AN: I blame Adele & writer's block for bring me back to this. As of right now, though, this is 'finished.'

I want every single piece of you

I want your heaven and your oceans too

Treat me soft but touch me cruel

I wanna teach you things you never knew, baby

Bring the floor up to my knees

Let me fall into your gravity

Then kiss me back to life to see

Your body standing over me

- I Miss You, Adele

Much like the ground after the aftermath of a storm, Olivia felt still. Not at peace but still, yet to realize the impact of her actions. She'd abandoned her wedding. Her future husband. Her parents. Everyone in the tristate area. All those anticipating Edison's inevitable run for president. If she thought about it too long, she would turn back immediately. Every rational fiber of her being wanted her to turn back, although she wasn't sure if she could if she tried. They were far outside of D.C., somewhere in Virginia. She stopped paying attention to road signs hours ago. Even now as they shuffled into the quaint boutique hotel, all eyes on her no doubt because of the dress, she didn't know where she was. Somewhere Virginia. Perhaps. Maybe. That was it.

"Ma'am, can I help you with your dress?"

Olivia turned to her left to find a female bellhop. The girl was tiny, freckled face and skin the color of powdered milk. Her auburn locks cut to her chin and her bright hazel eyes left Olivia guessing she was no more than twenty-two, at best. The nametag tacked to her blouse read "Ginny."

"Oh, I uhm…" Olivia said. The sound of her voice surprised even her. It was high, heavy, yet light.

"I'll have the other bellhops grab the rest of the bags while I help you to your room Mrs. Thomas…" Ginny said.

Olivia looked to Fitz. Thomas. Smart. Their faces would be plastered all over the news; she was certain to become tabloid fodder over this.

"Bags will be coming later," Fitz answered. His soft blue eyes didn't meet hers. He extended a hand toward Olivia and without hesitation, she took it. They had no bags, no destination, and no answers for what had just occurred.

Ginny nodded, chipper and bright, proving she wasn't exactly the most astute. Perhaps that was in she and Fitz's favor. Or at least hers. She was almost certain that she looked like a kidnap victim.

"Right this way then, Mr. Thomas. Mrs. Thomas, I'll help you with your train."

/

They were barely through the door and Ginny out of it when Olivia felt his lips on her. His thick, coarse fingers were the antithesis of the prim and proper boy that his mother paid nannies to raise. They tugged at the bodice of her dress before winding around her waist, up her back to the buttons that held her dress up. His tongue darted between her lips, drawing her tongue into his mouth. Olivia couldn't hold back the moan. It was innate whenever Fitz touched her. His fingertips were a lit match, and her skin was covered in gasoline. Every part of her hummed. She grew needy and returned his kiss with the same amount of passion. It was always like this between them. Their bodies knew how to speak when their voices betrayed them.

"Livvie," he whispered, voice thick with tears.

The sound of his voice caused her to stop. The night prior popped into her mind and she tried shoved him away from her. He held her tightly and she only managed to push her a couple of inches back. Something in Olivia cracked. She wheeled back, right fist clenched, and cracked him square in his jaw. Pain jolted from her fingers to her elbow but she didn't let it show.

"You bastard." The tears were immediate. Everything that had just happened was too heavy for Olivia to hold. She was an open cut and Fitz was citrus. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to tear up and push me around. No! Do you know how you made me feel last night?"

The look of shock on Fitz's face surprised Olivia. It was almost as if he didn't understand her anger. "Livvie."

"No, you don't get to Livvie me. Look at me, I'm in my wedding gown. I'm supposed to be married right now!" Olivia shouted. The frustration boiled over. She pushed at his chest, the pain in her hand now muted under the emotional weight of being here with him.

Shock contorted to confusion on Fitz's face. He held his jaw, the flesh growing red beneath his palm. "Then why did you come with me?"

It was a question she wasn't fully prepared to answer. It was the same question she'd pondered the entire silence filled drive. Why had she left? Why had she thrown herself into his arms and fled her wedding? Why hadn't she been able to stop thinking about him in the entire span of her relationship with Edison?

"Because it was always you," Olivia whispered. Her eyes dropped to the ornate, perhaps hand packed, carpet. The one thing Olivia hated about herself more than anything else was just how much she loved Fitzgerald Thomas Grant II.

"Always me?"

Olivia wiped her eyes. The last time she felt this raw, this exposed was the night she found he and Mellie in bed together. It all happened so fast. She'd lunged at Mellie, swung at Fitz. He'd ripped her into two several nights prior, telling her that he was done; the thing between them had been purely sexual. To see them together, it'd been like having the floor beneath her feet shatter.

"I love Edison," Olivia said. It was the truth. She loved her … fiancee? ex? Whatever he was to her now, Olivia loved him. He'd helped her get up off the ground where Fitz had left her. "He's a good man. He's sweet, attentive, generous, gentle, and…"

Fitz interrupted. "If he's so damn perfect, why did you leave with me?" He shouted. For the first time since she'd seen him at the other end of the aisle, Olivia looked at Fitz. She saw the sadness gathered around the corners of his dull eyes. The sides of his mouth turned down. His hair stuck up and out, unruly and unrelenting. His suit was crumpled and was, without a doubt, the suit he'd worn the night before. He looked like a man undone, a man on the precipice of losing it all.

Olivia voice cracked and she caught his gaze. "Because I'm in love with you!" It was the one, absolute truth of her life. Try as she might, she couldn't stop being in love with him. She'd tried. For two years she'd caught off most contact with him. Erased his number from her phone and his presence from her life. Maybe she was stupid. Utterly and absolutely foolish to give this man, power over her heart the way she had. When their love affair began, he'd once asked her if he was in love alone. By the end, she felt as if she was.

His expression softened, prompting a bout of irrational anger to bloom inside of her. She hated him. She hated that he didn't have a poker face and that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Most of all, she hated how he could open her up like no other. Edison had tried. He'd all but pulled his heart out of his chest and handed it to her. I don't know who hurt you, Liv, but it'll never be me, he'd told her. For some reason, she knew he wouldn't, but she also knew that one day she'd hurt him. Perhaps months or years down the line, she'd want the man standing in front of her still.

Something in her cracked. She shrugged her shoulders, at a loss with how to reckon with the love she had for him, the hate she had for the words he'd said to her, and the fact that she'd just run away from everything she's supposed to want. Olivia threw her arms around him. Her body always knew how to say the things she didn't. To her surprise, though, Fitz pulled away. The sheer amount of pain on his face left Olivia frowning.

"I always imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day — our wedding day," Fitz spoke. His voice was shaky, uncertain. He touched the soft gossamer curls that framed her face. She'd gone for a half up, half down hairdo for the wedding. She'd hated it. It'd be a lie if she told him that she hadn't thought of their wedding.

"I…" The sound of Harrison's voice inched into her thoughts. He hurt you.

"You look beautiful," he said. A lone tear slipped down the left side of his face. Olivia reached up to wipe it away, blinking hard to silence Harrison's voice and her own doubts. "I'm sorry. For everything. For what I said, for how I said it, for—"

She didn't want to hear any more. She wanted to feel. Something she hadn't wanted in a very long time.

Olivia reached up, winding her right hand around the back of his head. Her lips parted, mere inches from his. He vibrated with need but exercised self-restraint, prompting Olivia to smile. He always waited for her to make the first move. It was the only way he knew that she really wanted this, it, them. Her hand tightened on the back of his head, bringing him closer. Finally, their mouths met. His lips were soft on hers and she opened her mouth wider to deepen the kiss. His tongue touched hers, a simple stroke of a re-introduction.

/

Her custom Vera Wang gown sat in a heap on the floor; the lace veil beside it. Olivia stepped out of it. She stood, bare under Fitz's unrelenting gaze, in her cream-colored matching bra and underwear on display. He pulled her hair to the side, dropping small kisses onto her neck. She shivered, arching her head back, allowing him access to a spot she so desperately wanted him to cover. Her hands tangled in his hair, his lips burnt wet kisses onto her skin. She lifted her head, moved her lips over his, like the beginning stages of two people making love, their mouths open, their tongues meeting.

She kissed him like the first night in his office, before Edison, before her being fired, and Mellie, when all that they had was undeniable feelings and a lack of a clear mind. She didn't want to think now, didn't want to question all the decisions she'd made in her life thus far.
Fitz's hand lowered, rubbing against her stomach and she sighed into his mouth, the kiss breaking momentarily. She stared at him, him at her, years of emotions drawn out through stares that have been perfected over time. They stand only an inch apart, their bodies drew together like a magnetic force. The world didn't exist beyond them.

With careful finger and his gaze still locked on hers, Olivia watched as Fitz fingered the strap of her bra, lowering each so that they rest below her shoulders, kissing a line down her neck. She moaned into the open space of the hotel room, into the air that smelled of his touch. The moment he stopped, she lifted her head. Fitz walked her backward, toward the bed, the back of her legs resting against the edge. He ran his hands through her hair, across her cheek, and down her side. His gaze unnerved her. The way he stared at her as if nothing else mattered, as if he only saw her and the last two years didn't exist. His fingers reached for the top of her underwear. He lowers the La Perla silk panties to the floor, leaving her in only the matching brassiere that's halfway off. Her nipples are hard against the soft material, sensitive to the thought of his touch, to the memory of his mouth on her breast.

He smiled at her, cupping her between the thighs, and Olivia startled, wrapping one arm around his waist. His hand was warm against her as she rocked slowly against him, matching the rhythm of their bodies. She closed her eyes as one finger slid inside of her loosening her muscles. His finger moved inside of her, stroked her, and built her rising need to feel him inside of her.

Olivia sat down on the bed, his finger fell from its terrain, and with Fitz standing above her, she unzipped his two-day-old slacks. She lowered them to the floor, taking his boxer briefs with them, and took the length of him in her hand. He's tight and hard and with a tongue that has come to know his mouth well, she runs it along the length of him. Fitz gasped, gripping her shoulders, his dick contracting and hardening with the teasing, spiral movements of her tongue. He didn't let her do this often, but it was one of her favorite past times. She loved to watch his expression, the sheer ecstasy of what she did to him always brought her joy. Even now, he stopped her.

The moment she lifted her mouth, he braced his legs on either side of hers, lowering her back against the mattress. She unclips her bra as he unbuttons the button down. Her bra was tossed to the floor as he lowered himself on top of her. He's hard against her stomach and she bit her lip with a smile, finally discarding his shirt. It falls onto the floor; a tangled mess of clothes no longer needed, much like the wedding dress that belongs to another. He ran his hands across the hot skin of her body. He slid over her, allowing their bodies to find the contact they've desired after all this time. She welcomed him into the cradle of her hips, finally feeling complete.

He tilted his head, his lip tenderly kissing hers. Without a word, he braced himself above her, entering her for the first time in far too long. She closed her eyes, her back arching slightly.

"Look at me," Fitz whispered.

Unable to deny him anything, Olivia opened her eyes to find tears hugging the corners of his eyes. He hovered above her, his hands braced the back of her head and he slid his tongue across her lips, nipping her skin. He rested inside her, their mouths divulging in foreplay, and she opens her legs wider so he had the room to rest over her.
Slowly, he began to move, gentle motions in the silence of the room. Her arms wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper inside of her as she lifted her knees into the air. He began to move faster, neither of them able to stand the wait. Every inch of her tingled. Her nipples smashed against his chest, his hips pistoned into hers.

He moved counterclockwise, stopping for a moment, drawing a frown from Olivia. A wicked grin ghosts across his face as he continues, harder, faster. The seedlings of a scream started in her throat. Her moans grew heavier. She felt the muscles of his back pump harder beneath her soft palms. Her wedding nails — the nails she'd gotten done yesterday afternoon with the sole intent and purpose of them being picture-perfect for press photos — dig into Fitz's skin. Her orgasm rippled through her, catching her off guard. Her muscles contracted. The world spun underneath her. Moments later, she felt his orgasm, heard his grunt as he spilled inside of her. Their bodies were soaked in a sheen of sweat and their heavy breaths replaced any words they'd try to speak. Fitz's face fell to the crook of her neck. She felt the tears he'd been hanging onto drip down her neck. She ran a hand through his hair, placing a gentle kiss against his temple. Words hadn't been spoken in nearly an hour. Like always, their greatest desires were spoken through silence.

/

Some hours later, Olivia woke to the smell of takeout. She was still tangled in the rustic duvet cover. Fitz stood at the large bay window that overlooked the rest of the property. The sun had set. Somewhere in D.C., Edison was nursing a broken heart and a bruised ego. Somewhere else, tabloids were just firing up their laptops and sharpening their pencils. By tomorrow morning, she'd be the most hated woman in the world.

"I don't deserve you." Fitz turned to face her.

Olivia sat up. "You don't." She'd just run out on her husband-to-be, she wasn't about to sell her self short to save his ego.

"I didn't sleep with her."

"What?" She grabbed the pillow next to her and held it to her chest. Clearly, she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Mellie. The night you found us. We didn't have sex."

Olivia felt her stomach churn as unpleasant memories, things she'd actually seen with her own eyes, flooded her thoughts. He was not about to gaslight her. "I walked in on you two. There was an open condom wrapper on the floor. Neither of you were dressed. You were in bed. I know what I saw."

"You saw what I needed you to see. Think about it, Livvie. Why would I have texted you about the Patton Project and asked you to bring it over? Did I ever try to work when I had you alone?"

She didn't want to think about that night. Not what led up to it, not what happened after. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down. There was so much to be sad over and that glitch in her life, that moment paled in comparison. Especially now that she tried to forget about it and forgive it. Curiosity killed the cat. "If that's the truth, then why?"

"My father was threatening to sink the institute; dirty it up and me." A humorless laugh sauntered from Olivia's lips. Jerry Grant. It was always Jerry. The Patriarch of the Grant family was a real bastard. "It's why I told you we couldn't be together anymore. I didn't tell you because he said he'd put your name in it."

They both fell silent. Olivia's thoughts continued to swirl. She took a deep breath, watching as he turned to gaze back out the darkened window. If only he'd told the truth. They could've figured it out together. Inside, Olivia knew that would never happen. Fitz was too proud. He was going to protect her the way he thought he knew how; damn if she didn't like it or not. "We just went public in unparalleled fashion."

He snorted. "I didn't think you'd come with me."

"I always thought Whitley Gilbert was an idiot," she whispered.

"Is she?"

"Probably." They weren't talking about A Different World anymore. "But she did it. Hopefully it worked out for her."