A/N: So this is an anonymously requested one shot of Fitz and Olivia as a doctor and an intern. It's steamy but not smutty because I got this really cute chemistry going between them and I couldn't figure out how to work in the smut without making it too long. I think I might do a smutty follow-up though. Let me know what you think and submit your requests! XOXO
Cyrus smirked at Fitz as he stormed down the hall. The administrator had been expecting his head diagnostician for half an hour, approximately the time it would take for Fitz to read through his new team member's personnel file. Cyrus smiled serenely when Fitz threw open his glass office doors.
Frowning, Fitz declared simply, "No."
"Good morning Dr. Grant," Cyrus replied, setting down his iPad. "What can I do for you?"
If he and Cyrus weren't such good friends, Fitz would have hated him. "A woman, Cy?"
"Well I was hoping to get a talking bear, but they're surprisingly hard to come by," Cyrus replied with a smirk. "Believe it or not, women are competent doctors too."
It wasn't that Fitz didn't believe women were competent doctors. He just didn't like working with them. They were too easily offended, and too hung up on patients' feelings. They felt too much, cared too much, couldn't let go. Honestly, Fitz would have enjoyed working alone more than anything, but Cyrus insisted he needed a team to keep him "grounded." Fitz argued that the least Cyrus could do was keep his team completely male, and he had complied for a few years. But now it seemed the administrator had come down with a case of equal opportunity employment and hired a woman.
"Undergrad at an all-girls' school in Georgia, sorority sister, former ballerina…" Fitz read with a smirk. "Is she a debutante, too?"
"She graduated top of her class from Johns Hopkins with a specialty in neurological disorders. She turned down heading her own team in New York to work with you. She's smart enough to match you toe to toe, and too headstrong to take your shit. I would say she's perfect, but she's a Yankees fan and that's a sin I can't abide," Cyrus replied.
"Probably hot for A. Rod," Fitz, a Red Sox fan, muttered. Cyrus wondered what the intern would think of Fitz's chauvinism. Most of the hospital's female employees chose to ignore it because Fitz was gorgeous, but the intern was a pistol and Cyrus was sure she'd wrack Fitz's balls for it. He looked at her file again. "She's 5'4 and 108 pounds. I suppose it's helpful that I can carry her around in my pocket."
"'Find though she be but little, she is fierce,'" Cyrus quoted. He couldn't wait to see Fitz and the intern mix it up.
"Olivia Carolyn Pope… Even her name is cute." Fitz shook his head. "Where is Strawberry Shortcake?"
"In your office," Cyrus answered as he stood. "Mind if I come along? It's so rare that one gets to witness the exact moment that shit hits the fan."
Fitz strode toward his office with more purpose than usual, prepared to send Scarlett O'Hara packing. He smirked at her petite frame as she stood with her back to him, taking note of her bouncy raven curls, shapely little frame, and black pumps. He opened his glass door and she turned around.
It was the first time he ever found himself at a complete loss for words. Had her eyes not been so wide and warm, and her lips not so succulent, and her skin not the perfect shade of brown, he would have dismissed her immediately. But she was everything and then some, absolutely breath-taking, fixing him with a confident yet congenial stare.
A single strand of pearls hung around her beautiful neck, drawing his eyes to the peak of cleavage showcased by the v-neck of her fitted smoke gray wrap dress. Fitz found himself wondering what it would be like to massage her thin shoulders at the end of the day, and carry her little body up to bed. He wondered if there was someone waiting for her at home, and found himself irrationally jealous. Five minutes prior, he had been ready to pick her apart so skillfully that she'd flee his office contemplating her very existence. Now, he was ready to take her home.
Olivia wondered what the intensity of his gaze meant. Cyrus had warned her about Dr. Grant's sharp tongue, but she didn't know what to make of his intense gaze. She had never considered herself one for being enchanted by a man's eyes—they were nothing more than a simple toss up of genes after all—but Dr. Grant's blue gray eyes made her stomach feel like it was full of manic butterflies. Deciding he wasn't going to say anything to her, she stepped toward him, her hand extended. "Dr. Grant, I'm Dr. Olivia Pope. It's an honor to meet you."
He blinked, struck by her radiant smile. She smelled like something fruity, something feminine. Realizing he was staring at her like a moron, he quickly took hold of her little, incredibly soft hand. "Nice to meet you."
Cyrus watched the two study each other, smiling smugly. He had expected fireworks but of a completely different sort. He had never known Fitz to be so polite to anyone, especially not one of his subordinates. He would definitely have some questions about this little exchange—especially the way Fitz was holding onto her hand though the handshake was clearly over—when he and Fitz were alone.
"I hear you're a Yankees fan. I'll try not to hold that against you," Fitz joked, smirking down at her. She was wearing heels that he guessed were about 5 inches high but she was still a head shorter than him. Olivia made a mental note to somehow develop an aversion to his sensuous voice. She would never get any work done if she didn't. He went on, "I'm a Red Sox fan."
Olivia scoffed, "I guess you're not as smart as I assumed."
"Like you can judge. You went to Johns Hopkins." She smirked at him. He wanted to kiss every bit of matte red lipstick off her pretty mouth.
"God you sound like every Harvard alum I've ever met." He laughed beautifully and Olivia made another mental note to never make him laugh again.
"And how's that?" he asked.
"Loud and so wrong," she answered. She laughed at making him laugh.
Cyrus smirked at them. "Perhaps you should go over the house rules, Fitz. Dr. Pope seems to like you and I'd like to change that."
Fitz smirked at Cyrus then looked uncertainly at Olivia. She wondered what it was about these "house" rules that made him look so uncomfortable. "You're the first woman I've worked with since my residency so I don't know how to phrase this. We don't wear skirts and high heels on this team. We're saving lives, not going out for cocktails."
Olivia blinked at him. World-renowned doctor or not—devastatingly handsome or not—she wasn't going to take his macho crap. Diagnostics was a male-dominated field and she had developed a fierce sense of feminism because of the daily sexism she faced. "Because you haven't worked with a woman in what I'm assuming is a very long time, I'm not going to castrate you for being a sexist ass. Instead, I'm going to direct you to look at my file. I was number one in my class at Spelman, and Johns Hopskins. I've been published independently in the top-rated medical journal in the country independently twice. I have a 168 IQ. Granted, that's 2 points lower than you, it's still in the gifted range, meaning I'm quite intelligent. I turned down heading my own team at Cedar Sanai to work with you. I'm not stating these facts to toot my own horn, mind you. I'm letting you know that I'm incredibly talented and capable of doing my job, and that my attire is hardly any of your concern. I'm here to work with the best diagnostician in the country, not to be condescended to by some narcissist with a God complex, or have my choice in work attire scrutinized or sexualized by some Neanderthal who equates masculinity with capability or correctness."
He would have fired anyone else for speaking to him that way. But anything that came out of that mouth, rolling off that deliciously pink tongue, was music to his ears. He found her feistiness refreshing. A small smile on his lips, he declared, "You're not afraid of me."
She took a defiant step forward, her eyes level with his despite their height distance. "I'm not afraid of anyone."
"Good."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, unless you have any questions."
"None."
Cyrus watched them stare each other down, wondering how long it would be before they were duking it out like gladiators. Fitz finally gave in and stepped out of her way. She was just stepping over the threshold when Fitz called out to her, "Dr. Pope, there's one more thing."
She turned around and set those eyes on him again, her congenial look back on her beautiful face. "Yes?"
"You're going to need to go down to the clinic and sign up for hours," he replied.
"Okay." She smiled beautifully, their eyes lingering on each other for a long moment, before turning to leave. He decided he would have to learn to ignore her perfectly toned ass. God he wanted to squeeze her round, incredibly soft-looking ass…maybe bend her over his desk…maybe put her over his knee and spank her… God, she has to go, Fitz thought as he watched her hips swing as she strutted to the elevator. Cyrus's laugh broke the spell cast by the clicking of her heels on the marble floor.
"Unbelievable," he commented, shaking his head. "An IQ of 170 slashed to 55 by a nice ass. She is a hot little number. If only I were a vagina enthusiast…"
Fitz smirked. "She's…something."
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a thing for her. I've never seen you be so civil to anyone on your team before."
Fitz shook his head as he went to sit behind his desk, grabbing the yoyo he used to keep his hands busy while he read potential patient files. "Maybe I was just being a decent person."
"Oh, bullshit," Cyrus replied, grinning triumphantly as he left Fitz's office.
Fitz found himself smiling at the sight of Olivia sitting by herself as she ate her salad, reading intently, half-rimmed glasses perched on her perfect little nose. He bought a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, and a Coke, glancing at her every few seconds. He didn't want to like her—nothing good could come of liking her—but he found himself walking over to her table against her better judgment. He read the title of her book as he took a seat next to her: Gone with the Wind.
"Homesick?" he asked, smiling at her.
She looked up at him like she hadn't noticed him sit down. Honestly, she had been so engrossed in the book that she hadn't. "I read this book every couple of years to see if it changes as I change."
"And does it?" he asked, legitimately interested. Although, his interest was more geared towards the length of her thick dark eyelashes than the book.
"I suppose. When I read it the first time in high school, I thought Rhett Butler was absolutely awful for leaving Scarlett. But now I understand that he was just tired of giving." She smiled at him. "You know, you remind me of him."
"Do I?" Now he was really interested.
"You're both smart, and handsome, and charming, and delightfully chauvinistic," she answered with a challenging smile. He laughed. Cyrus was right. She was a pistol.
"So you think I'm handsome? And charming too? Nice." He smiled and she laughed, her head falling back. Fitz wanted to pepper her beautiful neck with kisses.
"You are shameless," she replied, smiling at him.
"And smart, and handsome, and charming." Olivia laughed again. She hadn't expected him to be as charming as he was, and she knew that that made him all the more dangerous for her. He wasn't the kind of man she needed. He was too macho, too "I'm the man," too sharp-tongued. They wouldn't do anything but butt heads, when they weren't pawing at each other like animals. He unleashed an animalistic lust in her that she hadn't known she possessed. She had never wanted to fuck anyone before, to just rip their clothes off and bang them like a screen door on a mobile home in a hurricane, but Dr. Grant did something to her. She smiled shyly, hoping she wasn't blushing from her less than professional thoughts of him, and stole a glance at him.
He was staring at her. He had never been so taken with a woman. "You have incredibly beautiful eyes."
Olivia blushed as she looked away from him. His intense gaze was setting off a tsunami in her stomach. She asked, "Why are you being so nice to me? Cyrus told me all these horror stories about you and I was fully prepared to go to war with you. But you're being a boy scout. Why is that?"
He didn't have words for it. She just made him feel different. He knew there would be times when they butted heads. They were both too Type A and outspoken for it to not happen at some point. But he wanted to spend forever learning what made her tick so he could know what it was about her that made him tick differently. He answered, "Maybe I'm just a crappy person when you aren't around."
Olivia blushed as she met his gaze. "I've only been here for a day, most of which we haven't spent together I'd like to point out."
"Maybe you should've shown up sooner." He smiled just so and Olivia thought she would faint. She hadn't expected to be so surprised by him, or so enchanted. She had come in expecting an ogre whom she'd have to tame, but instead found herself wondering if he liked to sleep in on Saturdays, and if he preferred pancakes to waffles, and if was an optimist or a pessimist. She wanted to count his eyelashes and trace the bridge of his nose while they lay in bed after a long day, and maybe spend a few hours running her fingers through those gorgeous coffee-colored curls.
He wasn't sure when he leaned close enough to breathe in the scent of her hair. It was incredibly sweet but he couldn't name it. She seemed unaware of him scooting just a bit closer to him, but she was actually acutely aware of his scent filling her nostrils. He smelled soapy and clean and so intoxicatingly manly that it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He took a deep inhale, filling his lungs with her scent. It hit him immediately. Cupcakes. Her hair smelled like cupcakes.
Olivia reread the same sentence five times, never absorbing the information. She couldn't focus on anything with his heat creeping into her body. She made a mental note to never be so close to him again, not if her insides were going to turn to jelly that way.
She didn't know how it happened. Maybe she looked up at him too quickly, or maybe he was far too close. Maybe she didn't realize just how close he was, or maybe he didn't move away quick enough. Whatever the circumstances, when she turned to look at him, their lips touched instantly. She pulled away almost immediately and blushed so hard that she knew her whole face was beet red. Fitz stared at her with bedroom eyes that brought goose bumps to her skin. His hand found the back of her neck and she gave a little gasp when his lips met hers again.