Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better.
NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers
Fitz strode down the Centre Hall of the Executive Residence, thinking it was quiet for a Saturday morning. The kids were out, the dogs were napping in Teddy's room and Olivia was catching up on some reading.
Or that had been the plan, he thought, smiling when he found her dozing on the couch, with a book in her lap and a highlighter in hand.
Moving closer, he read the book title upside down – 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'. There were more highlighters and page markers strewn on the cushions, as well as more books on a similar theme piled on the lamp table next to the couch.
Clearing the debris off the couch, Fitz carefully eased the book and pen from Olivia's grasp, intending to pick her up and carry her to bed.
"Fitz…" He heard her mutter groggily as he placed the book and highlighter on the lamp table.
"Hi." He smiled, sitting down next to her as she straightened off the cushions and shifted towards him.
"How long have you been here?"
"Not long." He lifted his arm so she could snuggle against him. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to carry you to bed."
"I'm fine here, like this," she sighed, linking her arms around his waist. "Did you have a nice chat with the new Indian Prime Minister?"
"Mm," he murmured against her hair. "Said he's looking forward to the visit."
"That's nice." Olivia mumbled through a yawn.
"Stubborn," he chuckled.
"What?"
He brushed a kiss on her temple and teased, "So what's all the cramming on pregnancy books about? Are we having a mid-semester test?"
Olivia poked him in the chest. "I just want to be prepared. I hate not knowing what I'm doing."
"Livvie, sweetheart, no one's expecting you to be an expert; you're a Learner Mom and you're doing fine. The doctors' assured you of that only yesterday."
"This isn't about tracking whether my pregnancy is normal. It's…"
"What?" he asked gently.
She sighed, burrowing into his shoulder. "I've never had a baby growing inside me. I feel so lost and confused sometimes... I have so many questions but I don't know whom to ask to get the answers."
"You can ask me," he said huskily, wrapping his arms around her.
He felt her smile against his neck. "You've never had a baby growing inside you either. Or Abby or Quinn. Or Felicia, not that I would ask, but you know what I mean…"
"What about Carlita and Sameera?"
Her sigh feathered his skin. "I've called a few times, but we live in different time zones and I don't want to send an email in case it gets into the wrong hands and we end up on the News - with the headlines 'First Lady complains of restless leg syndrome - is it terminal or just a First World symptom'?."
Fitz rubbed her back. "Let me talk to Cyrus; see if he can recommend someone closer to home, that you can talk to."
Her soft chuckle tickled his throat. "Cyrus can't fix this."
"Then tell me what to do, so I can fix it."
After a long pause, she whispered, "I wish my Mom was here, Fitz."
"Livvie…"
She sighed again, "I know..." Her arms crept around his neck and he felt her soft kiss on his skin. "Just hold me."
"DC has nearly eight thousand homeless people?" Jerry hissed to Rowan as they donned food-handling gloves and head gear, in preparation for the lunch detail at the soup kitchen.
"It's less than one and a half per cent of all the people who are homeless in the United States."
"Eight thousand people freezing on park benches in the richest country in the world! That's fucked!"
"Only those who cannot get into a shelter would sleep on park benches."
"But they're kids!"
"Yes, nearly a quarter of the homeless in this country are children."
Jerry crossed his arms across his chest and scowled. "I didn't know it was this bad. That kid with the red cap I was talking to, said his mom threw him out when she got a new boyfriend. The boyfriend didn't want to feed someone else's kid. So his mom told him to pack a bag and get the hell out." Jerry swallowed and looked away. "Guess I'm lucky Mom and Dad weren't like that."
Rowan gave him a level look. "My daughter would chew off her right arm before she did anything to harm you kids. I would like to think your dad would too."
"I know," Jerry said gruffly. "I'm trying to picture what it's like dumpster-diving for food or sleeping on concrete or running away from cops, junkies and pimps."
"Jerry, you don't have that life. You have the privileged life of a President's son. The purpose of this visit is not to make you feel sorry for yourself. You are close to the man in the seat of power, closer than anyone else in this shelter. And when you're in that position, you can't stop at empathy when you feel strongly about eradicating injustice. You have to do something. 'If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. ... We need not wait to see what others do'."
"What does that mean?"
"You may have heard that quote boiled down to the bumper sticker phrase – 'Be the change you want to see in the world' – it's a quote by Mahatma Ghandi an Indian Civil Rights activist about taking action towards changing circumstances we do not like or want to accept."
"I know who Ghandi is – he was a racist and a paedophile!"
Rowan paused frowning, then he said with careful diction. "Ghandi was a complex human being, not a one-dimensional caricature. You are 14 years old – old enough to avoid getting your information in sound bites and post-it notes. To learn about the man, you have to read about him from as many sources as you can and then draw your own conclusions."
"I don't want to know about Ghandi. I want to know how Dad can find homes for the homeless in DC."
"Then how do you think Ghandi – who felt that poverty was the worst form of violence – would feel about your Dad spending half a million dollars on one state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister, when there are 8000 homeless people on our doorstep who've been getting their dinner out of a dumpster?"
"Hey, you guys ready to rock?" The shelter manager, poked his head through the doorway. "We've got people lining up, waiting to be served."
Fitz and Olivia decided to take a stroll on the White House lawns after lunch, taking Teddy and the dogs with them.
"I'm thinking of asking Zeke to take over from me on the ASEAN trip."
Olivia threw a ball for the dogs to chase, then turned towards Fitz who was standing nearby, with Teddy on his shoulders.
"Isn't that a dereliction of duty, Mr President?"
"My wife is pregnant."
Seeing that the other dogs were giving chase to Daisy running away with the ball, Olivia came over to slide her arms around Fitz's waist. "You made me pregnant. That's about all you can do in this baby-making process, now it's all up to me for the next seven months."
"Six," Fitz corrected.
"Six!" Teddy chortled.
"See, even Teddy can see that I still have a very important job in this baby-making process – helping you remember dates, giving you back rubs, holding your hair when you puke. I'd say I've got the rough end of the deal. Ow!" he grinned when Olivia poked him in the ribs. "What was that for?"
"You know what that was for," Olivia said pertly, giving Teddy's knee a kiss before stepping back.
"That hurt, Livvie," Fitz pouted. "Kiss and make me better." He puckered his lips.
"Shouldn't I kiss you where it hurts?" she teased. "Not your duck lips?'
"Duck lips?! Come back here and say that to my face!"
Olivia's laugh quickly turned into a groan when Daisy trotted up and plopped a spit-covered ball into her palm for another throw.
Olivia obliged, and was in the process of cleaning her hands with a tissue from her jacket pocket, when Fitz snaked an arm around her waist and caught her to him.
"Fitz!" she chuckled, as Teddy chortled from his perch on Fitz's other arm.
"You were saying," Fitz growled, just before he captured her mouth and kissed her.
"Mmm," she sighed. "You are the best kisser, President Duck Lips." He would have kissed her again if Teddy hadn't smashed his face between them, making them both laugh.
"You don't have to babysit me," Olivia said softly, when they resumed walking; holding hands with Fitz, while he carried Teddy on his shoulders again. "I'm fine and I'll be fine. You have a lot of travelling to do in the next few months – there's the G8 and NATO summits, which you cannot delegate."
"I don't want to leave you to cope with things on your own."
"I'm not on my own – I've got Dad, the kids, my OP associates and the White House staff. There are plenty of people to look after me."
"Livvie, Rowan and Jerry have just started volunteering at the homeless shelter and you've got Felicia helping Karen with her Native American history project for school, Huck, Abby and Quinn are helping Oscar set up shop in DC – which doesn't leave a lot of time left over for you."
Olivia tugged him to a stop, then directed him towards a bench nearby. She soon had Fitz seated with her in his lap, while she carried Teddy in hers.
"Comfy?" She grinned as Fitz wrapped his wife and son in his arms.
"Very." He laughingly scattered kisses on both their faces until the dogs came running back wanting to join in this new game.
"What happens to all the food we don't eat?" Jerry frowned at the food in the serving dishes on the dinner table.
"They get taken back to the kitchen, like they do every night," Olivia said, passing the platter of steamed vegetables to Felicia.
"And what happens after that? Does it get thrown out?"
"No, we do have modern food preserving technology – commonly known as a refrigerator here at the White House," Olivia smiled. "And as a bonus, we also have those convenient food storage inventions called re-sealable containers."
"Mom," Jerry grinned reluctantly. "Yeah, I heard about the fridge and containers, but we don't usually get leftovers here at the White House."
"Yes, we do," Karen said, glancing up while twirling pasta around her fork. "We've got last night's chicken in tonight's broccoli cheese sauce."
"Except for the chicken you left on your plate, Jerry. I'm sure they had to throw that out," Fitz said, reaching for another corn cob.
Jerry had the grace to blush as he glanced at Rowan. "Yeah, well, I won't be doing that again."
Fitz stopped in mid-bite, stared at Jerry then turned to Rowan. "Your idea of taking Jerry to a homeless shelter is working out better than I expected."
"Jerry found the homeless shelter very confronting."
"Yeah, DC has so many homeless people, and here we are living in a massive house with 132 rooms, most of which are empty. Why can't we let people sleep here?"
"Jer, we can't turn the White House into a homeless shelter."
"Why not, Dad? You're the president. This is your house, your rules."
"Jer, you know I don't own this house. There are protocols, security; no one can just walk in here and stay for the night."
"But you're the President, can't you change the protocols so we can use up some of the wasted space in here?"
Before Fitz could answer, Olivia asked, "If your dad did that, Jerry, would you agree to sharing your room?"
There was a small silence, then Jerry said with a slight frown, "Share my room?"
"Yes, you've seen the rooms in the shelter – they've got bunk beds in there to fit as many people as they legally can, under the District's health and safety codes. You've got one big room all to yourself – we could fit in say five bunk beds in there and you can have ten instant roommates. You won't have a problem with that, right? You did have roommates in Andover…"
"His face!" Fitz buried his face in Olivia's chest to muffle his laughter.
They were in the private study that Fitz used as his afterhours office; de-briefing over what had happened at dinner, curled up together in a leather armchair.
Olivia smiled, stroking a hand through his curls and his shoulders as his body shook with more laughter. "It's okay, I told him I was only teasing."
Fitz lifted his head and grinned at her, his face red and his eyes brimming with tears. "Livvie, that was priceless. I wish I'd recorded the entire scene."
"You know he's not going to let this go. Jer is as stubborn as you when it comes to getting what he wants." She traced a fingertip over the curve of his ear, watching his eyes darken.
"You looked so sexy, shutting him down, Livvie," Fitz said huskily, running his hands up along her back. "You look very sexy right now."
"You are very turned on right now." Olivia chuckled, tugging at his lower lip as she rocked in his lap.
Fitz groaned sliding his hands up under her skirt. "I love you in skirts," he growled, then laughed softly when she grumbled, "My jeans don't fit."
"I love that you're getting big in all the right places…"
There was a pause, then Olivia asked with mild curiosity, "Where are all the wrong places, Fitz?"
His gaze focused on her face, narrowing warily on her bland expression. "What?"
"You said I'm getting big in all the right places? Where are all the wrong places?"
Fitz kept staring at her until Olivia began to giggle.
"Your face looks just like Jerry's," she chuckled as his shoulders relaxed and he pulled her close.
"Livvie, you know I'll find you beautiful…" He feathered a kiss on her lips. "…Gorgeous…" Another kiss. "…Delectable…" One more. "…Even when you end up looking like a beached whale."
"I hate you." She smiled against his lips.
"I love you." He kissed her some more, then drew back to say huskily. "I called Cyrus while you were reassuring Jerry we weren't going to turn his room into a dormitory for the homeless."
"What did he say?"
"I got James. He said you need a midwife. Friends of his got a midwife for the mother in a surrogate pregnancy. They found the whole experience less stressful after the midwife came into the picture."
Olivia looked at him for a long moment, then snuggled close, laying her head on his shoulder. "A midwife?"
"Yes." He kissed her forehead. "We can get the White House doctor to recommend one or we can make our own inquiries or get James' contact. Whatever you want."
"Okay."
"Dad, how much are you spending on the state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister?"
"I don't know, Jer."
"But it's a lot of money?"
"Don't you have homework?"
"Nope. Not during Sunday brunch. And Mom's not around to save your ass."
"My ass does not need saving."
"Where is Mom?" Karen came entered the dining room on the tail-end of the conversation.
"She's gone to church with Rowan and Felicia, pumpkin."
"Mom's gone to church? Mom's never gone to church on a Sunday."
"I think she wants to start a new tradition."
"Then shouldn't we have gone too? If it's a new family tradition, we're her family too."
"We only go to church for funerals, christenings and weddings. It's a Big Gerry rule."
Fitz looked at Jerry, then turned to Karen. "Okay, we'll go to church with Mom, starting next Sunday."
"Okay, whatever. Dad, you haven't told me how much money you're wasting to feed the Indian Prime Minister."
"We have an Indian Prime Minister?" Karen's eyes widened. "Felicia didn't tell me that."
"No, this isn't a Native Indian Prime Minister, pumpkin. This is the leader of India, a country on the continent of Asia."
"Yeah, India has around 78 million people homeless compared to the 610,000 in the US. Maybe you need to send money to India instead of throwing a party for the guy who probably lives in another big house with over a hundred empty rooms."
"Jerry, the Indian Prime Minister and I meeting up to talk about trade, jobs and world peace. We're going to be wasting each others' time talking about dog farts."
"Were you spying on me when I was talking to Peter?"
"You had your door open."
"Sure, Dad."
"Seventy-eight million is a lot of people," said Karen, staring down at her plate of pancakes.
"Yeah, that's why Dad should give the guy cheeseburgers for dinner. Bet they won't cost half a million dollars for a one-night party."
Fitz sighed, and reached for the morning papers.
"How was church?" Fitz asked when Olivia tracked him down on the White House Family Theatre, ensconced in one of the plush red seats, typing away on his laptop.
"What are you doing down here?"
"Hiding from Jerry." Fitz closed the laptop and placed it on the seat beside him, before tugging Olivia onto his lap. "Now tell me, how was church?"
Olivia smiled at Fitz as he slid his hands down her bare leg to slip off her shoes and settle her more comfortably in his arms. "It felt good, I felt at… peace."
He leaned forward to kiss her nose. "Karen wants to go with you next Sunday. All of us as a family."
Olivia crooked a wry grin. "And you said yes?"
"You don't want us to go with you?"
"I'd love to have you all go with me. We'll need Tom to make the arrangements if you're going, that's all."
"I'm going. I don't want to spend another brunch alone with Jerry. He wants me to serve cheeseburgers at the state dinner for the Indian Prime Minister."
Olivia giggled, stroking her fingers through the curls on the back of his neck. "I told you Jer wouldn't let it go. Though in all fairness, I think my Dad may have put him up to it. Dad was talking about the obscene amount of money people spent on state dinners – and what would require half a million dollar spend for one night – are we serving gold dusted caviar and Bald Eagle eggs?"
Fitz groaned. "We're under siege."
"Yep. But the two of us can take the two of them."
"With one arm tied behind our backs," he chuckled, kissing her.
Olivia laughingly agreed, snuggling closer.
"Have I told you how much I love you in skirts," Fitz breathed in her ear.
"Yep," she confirmed huskily. "We've already had the beached whale conversation…"
"Livvie…"
"Yes, baby?"
"Have you ever made out in the front row of a movie theatre?"
"Not at the White House, no."
Fitz drew back. "But you made out – who was the guy?"
"Fitz…"
"Was it Edison?"
"No, it wasn't Edison."
"Was it a guy?"
Olivia ghosted a smile. "Yes, it was a guy."
"Does he have a name."
"You don't know him."
"I can find out."
Olivia sighed, looking at the stubborn jut of his chin. "Okay, it was on prom night. My date and I left early and went to the movies. At the end of the movie, when the credits were rolling, he kissed me and I kissed him back. End of story."
"That was it?"
"Yes."
"Just a kiss?"
"Yes."
"You didn't let him get to first base?"
"I don't play baseball."
He stared at her solemnly.
She stared back.
"Livvie…!" Whatever he'd been going to say got lost, when she leaned close and whispered, "I'm not wearing a bra."
There was a long pause, then he said huskily, "You went to church without a bra?"
At her non-committal response, he lifted his hand from her belly to her breast and felt her through the thick fabric of her peplum jacket. "Naughty girl…"
"Mmm…" she smiled as he set about unbuttoning the jacket. "You're doing very nice work there, Mr President, at second base."
"Sweetheart, I'm going for a home run."
"Cheeky boy…" she snuffled a laugh, parting her lips for his mouth.
A/N:So all the baseball references were taken from Urban dictionary ;)
BTW, now I know why they say you should write everyday – that is write something creative every day, not just grocery lists or 'I have absolutely no idea!' to 30-mark exam questions or 'what is this shit' to Tumblr blog posts (erudite though they all may be).
No, the reason that I need to keep writing something creative every day is that if I don't – for nearly a month – it's really difficult to get back into… well… writing. I've just spent days wandering in the Land of Lost-Plots, fearing I'd never find my way out.
The only way out, I've found, is to keep writing crap until you get sick of it – then get a good night's sleep, work your way through a year's worth of calories in chocolate, and do as many rewrites as you can until reading your own writing no longer makes you want to bury your laptap in a deep ditch in the back garden.
Thus, I have another chapter in this meandering tale of where-is-it-going-exactly story ('I have absolutely no idea' is the answer to that 30-mark question too!). Actually, I lie I do know where it's going, I just haven't written it yet ;0)
Research time:
So I got the figures for the Homeless from Wikipedia:
610,042 people were homeless in the United States. Nearly two-thirds of people experiencing homelessness (65 percent or 394,698) were living in emergency shelters or transitional housing programs. Source: The 2013 Annual Homeless Assessment Report ... - OneCPD (X) ( .info/resources/documen )
Fewer affordable rents pushing region's homeless population up, report says (X) (Read More: local/number-of-homeless-in-dc-region-rises-as-rents-increase/2014/05/14/db4638e4-dac4-11e3-b745-87d39690c5c0_ )
Homeless D.C. valedictorian says education was 'the only way out' (X) Read more: .ca/homeless-d-c-valedictorian-says-education-was-the-only-way-out-1.1870686#ixzz355PqfQo8
D.C. criticized for management of homeless shelter (X) Read More: local/dc-politics/dc-criticized-for-management-of-homeless-shelter/2014/03/28/01deb750-b69f-11e3-a7c6-70cf2db17781_
Information about the Indian Prime Minister's state dinner and state dinners, and the White House in general:
Barack Obama's dinner for PM Manmohan Singh most expensive since 2009: Report. .
Good Question: Why Do White House State Dinners Cost So Much? 2014/02/11/good-question-why-do-white-house-state-dinners-cost-so-much/
A Taste of the Past: White House Kitchens, Menus, and Recipes. .
How Many Rooms are in the White House, Plus 14 Other Fun Facts. how-many-rooms-are-white-house-plus-14-other-fun-facts-369006
And information about midwifery at What is a Midwife? Source: whatisamidwife