AN: Okay guys...these next few chapters will progress the story in terms of the trial and (finally) their relationship. :) Tell me what you think.

Fitz's POV

I stare at the multiple colorful, tin cans Olivia emptied from her bag onto the bed. "Margarita mixers? Thank you, but you can't really get drunk on twenty ounces of lemonade and three percent mild alcohol."

"That's the point," Olivia crosses her arms and sighs. I look up at her. She's not herself right now - she's in a bitter mood for some reason. One minute she's telling me that she wants to to lay down with me, the next she's throwing alcohol containers at my legs? Whatever. I've learned to put up with her bipolar moods. I know that she'll either spill some life changing secret directed at me or just get over the trivial thing that's putting her in this crusty ass mood. I'm hoping it's the latter.

I sit up on the bed and pick one can up, examining the contents. Sure enough, there's barely any alcohol in it. I scoff. "There's nothing in here. What are you some...a nun?"

That seems to make her loosen up a little bit. She laughs softly and sits down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm anything but a nun. I'm not innocent at all. I love my fair share of alcoholic drinks. But being intoxicated is a direct violation of your parole - as is alcohol in general. But I like you, so I'm making an exception."

"You like me?" I raise my eyebrows. I know she didn't mean it like that, but joking around with her is how I get through these long hours

She rolls her eyes and pops open a can, handing it to me. "Don't flatter yourself. Drink up."

I obey her, taking the chilled can and putting it against my mouth. Before I drink, I smirk and teasingly ask, "Do you say that to all your clients? That you like them?"

While I take a long sip, I hear Liv's reply. She's very serious sounding, like she's answering very honestly and she wants me not only to hear her, but to listen. "No."

I swallow my drink and stare at her. She's beautiful - I never doubted that. It's just lately I've noticed more and more of her features and her strength and it's really attractive to me. I know I'm married and I'm not questioning my commitment to Mellie...even though it's hard sometimes. Hard? That's funny. More like impossible. But still, she's my wife. And she's hurt. So thinking about another woman when my wife is grieving and injured in the hospital? That makes me feel crappier than I already do. And I know it's unfair and not realist but I'm kind of mad at Olivia not trying to cover up exactly how amazing she is. That's a stupid thought, but I mean it. It's not fair. None of this is far. I take yet another sip, this one bigger. "When are you planning on popping one open?"

She laughs, throwing her head against the headboard gently. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" she asks rhetorically. "I am, in this situation, what I like to consider a designated driver. I'm here to make sure you, or even i for that matter, don't do anything stupid that we can't recover from. So yeah, I like my alcohol, but I think I'll survive for one night."

"Suit yourself," I shrug. Even though it barely has any alcohol in it, the drink tastes good and maybe if I down enough cans, nature will work itself out. "What time is it?"

Livvy fishes her phone out from the pocket and tosses it in my lap. I open it up - it's 7:14 PM. But that's not what exactly catches my eye. It's her lock screen - it seems like it was taken a while ago, because her hair is shorter in it. Next to her is a smiling, tall man and they're both in front of the gated White House on a sunny day. He's wearing a turtleneck. What kind of self respecting man wears a turtleneck?

"Is this him?" I raise my eyebrows. "The fiancé?"

"The fiance's name is Jake," Livvy reaches over me and pulls the phone out of my grasp. She talks fast and almost uncomfortable - like she doesn't want to talk about him. But for some reason, I do.

"And how old is this Jake?" I question lightly. "He looks pretty old."

Livvy shakes her head not quite looking at me. "He's not older than you, that's for sure."

I clutch at my chest and pretend to groan. "I'm offended. I'm only twenty five and a half..."

"Ha!" Livvy laughs, but over obnoxiously, as if she's trying to pretend like she's just heard the funniest thing of her life. "That just made my day, Fitz. Thank you. Thank you so much for that."

I roll my eyes.

She takes off her jacket and lays on it in place of the dirty motel pillow. She grabs a can and fingers the rim of it...as if she's debating whether or not to open it. "You know, I know exactly how old you are. You are forty one years old...and you were born in Bel Air, California...on February 10th...making you an Aquarius."

"That's borderline stalker behavior." I joke, laying my own head down next to her, but far away enough to make it not awkward. "I don't know how old you are, but from the looks of it, you're a Taurus."

"What?" Livvy bursts out laughing. Her laugh is so contagious - in a second, I'm grinning too. She sits up, her legs crossed and pops open the tab on the can. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're stubborn," I explain, crossing my legs myself. "Like, you're a humanitarian. And you're trustworthy. But you're hella stubborn and you are kind of possessive."

Olivia reaches over and pushes my chest, not having stopped laughing hysterically. She protests, "I am not! Oh my god, you are so wrong. You are so, so wrong! And you really believe in that type of astrology crap?

"It's not crap," I argue. Honestly, I don't give a fuck whether it is or it isn't. But messing with Livvy is just too much fun. I shake my head. "You're just mad that yours is just too accurate."

"It is not," Livvy can't stop laughing and I don't know why but I'm not complaining. She throws her hand over her mouth but still giggles through it. "You're so dumb. You're not even right. Stop it."

"Come on. Tell me you're not a Taurus. When's your birthday?"

She laughs harder than before, if that's even possible. This is so strangely pleasant. She never struck me as a bubbly, happy type and I never cared. I still found her attractive. But now that she's smiling and chuckling - well, it's really nice too. When I'm laughing with her, Mellie doesn't occur to me. The fact that my son is dead doesn't occur to me. And I like it that way.

"May 4th," she cries through her laughs. I laugh too - she's a Taurus. She couldn't even deny it. She's so dumb. Not in a mean way, in a funny way. Like she's by far the smartest woman I've ever met but in some ways, she's so dumb. "I know I'm a Taurus. Shut up. We're not talking about this. We're not talking about it!"

I can't stop laughing now. In the end, guessing she was a Taurus was just that - a guess. A lucky one. There's no logic behind her being a Taurus - I was just teasing her. I don't even know if 'possessiveness' is a trait of them. I just find the whole situation hilarious. "Oh my god...I told you. I told you."

She chuckles in between sips. "Shut up. Shut up."

"Okay..." I flex my arms and take a sip of my own drink. It's almost gone by now. I finish it and put it on the side table before opening another one. "You know my birthplace, my birthday, my star sign and God knows what else Google told you. But I don't know anything about you."

Livvy's expression changes. She doesn't exactly frown...she kind of grimaces. Like she doesn't want this conversation to go any further.

"My life is just not all that interesting." Right after she says, she scoffs into her can. She doesn't even believe her own lie. "It's just...a normal life."

"I beg to differ." I begin carefully. I'm not interested in making her feel uncomfortable...even though I'm curious. "Just tell me something about yourself. You're like, one of the most interesting people I've ever met - and I'm not exaggerating."

"You must meet pretty bland people."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously, Livvy. You know my story from cover to cover...and I don't even know where you're from. I don't know how old you are. How are your parents like? Do you have any kids? What's your favorite color? What college did you go to? Where did you meet Jake? And when are you getting married? That's for starters, of course."

Olivia is quiet. I think I might have overstepped and for that, I'm sorry. But I'm grieving and hanging out with her makes it easier. It keeps me busy. Distracted. Entertaining. I'm not so misogynistic to think that as a woman, it's her job to entertain me. But right now she's the best friend I have. She's my defense lawyer and she's my best friend. "I'm sorry."

Livvy shakes her head slightly, takes a long, drawn out sip and then takes a deep breath. "It's just been a hard couple of days. And Fitz? I'm really sorry about Gerry."

The laughing Olivia Pope and Fitzgerald Grant are now gone. It's all serious and somber now. I feel like I'm gonna cry again. I stare into the dark abyss of my can.

I know you're sorry. And it's okay, really. But if you really understood, if you really cared, you would talk to me about anything else. Literally, anything else. Because that is what would truly make feel better. And I know it's been a hard couple of days - hell, I know that better than anybody. But right here, right now, it's not about Gerry dying or Mellie and Karen getting shot and me being on trial...it's just us, drinking cheap fruity alcoholic drinks and being stupid. Together. I haven't felt this whole since Mellie and I were okay. I know that's crazy. And I'm not living in some fantasy land - I can't stay this way forever. Pretty soon, we're gonna be back in the courtroom again, fighting for my freedom. And it's gonna be scary. But the thing is, it's not scary right now. Right now...I'm happy. I know that's a shitty thing to say when your son is dead but what have I got to lose? So, yes, Olivia, I understand you're sorry. And it's okay. For now, it's okay. You're the only one who's made me feel this way. The only one.

Olivia's POV

"Seriously, Livvy. You know my story from cover to cover...and I don't even know where you're from. I don't know how old you are. How are your parents like? Do you have any kids? What's your favorite color? What college did you go to? Where did you meet Jake? And when are you getting married? That's for starters, of course."

I look into my can. The questions he asks aren't hard. So why do the answers seem so far away from my comprehension?

"Sorry," he murmurs.

I don't want to answer them. I don't want to get more attached to Fitz than I already am. I should just leave him to get drunk and sober him up later on when we have to work on the case. Better yet, I should throw all this booze away. It's what a good lawyer would do. It's what a reasonable lawyer would do. But nothing about me, nothing about THIS is good nor reasonable.

"It's been a hard couple of days," I reply lamely. "And Fitz? I'm really sorry about Gerry."

I don't know why I say this. Obviously, I am sorry about Gerry. But I get the drift that he wants to be distracted and although I don't know if that's healthy grieving behavior, as long as he's happy, I'm happy. But neither of us are really happy.

Yeah, we had a few laughs. He's actually really funny and he made me smile genuinely. But that doesn't mean everything is magically okay. Is anyone really happy? Like, what is happy? What does it mean? I sure as hell am not happy. Have I ever been? Okay, now I'm getting existential and lame but it's whatever.

I sigh. My bitter, pessimistic personality is not his fault. Okay. I begin.

"I'm from DC...born and raised. I just turned thirty three one month ago. My parents are...not my parents. I haven't heard from my father in...four years? Anyway, I don't care. My mom died when I was twelve. It's okay - I'm okay. I barely remember her. I don't have any kids but I want them. In the future, of course. I would love a little boy or girl to call my own and take care of. My favorite color really depends on my mood...for example, right now it's that royal blue of your eyes. I've never seen a color that dim yet so solid, you know? It's really nice. I graduated top of my class at University of Maryland...then I went to Harvard Law School, also graduating top of my class when I was only twenty five. I met Jake at a coffee shop in downtown DC almost exactly a year ago. And...I don't know when we're getting married. Soon, probably."

He blinks at me, absorbing the information, I guess. I smile sheepishly. I realize then that I have told him more things about myself in one minute than I have told Jake in a year.

X

"Tell me more about this...Jake..." Fitz bursts out laughing for some reason, which makes laugh. He's so drunk. He had two margarita mixers and he's absolutely wasted. His head is hanging from the end of the bed, despite my trying to get him in a normal laying position. He's such a goddamn lightweight. It's so stupid. It's so adorable. "Tell me about him."

"Fitz..." I begin, once again trying to bring his head up. This was such a bad idea. How can such a big man get drunk off so little? "Stop being such an idiot. Sit up. What's wrong with you?"

"So many things," Fitz replies in a sing songy voice. I try to not grin. His upper half is hanging down from the bed, his torso muscles stretching. I'm trying to bring his body back up, but I am a little more drunk than I'd like to admit myself. I'm definitely more sober than him, though, even though I drank a lot more. In all, I bought seven cans for us. He drank two. Looking around, I see that there's no more. Did I really drink five twenty ounce cans of margarita? And was Fitz really saying that this wasn't enough for him?

"Sit up, Fitz," I pull him again and this time he does sit up, propping his elbows up on the mattress.

"Seriously," he slurs. "I'm a child murderer apparently. Killing my own fucking child. That's about as problematic as it gets. Poetic, actually."

"Fitz," I begin to protest. I sigh and put my arms around his body, hugging him. I don't know why, but I just got the strange urge to do so. He feels like crap and I feel so bad for him. I just want to take care of him. I know he didn't do it and he knows it too, but so much shit has been piled his way that he is believing it himself. It freaking sucks. The worst part is, I can't bring myself to tell him that the judge might take away his bail or that I saw Mellie and she won't testify. I don't even know if he would care. "Stop it Fitz."

"No." Fitz mumbles grumpily. "Stop hugging me. Stop it. Ugh."

But I don't. I hug him tighter and lay my head on his chest. He gently tries to push me off at first but his movements are sloppy and ineffective, so he just throws his head back and gives up. His arms return their neutral position - by his sides. His hand happens to naturally touch my butt but he doesn't seem to notice. If he does notice, he's way too drunk to care. It's dark now, almost midnight I guess and we never cared to turn on the light, so we can't exactly see each other. But I feel him and he feels me so I guess that's enough.

We lay silently for a few minutes.

I like this. And I hate that I like this. I'm with Jake. And I'm so happy with Jake. I love Jake. Wait - do I really love Jake? Shut up, Olivia. You're engaged to Jake. Of course you love him. Just because you're laying down with another man you have huge feelings for doesn't change that. Or does it?

One Year Ago

"I'm sorry," the barista sheepishly holds my crisp fifty dollar bill out to me like it's infected. "Do you have anything smaller than that?"

I laugh bitterly. I don't mean to demean customer service workers and I hate people who do, but this Starbucks is getting on all my last nerves. On top of having an impossible day at the White House, I come to get my tea and this is what occurs? I'm Olivia Pope - I don't carry any bills less than fifty. That sounds horribly arrogant and ugly of me, but it's just facts. Sometimes I'll carry spare dollars to hand out to homeless people on the subway but today I handed out all of the seven dollar bills I had. And now I come here to this?

"No," I roll my eyes. "Are you telling me that your store doesn't take fifties anymore? I would find that strange on the account of I was here yesterday and they very graciously accepted my fifty. So that just doesn't sit well with me."

"I..." the barista blushes. "I mean, it's a new policy, ma'am. Your tea is only coming out to be $2.35. I'll sell it to you for two dollars...if you have those in one dollar bills."

"Ha," I press my lips together. "Okay, let me make a compromise. You give me my tea, you can keep the rest of the forty seven whatever and buy yourself something cute."

"I...I'm really not permitted to take tips that large."

I'm about to grab a donut off the display table and throw it at her when I see a figure walk up next to me. A tall guy in a dark jacket has his wallet out. "It's fine...I got you."

I'm not pretentious enough to refuse to let some guy buy me a two dollar cup of tea. And plus, I really want the tea. So I just awkwardly stand there as the relieved barista takes his five dollar bill.

"Thank you..." I press my lips together and try to act grateful when we get our order. "I'm sorry I blew up over there. I'm sorry you had to see that and felt obligated to step it."

"Don't mention it," he winks a green eye at me and says nothing more, which makes me intrigued and annoyed at the same time. We're silent until he adds quietly, "What type of self respecting coffee shop doesn't take a fifty?"

We both laugh a little.

"I'm Olivia," I hold out my hand. He takes it. "I'd pay you back, but..."

"You're too cool to carry ones around." he jokes.

I shake my head. "It's not an egotistical thing-"

"I get it. Hi, Olivia. I'm Jake."

X

So yeah. That's our story. It's not special...it's actually really lame. But it's ours. Ever since then, he and I hit it off. He's a good guy. He can be overprotective and annoying but in the end, he's always there for me. So I don't see why I shouldn't marry him. As for him coming... I don't want him to come. I've only been without him for a few days and I don't really miss him? The way I feel, he's insecure for not trusting me to be here by myself. What he doesn't understand is that I can take care of myself. I was fine before him. Of course he's my fiancé and I don't want him to leave me but I'll be just alright without him for a few more weeks. I was fine for thirty two years. And I seriously don't need anything distracting me from the case. But I know he'll make a bigger deal if I beg him not to come. So as long as he stays out of my way with the case, we'll be fine.

"You're pretty," Fitz mumbles into my hair, breaking my train of thought. "You're so pretty, Livvy."

"You're so drunk," I roll my eyes.

"I'm not," he protests. Then it becomes so quiet that I swear I can hear his heartbeat against my ear. Just when I think he's fallen asleep, he speaks again, his tone different. "Gerry is dead."

"I know."

"My son. He's done. He's gone."

"I know."

"He's so young. Why?"

"I don't know."

It's quiet again and I lean up. He's not crying...he's just laying with his eyes open, looking broken. "I miss him, Livvy."

I kiss his cheek. "I know you do, Fitz. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

I smile and wipe away a tear I hadn't known was near the corner of my eye. "I'm going to go shower."

"I'll be here when you get back."