A/N: Based off of Kerry's tweet. I've used my artistic license here to make it work, so it's set during season 3. Un-betaed because I needed to post this before I talked myself out of it, so there are possibly (probably) some typos.

James is finishing up in the press room, briefing the country of the policies to be implemented at midnight in order to stop the spread of the virus. Schools and colleges are shutting down, mass gatherings are banned. Funds are being redirected to help hospitals prepare for the increased number of patients that are expected to need intensive care, and the public are being asked to adhere to social distancing guidelines. He is being hounded by the journalists, and handling each question with poise. Olivia and Fitz are watching from a board room, nodding along as he says all the right things to ensure the public remains as calm but proactive as possible.

"He's doing good," Olivia comments. "I should head home. Take our own advice. I'll see if we can set up a video conference from tomorrow, I'm sure Huck will be able to work that out for us, and--"

"Liv," he interrupts her, "why don't you just stay here?"

"What?"

"I mean, we've already been in contact, so there's no point in isolating from each other. Mellie's not here, so don't try to argue that one with me. And apart from my Secret Service Agents, there really aren't that many people in the residence." He pulls her to him by the waist, watches as his touch drains the fight from her and she relaxes into his embrace.

"You're saying if I have it you have it?" she questions, smiling, her hands running up both his arms to wrap around his neck.

"Mmm," he mumbles, done with the conversation, chasing her lips with his. The kiss is indecent, and although they are the only people in the room, Olivia is aware that they're not on do not disturb right now, and someone could walk in any moment.

"Fitz," she breathes, pushing his chest gently, "take me upstairs."

.

She's been in the White House residence precisely once before, and that was to convince Fitz to run for re-election. This time, she doesn't even get a chance to take it in because he's all over her, kissing from her jawline down her neck as he walks her backwards towards the bed. His jacket has already been discarded and she's hastily removing his tie, unbuttoning his dress shirt. Her actions are interrupted by the backs of her legs unexpectedly coming in contact with the bed, causing her to let out a huff in surprise before she regains her bearings, scooching back on the mattress and pulling him down to her.

"Livvie," he breathes, "takes off your clothes." It's a command, but he helps her, unbuttoning her pants as she removes her blazer and shirt, leaving her in just her underwear. He takes a second to admire her then, spread out on his bed, chest heaving as she attempts to catch her breath. "So sexy," he tells her as he caresses the outsides of her thighs. "I'm so lucky."

His words still affect her so viscerally, and she wonders yet again how it's possible that he can simultaneously turn her on and cause her insides to melt. That thought process comes to a halt once he lowers his mouth to the inside of her knee and begins placing open mouthed kisses up her leg, and suddenly she can't think at all. He reaches her apex and lets out a hot breath over the material of her thong, and she squirms, but his hands on her hips hold her in place.

"Fitz," she moans.

"Shh, Livvie," he soothes, "I've got you." He places a soft kiss on either hip bone before finally hooking a finger under her panties and tugging them down. She guides him back to her with a hand in his hair, directing him to where she wants him. As he places his tongue against her clit her breath hitches and her back involuntarily arches. He smirks, loving that he holds so much power over her, before sliding a single finger into her to test her wetness, and then a second, because she's soaked.

"Fuck, Fitz," she manages as she writhes against him. "Come up here, baby."

He continues to pump his fingers into her as he moves up her body, attempting to one-handedly remove her bra on his way. He fails, and she giggles, reaching behind herself to help him, unclasping it and flinging it onto the floor. He's forced to remove his fingers as he settles over her and she whimpers at the loss of contact.

"You're still wearing your pants," she whispers against his lips.

"We should change that," he replies, sitting back on his knees to unbuckle his belt, getting off the bed quickly to rid himself of his dress pants and boxers, freeing his erection.

"Turn around, baby," he tells her.

Her eyes widen slightly before she acquiesces, reaching out to grab a pillow and settling back on her knees. His hands around her waist cover almost her whole stomach and that alone feels incredible, but when he finally lines them up, presses himself inside her, there aren't any words.

"Baby," she whimpers, turning her head in an attempt to see him, "feels so good."

He takes that as permission, so squeezes her waist gently, slowly moving his hips against her to establish a rhythm. She's gripping the sheets in an attempt to retain some control, so he reaches out to grab both her wrists, holding them in place on her back with one hand, as the other still grips her hip.

"Fitz," she gasps, "faster."

"Oh, you like that?" he asks as he picks up speed.

"Mmm, yeah baby, just like that," she gasps. "I'm so close."

He knows just what she needs to push her over the edge, so he frees her wrists, leans down over her and presses and presses his mouth to where her shoulder meets her neck, biting gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. It's an awkward angle, and his right hand has migrated underneath her, pressed flat against her stomach in an effort to keep his balance, and it feels so good that it only takes two more pumps before her walls are squeezing around him, her breathing uneven and her face scrunching up as she rides out her orgasm, desperately grasping at the sheets as she comes down. The sight is more than he can take, and he comes almost straight after her, moaning out her name as his hips move of their own accord.

He collapses on top of her, but forces himself to move almost immediately in order not to crush her, drawing her into his arms instead.

"That was incredible," he says softly, placing kisses against her head.

She nods in agreement, not yet able to speak, her limbs still like jelly as she basks in her post-orgasmic bliss. It's a few minutes before either of them talk again, and when the silence is broken, it's because he can tell Olivia isn't in the moment anymore.

"Hey," he whispers, knocking his forehead against her temple, "what's going on up there."

His voice almost surprises her, as if she was so deep in thought she momentarily forgot where she was.

"I just--we're in your…" she trails off before finishing the sentence, but he knows she meant to end it with "marital bed."

"Olivia, look at me," he urges, placing a finger under her chin to force her to oblige. "It's you and me, okay? It's always you and me. Nobody else matters. Look at me and tell me you believe that."

She searches his eyes for a sign of… something. She's not sure what. But all she finds is pure adoration, and it almost causes her to tear up.

"I believe you," she whispers, stretching up to kiss him. "I think we should shower," she says then. "The president has set out some pretty strict hygiene policies, I think I might need help."

"Oh, has he now?" he chuckles, already dragging himself out of bed, grabbing her hand to take her with him. "We better adhere to them then."

"We better," she giggles, before he picks her up and carries her to the ensuite bridal style and she dissolves into laughter.

A/N: Welp. I don't even have an excuse. I'm gonna go hide now.