A/N: This is a short one, because it's been so long and I'm so sorry. If I'd ended this chapter where I was intending, it would probably be over 20,000 words and take me several more weeks.
Your feedback for chapter 13 was amazing. I'm so grateful. I love hearing your thoughts and predictions - although I can't comment on any of them, because spoilers. I hope you enjoy this miniature installment!
Chapter 14 - Will It Always Be Like This?
Monday feels like the longest day of Fitz's life.
His schedule is entirely booked up with meetings from eight in the morning until gone seven at night. Somehow, despite Charlotte's warning on Friday and the regular reminders from his calendar app, he'd managed to remain oblivious to it over the weekend. He's calling it the Olivia Pope effect: his tendency to neglect anything that isn't her. And it's really coming back to bite him now, after his past few weeks of carefree vacationing.
His very last meeting drags on forever and by this point he's barely listening, preoccupied with the thought of Olivia waiting for him just a short drive away. Will she have showered yet; covered her skin in vanilla body butter, put on her silk pajamas? He's missed her all day; can't wait to wrap her up in his arms and return to their own little bubble, leaving the rest of the world outside.
Cyrus is still in his office when Fitz is finally ready to leave. "You still busy Cy?" he asks, stopping in the doorway. "Anything I can help with?"
His second-in-command looks up from the papers on his desk and smiles wearily. "Not unless you want to read through some of these menus from-" He counts the sheets in front of him. "- Twenty one caterers and come up with a shortlist of ten for James and I to meet, in person, over the next few weeks."
Fitz grimaces. This is eerily reminiscent of his wedding planning with Mellie, whose ideas were similarly grand and excessive. In the year leading up to their big day, every minute of his free time was spent being dragged around to visit endless churches, hotels, photographers, florists… In the end, he was so fed up with her ignoring any suggestions he made that he just let her get on with it by herself - which made them both a lot happier.
"I think I'll pass," he admits. "Sorry buddy."
"Nah, I don't blame you. I'd pass too if I could. The things we do for love, hey?"
The things I'd do for you, Livvie, Fitz thinks automatically, picturing her beautiful face. He'd take her to the moon to get married if that's what she wanted.
He blinks to clear his thoughts and notices Cyrus's gaze has drifted to the door frame, where his left hand is resting by his head. "I see you took off your wedding ring. It's finally over, then?"
Fitz nods. "We're getting a divorce. I met with a lawyer on Friday."
Cyrus leans back in his chair, studying him thoughtfully. After knowing each other so long, Fitz is unfazed by this scrutiny. "Good for you," he says eventually, his voice sincere. "You've seemed happier these last few weeks than you have been in years."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely. Everyone noticed today. Emmanuelle was telling the whole coffee room this afternoon that she hopes her upcoming vacation is as rejuvenating as yours obviously was."
"Where's she going?"
"Her sister's bachelorette in Vegas."
"Hmm."
They both laugh as Cyrus stands up. "Right, I've had enough of trying to decipher the difference between a mousse, a foam and an 'air' - whatever the hell that is. Do you want to get a drink, celebrate your freedom?"
"I'd love to, but… I have plans."
His split-second hesitation is enough for Cyrus's eyebrows to rise; for him to jump straight to the right conclusion. "You cheeky old dog, Fitzgerald! Still married and already seeing someone new."
Fitz can do nothing but shrug and smile. He's never been able to lie to his closest friend. "It wasn't something I was planning on. I met her in London and it just… happened."
Cy is silent for a moment, still analyzing him. He knows, Fitz thinks. He knows I've fallen hard. And it's a great feeling, to be able to share at least a little of his overwhelming joy with someone else.
"I'd better let you get going then," Cyrus says eventually, offering a knowing smirk.
"Want a lift?"
"No, it's okay. I still love the walk home, even after all these years."
"Alright. See you tomorrow."
"Night boss."
Fitz can feel Cyrus's bemused gaze on his back as he heads for the elevators, and he feels so damn happy and carefree he has to resist the urge to jump up in the air. Today, for the first time in so many years, he can't wait to get home to the woman in his life. Previously he dreaded leaving the office; often used the pretense of paperwork to eat dinner at his desk, to avoid an evening of stunted conversation and sullen silences within his own house. But now… everything has changed.
Olivia has already touched every part of his world - and he cannot wait to see what else her magical powers can do.
Fitz greets the concierge in her building just after eight o'clock, a friendly gentleman called Leon who already recognizes him. "Back again so soon, Mr Grant," he says with a smile as he calls the elevator. "Is it too early for Miss Pope to give you a key?"
"What would you think if I said no?" Fitz asks, grinning; his good mood palpable in the elegant marble foyer.
"I'd think you were hopelessly love-struck, and crazy lucky. But what do I know?"
"Only the secrets of everyone coming in and out of this place?"
The older man laughs. "I suppose so. I've seen enough scandals here to last a lifetime. Don't you two become another one."
Fitz claps him amiably on the upper arm as the elevator doors open. "We'll try not to. Thanks, Leon."
"Goodnight, Mr Grant."
He's outside Olivia's door thirty seconds later, and kissing her just five seconds after that. She's everything he's been dreaming about all day, wearing nothing but her smile and those little silk pajamas he was so hoping for. Her lips are soft beneath his, their kisses saying 'hello' and 'I've missed you'. They're not rushing but at the same time, Fitz wants her. It's patience and desire, currently in harmony but vulnerable: one move from her, one word, and the scales will tip.
After a long minute she sighs into his mouth and he pauses, giving them both chance to breathe. "Hi Livvie," he whispers, cupping her face in his palm, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes flutter open, dark and full of love.
"Hi Fitzy," she whispers back.
"Nice pajamas."
They both look down, following the path of his hands over her shoulders and the outline of her sensitive breasts to her waist and hips, her bare legs. Her skin is warm and impossibly smooth, her body so reactive to his touch, and his equilibrium falters.
"You kept me up so late yesterday," she says quietly, and it's not a defense - he can tell by the roughness at the edge of her voice. It's pure seduction. "I'm hoping for an early night tonight…"
Desire wins.
Many things happen all at once: he lifts her and she gasps and their mouths collide, harder than intended because of her upwards momentum. He turns to his left and sits her on the sideboard; something falls to the floor - her purse, maybe? - but she doesn't seem to care, and neither does he. Now their kisses are anything but patient and the pressure of his fingertips indents her thighs as they rise over his hips, tilting her pelvis, opening her to him. He groans at this contact, at the blazing heat of her core: the evidence that he sets her on fire, makes her burn. His erection grows further, stealing vital blood from his brain as he tries to get closer, to satisfy all his most carnal instincts and be inside her right now.
She moans and writhes when he squeezes her breasts, dragging his nails over her silk-covered nipples until they're hard enough to cut glass; throws her head back and cries out when his fingers slide beneath her pajama shorts, testing and teasing through her lacy underwear.
"So wet already," he says hoarsely, pressing kisses along the exposed column of her throat. He feels her hands in his hair, pulling his curls as her body trembles in his arms.
"I have a surprise for you," she murmurs hotly in his ear, her breath and her words making him shiver. He pulls back slightly to look at her: panting, lips swollen, eyes like molten cocoa - she is devastatingly sexy.
Before he can say or do anything, however, his phone begins to vibrate in the pocket of his pants. They both laugh a little as he struggles to extricate it, pressed as it is against Olivia's inner thigh. "I know you're pleased to see me," she teases, the interruption allowing some of her senses to return, "but I've never seen that happen before."
"I'm one of a kind, baby," he grins, noting his father's name on the display before discarding the phone on the surface next to them.
"Who is it?"
"No one. Now, where were we?"
He kisses the smile on her lips; lets his hands begin to roam again. He can never get enough of the way her body rises into his touch, of the way she is so clearly as affected by him as he is by her. She begins to loosen his tie, to unbutton his shirt, but something's buzzing and it's distracting them both.
It's his father again.
Fitz is torn, frowning at the phone. It must be something important because Big Jerry never calls twice, but Olivia is just so tempting…
"That's a very persistent 'no one'," she says now, pausing in her undressing of him. "Maybe you should answer it?"
The call ends before he has chance to, but it's followed by a message which makes his blood run cold: Fitz it's Marilyn. Your father's in hospital. Please phone back.
"Shit."
He shows the message to Olivia. A second later, her wide eyes meet his and panic is already rising within him, clouding his thoughts. Several worst-case-scenarios begin to flash through his mind: traffic accident, heart attack, stroke… Each one is accompanied by the same image of his dad lying in a hospital bed, frail and gray and close to death.
Olivia's palm on his cheek draws him back to reality. "Call her, Fitz. It might not be anything serious."
It's exactly what he needs to hear.
"Yeah, you're right." He shakes himself, then kisses her briefly. She links her fingers through his and smiles encouragingly as he dials.
"Hello Fitz."
"Hi Marilyn. What's going on?"
Marilyn has been his father's assistant for almost twenty years, and his lover for probably just as long. Fitz has no idea why they've never made it official, never gotten married.
"First of all, he's okay."
Instantly there's the sweetness of relief coursing through his veins, calming his heart rate.
"He started vomiting blood after breakfast. Huge amounts. By the time the ambulance got here, he looked awful; white as a sheet. It was terrifying."
"Jesus."
"Indeed. When I got to the ER he was already having blood transfusions into both arms. They took him for an emergency endoscopy and managed to seal off a bleeding stomach ulcer. He's in the ICU because of all the blood loss; I just stepped out to update you. I would have called you when it all happened but he explicitly told me not to. Stubborn old man."
Fitz isn't surprised by this. His father has always been fiercely private, and proud - he's never taken a sick day in his life; doesn't believe in them.
"Oh, he's stubborn alright. Is he awake now?"
"Yes, but still a little drowsy from the anesthetic. He says he's comfortable." Her voice becomes quieter. "The doctor told me he was very, very lucky. He lost more than half his blood volume. I don't like to think what would have happened if I hadn't been there this morning…"
A sudden, overwhelming rush of love for his dad sweeps through Fitz, instantly bringing tears to his eyes. He turns away from Olivia, not because he's embarrassed but because it's so profound, so intensely personal. Although they've never been close, he could have lost his father today and that thought is… just unbearable.
"Thank you," he says to Marilyn, struggling to keep his voice even. It doesn't come anywhere near explaining the extent of his gratitude to her - for being there, for caring so much - but it's all he can manage right now.
She seems to understand. "Don't mention it, Fitz. I'm just so glad he's alright."
"Me too." He realizes he's leaning against the wall for support. "I should come and see him. There must be a flight I can get tonight."
"I think he'd like that."
"Alright, I'll let you know. Please give him my love, tell him I'm coming. And to do exactly what the doctors and nurses say."
She laughs. "I already have, don't you worry. We'll see you soon."
"Bye, Marilyn. And please, call me if anything changes?"
"Of course."
He gives himself a second to process everything before finally facing Olivia once more. She looks concerned and lovely and beautiful, all at once. "He's okay," Fitz says, moving to stand back between her legs but his emotions a thousand miles away from where they were five minutes ago. She holds his gaze for a long moment, checking that he's alright too, and there's so much tenderness there that he's not; in fact, he's almost in tears again.
"Oh Fitz," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "What happened?"
He swallows hard, trying to control himself, drawing on the strength she's so selflessly providing. "It sounds like he had a massive hemorrhage from a stomach ulcer. They managed to stop it and now he's in intensive care, awake but drowsy. Marilyn - she's his assistant - said he lost half his blood volume... He's lucky to have survived."
They draw apart to gaze at one another again, soft brown eyes and fragile blue.
"He'll be okay," she whispers, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. "He's in the right place. They'll look after him."
"I know. I just feel… shocked. I've never seen him ill before. He's my dad, you know? He's supposed to be invincible."
"He will get better, baby. I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in no time."
Her fingertips are now tracing his face; she runs her thumb back and forth over his lips before slowly reaching up to kiss him, her eyes questioning whether this is okay until he nods ever so slightly and they touch, gentle and loving.
I love you.
It's on the tip of his tongue again: forbidden but undeniable, brought to the fore by his heightened emotions, by her effortless perfection. Instead of speaking it he tries to show her, to pour his love into each and every kiss he gives her. It makes him passionate, desperate, and not in a remotely sexual way.
They're breathless afterwards and he thinks she gets it, judging by the wetness of her eyes and the smile she can't even hope to hide. Neither of them speak for a while, both at a loss to find any words other than those most simple, most world-changing three.
"I don't want to leave," Fitz says finally, the only other thing he's thinking.
Olivia smiles, squeezing him closer with her thighs. "You have to."
"I don't." She giggles and he frowns. "Didn't we have almost this exact conversation yesterday, right here?"
"We did," she confirms. "But this time, you're the needy one."
Fitz kisses her again, uncaring. "I always need you." Then he lifts her into his arms, cuddling her close for several moments. How is it possible that she's small enough to be held like this, wrapped around him, and yet the impact she's made on his life has been so astronomically huge?
"What was your surprise?" he asks as he slowly sets her down on her feet. Their lustful encounter feels like it was days ago, not minutes.
She shrugs slightly. "It can wait. Now, you need to book a flight mister. And you must be hungry too."
"I'm fine." But his stomach rumbles at the mention of food and they both laugh. "Okay, maybe I am a little hungry."
"I was going to make mac and cheese but if you're in a rush, there's leftover pizza from last night?"
"You were going to cook?" He tries not to sound surprised but isn't quite successful, and she rolls her eyes.
"It's pasta and cheese, Fitz. Even I can manage something so basic."
"Aw, you're too good to me Livvie," he teases, trying to nuzzle his face in her neck as she fights him off, laughing because his breath is tickling her sensitive skin.
"Stop it! Get off me!"
He just pulls her closer, using his height and strength to his advantage. "You'll miss me when I'm gone."
"I won't!"
He kisses his way to her mouth and spends some time convincing her otherwise. Now they're no longer fighting each other but the threat of separation, together.
"Okay, I will miss you," she concedes, out of breath, when he finally releases her.
"I'll miss you too." He lovingly brushes her hair back behind her ears. "You are beautiful."
Her expression softens even further and she presses another kiss to his lips. "Thank you. I'll miss hearing you say that."
"We can FaceTime…"
"Oh, yeah." She blushes and he tries not to laugh as she takes his hand and draws him towards the living room. He takes a seat on the couch and searches for flights on his phone while she heats up pizza in the kitchen.
"There's one with Virgin at ten o'clock," he calls out. "Maybe I should just change my booking from Thursday to tonight. I guess there's no point me coming back and forth when I'm spending the weekend in California anyway."
"I guess not." She passes him a plate and sits beside him, unable to hide her sadness.
"It's only six days," he says, trying and failing to make it sound like it's no big deal.
"We've only been back together for four."
He looks at her for a long moment. She's acting a little childishly, but he feels exactly the same way. "I know. It sucks."
"Do you think your dad's fundraiser will even go ahead now?"
"It'll have to; it takes the best part of a year to organize. In his last email, he told me that one of the auction prizes is afternoon tea with Elton John."
"Wow. I'd bid for that."
"You'll be fighting me for it."
She manages a smile. "Will it always be like this - days, weeks, apart?"
"It might, sometimes. I occasionally have to fly to my regional offices, and once or twice a year to South America. And you travel too."
"Usually only overnight."
"Then I'll come with you."
Her perfectly-shaped eyebrows rise. "Don't you have to work?"
"Nah. I'm an excellent delegator. Cyrus is much better than me at my job, anyway."
"Poor Cyrus."
"Don't worry about him. He's a self-confessed workaholic, he loves it."
Olivia purses her lips, evidently trying not to smile. Fitz puts his pizza down on the coffee table and takes her hands in his. "Whatever happens, we'll be fine. I want to be with you for the rest of my life: a few days apart here and there is nothing in the grand scheme of things."
"When you put it like that…"
Her lips curve and he has to kiss them. "I'll call you every day. Twice a day. And send you naughty texts."
"Just keep them anonymous."
"Why?" His voice deepens. "Does that turn you on?"
She throws back her head and laughs. He's going to miss these carefree moments most of all. "No, you idiot. Just in case of-"
"-Hackers, I know. Don't worry, I'll be a good boy."
"I'd prefer it if you weren't."
"Oh Livvie. If you talk like that, you'll make me stay."
She smiles and draws away. "No, you have to go and see your father. Now eat your dinner and book your flight."
"Yes miss."
He doesn't even mind when she swats his arm.
Fifteen minutes later they're back in the hallway, saying goodbye so he can drive to Henry's and pack a bag before going to the airport.
"Happy birthday for Saturday," he says softly, holding her close and gazing into her eyes. "Have the best day with your friends, and your dad. We'll celebrate when I'm back, I promise."
"Okay. I can't wait."
He kisses her just once, knowing he'll never leave if he lets himself fall into her again.
"Bye Fitzy. I hope your dad's okay."
"I'll keep you updated."
He hesitates, one hand on the door. He can't seem to stop looking at her.
"What?" she asks impatiently, but she's aware of his predicament - he can see it in her mischievous expression.
"I think twenty-seven is going to be a good year for you."
In fact he knows this, because he's going to do everything in his power to spoil her at every opportunity.
Olivia closes the space between them, laying her palm on his chest. She reaches up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then his lips. "Oh, it's going to be the best," she whispers.
And they're both right - but in ways neither of them could ever imagine.
