A/N: Fair warning, we welcome back Edison in the next chapter & Olivia celebrates her birthday. But with who?
He allows Olivia to lead him up the stairs, to the bedroom she's made her own. It's a lot softer than he remembers it being all those months back. The white sheer curtain has been replaced by floor length lavender curtains that look to block out all light. On the bedside table there's a vase with fresh flowers and an alarm clock. A vanity set sits in the far-right corner, across from the bed.
As soon as the door clicks behind them, Olivia's mouth is on his. Her lips are like smooth silk. She kisses him without restraint, her tongue darts out and begs his lips to part. Fitz abides, unable to stop himself from giving in to her. She's intoxicating. Since the first night they might, he's dreamed of this exact moment. He's thought about it both asleep and awake. Her tongue slides along his and he can't help the gruff moan that leaves his mouth. The moan only grows more desperate as she unbuttons his pants, sliding a hand into his boxers. She takes him in her small hand, causing Fitz's breath to hitch. He can't stop his eyes from slipping closed as she strokes him, her mouth still on his.
Their mouths part though Olivia's hand stays put. "Please, Fitz…" she begs and a strong feeling of déjà vu washes over him. Before he has a chance to ask her to stop, she sinks to her knees. Olivia's fingers make quick work of his belt and she tugs on trousers.
"Olivia, stop," he tells her, unable to quiet the discomfort that boils deep within him. Much like last time they were in this position. "Stop."
She isn't listening – it's almost as if she's on autopilot. Her eyes are glassy, and a scratch runs across the bridge of her nose. When she tugs on his boxers, everything happens far too fast for Fitz's liking. He grabs her wrists and hoists Olivia to her feet. "I said stop!" His voice booms.
Tears fill Olivia's eyes instantly. "Don't." She flinches, eyes screwing shut.
Fitz's heart constricts in his chest. His eyes soften when he takes in her expression and reaction. She looks even tinier in his hold and he knows where her mind must've gone. "Livvie, I wouldn't…I would never."
She wiggles out of his hold and sits down on the edge of the bed. Her head falls into her hands and the sounds of sobs break his already constricted heart. He quietly collects himself, pulling up his pants, buttoning them, and refastening his belt. This isn't where he wanted tonight to end up. At all.
"I know you wouldn't…. I'm – I'm sorry," Olivia whispers. She wipes at her red eyes. "But I don't understand. Why don't you want me, Fitz?"
The expression on her face nearly triggers tears in Fitz's eyes. He takes a deep breath in and crosses the room. He sits on the opposite side of the bed. "I want you. I know that you know that, Olivia," her name is soft on his lips, "but why do you only want me like this."
Her eyebrows crook together. A look of concern falls across her face. "What?"
"The last time we were in this position…it was for the same reason. You and Russell had fought. You thought this was the way to make it better then, too. I want you to want me because you want me. I don't want you to want me because you think it'll. . ." He waves his hand in air, searching for a way to explain how he felt. "Help? Distract? I'm not sure, but I don't understand, either. Please, help me understand."
Olivia opens her mouth and then closes it. Her eyes fall to the paisley comforter and he watches as stray tears slip down her cheeks. Fitz wants nothing more than to reach out, take her in his arms and piece her back together. But that's not what she needs. At least not yet. He can see that she's fighting herself. Whatever is in her head is something that he can't yet fathom nor understand. Even though he wants to.
"I think…" she starts. Her voice is low. "The last year Russell and I were together. . .the only time things seemed to be right between us was when I was on my back." Her shoulders sag. "Sometimes it felt like that was all I could seem to do right. Even when I didn't want to, but it was the only time he was soft or loving to me. And even then, once he was done…." Her voice trails off and her words prompt Fitz to nod. He doesn't need her to spell it out for him.
"The night Russell – the night you. You said that he tried to ra-" The word catches in his throat. He doesn't want to think about it, let alone say it. "Did he – had he done it before?"
Olivia shakes her head. "No. He didn't force me like he was trying then. I think I always wanted it."
The uncertainty in her words causes him to frown. If his heart weren't already a crumbled mess inside of his chest, he doubts it would've survived even part of this conversation. The last year and a half she's endured makes him marvel at her strength – even when the chinks in her armor are more than apparent.
"In one of your letters, you said you were talking to someone about everything. Do you – are you still doing that?"
Again, she shakes her head. "I'm fine, Fitz." Olivia says, wiping at her eyes. "I'm fine."
"You don't always have to be. Especially when you're with me. I want you to trust me enough to let me take care of you, baby."
"I do…I am. I'm getting there. Everything just feels so impossible these last couple of days. I finally get you back and we can't have dinner without someone making a scene. I should've known better than to go to Kalorama. We can't keep hiding in my aunt's house when we want to be together."
Fitz chuckles. "There's always the tree house?"
Olivia gives him a genuine, yet watery smile. She slides her hand across the bed, into his. She locks their pinkies together. "I'm not joking, though. When can we – I just want to be with you and not worry about all of the other shit."
He looks down at their linked pinkies and smiles at her words. He's been terrified since touching U.S. soil that her mind has changed about them. When he'd walked into her aunt's home to find Edison Davis present, he'd almost thought he had lost her. Sitting here with her now, however, lets him know he hasn't. At least not yet. "I was going to save this until tomorrow, to surprise you for your birthday, but I want you to come to California with me."
"Excuse me?" Olivia asks. She tilts her head and he can see the confusion swirl in her irises.
"I want you to come to California with me. I bought an extra ticket. I was going to give it to for your birthday. I want to show you were I grew up. I want to show you me. My family. My mother would love you."
Olivia looks unsure. "Would she? Or would she take one look at me and react like my father?"
Again, Fitz smiles. He's told his mother all about Olivia. "If you're wondering whether or not my mother knows you're African American, she does."
"And she's okay with it?" Her tone is skeptical.
He thinks back to his last letter to his mother, promising he'd be home and hopefully with Olivia on his arm. If you think you love her, Fitzgerald, despite color differences, I would love to meet her. "Margot Grant is an honest woman. She's kind. Sincere. I think, much like your aunt, it would take a moment for her to understand us, but in the end, she'd welcome you without pause."
She looks away. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
Much like she did the first night they'd spent together in this room, Olivia changes the subject. The more time they spend together, the more Fitz figures out her quirks. When she doesn't know how to talk about something, she changes subjects. Her right eye twitches just a bit when she is trying not to cry, and the way she tells him she trusts him is by asking him to stay.
"Your aunt…"
"Doesn't even know you're here, Fitz. Please. I just need you here."
/
He wakes some hours later to find Olivia nearly on top of him. He peels himself away from the satin pillowcase and wonders just when she decided to join him on the hardwood floors (the only way he agreed to staying was to sleep on the floor). Her chin digs into his collarbone and her leg is flung over both of his. A bit of drool dribbles onto his shirt. She looks peaceful, a far cry from the woman who tried to rip his pants down an hour or so ago, yet he doubts she's comfortable. She lacks the years of military training that made him able to sleep – lightly – anywhere.
A soft knock sounds on the bedroom door and Fitz freezes. He goes rigid beneath Olivia. Sweat beads form at his hairline when a strip of light cracks the room in two.
"Come on out, Mr. Grant," Althea Walker whispers. Fitz's brows draw together, and he frowns. How did she know he was here? "Come on. Pick little Miss Hardhead up and put her on the bed. I want to talk to you."
A tinge of fear rolls down Fitz's spine. He's far more afraid of Marcus's mother than he is of Olivia's father.
"I'll be waiting at the kitchen table."
Fitz gulps, wondering what kind of trouble Olivia's gotten him into this time. Hopefully this table meet won't end in gunshots. Somehow, he manages to extract himself from Olivia's hold. He lifts her into his arms and watches as her eyes flutter open.
"Fitz?" she asks, voice thick with sleep.
"Shh, go back to sleep. I've got you." he tells her. Olivia nods as he lays her on the bed and then promptly curls into herself. Soon soft snores fill the air again, signaling to Fitz that she's fallen back asleep.
As he descends the creaking house steps, his heart jumps into his throat. Aside from what Marcus and Olivia have said about her, Fitz knows very little about the woman who might just take his head off.
The kitchen is bright. His eyes have to adjust to the light as he enters. Althea sets a tea kettle on the stove.
"Got some hot water going. Want a cup of tea?" Althea asks. "Take a seat."
Fitz's eyes flit from the table to the stove. He wonders if she's going to hit him with the pot. Maybe knock him out cold. Perhaps bury him alive in the backyard?
"No, ma'am," he answers. The chair squeaks as he sits.
"Water?"
"No." Despite his no, she tells sets a glass of water in front of him. He fidgets. His finger fumble as he reaches for the water glass. Fitz studies her profile. He makes notes of every part of her that reminds him of Olivia. They have the same mouth shape.
"I thought I told Olivia no to house guests," Althea says. "Why did I come how to my neighbor telling me that my niece came home with a white man who has yet to leave?"
"Mrs. Walker, I promise you—"
She cuts him off. "Althea or Thea."
"Mrs. Thea, I swear—"
Althea laughs. "Olivia said you weren't the average white boy. I can see that. Respectful."
"My mother raised me right, ma'am. As for your niece and I, we only slept. I promise you. Nothing else. I wouldn't disrespect your house."
She pivots, crosses the room and takes the seat opposite Fitz. "I know you probably tried to leave. Olivia can be quite persuasive when she wants to be."
He nods. "Do you have a phone. I'll call a cab and get out of your sight, ma'am."
"It's midnight, son. You won't find a cab in a fifty-mile radius. No one comes to these parts after a certain time unless they're looking for some trouble. Especially if they're white. I don't think you're looking for trouble."
"I'm not and I promise. We haven' – we didn't do anything ma'am. I would never—"
Althea chuckles. She clicks her tongue and then offers up a big – hopefully genuine – smile. "I trust you. For the most part. You've been good to my son overseas. You've been good to my niece here. You've got a pure heart from what I can see." Her analysis cause Fitz to flash a crooked, half smile. "But a pure heart is faint when it's intentions aren't good.
"Excuse me?" his head tilts in confusion.
"Olivia is fighting a lot of demons right now. Demons that took me years, if not decades, to fix. I need you to think about that as you two do whatever this is. People – including my brother – aren't going to like you two together. It's not going to be easy and I'll be damned if I sit by and let my niece get hurt. Again. I need you to understand that. Once the thrill is gone and the differences that put you together are pulling you apart, I need to know you won't leave her broken."
"I would never treat her the way Russell did. I'm not him, Mrs. Walker. I try to remind Olivia of that every chance I have." He glances down at the paisley tablecloth and then back up. "I just want what's best for her."
"I do, too. When Maya, Olivia's mother, was on her deathbed, I made a promise to take care of Bug. I failed once. I won't again. I'm a lot scarier than my brother, too. Don't you forget that." Althea punctuates her point by holding Fitz's gaze. He can't look away even though he wants to; she needs to see how certain he is.
"I'm falling in love with her. I think about her every day. Every minute. Wondering if she's okay. If someone is watching out for her," Fitz says. "I just want to take care of her."
"Olivia is an independent person. She hides parts of herself. There's a lot of baggage there."
He chuckles a bit. "I know." He rubs his jaw, remembering the fact that Olivia tried to take his head off. Twice when they first met. "I asked her to come to California with me for a bit. I want her to see where I grew up and meet my family."
"Do they know she's Black?"
Fitz nods again. "I've told my mother everything. I think she's much like you, Mrs. Thea. Skeptical, but willing to let me make my own path."
"How are you going to protect her from folks that want to wish her ill-will because you two are together?"
He feels like he's playing 21 questions. "I will kill for her."
"Mr. Grant, I think you just might be the right one for my niece after all."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"But that doesn't mean you're off the hook for letting Bug sneak you into this house. You can sleep on the couch." Althea yawns. The kettle begins to whistle. She gets to her feet and heads for the stove.
Again, Fitz smiles. "I'm willing to take whatever punishment seems fit. The only question I have is why everyone calls Livvie 'Bug'?"
"Because my oldest son once said she looked like an ant. It's stuck ever since."
An image of baby Olivia with big eyes and a long forehead fills his thoughts. He smiles to himself and then to Althea. "Wasn't the answer I expected but I like it."
"Don't ever call her it, though. She'll take your head off. She has her daddy's temper."
"Are you truly okay with Olivia and me being together? She looks up to you and I want to be respectful of that," he adds, hoping that he sounds sincere enough.
"You are different. And the answer is yes. Be good to my niece, Fitzgerald."