beene playing at?
A ghost of a smirk glimmers across Cyrus's. "Make time for your own confessions, Father."
Make time for your own confessions, Father. Confessions. Confession. Damn it.
Fitz checks his watch. 10:43am.
In eighteen minutes, he's supposed to take confessions for a half hour. He does it every Sunday, but for some reason this Sunday's slipped his mind. Running a hand over his face in frustration, Fitz pushes away from the desk. A yawn tears from his lips and his back cracks. He needs to sleep. 3am isn't the same at forty-one as it was at twenty-one.
"Father Fitzgerald, why not return to the rectory and rest? You're clearly sleep deprived. You were teetering on your toes up on the pulpit. I can take confessions. I am your assistant, after all."
Suspicious of Cyrus's motives, Fitz moves to decline the older man's offer, but stops short as he hears Olivia's voice. She isn't speaking English, but it doesn't matter, whatever she's saying still causes Fitz's heart to skip a beat.
"Espero con ansias, Senora Garza. Fue un placer conocerla."
"Igualmente, Miss Pope. Ciao."
"Ciao."
Her voice moves closer and Father Beene clears his throat.
"Just this afternoon, Father Beene. It won't happen again." Fitz promises. He knows better than to cut his duties short; he knows she wouldn't ask that of him, but he can't stop the spurt of recklessness that grips him whenever Olivia's near. Cyrus nods and then disappears.
/
She can't find the bathroom. As many times as she's passed by the church on her way to school, this is the first time she's ever stepped foot inside. Overwhelmed is the only accurate way to describe the strange feeling that flits up and down her spine. Catholic mass leaves a lot to take in. Her household growing up had never been a religious one; it hadn't been until Maya was on her deathbed that Olivia even found out that there was a bible in their home. While in the end of her days Maya gravitated towards the word of God, thirteen year-old Olivia stayed still.
Now at twenty-four, she considers herself more spiritual rather than religious. She's read too much on church, hypocrisy, and corruption. Yet she's here. When Fitz had asked her last night she'd been taken by surprise. One of the questions she'd asked in her interview for her job had been whether or not she'd be required to attend religious courses; her apprehension is not secret. Originally she'd declined, but after waking to the sounds of his snoring at 5 in the morning, she knew she owed him.
She hangs around as the services closes and patiently waits for Fitz with the intention of taking him to brunch. Parents swarm her as someone spreads the news she's a teacher for the school. Endless names of future and past students are thrown at her and she tries to remember them all before she escapes away to the bathroom. Or what she hopes is the bathroom. She gets turned around when she's stopped by Mrs. Garza, an upcoming student's mother. Mrs. Garza speaks little English, but luckily enough Olivia speaks fluent Spanish.
They chat for a few moments as Olivia tries politely to tell the older woman she needs to go. Finally the woman understands and they split ways. She turns to hurry away, hoping to find the bathroom, but instead slams into a body. A strong pair of hands steadies her and she immediately relaxes into the familiar touch. Without thinking she moves closer to him. His hands slide over her shoulders and come to rest on her upper back.
"Hi," she whispers. Her knees suddenly feeling weak as Fitz helps her find her balance.
"Hi," he replies, his thin lips stretched into a sideways grin. "You came."
Olivia returns his smile. "You invited me."
"I did, but you said church wasn't really your thing."
"I figured I owed you after last night. You talked me to sleep."
"Normally that's a bad thing, but today I'll take it." Fitz laughs heartily though his laughter is broken up by a large yawn. He wipes at his eyes and Olivia frowns. She knew she'd kept him awake too long.
"You must be exhausted, I'm sorry. You should've told me you needed to get to sleep. I wouldn't have cared."
Fitz shrugs, rolling his shoulders. "I'm fine, Olivia. I'm an adult, I have free will. If I didn't want to stay up with you, I wouldn't have."
"Can you at least go back to your room and get some rest?"
"With you standing here and the rest of my day in front of me?"
"Fitz, go get some sleep." She insists sternly though she knows if he does retire for a nap, she'll lament the moments they could've shared.
"You're so cute when you get tough." Fitz smirks, licking his lips. His head tilts in her direction and Olivia realizes they're still holding onto each other in the middle of the church. A church that no doubt still has stragglers and passersby. Heat ripples across her cheeks and she hopes no one has seen them.
Quickly she clears her throat and gently pushes away from him, stepping back.
"This is my personal space." Olivia holds her arms up between them, "And that is yours."
"Okay, Baby. I'll make sure no one puts you in a corner either." He shakes his head, chuckling.
"Seriously, Fitz. I don't want you to get in trouble," there's a slight edge to her voice. She isn't certain what the rules are any more, nor if they had any at all to begin with. Since the first day they met a subtle emotional and mental intimacy blossomed between them. Innocent glances and accidental brushes of skin were natural - innate. Whenever they were in the same vicinity, their bodies gravitated towards each other. Now that they've added the physical portion - memories of which still cause a crimson color to tint her cheeks - her reaction to him is visceral. His mere presence stops any rational thought she has and she finds herself needing him. Wanting him. Yearning for his presence.
Fitz nods and huffs. "You want to get out of here then, at least?"
"Are you free?" Olivia asks.
He nods again, but the bob of his Adam's Apple tells Olivia he's not - or rather that he isn't being completely honest with her
"Just let me grab a couple of things."
/
Brunch becomes lunch back at her apartment when it takes them several minutes longer than necessary to make the hike from Mount Pleasant down to Anacostia. Containers of soul food take out dangle precariously from Olivia's fingertips in thin plastic bags. Fitz carries his own set bags, including a brief case containing a binder with budget information in it. They walk side by side towards her building, stopping briefly in front of her stoop.
Huck ducks his head as Olivia approaches. An unmistakable redness tints his features and he refuses to look Olivia in the eye. No doubt he's still thinking about what he'd interrupted two nights ago.
"Three piece fried chicken, baked beans, and greens," she tells Huck, holding out one of the bags for him to take. "There's also a bottle of water in there."
Huck nods and mumbles a 'thank you' as the couple turns to head inside.
"Try not to break anything," Huck calls after them as he takes his seat on the stoop once again.
/
Once inside her apartment, they deposit the bags of food on the kitchen counter. A large yawn escapes Olivia's mouth and she stretches, trying to shake the tired from her bones. God is she tired, but last night she just hadn't been able to fall asleep on her own. She'd missed her mother and had been far too frustrated with her father for her brain to relax on its own. It'd been Fitz's baritone voice speaking nonsense that finally lulled her to sleep.
"I'm just going to change into a pair of shorts and I'll —"
She's silenced by a kiss to the lips. Everything else - the buzzing of her refrigerator, the tiredness in her limbs, and the rumbling in her belly - fades away. Her eyes flutter close. The only thing she feels is his lips on hers, soft, warm and inviting. Her body melds into his as his arms for a cocoon around her, a shield between them and the outside world. For this one single moment everything is right.
They break apart and Olivia cups his chin, feeling the barely there stubble on his chin. She tries to catch her breath, amazed by how something as simple as a chaste kiss could leave her speechless and her eyes glassy.
"Hi," Olivia breathes.
"Hi," Fitz repeats, his hands running gently over her back. If his goal is to start something, he's only going to suffice in putting her to sleep with his machinations. "I've been dying to do that since you walked into the church."
"Really?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Really," he agrees, his hands dropping lower until they're ghosting over the swell of her bum.
"It's a holy day, Father." Olivia teases, though heat floods her lower belly. She squirms out of his touch and turns on her heel. "Set the table and I'll be right back."
She disappears down the hall and changes into a t-shirt and cotton shorts. When she returns, he's leaning back comfortably on her couch. Their food is abandoned on the counter and his eyes are closed.
"Change of plans, Mr. Grant," Olivia announces, the edges of her mouth lifting in a smile as she grabs one of his hand and ushers him to his feet. "You're going to get some sleep. Come on."
"I don't want to sleep…" Fitz whines petulantly wiping at his eyes as she drags him towards her bedroom. His hands slip around her waist from behind and his lips fall to the crook of her neck. He places open mouth kisses along from her shoulder to chin, nipping and biting at her already warm skin. Any resolve she has is rapidly slipping away as he glides his hands up her sides. One night and he already knows how to play her body like a finely tuned instrument. His fingers dip below her waist band and her breath hitches. Lust clouds her senses and she relaxes into his touch, her legs spreading in anticipation.
"Fitz…"
"I love it when you say my name…" his teeth graze her chin and his fingers ghost across her clit.
She's ready to throw caution to the wind, crawl onto the bed and let him have her anyway he demands, but then he yawns again. She's effectively pulled from her lust haze and she wiggles out of his hold.
"Bed, now," she instructs as she tries to stop her heart from beating wildly against her chest.
"Only if you come." Fitz grins, but signs of fatigue are written all over his face. He does a good job keeping a smile on his face, but her trained eye can see his exhaustion. His shoulders are slumped and his hands drop loosely to his sides. He's definitely ready to sleep. "I'll sleep better if you're next to me."
"Only if you promise to actually get some sleep and stop trying to seduce me."
A slanted grin spreads across his face and he shrugs. "I make no promises once I'm asleep." He peels off his shoes, shirt, then his slacks. He stands before her in his powdered blue boxers and bare chest.
"Fitz. Bed."
At her behest, he slides beneath the comforter and holds the blanket up for her to join him.
"Let me put the food away first." She exits the room and shoves the containers of takeout into her barren fridge. Minutes later she returns to find Fitz snoring softly, arm stretched over where she's supposed to be. Olivia smiles at the sight and takes this as her chance to unabashedly study him. He's had his chance - she'd caught him the morning after their first night together tracing her lips with the tip of his right index finger - now it's hers.
She eases her way into the bed and lifts up his arm, snuggling into his side. Fitz shifts against her, and her breath stills, waiting for his eyes to pop open. When they don't, she takes that as her cue to slide her palm up the bare expanse of his muscled chest. She feels the way his breath grabs at him, the way his stomach expands and contracts, dragged along by his chest as it moves. His skin is warm, nearly hot, and it is rough across his pectorals and smooth as her palm slides over the side of his torso. Her hand stills. Her fingers flex into his skin. She stares at the soft lines etched into his face, forehead, and chin. He has a scar just above his heart and she can't stop herself from pressing a feather light kiss the marred skin.
Instinctively she pushes her bare leg in between his thighs, all the way, rolling half on top of him.
"Aren't you the one who told me to sleep?" His deep voice is melodic and she feels herself arching into it. His hand flattens against her back as he pulls her close.
"Sorry…"
His lips lift into a smile, though his eyes stay closed.
"Don't be," Fitz tells her and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.
His thumb slides up and down her spine lazily before dipping underneath the waistband of her shorts. His finger traces the narrow elastic band of her underwear and she moans, quietly giving him permission to ignore her previous demands that he sleep. He is barely beneath the fabric, but it's so intimate that her heart races.
Her hand slides down his torso, all the way to his hips, to where his boxers meet his skin. Sprawled on top of him she can feel his arousal pushing against her belly. She knows she's the one who ordered him to sleep, to rest, but the ache building between her legs refuses to be stifled.
She wants him.
The air around them moves and his hand slides lower, over the curve of her as. He cups her, draws her closer and they both groan against the contact. Olivia turns her mouth away from his neck just to breathe in the growing heat. The air conditioner in her bedroom does little to quell the spark threatening to turn into a full blow explosion. The heat between them grows, although their movements remain slow, lazy, and unforced; enervation laces their touch.
Her hips rock against his and he rolls her back onto her side. She slides her hand down his waist, past the edge of his boxers and over the bare, carved curve of his hips.
"Fitz…"
She needs him.
He glances at her with hooded eyes, sleep still tugging at his features.
"Need you…" she murmurs, unable to fight her desire for him anymore.
Apparently that's all Fitz needs to hear. Tired or not, the covers rustle and the bed dips. He tugs her shorts and underwear down her thighs while riding himself of his own boxers, ignoring her t-shirt. Simultaneously they both lean forward and their lips meet. Their kiss is gentle and soothing, lazy and soft before Olivia pushes for more. He's hard against her thigh, an she hooks her leg over his waist, rolling him onto his back so that she's straddling him. They hold each other's gaze for a moment longer before she slides down onto him. Fitz's hands meet her hips and his head falls back against the plush pillows that cover her bed.
Their bodies move together. Her nails dig into the skin of his chest, and they catch burning kisses.
Olivia jerks her hips in a lazy rhythm, listening as Fitz pants beneath her.
The grip he has on her hips tightens almost to the point of pain and she's certain bruises will blossom like daisies against her skin later on. He holds her tighter, rocking into her harder and a sudden urgency laces their lazy lovemaking.
God, this feels so good…and not even just the sex. Being so close to him, being so open to another person like this….
"Livvie…" Fitz whispers and it's the most erotic and soothing sound she's ever heard. His eyes squeeze shut and he thrusts up into her. "I'm gonna…you're…"
"Fitz…" she moans, rolling her hips faster. The grip he has on her tightens and she falls forward to kiss him, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, and her movements grow frantic. "Come…" she encourages, a familiar pleasure budding within her as she feels herself begin to tighten around him.
He slams her down onto him, buries himself deep as he explodes. Olivia isn't far behind and she collapses against his chest.
They still long moments after, finding their way back down from this high. Fitz's arms are wrapped tightly around her waist and they're both fighting to catch their breath.
Olivia's the first to speak, "I think I'm falling in love with you."
