A/N: Grad school is killing me. Send help (but I hope you enjoy in the meantime). Idk when i'll get to write again, I shouldn't have even wrote this.
With Karen tucked away safely inside the dance, Fitz makes a beeline for his Mercedes. A large grin spreads across his lips as he catches sight of Olivia in the passenger's seat, mirror flipped open, tugging on one of her curls. She's absolutely gorgeous and he has no idea how they're going to make it across town on a Saturday night in time to make their dinner reservations, but even if they don't, he'll still be grateful for the time they've spent together already.
He slides into the car and shuts the door behind him, taking a deep breath. "Well, teenage life crisis averted."
Olivia chuckles and the swell of her cheeks causes his heart to skip. "I'm trying to remember if I was that dramatic at thirteen," she says as she closes the visor. "I don't know how I'll survive when Frankie hits that age."
"Valium?" Fitz jokes.
"Wine, lots of it," Olivia responds.
They exchange laughs for a few moments before claps his hands on the wheel and then checks his watch. Four minutes until their reservation is late. He frowns, scrunching his face. "Well, it looks like we're going to miss dinner at 1789."
"It's okay. Your daughter is more important. Plus, Frankie offered to make us pop tarts."
Again, they share a couple of laughs before Fitz's thoughts wade into murky waters. Why couldn't his ex-wife have had that same thought? "Yeah, wish her mom would've considered that, too." The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them.
Olivia gives him a small smile and reaches over to pat his forearm. "I stopped asking why people wouldn't want to be around their kids ages ago. What matters is that you came through for Karen. You saved the day. She'll always remember that."
"Begging your date to save you from a teen girl's hormones isn't really saving the day, is it?"
"It is, though. And like I said, I was more than happy to help. You've done so much for me and for Frankie. Plus, Karen's a sweetheart." She squeezes his forearm and Fitz feels his heart flutter.
He tilts his head up to meet her gaze and her eyes sparkle beneath her long lashes. Olivia Pope is so damn beautiful that she's close to taking his breath away. If they weren't in a middle school parking lot, he'd have half the mind to lean over and claim those shimmering lips. He lets go of the wheel and lets his fingers find a way to hers. Gently, he squeezes her hand, thanking her without being too forward. Hopefully they'll have all night for him to find the right words, the right caresses.
But first, they need to find somewhere new to eat. He lets her hand go and instantly misses their warmth. "So, I can either call 1789 and try to have them extend our reservation or we can try and find somewhere else to eat. What do you say?" He asks as he settles his hand on the wheel once more.
"Well, I know a couple of good restaurants up near U Street? Have you ever—"
A tap on his car window causes them both to jump. Fitz turns to see Mrs. Messer, Karen's instructor, knocking on his window. She's a portly woman, older with graying hair. She wears a wide smile and stiff curls.
"Mr. Grant," she calls through the glass.
Fitz turns the keys in the ignition and rolls down the window. "Yes?"
"Mr. Grant, one of our parent chaperons appears to be running late and we were wondering if you'd be able to just lend us a hand for say a few minutes or so?" Mrs. Messer asks.
Immediately a grimace spreads across Fitz's face. He rubs the back of his neck and looks over at Olivia. "Mrs. Messer, I kinda have –" he gaze lingers towards Olivia.
"Oh, dear, I didn't realise. I'm…oh tough. I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Grant. We'll…"
Olivia clears her throat in the seat next to him. "I'd be okay with staying for a minute or two, Fitz. We've probably already lost our reservation anyways. We can hang around for a few."
"Are you sure?" Fitz raises his brows, searching Olivia's face for any hint that she's uncertain. He can see a twitch of nervousness tug at her eyes, but she seems more than okay with this.
"I'm certain."
"Thirty-minutes tops, Mr. Grant. Thirty-minutes tops."
/
Twenty-five minutes later, Fitz brings Olivia another cup of punch, he keeps his eyes trained on the almost empty dance floor. The latest in the Top 40 blares. It seems as if the teenage jitters are getting the best of everyone tonight. Karen and her friends stand in a circle talking and giggling as a groups of boys stand nearby.
"Five minutes and we blow this popsicle stand," Fitz whisper-shouts into Olivia's ear as she takes the punch. She smells like a hint of lavender as his lips inadvertently brush against the outer shell of her ear, but his eyes miss her shiver as he steps back against the wall next to her.
"You sure you're not having fun in a place that smells like teen spirit?" Olivia shoots back, drawing a sip of punch.
"They're so…teenaged." He laughs, watching as a kid swings his arms wildly on the floor before he's joined by a few other students.
"Nah, not fully. They're that horrible age between tween and full on teen so it's all just a lot of nerves right now. Nerves and puberty. But on the plus side, Karen looks great. And she might just be getting a dance."
Fitz's eyes snap up to see some brace faced blonde boy rocking a button down and shell necklace touch one of Karen's loose waves. His eyes narrow and he takes a step forward. Olivia grabs his wrist.
"Remember what she said when we came in here. We're to be invisible. Well, you are. I can do whatever I want because I'm the cool one."
Fitz relaxes and settles back against the wall. "She only said that because you're clearly the better looking one of the two of us here."
Olivia's cheeks swell as she peers at him over the red punch cup. "Definitely not going to disagree with that, but you're wearing that suit, Mr. Grant."
It's Fitz's turn to blush and his face turns red. He forgets about Karen and brace face, turning on his side to indulge himself in Olivia's presence. She has no idea how thankful he is for her at this moment. Not only because she's a sight for sore eyes, but also because she's been so selfless when it comes to his kids – well, kid tonight, too.
"I was already going to buy you dessert, you don't have to flirt extra hard to get it. Plus, you're still the better looking one."
She tilts her body towards his, too, mimicking his stance, which causes her dress to dip just a bit. The dress fits her like a glove and he's had a hard time keeping his eyes. But he's currently feeling daring and allows his gaze to drop pointedly. He sweeps his eyes up from the strappy sandals on her feet to the barren expanse of her shiny brown legs and up to the hem of her dress. He watches as it stretches over her hips, cinches in at her waist, and pushes her breasts up perfectly. Once more his eyes wash over her lips and then settle on her eyes.
She's grinning, hard. "You're shameless, Mr. Grant."
"I just might be, I'd love for you to find out." He takes a step forward and reaches out to tuck a curl behind Olivia's ear, they're barely a foot apart when Mrs. Messer steps in front of them.
"Mr. Grant!" The older woman nearly shouts and Fitz takes a hurried step back. "Hi, hello, Mr. Grant and…" She waves towards Olivia.
"Olivia."
"Olivia, yes. I've just heard from Mrs. Kennedy. She'll be here in about twenty minutes. You two are more than welcome to run off to your evening now, but Mr. Grant, make I ask one more favor?"
Fitz's heart rises and falls simultaneously. He can stop the exasperated sigh that slips from his lips before he forces a tight smile. He feels Olivia tug on his blazer and his smile loosens. "Yes, Mrs. Messer?"
"Can you be a dear and run next door into the school and go to the first floor utility closet, the one across from the attendance office, you know where the class photos are, and grab a sleeve of plastic cups? I don't see how catering didn't bring enough, but I trust you still know where the office and what not is?"
The first word that pops into Fitz's mind is 'no' the second is 'hell.' Doesn't he pay Karen's tuition to avoid situations like these? He turns to look at Olivia who once again gives him an approving smile, her tiny hand still hanging on the bottom of his blazer.
"Of course, Mrs. Messer," he grits out through nearly clenched teeth.
Mrs. Messer claps her palms together before slipping a hand into her pocket and pulling out a ring of keys. She points to a brass key with a blue 2 on it. "This one opens the closet. Thank you, Mr. Grant!" She doesn't bother to look back as she bounces off to a group Fitz recognizes as teaches of various subjects. They all seem to be nice and relaxed and he rolls his eyes at them.
"Livvie, I'll be right back. And when I get back, we're leaving," he tells Olivia.
"Want me to come with you?" She asks from beneath her lashes with her bottom lip stuck between her teeth.
He shrugs. "If you want."
/
Olivia follows behind Fitz, her hand tucked in his as they make their way inside of the lavish, private k-12 school. She can't help but watch his strides as they go. He's been on her mind in ways she'd rather not articulate since Abby placed that seed in her head a couple of hours ago. Try as she might, she can't get it out. What's been even worse is knowing these thoughts are in her head while she's surrounded by barely teens. Damn Abby and her dirty mind.
So what if it's been nearly four years, the red head didn't need to bring it up.
The school is eerily quiet as they finally reach the closet. Fitz lets go of Olivia's hand as he moves to find the keys the older woman had given him minutes ago.
Olivia wanders away to inspect their space. They're in a long hallway with pictures galore tacked to the walls, some dating back to the early nineteen hundreds from what Olivia can tell. Across from the pictures sits a wide open office space with see through shutters pulled down. Curiosity gets the better of her and Olivia follows the pictures, the names and years, realizing that she's seen double and triple of the same name. Legacy schools started earlier, clearly.
She stops as she reaches a woman that looks oddly like Fitz's daughter, except she has chestnut brown hair. Briefly she wonders if this picture is of Fitz's ex-wife, but her eyes keep moving. They go down until she stops on a golden haired boy with a lopsided grin and barely there eyebrows. Beneath the picture reads 'Fitzgerald T. Grant III.' Her mouth curls into a smile and she looks down the hall at the open closet door.
"What's the T for?" Olivia shouts down the hall before making her way back to the open closet door. Fitz comes into view, jacket hanging on the doorknob as he stretches to reach a box marked 'CUPS.'
"The what?" he asks.
Olivia nearly forgets her question as she see the shirt stretch over his shoulders and grip the muscles in his back and arms. Who the hell would've ever known Professor Grant is ripped beneath the sweaters and button-ups? She blinks hard to stop staring and shakes her head. "The T, in your name."
He growls as his heels hit the ground and he brings down the box. "Thomas. Wait. Where…oh the wall of fame. You saw my picture?"
She nods form her position at the closet door.
"My ex-wife is up there, too. And if you go down the hall and out the door, across campus, to the high school, you'll find my picture a few more times. I wish you wouldn't though. Then you'll know that I wasn't too cool in high school." He stands up, curl slopping against his forehead.
Olivia snorts. "Teen mom here. You don't need to tell me about cool. Though I do think you're lying."
"You do?" he asks, hands on his hips and stance wide.
Her heart beat quickens and she really wishes he'd stop giving her that stupid grin all night. That lopsided grin that makes her want to kiss him silly. That lopsided grin that makes her want to scream 'I dressed for you because my seven-year-old said you look at my butt! I dressed for you because I want you!'
She clears her throat. "I do. You were probably a jock, super smart. Might still be President of the United States one day…"
Fitz chuckles and walks towards her. "I saw my father in the California governor's mansion as a kid, definitely don't want to be president or governor etcetera, of anything." He reaches for his jacket and suddenly they're impossibly close, again. Like moments ago on the outskirts of the dance floor.
Olivia's eyes are hopeful as they meet his and she feels her chest rise and fall. The air between them sparks with promise as he retracts his hand and she swears she sees his crotch twitch. She bites her bottom lip and Abby's voice is in her head again, followed by her own.
Four years.
"God you look good tonight." Olivia nearly moans and before she can realise what she's doing – what they're doing – she's in his arms, back against the now closed closet door.
His kiss is hard, rough as his hands slid up her sides and his chest presses into hers. His tongue plunges into her mouth and her tongue slides against his. Her fingers find his head and ruffling his hair, tugging on the partially straight, partially curling strands. Long sighs and heavy panting fill the air as Olivia feels one of his thighs slide between her legs and then both of her thighs are draped over his hips.
Their bodies work on their volition, mouths silencing any thoughts they have. Olivia grinds against him, dress up around her waist, the silk between her legs dampening. He bucks into her, all too happy to oblige as she encourages him to move.
They're close to imploding.
So close that the knock on the door startles them apart and sends them both to the ground in a collapsed heap of mangled limbs. Fitz knocks over a stack of mops and brooms that clatter to the floor and closet door squeaks open, and Olivia scrambles to stay behind it, trying the best she can to tug her dress down as she goes.
"Mr. Grant, Mrs. Messer sent me to see if you got lost!" A light, boyish voices says.
"Hey, uhm…Joshua, right? Josh. Hamilton, Kevin's boy, right?" Fitz speaks, snapping his fingers. Olivia can see him on the other side of the door on the floor, face beat red and pants clearly tinted.
"Yeah, Mr. Grant."
"Will you take these cups to Mrs. Messer and tell her I had to leave?" He reaches behind him and grabs a sleeve of plastic cups wrapped in cellophane and hands them to the boy Olivia can't see.
"Sure. Hey, you alright, dude sir?"
"I'm just fine. Go back to the dance."
If Joshua suspects something, he doesn't say anything.
The door shuts once more and Olivia slides out from behind it. Her chest is still heaving, her lips are swollen and there's a couple of specks of dirt on her dress. "Joshua Hamilton did not believe a word of that," she tells Fitz as she gets to her feet, finally able to pull her dress all the way down. Her mind is running on pure adrenaline and she's yet to asses her actions.
Fitz follows and climbs to his feet, erection clear as day. "And why not?"
"There's lip gloss all over your face."
For the third time that night, they share a good laugh.