A/N - So, since I fucked up the timeline (obvs Fitz isn't going to give a SOTU address in February), I'm just going to pretend it's normal for the president to address Congress at random times for important issues (idek - is it? maybe?)
Hoodie
by: Hey Violet
The change in temperature had been a shock to her system. February in Washington was certainly different than February on her island. Even with the perpetual chill, one that went bone deep and just would not dissipate no matter how many layers she donned, she did not miss that island-cage. Snow in Washington was a much more welcoming sight than a sun-warmed beach with Jake stomping through shallow water.
Washington without Jake, even with Fitz firmly in a non-touchable place, was heaven.
Leaning against the window in her living room, Olivia watched as fat, fluffy snowflakes fell to the grey sidewalk in front of her apartment building. She shivered as a chill ran through her - she had the heat set on a firm 78. Nothing chased the ever present chill away. She may have hated that island, but her body was still very much wired to its climate.
Twisting her wrist, she checked the time. 7:49. Eleven minutes and Fitz would be on television, addressing Congress as he worked to pass an, admittedly, longshot bill for gun control. It had been a shock, when she'd first come home, to learn that Fitz had made this issue the center of his second term.
Shivering still, she left the view at her window for her bedroom. Boxes still littered her small apartment. She hadn't had the chance to fully unpack - she'd barely had the time to bring the boxes out of storage. And so it was that she nearly missed the beginning of Fitz's speech as she dug through the many boxes in search of one very specific item.
"Every year, we as a nation watch our fellow countrymen, women, and children perish to gun violence."
Fitz's deep voice filled Olivia's small living room when she finally settled onto her sofa, eyes glued to the television. His words were lost on her as she watched his face - frowning at the new worry lines and the bags under his eyes. He wasn't sleeping. That much was obvious.
Biting her lip, fighting against every instinct to grab her phone and send a quick text to him or to Cyrus if she thought it would do her any good, she pulled her arms through the large Navy shirt she wore. She wasn't going to think about how bad Fitz looked. She wasn't going to let the worry gnawing in the pit of her stomach prompt her to do something she would regret.
Instead, dropping her chin to the shirt she wore and taking in a deep breath of the cologne that still lingered on the soft fabric, she forced herself to listen to the words that were being said. Anything but reach for the phone that lay enticingly on her coffee table.
Anything but that.