Fitz and Olivia spoke Sunday night. They spoke Tuesday night. They spoke Thursday night, particularly to make plans for the following day. She insisted on meeting him at the restaurant, a hidden gem of a place in between their apartments. It felt awkward for him to not pick her up. He didn't know a lot about dating in the real world. But he did show up to the restaurant 20 minutes early, just to make sure he could choose the table and also be there before Olivia.

He wore dark, tailored jeans and a very light purple button-up shirt. He had to roll up the sleeves because it was the middle of August and muggy in New York. He wore brown loafers without socks and a brown belt. At the florist on the way to the restaurant, he selected purple sterling roses, only realizing that they matched his shirt as he set them on his selected table.

He anxiously rubbed his hands together and thought about Olivia. Always this week, he was thinking of Olivia. He had basically had this week off of work. He was set to begin filming a movie here in three weeks, and he would begin rehearsals in earnest come Monday. He had read a lot of books, taken a lot of walks and read a couple of scripts. But, still, Olivia remained near the front of his mind.

It was easy. It seemed like such a simplistic way to describe it, but that's what it was. Talking to her, listening to her, thinking about her. It was easy. He had thought often about how she had said she had been described as difficult, and this was unfathomable to him. She knew what she liked. She didn't back down in conversations. But he liked that about her. He certainly didn't see it as a character flaw.

As Olivia stepped out of the cab, which had been a last minute decision after she decided on the 3-inch wedge sandals, she took a deep breath. She was wearing a white sleeveless cotton shirt tucked into a navy and white cotton maxi skirt. Most of her work outfits were suits. Structured. She tended to be more relaxed – or "flowy" as her dad described it – during the summer. The heels had been a last minute change. Fitz was really tall. She was petite. Plus, the heels would look better if she crossed her legs and exposed them. She rolled her eyes thinking that she was considering their heights, as if presuming they might kiss. Of course they wouldn't.

She almost believed that.

The truth of the matter was that she had never been more attracted to anyone in her life. And she had only seen him one time! In person, that is. She had seen many of his films and never had a celebrity crush on him. But knowing him, or getting to know him, and remembering what it felt like with his arms around her as they had hugged goodbye a week ago, it was almost too much. Almost. She was tremendously nervous but also very excited to see him again. Not nervous because of a lack of confidence. Nervous because it was the first date in forever that she hoped went well. And it was with Fitz Grant. She had realized today while getting ready that it was the first time that his career, his status, his presence, had affected her.

She stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by a friendly-looking host. Before she could even introduce herself, he greeted her by name and led her to the back of the restaurant.

Fitz stood as soon as he saw her. She was radiant. He realized in that moment he hadn't expected anything less. Any worry he had about the memory of her not matching who he had grown to like so much over the phone faded away as she reached the table. He couldn't play it cool. He embraced her as soon as she was within arm's reach.

"Hi there," she said, her voice muffled in his chest. His solid, muscular chest complete with a rapidly beating heart.

"Hi yourself. It's so good to see you. Actually see you," he said, stepping back.

"You look handsome. And nice move having the host waiting for me."

"It's all for you," he said, grabbing the bouquet off of the table. "As are these. You look gorgeous, Olivia."

She blushed. "Thank you. It's good to actually see you too."

They sat then. She ordered a bottle of red wine for them to share. They share appetizers and a salad before ordering their main courses, and their conversation flowed as it had for the past week. His next project (a period piece set during the California gold rush), her plans for the last weeks of summer (reading, lesson planning, spending a weekend in the Hamptons with her parents), his house in Hawaii (big, open, on the water), wacky stories about her students (even high school kids say the funniest things). When the waiter placed dessert menus in front of them, Olivia noticed for the first time that the sun had set.

"What do you think about walking for a bit? Maybe getting some ice cream?" Fitz asked.

"Sounds perfect," she replied, wiping her lips with her napkin. She noticed his eyes rested on her lips before he spoke again.

"Thanks so much, Andrew, but we'll just take the check."

"You know the waiter, too? Of course you do."

"I don't actually. But I can read his nametag."

"Is there anything you can't do?" she challenged playfully.

"I could name a few things. But I want you to go out with me again. So let's walk."

She carried the flowers out of the restaurant.

"I have an idea," she said, grabbing his hand with her free hand. "Come on."

He loved the feeling of her small hand in his. Their fingers laced together, comfortably and warmly, was the new highlight of the evening. She led them to the bar where they had met a week ago tonight.

"Henry doesn't have ice cream. Believe me, I've asked."

"Maybe so, but I bet he can keep these flowers safe for us while we walk."

Fitz nodded and followed her in. Henry was there and visibly delighted to see them together. He gladly took the flowers and put them into a pitcher of water, safely behind the bar. Olivia blew him a kiss and Fitz shook his hand, and they were out into the warm summer night again.

Fitz grabbed her hand as soon as they were on the sidewalk.

"Is this okay?" he asked as they strolled.

"Definitely," she said, letting go and linking her arm through his. It brought them closer together. New highlight, for both of them.

They each got an ice cream cone and found a bench outside of a small park to enjoy and rest. She was thankful then for her shoes. She knew how to walk in heels, and now that they were sitting next to each other, she was happy to felt confident from head to toe. They were sitting right next to each other, legs touching, elbows bumping if they each raised their ice cream at the same time. Olivia was in a fog and didn't notice the two women approaching them until they were right in front of them.

"Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt, but are you Fitz Grant?" one of the women asked. She was probably in her mid-twenties.

"That I am," Fitz said, sitting up a little straighter.

"We're huge fans," both women said at once. Olivia couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you. Are you guys from New York?"

Fitz engaged them in a solid five minutes of conversation. Olivia got the sense that this was his typical response to fans. That his reputation, while based in truth, didn't leave room for his willingness to be generous with his time and kindness to random strangers. He took a photograph with them, asked that they not share it on social media and sent the happy strangers on their way.

"That was something. You were lovely with them," Olivia complimented him.

"They were polite and kind. I'm happy to return the favor."

"Does that happen to you a lot?"

"Not really. Especially not here. New Yorkers don't care that much. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you."

"Please, don't apologize."

He turned to her then. "I guess I could have just said you were my date."

"Sure," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "But I promise I'm not upset. It's our first date. Let's not overthink it."

He glanced down at her hand on his arm. Before he could lose his nerve, he reached for it and brought it to his lips, kissing the top of her hand gently. Every hair on her body stood up. She felt frozen, unable to move, anticipating what might happen next. He held her hand near his chin.

"Hi," he said, smiling.

She couldn't help but break out into the cheesiest grin then.

"Hi."

"How's it going?"

She laughed. "It's going well, don't you agree?"

"Yes. Just checking."

She moved her hand to his shoulder, then decided to forego any common sense and move it to the back of neck, putting her fingers though his soft curls.

He easily relaxed into her, while at the same time pulling her halfway into his lap on the bench. It turns out she didn't heels to stage the perfect kiss with him, because it was going to happen while they were seated. Face to face.

He made sure she was secure in his lap and then put a hand on either side of her face.

"Olivia," he started.

She shook her head ever so slightly, not able to find the words to tell him it was okay, to be confident, that this was where she wanted to be.

He took the hint and kissed her lips ever-so-lightly. He could feel her lips curve into a small smile, and she leaned closer into him. This relaxed him a little, even if his heartbeat only sped up. He deepened the kiss, and she opened her mouth and invited him in. She tasted like strawberry ice cream, because of course she did.

When Olivia heard Fitz moan quietly, she knew he was feeling everything she was feeling. Their mouths moved in sync for what felt both like a blink of an eye and an entire season. He pulled away and placed a quick, light kiss on her lips, but didn't move away. Their foreheads touched.

"I would say something poetic, but I can barely breathe," she whispered.

"Same," she said, rubbing he hand on the stubble on his cheeks.

They sat together like that, two intelligent, usually wordy people, at a loss for words. After a few minutes she returned to the spot right next to him, linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder. They were both content to just be.

"Do you have a favorite bagel place?" he asked.

She thought about it. "A couple. The place over near Henry's isn't bad. There are a lot of great ones just south of here."

He nodded. "Oli and I used to go to that one right over there," he said, indicating a deli that was on the corner two blocks way.

"Oli is your brother?" she asked.

"Yeah. Oliver. Usually Oli to me, though."

"Oli and Fitz," she said, squeezing his arm a little.

"We would eat there at least five times a week. Sometimes more."

"Do you still go?" she asked, even though she had an idea about the answer.

"Rarely. It was too hard at first. Now I think I could do it, but I just found other places. It's like that was ours, and now I have things that are mine."

"I can respect that. But have you found a place for you that is as good?"

"Truthfully, not really. Their chive spread is the best I've ever had."

"I think we should have it," she said, sitting up.

"Right now? It's 10:30."

"Not now, just sometime. In the near future."

"Olivia Pope, is this your way of asking me out?"

"Please. This is my way of getting to the best spread in the city."

Before he could respond, she moved to kiss him again. It surprised him, but also made him incredibly happy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her to him.

"You're so tiny," he said in between kisses.

"You're not," she said, and they both laughed.

"I hate to say this, but we should probably get going."

"You're right. We should."

"Come over?" he asked.

She smiled. Her arms were still around his neck. She wanted to go to his apartment. She didn't want this night to end. But she was still her old self, and despite the feeling that what was happening was new and different and important, her old self took over.

"I would love to. But I think I should head home."

He nodded. "I understand. But I'm taking you."

She tried to protest and he lifted a hand. "This is a date. I walk you home."

They slowly made their way to her apartment building.

"This is me," she said. "Fourth floor. I don't think you should come in. The doorman reads gossip magazines."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Fitz, this was lovely. A truly wonderful evening. Thank you."

He shook his head. "Thank you. I had a great time. Can I see you again?"

"Yes. Please," she said, standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Will you text me when you get home?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Well, goodnight," she said, opening the door to her building.

"Goodnight," he said with a wave.

He walked back to his place. It was a 20 minute walk. She had been a mere 20 minutes from him for years. How lucky was he that she had stopped by Henry's last Friday?

Thinking that, he remembered the flowers. He took a detour to the bar and gave Henry the update on their evening. When he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he fought the urge to go back to Olivia's. He texted her when he got home instead.

Fitz: Home safely. Stopped by the bar and grabbed the flowers. Would love to let you enjoy them. Maybe I could drop by tomorrow?

Olivia: The flowers! My mind was elsewhere, I'm glad you remembered. I'll be here tomorrow. Maybe bring the flowers with a side of bagels?

Fitz: Well played. 9:00?

Olivia: Yes.

Fitz: Not soon enough.

Olivia: Stop flirting with me.

Fitz: Never.

Olivia: Okay. :)

Fitz: See you in the morning. Night.

Olivia: Night, Fitz.