A/N: So fitzdeservesbetter on tumblr requested some jealous!Olivia and this is what I came up with. I was gonna get super angsty but I think we as a ship have had enough angst to never smile again. So I kept it light and flirty. It's set during Fitz's first election run so this is like fetus!Olitz.

Olivia stands a few feet from Fitz as he sits in a makeup chair, the hairstylist practically vibrating as she gushes over his hair.

"You have such good hair," she compliments, working the comb through to give him a side part. "You've almost got that Hugh Grant thing going."

Fitz smiles, and Olivia rolls her eyes as a little color rises in his cheeks. "I'm not that good looking."

She isn't sure how to describe the scoffing sound the girl makes as she combs his hair forward into his face then points at the mirror. "See?"

Fitz turns to look at himself and Olivia watches the grin split his face. "You might be on to something."

Olivia rolls her eyes as she walks over, tells them, "We need to be ready in about five minutes."

"Okay," the stylist replies, combing Fitz's hair back into his normal style.

"Let's leave a little in the front. Maybe make me middle-aged Hugh Grant." Fitz chuckles and Olivia rolls her eyes. Fitz notices, attempting to catch her eye but she deliberately avoids his gaze, focusing on her notes.

A few minutes later, he's out of the chair and at her side, peering down at her notes, mostly because she won't meet his gaze despite his closeness.

"So you need to make sure you sell the immigration topic. The xenophobic republican image is beyond played. And it's worth it to lose a few republicans in the interim if you can gain the young democrat demographic. At the end of the day, republicans will show party solidarity. But you've gotta get those ambivalent voters. College kids who wanna vote republican but wanna feel good about it."

"So do I bring up the amnesty plan?"

"No. We're saving that for debates. You're gonna knock Restin out of the water. She's a Bible-thumping homegrown racist and you're just a family man. A republican with the heart of a democrat," she replies, still not looking at him.

"Wish me luck?" He touches her elbow and she finally looks up at him though she doesn't smile.

"Don't screw up," is all she offers as a reply before a producer comes to get him to place him on set.

X

It isn't hard for Fitz to spot Olivia eating alone in the large hotel dining room. She's got her laptop open and a sandwich in her hand, missing only one delicate bite. He takes his own sandwich plate over and sits beside her, not surprised to find his face on her screen or a legal pad covered in her neatly looping handwriting atop the keyboard. He takes her ham sandwich out of her hand, replaces it with the chicken salad he'd managed to snag before it was gone.

"I thought that was turkey," she mentions absently, nodding at the sandwich he's now eating.

He picks up her can of Diet Coke, replies, "You can't go a day without this stuff."

"I have an addiction, sir."

Fitz laughs, his head falling back. He has an easy laugh, like a child, that almost pulls Olivia into its merriment but she reminds herself that she's mad at him and maintains her stone face. She rewinds the video to the bit she's missed because he was talking, picks her pen in her free hand.

He points at the screen briefly, his arm arcing over her head as it makes it way to the back of her chair. His fingers drum against her shoulder. "She had her hand on my thigh for the longest time."

"Seems like everyone on that set had the hots for you," Olivia replies, not looking at him as she eats her sandwich, rolling her shoulder so it knocks against his arm.

"Well some people think I'm hot," he teases. Olivia snorts, offers no reply. Fitz cocks an eyebrow at her, slipping his arm off her chair and resting it on his thigh. "I know you're not jealous. You can't be jealous when you only wanted to be my friend, Livvie."

"I'm not jealous," Olivia huffs, still refusing to look at him even as his hand closes around her inner thigh, his fingers flexing on her knee.

"Really? Cause you seem a little mad." He studies her profile for a glimmer of a smile but finds himself distracted by the curls of her eyelashes and the gentle slope of her nose.

"I'm not mad. If I was your wife, I'd be mad," she replies in her previous tone, bringing his attention to her mouth. Her lips were pouty and full, her Cupid's bow exquisite, her tongue a delicious shade of pink. He recalled the filthy things she whispered when they had sex. She had such an enthralling voice, whispery and girlish…bedroomy, even.

"Ouch." Fitz laughs, his ego far too inflated at the moment to be daunted. "If you were my wife, you'd be upstairs avoiding me right now. But since we're just friends, you can be a little jealous. I don't mind."

"I don't wanna be your friend anymore."

"Oh?" Fitz stands and gives her sleeve a tug then slips out of the room. A moment later, Olivia follows, meeting him in the back hallway between the kitchen and the dining room. Fitz crowds her against the wall, his hand on her waist. He's grinning devilishly enough to make her rolls her eyes. "So you don't wanna be my friend anymore?"

Olivia shakes her head. "You're a bad friend."

"Because girls like me?"

"Because you're rubbing it in." She rolls her eyes. "I could gush over you too if I was some bouncy hairstylist with more boobs than brains."

Fitz laughs. "Somebody had catnip for breakfast."

Olivia pouts, looks at her shoes, mutters, "Maybe it's harder being your friend than I thought it would be."

"We can be more than friends whenever you want, Livvie. I'm just waiting for you."

"And flirting with slutty hairstylists. And being groped by plastic reporters. Doesn't sound much like waiting to me."

Fitz laughs, lifting her face. "I don't think I've ever seen you jealous before Livvie. And you're pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

Fitz replies by tapping her protruding bottom lip with his index finger. "You look a little pouty to me, Livvie."

Olivia pushes his hand away, shrugs. She holds his shoulders for a moment then slides her hands down his chest. "Maybe I'm a little jealous. Just because you're not mine doesn't mean you're anyone else's."

"I am yours," he murmurs, crowding her against the wall and pressing against her. "You know there's only one person I love."

"I know," she replies, her voice small.

Fitz wraps his arms around her, pulls her off the wall and peppers kisses on her lips until she smiles. He whispers, "I think I like you jealous."

"Shut up," she laughs.

He resumes his kissing, moving them from her lips to her cheeks and chin until Olivia's squirming in his embrace. "You know you're my favorite girl."

"I know," she replies. "But you've gotta make it up me."

A/N: Don't forget to review or leave a request/prompt! XOXOXOXO