A/N: There's some light, some dark, and a bit of laughs I had to add after all the heavy.
Thanks to Trininadz, DaPrinces&Me for their support and my prima for always encouraging my mess.
Thanks to everyone else that reads and reviews, too!
All mistakes are my own.
Hope you enjoy.
-M
Hi.
Hi.
"What are you – you're. Hi."
Fitz watches as Olivia stumbles over her words, unable to stop the smile that tugs at his cheeks. This is the first time he's seen her in three months minus the thirty seconds in his office hours ago. She's still as beautiful as ever. Her deep brown doe eyes, those high cheeks, and full lips have haunted his dreams for weeks.
His fingers twitch at his sides anxiously, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run a finger along her jawline, tilt her chin up, and kiss her.
But that's not what he's come to do.
Oh God, what did he come here to do again?
Suddenly he's a ball of nerves. He sticks his hands in his pockets, the confident man from moments ago disappearing under this young woman's curious gaze. Why does she affect him this way?
"Hi." He offers again, this time chuckling at the absurdity of his own response. "I – uh –."
"You're at my apartment. In Anacostia." Olivia supplies and Fitz nods.
Come on, get it together man.
"I am." Well, technically he's in the hallway that leads to her apartment. A fact he's reminded of as the door down the hall swings creaks open and he watched a kid, no more than ten, carry a ball towards the steps.
Fitz smiles at the child, before turning his attention back to Olivia.
"Can I, can I come in?"
"Oh, right, of course!" Olivia steps aside and usher's him in.
In the light of her apartment, he's able to see her more clearly. She almost looks like a china doll dressed in a shirt that threatens to swallow her whole and shorts that barely peek out from beneath its hem. Her long braids are pulled back away from her face, free of all makeup, and she's barefoot. He's never seen a sight so pure before, so indicative of comfort and home.
The apartment is much smaller than he'd imagined and everything is either decorated in various muted shades of gold, sky blue, or creamy white minus the television nestled into an entertainment center across from the cream-colored sofa peppered with blue throw pillows. Fresh flowers sit in a vase on the glass coffee table. There's a set of shelves stacked to the hilt with books of various titles off to the left, near her front door; and across from those rests two windows separated by a thin strip of wall that holds an antique clock.
What surprises him most, however, about her apartment, isn't the soft décor or the size, it's the record player, tucked into a corner with a stack of vinyls hidden next to it. He almost feels like asking her what she knows about records. She is the cassette and CD generation, but stops himself as his eyes come to settle on her once more – the most beautiful aspect of the room.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asks, already moving towards the kitchen that cuts the open floor space in half. "I have water, juice, soda, and wine, but unless it's the blood of Christ, you probably don't drink that?"
Fitz chuckles at her joke, "just water. Thanks."
He can't keep his eyes to himself. He watches as she stretches to reach a glass in the cupboard, the muscles in her calves stretching, the fabric of her shorts inching upwards, the long hem of her t-shirt…
Get a grip, man.
Fitz shakes his head and closes the steps to the breakfast bar and the stool that are pulled up to the counter top. Olivia busies herself with fetching his water when he catches sight of a photo on her refrigerator that rests right next to the school's yearly schedule.
It's a picture.
One he doesn't remember taking, yet that's him in it, clear as day.
Olivia must catch his eyes, too, because she scurries over to the fridge, and moves to take it down.
"I, uh, the yearbook committee gave it to me. I didn't know what else to do with it."
"It's nice, you look nice in it. Can say much about the old guy with you."
She laughs and unless Fitzgerald Grant III's eyes have failed him, there's a muted redness swelling in her cheeks as she lets go of the photo and leaves it in his place.
"Think you could make me a copy?" he asks, she nods, and she sets his water down in front of him.
A beat passes.
"You're in my apartment." Olivia states the obvious again and Fitz chuckles.
"I am."
"In Astoria." She adds as if they hadn't already had this conversation; it's Fitz's turn to nod, slightly confused.
She catches his confusion and continues, explaining. "It's just, not many people come to this section of town unless they have to, it's too. . . urban for them. Or wait, did you have to come here? Am I being fired – again? You really could've just called in that instance." Her shoulders slump forward.
Does she always let her thoughts spin out like this?
"I'm not, I'm not firing you, Olivia. You're not fired. Sal – Sister Langston had no right to fire you. It was not her place. I'm here to apologise for her rash decision and let you know that she and her more archaic views, won't be an issue for you again. I've contacted the diocese and she's going to be moved to somewhere she feels more comfortable."
Olivia's eyes widen and the shock on her face is glaring.
"You didn't have to tear your school apart for me, Father Fitzgerald."
"Fitz, Olivia, Fitz. And I didn't. To be truthful and un-God-like for the moment, Sally Langston has been a thorn in my side since I took this job a little bit over six years ago. Before you were the bleeding-heart liberal, it was me. She's never liked me."
"Fitz…I don't know what to say."
He stares at her and smiles, she looks truly stunned that she decided to do something of this caliber. Truthfully, removing Sally from her position had been something he's wanted to do forever now so it hadn't entirely been about Olivia. Though, in all honesty, she had been a driving factor in his decision. Walking into the school earlier that afternoon and finding Olivia in the situation, someone daring to raise their voice at her, had sent off a visceral feeling within him like no other. Fitz suspected that Olivia could hold her own without hesitation, but that hadn't stopped him from wanting to shield her from anything; be it the elements, Sally Langston, etc. It didn't matter.
He's been struggling with his feelings regarding her on all sides and this afternoon had only added another dimension to his struggles. It is clear what he must do. Father Stabler had been right.
Fitz swallows, wiping his sweaty palms on his black slacks. He can do this. He can. It'll be complicated and messy, quite possibly a hurricane, but if he doesn't do it, he'll never forgive himself.
He deserves a second chance. He's punished himself for far too long.
"Say you'll go out with me?"
/
Say you'll go out with me?
Olivia's brows furrow and she tilts her head to the side. There's no way she just heard him right.
Go out? With him? A priest?
"What?"
Fitz fidgets on the stool and Olivia leans against the counter. She's a mix of emotions right now. Elated that he's here, but confused by his absence; annoyed by his nonchalance, but smitten with his charm.
What was Fitzgerald Grant doing to her?
"Say you'll go out with me. That's what you can say. Now, I must admit, I've been out of the dating area for a while. A long while, but I'm sure I can still cut a rug."
"Cut a rug? Wow." She teases, it's easier to put her attention on his word choice rather than what he's saying.
"What, come on?"
Come on? Does he know what he's asking of her?
"Fitz, you're a priest. We…you ran away for three months – from me – after we almost - and now you're asking me out? I'm going to have whiplash if you keep going back and forth with me like this." She spills out, needing desperately to understand what he's trying to get at; what he's trying to accomplish by asking her out, by being in her apartment, by being near.
Does he not understand what his presence does to her?
Fitz sighs, working a hand along his jaw. Olivia watches as his face contorts into a mix of what appears to be pain and contemplation; his eyes grow cloudy, as if he's in another time or place, then he clears his throat, a somber smile passing across his face.
Olivia stares at him, confusion muddling her features. The only thought coming to mind is that it's been a day. A long day.
"I owe you an explanation. So, before you agree or disagree to go out with me, let me explain. I did run away from you. And not because I'm a priest. Well, it is because I'm a priest, but it's far more complex than that, Olivia." He leans forward on his elbows. "Ten years ago, I lost my wife and children to a car accident."
A gasp escapes Olivia's lips and she holds a hand to her chest. She didn't know. Being the school pariah had left little time for common gossip to reach her ears and the little research she had done regarding her new boss had only consisted of his academic and professional accomplishments.
"We were coming back into D.C from Arlington when a whiteout hit, I was driving." He stops for a moment to compose himself. "I lost everything that day. My entire life. My little girl, my boy, and my wife. And I tried my damndest to catch up to them. To meet them on the other side. I drank – a lot – and when that didn't work, I tried to throw myself over a bridge."
Again, Olivia gasps, she can't help her body's natural reaction to grab his hands that rest on the countertop, clasped tightly together. She wants to hug him, to hold him and wipe the tears away that she can see pooling behind his slate eyes. Any words she can offer up to him seem so empty, so insignificant right now so she holds his hand.
She's surprised when he laces his fingers in hers, squeezing.
She can't imagine this man, this pillar of strength broken beyond repair. Broken like she'd been when -
"But Father Stabler saved me. He wouldn't let me do it. Hell, he even promised to come in after me if I did do it. He pulled me off the ledge and held onto me. He grounded me, pulled me out of my grief and helped me get to where I am right now. I joined the priesthood because of him. And lucky enough for me, he found a place for me at the Saint Gabriel's. I was high school teacher before. My wife had been a lawyer…"
He grips Olivia's hand tighter at the mention of his wife and Olivia lets him.
"For a while there I thought I was doing what Father Stabler had asked of me, to pay penance for letting my family die."
"Fitz, you didn't." Olivia interrupts abruptly. She wasn't there, but she knew better than that. The man in front of her was good, pure, and honest. She can't believe he's blamed himself all these years. A whiteout, a car accident, all things that had been out of his control. Hell, when snow hit, Olivia barely left her apartment.
"I know, it took me a while to know that, Liv. And I punished myself in the process. I closed myself off. To everything and everyone but the school. But then you showed up…."
She looks up to find him staring intensely at her.
"And you demanded my presence. You wouldn't let me close myself off. Your small talk, your knowledge, grace, beauty… you had my attention. All of it. It felt right. And I felt guilty for how right it felt to be near you, with you, enjoying your time. I wanted you to find reasons to come to me, and if you couldn't or didn't, I found them to come to you. And that day in my office…I ran. I ran and once again found myself on a ledge. This time proverbial.
What I'm trying to say, Olivia Pope, is that I'm a man who's been given a second chance. I think you could very well be my second chance and I don't want to throw it away. Will you go out with me?"
It's a lot to take in, all of it. His words, the confirmation that her romantic thoughts were shared, they were reciprocated and affirmed. But there was so much else to sort through. His trauma and pain, his career choice, the fact that he's her boss. The fact that she has her own issues that might make whatever this thing between them that seemed to bloom overnight, difficult.
Her mouth is letting off excuses as to why she couldn't possibly go out with him before she even has a chance to think it through. She lets go of his hands and begins to pace the length of the short kitchen.
"You're a priest; you're my boss; I'm too young for you; I'm not exactly the right hue. What will people say? What about work, what…"
"Olivia, stop." Fitz chides and he's suddenly in front of her, standing her, barely inches away from her. When did he get so close? "Please. Just for one minute stand here and tell me what you want. Ignore everything, but us right now. Don't think about it. Just for a minute, stand here and tell me what you want."
What she wants?
She isn't used to that question. No one asks her that much anymore. It's always been inconsequential in the scheme of things, irrelevant to the scope. With her father, with Jake. She's been trying to stand on her own two feet for ages now and that question is still foreign to her. What does she want? She wants…
Olivia nods, swallowing hard. She stops thinking of all the reasons this is wrong and won't work and all she can see is him. All she can see is his lopsided smile, all she can feel is the way his fingers felt warm and safe tucked between her own mere minutes ago.
What does she want?
Him.
The logistics can be figured out later, but right now, it's him.
"Okay."
/
Okay.
"Okay?" Fitz repeats, elated to find Olivia smiling softly and nodding.
He can't help it. He finds himself lifting her into his arms and spinning her in the almost non-existent space between the countertop and her appliances. She's just made him the happiest man on earth in that moment. And she feels so right tucked tightly in her arms.
And is she laughing?
She is! So, he laughs too and they stay there for a moment before he stops. His eyes land on her soft lips and Fitz feels his body responding to hers. Her mouth is merely a stretch away, her soft curves are pliable beneath his fingertips that are pressed into her back.
He lets go of her and steps back, the heat creeping across his cheeks. Olivia seems just as flustered and she giggles slightly, shrugging.
They're going to have to strike a balance and he's going to have to find a way to make his body agree to it. She's right, he's still a priest, and they are going to do this. He won't let her back out on him and he promises himself that he will not to back out on her, but there will have to be lines drawn. After all, he isn't the first priest to date.
"Would you?" Olivia's voice sounds through the haze of his own thoughts and Fitz finds that she's positioned herself as far from him as possible, in the tiny space of her kitchenette.
"What?" he asks.
"I'm ordering Chinese, would you like something? My treat." She asks him.
Fitz shakes his head, his eyes glancing down at the simple black watch that adorns his left wrist. "I should probably get going."
"You save my job, bare your soul to me, ask me out, and now you won't break bread with me?" there's a tone of mock offence to her voice and Fitz rolls his eyes.
This woman has a way with words. She just might be the end of him.
"If you let me pay."
"I thought priests were pious and penurious." She quips and Fitz watched her thin fingers move across the buttons of her phone.
"Some of us have been blessed far beyond expectation and enjoy sharing those gifts." He informed her, his mind immediately going to the small(ish) fortune he'd inherited from his father ages ago that he'd used sparingly the last few years, choosing instead to live on the wages he'd made at work unless the children of the school needed supplies.
"Well, I'm eating for two." Olivia informs him.
Fitz's eyes go wide. She's what? Is she…he knew she had a boyfriend and that three months with child didn't change the body much, but that's something she should've told him before… before…
"Myself and Huck." Olivia gestures towards her window. "He's my friend. You might've passed him on your way up. The scruffy looking homeless guy on the street corner? I buy or bring him breakfast and dinner every day. Is that okay?" she asks.
The panic in Fitz subsides and the admiration dancing on his face grows. How fitting of her to have the last name Pope when he almost wants to swear that she's a real-life saint. Feeding a homeless man, taking pity on an old man (him)?
"That's fine. That's more than fine."
"What do you want?" she asks as a static hello sounds from her phone and she begins to rattle off an order.
"Whatever you recommend."
Olivia shakes her head and rattles off another order, one he doesn't hear because he's too busy staring at the amazing woman in front of her.
He wants to know everything about her. He needs to know it all.
What makes her laugh, what makes her cry? Why she teaches? Why she seems to share his attraction when she could fare far better than an old man like himself.
/
"Olivia, let me take a bag."
They'd started bickering three or so streets back and it only grows worse as they approach her building. Fitz reaches for the plastic bags digging into the skin of her wrist again and Olivia pulls back.
"I told you, it's okay. I can do it. You paid, I'll carry."
The eye roll that careens across his face is unmistakable, it causes Olivia to chuckle. She gives him a roll of her own eyes and pushes forward.
"You're even more stubborn outside of the school, you know that." He retorts.
Olivia turns to make her own biting response when Fitz snatches one of the plastic bags from her and begins to jog down the street towards her apartment with it.
"Give that back!" She shouts, laughing at the absurdness of this entire situation. She's chasing a priest down the street to get back her Chinese takeout. A priest.
Her priest.
"Fi-"
Olivia's words hang in midair as the scene before her unfolds.
Chinese food spills from cartons out onto the grey concrete.
Huck rises to his feet. In a flash of limbs and yelps, he has Fitz face down on the ground, a knee in the man's back, and one hand forcing Fitz's face into the concrete, the other hand holding both Fitz's hands.
"You don't touch her!" Huck shouts.
"HUCK, STOP!" Olivia shouts as she catches up to the scene. A few people have gathered around and a few more poke their heads out of the apartment building above.
Huck doesn't relent and from the looks of it, Fitz will be sporting a concrete-caused scrape across her cheek tomorrow.
"Please, Huck…" Olivia calls again, setting what's left of their food down on the concrete and moving towards him slowly, both hands up so he can see them. "He wasn't hurting me. He wasn't. He's a friend. He's my friend. His name is Fitz." She says in a soft voice, watching with a heavy heart as the glassiness in Huck's eyes slowly subsides. Olivia nods as he lets a confounded Fitz up, who now has a blood dripping down his cheek.
"You okay?" Olivia asks, rushing to his side. "I'm so sorry. He's protective…"
Fitz shakes it off, giving her a lopsided smile and rubbing his wrists.
"Army or marines?" Fitz asks Huck, stretching out his arms. "And it's okay, Liv, I can take a hit."
Olivia rolls her eyes again, even a priest must be a macho man.
"He didn't hit you, he smashed you off the concrete. Huck, what were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry, Liv. I – he took your bag and I heard you scream. I thought he was hurting you. I won't let anyone hurt you."
She wants to yell at Huck, but can't bring herself to do so. He's been through a lot and Olivia figures she doesn't even know the half of it. A serviceman who went to war for his country only to have his country abandon him in the end?
"It's okay, Huck. It's just…dinner's now…well, everywhere." She gestures to the bits of food scattered across the ground. Most of it looks to have been hers, though, so that's a bright spot in this mess. She'd rather Huck eat and she'll find something later.
She picks up the surviving bag and hands it to Huck as she goes about scraping up what mess of the mess she can. Tossing the remnants of Almond Chicken and Szechuan Beef into a nearby garbage can, Olivia looks at Fitz again. The blood on his cheek has started to darken.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Olivia gestures towards her building. "And you, eat." She tells Huck.
"Marines." Huck responds and her brows knit together. She didn't ask….
"Former Navy man." Fitz sounds from behind her. Olivia watches as Fitz extends his hand, but Huck doesn't take it. He just stares at the other man from beneath his overly bushy eyebrows and beard.
"If you hurt her, I will kill you. I have nothing to lose."
"Huck!"
"I'd expect nothing less."
"Fitz!" She sighs, done with these two for the moment. She shoves Fitz in the direction of her building, and he's smiling. For the thousandth time in the span of ten minutes, she rolls her eyes. "You're awful."
"I like him. I like knowing you're protected."
"Just go." She jerks her head towards her building and pushes him in, knowing full well Huck is still watching them. "We're going to have to order pizza or something now."
"Two dinners in one night? Are you after me for my money and not just my Godly connection?"
Olivia shoves him, trying to stop the smile that threatens to spill over her face.
This man is incorrigible.
This man is a priest.
And she might be falling head over heels for him. Yuck.
"By the way, Liv, this is not our first date."