Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal
AN: Jam seems to be a thing with Olivia, so I decided to scribble something down.
"Somewhere, in another life, another reality, we are married and we have four kids and we live in Vermont and I'm the mayor -
" And I make jam,"
"And you make jam…."
"But we live in this world, so what's the point of living in a fantasy when it's not reality?" she asked, not wanting to have this conversation right now. Not wanting to relive the fantasy life they'd concocted late in bed one night long ago.
"Let's just…for one minute…let's live in Vermont. Let's be happy, be normal…just for a minute," he pleaded and began describing everything she could ever hope for but knew she'd never have.
Somewhere in another life….
Olivia was cutting the tips off the last of the strawberries, the sweet fragrance filling the kitchen and the vibrant red juice staining her fingertips. She plopped the last of the delicious fruit into the bubbling pot, giving it slight stir with her wooden spoon and adding just a pinch more sugar. This batch was going to be the best one yet, she could just feel it. But she said that about all the batches of jam she made.
Jam.
It was her thing, which was weird because she couldn't cook to save her life. But there was something about the gelatinous mixture that called to her, and when she spread it on her toast, or bagel, or English muffin in the morning and took that first bite, she got a fierce sense of satisfaction. Maybe her love of all things jams and jellies stemmed from her love of wine, the grapes that flavored her favorite brands often finding themselves in mason jars that lined her kitchen cabinets. Or maybe it's because she knew Fitz loved the stuff. The man could eat jelly sandwiches for days and never get tired of it. When she first learned of his love for it, and first saw the pure look of bliss that came across his face as he sunk his teeth into that first bite, she was irrationally jealous. She wanted to be the only one to make that look appear on his face, so she learned how to make his favorite condiment just for him and had been doing so ever since.
As she continued to stir, she heard the telltale giggles of kids that were up to no good. Without even having to turn to face their direction, she called out, "Jackson and Lincoln, stop running right now. I have told you time and time again no running in the house."
Instantly the trampling feet slowed in their tracts before stopping completely. Turning to face her seven year old twin boys, she had to stop herself from smiling at their guilt stricken faces. They each mumbled their apologies before hopping up on the bar stools that lined the island in the center of the kitchen. Like all boys their age, they had more energy than they knew what to do with and often couldn't help themselves from sprinting at a whim. But they had a huge backyard for a reason, one that for some odd reason, they just didn't think to use.
"One of these days, you're going to fall and hurt yourself more seriously than just a skinned knee," she warned.
"But Mom, Jackson said that he could run faster than me and I said 'no you can't' and he said 'yes I can' and I said 'no you can't' and he said 'yes I can…'"
"Okay, I get the point," Olivia cut off her rambling child with a chuckle.
"So I had to prove that I could run faster than him and I was just about to win when you said stop," Lincoln told her, trying to explain away his indiscretions.
"You were not going to win. I was ahead of you," Jackson piped in, then turned to his mother and excitedly explained, "we started in the den, then had to go through the living room, around the dining room, in the study, back out to the playroom, past the stairs, and end the race back in the den," he told her, jumping up from his seat and providing movements to his story.
"Yeah and I was leading the way the whole time until we hit the playroom, but I was just about to take the lead again," Lincoln cut in.
Olivia just nodded and listened, propping her elbows up on the butcher's block style surface as her boys began arguing who was supposedly going to win this race. Before they got too far into the 'nunh uhn" and "yeah hunh" bickering, she stopped them both.
"You guys aren't supposed to running anyways. But how about this, when daddy gets home, we'll go into the backyard and we'll do a best out of three race to see who's really fastest, okay? Now go check on your sister," she told them, referring to her three year old, Regan.
"Okay, Mom," they agreed happily, both loving to dote on their little sister who was currently down for her up but would likely be waking up soon.
They started to leave the kitchen, both speed walking in attempts to get to Regan's room first, but not before stopping at the baby swing in the corner that gently rocked the newest addition to the Grant clam, five month old Carter. He was a surprise to say the least, but a welcomed miracle that filled the missing piece that they hadn't even known existed.
Each of her children had their father's gray eyes and brown hair, Jackson's hair, at the moment, a curly fro that he refused to get cut. Where they differed, however, is that Regan favored her mother whereas her siblings looked like their father. They were active, well-adjusted children that had bright futures in front of them and Olivia and Fitz were so proud to be their parents.
A few minutes later, the boys came tumbling back into the kitchen, this time with Regan on their heels, her thumb in her mouth, her hair wild, and her favorite blankey clutched in her little fist. As soon as she saw her mother, she waddled up to her, sleep still fogging up her movements, and lifted her arms. Olivia picked up her baby girl, Regan resting her face in the crook of neck, and Olivia rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"Did you guys finish your homework," Olivia asked, multitasking between holding her child and stirring the brewing pot of jam.
"We did most of it, but there were some math problems that we couldn't figure out," they answered, as they often did, simultaneously. Though they weren't identical, they were as close as twins could possibly be, even sharing a secret language when they were younger.
"Well Daddy will be home soon and he'll help you go over them," Olivia promised. And as if on cue, the jiggling of keys at the front door signaled the arrival of the love of her life.
Lincoln and Jackson ran to the door and Olivia couldn't even be mad because she wanted to do the same thing. They reappeared moments later, each chattering their father's ear off about the day they had. Fitz actively listened, giving input and asking questions as his children shared their lives with him. But when he saw Olivia, he stopped mid –sentence and she could hear his breath catch. Moments like that, where they fell in love all over again, made her heart flutter in her chest.
They were pulled back from their own little cocoon with Jackson tugging on Fitz's arm trying to get his attention. Setting his briefcase on ground and tugging off his jacket, Fitz made his way further into the kitchen. He stopped at the swing to pick up a still sleeping Carter, nestling him into the crook of his arms before making his way towards his wife and daughter.
"Hi Daddy," Regan mumbled sleepily, popping her thumb out of her mouth for a quick second before putting it back in.
"Hi baby," Fitz chuckled back, finding his little girl completely adorable. "Hi Livvie," he greeted, deepening his voice in a way that made a shudder race up her spine.
"Hi Fitz," she returned, lifting her face up to his so that he could greet her properly, greet her the way that she'd been thinking about since he left that morning for work.
Once his lips met hers, her axis was righted and her world was okay again. She didn't know how she managed to miss him in the short span of time that he was gone, but she had, and with him here now, their children surrounding them, is when she was most happiest. His tongue eased past her lips and she had to bite back the moan and remind herself that they weren't alone.
Breaking away, she asked, "How was your day?"
"Whoever said being the mayor of a small town was easy lied," Fitz grumbled, rocking Carter back and forth.
"Well why don't you go get showered, then come back and tell me all about it," she suggested, knowing that the hot water would help him relax.
Leaning in close, he whispered seductively, "Are you showering with me?" nipping at the lobe of her ear before pulling back.
Her belly clenched at the invitation and an all too pleasant and familiar warmth filled her system. "Later. I promise," she whispered back.
He growled playfully and kissed her again, before being stopped abrubtly by their sons' "Ewwwwwww gross," filled the air.
"You guys won't think kissing is gross when you're older," Fitz told them.
They both made exaggerated disgusted faces, Jackson going so far as to fall to the floor to simulate dying at the thought of kissing the dreaded opposite sex.
"Girls are gross and they have cooties," Lincoln so eloquently informed them. "Well ,all girls except Mommy and Regan," he amended.
Fitz just laughed and shook his head, anticipating the day when their sons brought home their first girlfriends.
"Why don't you two go get your homework so that Daddy can look over it when he gets out the shower," Olivia suggested. Setting Regan down, she told her, "go put your blanket back in your room and go potty."
As her oldest children scurried out of the kitchen, Fitz set Carter back in his swing before heading back towards Olivia. Fitz lifted his chin to her, and Olivia knew what he wanted and she would give it to him with pleasure. Her fingers went to the knot of his tie at his throat and began undoing it. Every morning she tied his tie and every evening she undid it. It was a long standing ritual that provided them an intimate moment that was just between them.
Taking the two loose ends, she pulled him closer to her, close enough for his mouth to be within reach. She moaned softly just before their lips connected and she kissed him with a fierce hunger that she couldn't earlier. He gathered her into the circle of his arms, molding her soft form into his harder one. She twisted her fingers into her hair, nipping at his bottom lip as her breasts swelled against his chest and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. She wanted him.
"Dad,I have my homework…oh come on, not again," Jackson groaned in the doorway.
It took every fiber of her being to pull away from him, because if she didn't, their son would be getting an eyeful. "Go get in the shower," she mumbled against his lips, "and make it a cold one."
Later that evening, with all the kids asleep, Olivia was downstairs in the kitchen jarring up the last of her jam and cleaning up the last of the dinner dishes. She heard the third step squeak and a smile spread across her face. The warmth of his presence hit her before he even stepped foot into the room. She felt as though she could breathe again when he wrapped his arms around her waist and she melted into him.
"Have I told you how happy you've made me these ten years we've been together?" He asked, dropping his head to her shoulder.
"Mmmmm…not lately, no. But baby, you don't have to because I already know," she whispered back, lovingly caressing his face.
"You've made me so happy. I love you so much," he told her anyways.
"I love you, too, Fitz. More than you could ever know," she said back sincerely and she hoped he knew just how much she meant it.
"I know, baby, I know," he punctuated with a kiss to her neck. "But you know, I would love you all the more if you-" before he could even finish his sentence, she presented him with a plate that held a scone from his favorite bakery smothered in her strawberry jam.
"You're the best," he praised before sinking his teeth into the pastry. He groaned and ate the rest in practically one bite. "That was good, but do you know what would be better?" he asked, picking up a stray mason jar from the counter and untwisting the lid.
"Fitz…"she said breathily, her voice warning him that they couldn't do this here.
"I bet this jam would be even more delicious on a something even sweeter," he murmured hotly before smearing a sticky, jam caked finger on her neck.
The hot, wet pressure of his mouth soon followed and she dropped her head to the side to give him better access. He sucked the strawberries off of her flesh, groaning as he did and telling her how delicious she was. Pulling at her shirt, he quickly tugged it over her head and cast it to the floor. Just as fast, he unsnapped her bra and it soon joined her shirt on the tiles. His large, work roughened hands cupped her breasts and her already peaked nipples tightened even further.
"I wonder how it would taste here. Even better I bet." And to test his theory, he dipped a finger back into the jar and brought back to her pebbled peak.
Just for a second his mouth hovered over her, the moisture from his breath causing her to whimper and nearly beg him to pull her nipple into his mouth. Finally ending the sweet torture, he took her deep and she let out a guttural moan, shockwaves of pleasuring hitting her so hard that her knees shook. "Fitz…."
And he continued on his path. He stopped at her other breast before smearing a streak down her stomach. Wherever his finger went, his tongue soon followed until her torso was a wet, sticky, trembling mass of flesh. And with each lick, with each swipe of his finger, he was building up to something greater. To something that she needed so bad that she found herself pushing his head lower to her desired destination. He chuckled, but obliged her, pushing her pajama shorts down her thighs before scooping a big glob of the strawberry jam onto his finger and depositing it onto her slick folds.
That first flick of his tongue had her calling out his name and she slung her leg over his shoulder to change the angle. He made feral noises as he devoured her, making sure every crease and crevice was thoroughly explored before he sucked her nubbin to the roof of his mouth. She braced her elbows against the counter, afraid that she'd fall without the extra added support. "Close…so fucking close…" she moaned incoherently, grinding her hips into his mouth.
"Not yet, baby" he said, stopping his ministrations and standing back up.
Before she could protest, he claimed her mouth and let her taste herself on his tongue. Her own flavor mixed with the strawberries and Fitz's own taste was a heady combination and she couldn't get enough. Ending the kiss, she pushed him away and grabbed the jar from the counter. A wicked grin came across her face as she proceeded to follow the same path on his body that he had hers. His neck, his pecs, his abs, the 'v' of hip bones that she thought was so sexy that she ran her tongue over them twice.
"Livvie…"His voice was tight with arousal and she knew what he wanted, could see the evidence jutting out in front of her, taunting her.
"Is this what you want?" she asked, lowering her lashes and dragging a jam coated finger across his hard, throbbing length.
She followed the red line with her pink tongue and she could feel his stomach muscles contract and relax. She repeated this action again and again, stopping to suck him deep into her mouth, moaning and feeling her core grow wetter at the taste of him. "So good…" The words came from her mouth but were running through his mind.
Not being able to wait any longer, he picked her up and put her on the counter. She spread her thighs for him, curling her fingers around the edge of the counter and licking her lips in an invitation. He fisted himself in his palm, guiding his length to her dripping channel.
"You want it?" he asked, his normally deep voice so low that she could barely make out his words.
"Please…." the whimpered plea had barely left her lips before he was tunneling his way into her clasping heat. "Fuck…" the curse was an afterthought, something she couldn't keep from coming out of her mouth as he pulled out and pushed back in.
She hooked her legs around his waist, resting her crossed ankles at the base of his spine and opening herself up further to him. His hands tightened about her hips and his pace picked up. He heard her ask him to push harder, go deeper, and he did, wringing every ounce of pleasure that he could from her writhing body. Her blunt nails dug into his ass as she anchored herself to him.
"Baby…"
She was close. She always cried out 'baby' like that when she was. He could feel her tightening around him, her body preparing to explode into ecstasy. Fitz slowed down and gave her the long strokes that he knew she liked just before she came. And with one more ragged, shaky breath, she climaxed, biting her scream into his shoulder and spasming wildly as he continued to drive into her until his own orgasm washed over him.
She sagged against the cabinet behind her, her heart beating fast in her chest. He pulled out and gathered her limp body into his arms and headed towards their bedroom.
"Best jam I've ever made," she laughed softly and Fitz joined her.
"I agree."
"Normal is overrated," Olivia forced out of her tight throat, trying hard to pretend that she wasn't affected by his description of the life that they could've had. The life that she ached for with every cell in her body.
"One day, maybe someday soon, we'll be together and we'll have that life," he promised her, just needing her to believe in him enough to take that chance.
"You need to stop dreaming. There's a reason why we don't have Vermont and it's so you can be president. So be the President." And with that she hung up and continued her run.
AN: Leave a review and tell me what you thought