A/N: As ever, thank you to everyone who left a review or a comment. It still means as much to me as it did on day one, if not more.

I have researched divorce laws in the state of New York, but also employed some creative license. I hope you'll forgive me! Also, a lot of you mention Fitz needing to be rid of his wife asap. What can I say? She's Mellie. She's... unpredictable.


Chapter 20 - Trick or Treat?

"Time to get up, beautiful," Fitz says quietly, setting down a cup of lemon and ginger tea on Olivia's bedside table as he kneels beside her. She's buried deep beneath the covers; the weather has taken a turn for the worse overnight and the temperature inside her apartment has dropped several degrees. He's managed to find the controls for her central heating but it's only just starting to kick in.

He studies her sleeping face from just a few inches away, utterly mesmerized by her. These are the quiet, intimate moments he missed most of all through the long years of his lonely marriage. "Livvie," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her cheek. With a small, adorable frown she finally begins to stir, and he smiles. "Hi."

She makes a disgruntled sound in reply and rolls onto her back, stretching, which charms him even further. He moves to lie in the space she's vacated, uncaring that he's already fully dressed, and draws her close; buries his face in her neck and breathes in the warm, sweet smell of her.

Her arms wrap around him too and for a while they're silent; Olivia, waking up and Fitz, picturing a time in the not-too distant future when their baby will be here with them, cuddled into her chest, safe inside their embrace. It brings a lump to his throat. His emotions are all over the place right now: last night, holding her in the dark as she slept, he felt so blessed, so overwhelmed, that he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. In fact, they'd been brewing since the moment he stood in his office yesterday afternoon and she told him she was ready; ready to embark on the greatest adventure with him. He'd been pacing as they spoke because he was annoyed she'd interrupted his meeting - and only annoyed because, really, he was absolutely terrified she might decide to break his heart - but her words had stopped time. They had changed everything.

"Tell Cy I had to leave," he'd said as he ran past Charlotte's desk, barely trusting his voice not to fall apart. "Emergency."

His secretary might have replied but, if she did, he didn't hear her. Olivia's words - "Say it and I'll agree with you," - were already on constant repeat in his head.

"What time is it?" she's asking now, still dozing.

"Seven." He moves so he can see her face and waits patiently for her to finally open her eyes. When she does, blinking in the early morning light, he can't disguise the joy that blooms inside of him. "There you are."

She manages a smile, too, and presses her lips to his. "Hi," she whispers. "I missed you."

"While you were asleep?" he teases, but he always misses her overnight, too, and they both know it. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

"Oh, baby," he sighs.

"It's okay," she says softly. "I don't mind."

It hits them both at the same time: the all-consuming, unconditional love they already have for their unborn child. It makes their smiles wider; their hug so tight it almost hurts. Fitz eventually releases her just enough to allow his hand to sneak between them, moving down beneath the covers until his palm is covering her abdomen. He rubs his thumb over her skin, saying hello to his baby; thinking about how Olivia's body will change, how one day her belly will protrude between them. He read last night that their baby will recognize their voices long before it's born and he can't wait to lie here on sleepy weekend mornings, talking to his son or daughter, telling them all about the wonders of the world.

"I can smell ginger tea," Olivia murmurs at length, her dark eyes shining with affection, with love.

"You sure can." Fitz kisses her before he sits up, reaching for the mug as she arranges her pillows against the headboard and rests back against them. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Fitzy. Mmm, so warm. It's freezing this morning."

"I've turned on the heating already - or at least, I think I have. Your system is pretty ancient."

"I know. This house is pretty ancient. But that's why I love it."

She gazes up to the high ceiling with its ornate coving, its original chandelier. Her room is all white - paint, carpet, bedframe - except for the wall behind them which is papered in a gorgeous, delicate floral and bird print. Combined with her pristine, expensive bed linen and carefully chosen scatter cushions in pale pinks and greens, they wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a Laura Ashley catalog right now.

"What are you doing today?" she inquires, looking at him again with such a beautiful smile. How has he gotten so lucky that this is his life now? What did he ever do to deserve her?

"More meetings," he says reluctantly, wishing he had nowhere to be but here. "We take on new interns every six months and it's time to start planning interviews, placements, visa applications. But first, at eight on the dot, I'm calling my lawyer. I will make this divorce happen, Livvie. I don't want you to feel any stress about it at all, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees, reaching for his hand. She's quiet, contemplative, for a moment before she speaks again. "You know, I don't actually feel stressed anymore. I think I used up my quota for the year over the weekend. I feel calm, now. Ready. Happy."

He smiles at her. "Good. That's all I want." They meet halfway for a kiss, then Fitz stands up.

"Can I see you tonight?" Olivia asks. He can't help but notice how her free hand is now resting on her lower abdomen, unconsciously connecting her with the life growing inside of her; protecting it. She's a natural at motherhood already.

"You know there's only one answer to that question," he retorts, forcing himself to stop staring at her else he'll never leave. He picks up his jacket from the back of the door and puts it on. "Come over to mine."

"You mean Henry's?" She raises her perfect eyebrows, challenging him, and he has no choice but to walk back over and kiss the smug look right off her face.

"I do," he says afterwards, gazing into her eyes, but his thoughts are suddenly far away. He can't live at his friend's forever, especially now Olivia is pregnant. He's going to have to start looking for a new place, and soon - maybe even before his divorce is finalized, his house sold.

He adds it to his mental to-do list, then tucks that away and refocuses on the gorgeous girl in front of him. "Have a great day, sweet baby. I love you."

She runs the tip of her finger down his nose, pausing over his lips. "I love you too," she says easily, with a smile. He'd thought she might have trouble with those words after the trauma she went through with her ex-boyfriend, but she doesn't even hesitate. The progress he's seen her make in her sense of self-worth over the last six weeks has been amazing. He's so proud of her. And he'll tell her every single day just how brilliant, how exceptional, she is - because it's so true, and that makes it so easy.


"Miss King, Fitz Grant here."

He's sitting behind his desk, having been home to shower and change before arriving at work. As planned, it's eight o'clock exactly.

"Good morning, Dr Grant," his lawyer says in a friendly tone. "How are you?"

"Not bad, thank you. I was just wondering where we're at with my case?"

"Actually, I was going to call you today and ask you to come in. I've prepared your summons - all it needs is your signature, then we can send it to the country clerk's office. After that, it must be personally served to your wife. Now, you can do this yourself or, if you wish not to, either I or one of my team can do it for you."

Fitz replaces his coffee cup on his desk, his answer spontaneous: "I'll do it. I think I should."

"Okay, good."

"What happens after that? I've forgotten exactly what you said when we met."

"Well, your wife has forty days to respond by filling out the affidavit and returning it to me. If she doesn't contest the divorce, we can place your case on the court calendar. As soon as you've served her, we should all meet and plan to separate your assets. If you fail to reach an agreement, however, that's when it becomes more difficult."

"Oh, we'll agree," Fitz says, sounding more confident than he feels. He still can't figure out Mellie's reaction to the whole situation and, unfortunately, he knows her; knows how spiteful she can be sometimes, especially if she thinks she's been wronged. He tries to shake off such unsettling feelings, running his hand over his eyes and then through his hair. "So, can I come down today and sign those papers?"

"Of course. I've already penciled you in for one thirty, if that suits?"

Her expression reminds him instantly of Mark. He hasn't even told his oldest friend about Olivia yet, let alone that she's pregnant and he's going to become a father too. He wonders absently how Holly and Sophie will react to the news they're going to have a baby 'cousin' in the States. He suspects they'll be over the moon.

"Dr Grant?"

"Sorry, I was miles away." He smiles apologetically, even though she can't see him. "One thirty will be fine, thank you. I'll see you then."

"Perfect. See you then."

Fitz hangs up and turns to his computer. He has a meeting in ten minutes but there's enough time to send a quick email to Mark and Annabel, informing them he has some news to share and can they FaceTime this weekend? Obviously he's not going to tell them about the baby just yet - he's aware that most couples wait until the twelve-week point because from then on, the risk of miscarriage becomes a lot lower (something he's sure Olivia knows too; something they are both too afraid to acknowledge out loud for fear of somehow making it real) - but he wants them to know about his new relationship, to see that he's happy.

He's so excited to finally say: "I found the right girl."


"You are fucking joking!"

Abby's voice is so loud that Olivia has to hold her phone away from her ear, glad that she's alone in her office so no one can overhear.

"Ssh, Abs. Stop yelling."

"I'm sorry, but I'm in shock. You're having a fucking baby!"

She can't help but laugh. "Yes, I am."

"Why?"

Olivia leans back in her chair, her hand resting on her tummy, thinking. She feels so connected to her child already, in ways she could never have anticipated. She can't even begin to imagine what it will be like when she can see the evidence of her pregnancy; when the baby's wriggling around inside of her, responding to her movements, her voice.

"Why not?" she answers eventually. "I love Fitz. I fell in love with him as soon as we met, and we both feel like this was just… meant to happen."

"No, a lack of contraception ensured this was meant to happen," Abby says skeptically, but Olivia isn't offended.

"Well, maybe. But you don't understand - there's no black and white once you're actually pregnant. I always assumed I'd be able to go through with an abortion if I needed to, if the timing was wrong, but there was just no way."

Her friend lets out a long, incredulous sigh. "I can't believe it. I mean, yesterday when I saw you on that bench, you did look kinda happy - but I had no idea what it meant. I was still stunned by what you'd told me."

"I'm still stunned, too," Olivia admits. "Sometimes I forget for five minutes, and then it hits me all over again. I'm so excited!"

"Oh my god," Abby groans. "Who are you?"

"A future mommy," she says gleefully.

"Can I be godmother?"

"Definitely not."

"Hey!"

"You would be the worst influence."

"Hmm. Probably."

The line is quiet for a little while.

"Sorry I'm being a bitch," Abby says eventually, and she does sound remorseful. "I just feel like I don't know you right now. Before London you were so career-focused, so driven. Everything was about your work. And then you meet Fitz and you're this whole new, happy person - and don't get me wrong, that's amazing - but it's just taking a bit of getting used to. And now this… You have to admit, it's all pretty fast."

"It is," Olivia agrees. "I'm more surprised than anyone. He's forty, he's married; he has this whole life, this twelve-year relationship, which I know nothing about. And I don't want to know, but it is a bizarre situation to be in."

"I can imagine. I hate it when I date guys who've had relationships lasting more than six months. What are you gonna do about announcing it to the world?"

"Wait until he's divorced." She hates saying that out loud; hates sounding like the mistress, the girl who's forever waiting for the guy to leave his wife. It's not how she feels, most of the time, but occasionally she can't help but resent it. "I think we'll go public with our relationship as soon as that happens, and then a little later let it get out that I'm pregnant."

"Maybe you don't even have to announce the baby part," Abby suggests. "You could be really cool and just not mention it, let people work it out for themselves. Like Eva Mendes."

Olivia considers this idea, finding she quite likes it. "Are you sure you don't belong in PR, Whelan? I can speak to Harrison, find you a job."

"Anything is better than law."

"Still having a crap time?"

"Yep."

"Wanna hang out this week? I was about to say, 'let's drink wine', but that's off the table for me for the next eight months."

"Oh fuck," Abby exclaims, "I didn't even think about that. Why do you want to be pregnant, again?"

"There's more to life than alcohol," she responds, chuckling.

"What, stretch marks and diapers?"

"And nurturing new life, growing a human inside of me; raising them into a person. Doing all that with Fitz by my side."

"Ugh, you're making me nauseous."

"Wait until you're pregnant and feel sick every day from the moment you wake up until past lunchtime; then you can talk to me about nausea." Her office phone begins to ring. "I have to go, Abs."

"Okay. Thanks for calling. You know I'll always be here for you, even if it takes me a little while to get over myself. Ooh, can we go shopping for baby clothes? You are gonna have the most stylish bubba in the whole of New York City."

"I know," Olivia says, smiling as she pictures holding her little baby in her arms; taking him or her out for a walk in the park, wrapped up warm in their pushchair, Fitz right beside her. "I'll text you about this week."

"Cool. See ya, Liv."

She receives a text message about thirty seconds into her conversation with one of the researchers from the UN Women project she's working on. It's from Abby: I didn't even say congratulations. CONGRATULATIONS! I'm such a dick. Love ya xx

She tries not to laugh and sends back a smiley face and several kisses. She knows her friend will support her no matter what, and she's not at all surprised by her reaction. Olivia herself would have probably had the same response had it been Abby who had suddenly fallen in love and decided to start a family. They've always been so similar in their goals, their work ethic - that is, until yesterday, when her decision sent their lives off on completely divergent paths. She can't help but wonder how their friendship will fare during the course of her pregnancy, and especially once she's given birth and her whole world revolves around her baby. Things will change between them, that much is obvious, and she suspects it will be years yet until Abby joins her in motherhood - although, as she herself has proven, anything can happen. She just hopes they are close enough to withstand the gap which will inevitably begin to form between them; that they will still understand each other, still make each other laugh, still be there for each other when they need to cry, once their days have become so incomparably different.


"What are you doing Friday night?"

They're lying facing one another in Fitz's bed, snuggled down beneath the covers in the low light of his bedside lamp. Olivia's scantily-clad body is wrapped around his and their hands are already wandering, leading their conversation towards its inevitable end point.

"Not sure," she replies, and they're so close together he feels the coolness of her minty breath on his skin. "I think there might be something happening…"

"It's Halloween," he offers, unable to resist the urge to kiss her. He'd intended just a quick one - or, most likely, a few quick ones - but she responds by pressing herself firmly against him, deepening the kiss, biting on his lower lip. She's horny - there's no doubt about it. She hasn't stopped touching him all evening; hasn't been able to keep the fire out of her gaze, despite Henry's presence. And, of course, being with her when she's like this has turned Fitz on too. (Honestly, being with her at any time turns him on.) Sometimes, with everything that's going on, he forgets they're still only six weeks into their relationship; that their 'honeymoon period' is still very much in full force.

Olivia is moving now, her left leg rising over his hip, rolling them the same way so he's on his back and she's straddling him. She presses a trail of kisses along his neck, his bare chest and then sits up, looking down at him with a naughty smile as she rubs herself against his growing erection, making herself moan.

Their discussion is clearly over, and he couldn't care less

"Livvie," he groans, his hands settling on her thighs, caressing her soft cocoa skin. His hungry gaze takes in every inch of her: her curvy hips, her pale blue lacy panties; the planes of her abdomen, the dip of her waist, the perfect roundness of her breasts in her matching bra; her delicate collar bones, the slender column of her throat; her long, loose curls tumbling over her shoulders and, finally, the face he falls in love with every time he looks at her. She's observing him with hooded eyes, watching him watching her, and he can tell she's enjoying it immensely.

"You are so sexy," he says hoarsely, desire pulsing through him with every rapid beat of his heart. "So fucking sexy."

He watches as she bends her arms behind her back, unclipping her bra; he actually salivates when she takes it off, revealing her breasts to him. Her dark nipples are already hard and instinctively he sits up, sucking first the right, then the left into his mouth. He absolutely adores how sensitive she is: how her entire body shakes in his arms; how her wetness quickly begins to soak through his boxers.

"Fitz," she gasps, pulling his hair, but he doesn't stop. In fact, the pressure she's exerting makes his blood heat even further - as does the rhythm they've created between them, their bodies rocking and writhing together, the air around them filling with hard breaths and loud moans and even the occasional growl.

The urge to be inside of her hits him suddenly and it's so powerful, he has no hope of denying it. His mouth finds hers, ravenous for her, as he frees his cock from his underwear and pushes her panties aside. She lifts herself, completely in sync with him, and she is so unbelievably wet, so hot as she takes him in that he has to break their kiss to breathe, to swear.

"Fuck, baby."

Their eyes meet, lust-filled and serious, as they start to move together again; she feels so incredible that Fitz speeds up, his orgasm already fast approaching. He's supporting himself with his arms on the mattress behind him, using his abs and his glutes to thrust up into her. Olivia isn't even trying to match his pace: she's just letting him pleasure her body, her back arched so her nipples are grazing his chest, her face tilting skywards in ecstasy. He bites on her exposed neck, sucking her skin, marking her. That's the kind of mood he's in; the way she makes him feel when they fuck like this.

He nudges her jaw with his nose, needing to kiss her this close to the end. She knows exactly what he's asking; lets her mouth melt onto his, their tongues battling for a little while until they're both so tense their concentration is gone and now their top lips, their noses and foreheads are pressed together as they gasp for air, Olivia's hand on the back of his neck holding her to him.

"Fuck," she whimpers and he knows why, because he can feel her tightening around him; the first ripples of her climax building.

"Come for me, baby."

He holds her close with his right arm, all their weight now on his left, as his final thrusts bring them both over the finish line. They explode together, crying out incoherently, and the way she rides him - helplessly, her whole body trembling - takes him further and further. That they can desire each other so much they can come together in five minutes just blows his mind.

Fitz collapses backwards, exhausted, Olivia on top of him. Years of exercising, hours each week in the gym can't prepare him for this kind of activity: the total physical, mental and emotional exertion of making love to his girl. This is the best kind of tiredness.

"Wow," she breathes next to his ear, pressing lazy kisses there. He hugs her tightly, running his hands up and down her spine.

"Wow," he echoes. Then he starts to laugh, quietly, his chest shaking.

"What?" She leans up so she can see him, her expression questioning.

He sighs happily and brushes her hair back from her face with his fingers. "I just can't believe how… amazing we are together. I can't believe how much I want you, all the time. We are so lucky, Livvie."

"We are," she confirms, smiling now. She kisses him softly, lingering there a while, before finally climbing off of him. She passes him a tissue from the box on his nightstand and disappears into the bathroom; after another minute of recovery, he makes himself get up and join her.

When they've cleaned up and are tucked back into bed, Olivia finally recalls their original conversation. "What were you saying about Friday night?"

"Hmm?" He's distracted by thoughts of their baby, absently drawing patterns on her belly.

"Friday night. Halloween... Fitz!"

He looks at her, smiling guiltily. "Sorry. Yes. Do you have plans?"

"Well, Abby and I usually go out. She picks us some skimpy costumes to wear, we meet up with friends, check out a few parties. But seeing as they'll all be getting drunk, I don't know if I want to go this year."

"Wait," he says, his mind sidetracked again. "Rewind to the part about skimpy costumes."

"What about it?"

"Can you describe it to me?"

She giggles, shaking her head. "You just fucked me in nothing but my panties."

"I know. But we haven't played dress up yet."

The way she rolls her eyes is adorable. "Friday," she says firmly. "What's happening Friday?"

"You're dressing up in a skimpy costume for me."

This time her laughter takes over her body and he can't help but join her - it's contagious.

"I am not," she finally manages to say, but she's gazing at him so lovingly he knows she doesn't mean it.

"Fine," he sighs. "Cyrus invited me for dinner with his fiancé, James. I asked if I could bring someone and he said yes. I think he's dying to meet you, actually."

"You told him about me?"

"Not in much detail. He guessed I was seeing someone weeks ago; nothing gets past that man."

"Well, it sounds great," Olivia says warmly. "I'd love to meet the infamous Cyrus. Let's go."

He hesitates, his gaze sliding down her body. "Now you've mentioned skimpy Halloween costumes, I don't think I want to anymore."

She lifts his chin with her finger, diverting his eyes back to hers. They are glowing in the lamplight, full of love and promises. "I'm sure we can do both," she murmurs suggestively, and it makes his heart skip a beat. "What do you think - sexy vampire or slutty witch?"


Two days later, Fitz is waiting for Mellie in a Manhattan café when his phone rings. It's his father.

"Dad," he says as he picks up, glancing at his watch. He's ten minutes early anyway, and his wife has always been exactly on time.

"Fitz. How are you?"

They chat for a little while, catching up. Big Jerry is recuperating nicely, with no further complications so far.

"Listen, son, I've been thinking. Are you sure this divorce is a good idea?"

Fitz is so stunned by the sudden turn in their conversation that he doesn't respond immediately. "Um… what?" is all he can say. He thought his father had understood; hell, hadn't he even said he wanted to meet Olivia, to play with his theoretical (or not so, anymore) grandchildren?

"I'm just considering your future. If you ever decide to run for the Senate, or any position in government, Mellie's family have huge political power and-"

"Dad," he interrupts, finally rediscovering his voice. It's laced with incredulity, and poison. "I'm literally holding the divorce papers in my hand, waiting for Mel to meet me so I can serve them to her. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Okay, okay." Big Jerry backs down; Fitz can picture him holding both hands up in defense. "I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing."

"I do. I don't want to be miserable anymore. Is that what you want for me?"

"Of course not."

They're silent for a few beats, both regrouping.

"I'm in love with someone else," Fitz admits.

"I thought so." He can hear the smile in his father's voice - and, with a deep breath, forgives him. They've only just made up; life is too short to start bearing more grudges. "As long as you're happy, then so am I."

"I am, Dad."

"Then you have my blessing. Not that you need it."

They share a quiet laugh. "Don't forget," Fitz says, "I have your political power if I ever decide to run. That's gotta be worth at least… ten votes?"

His father laughs again, loudly this time. "I'd say twenty, on a good day."

Fitz's phone buzzes, alerting him to the fact Olivia is trying to get through. "I have to go."

"I'm sorry, Fitz."

"It's fine." And it is, because he knows his father: stubborn until the very end. "I'll call soon."

"Okay, son. Goodbye."

"Bye." He switches the calls. "Hi."

"Hi." Her sweet voice instantly makes him feel better. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just having a coffee, waiting for… Mellie to turn up."

"Ah."

"Yes."

There's a pause. They try and avoid talking about his soon-to-be-ex-wife as much as possible. "Are you nervous?" she asks.

Fitz frowns. "No. Why would I be?"

"Well, I don't know. You're closing the door on a huge part of your life."

He shrugs. "I don't see it like that. I'm opening the door on an even huger part; a part I can't wait to really start living."

She sighs and he wishes he was with her so he could give her a hug; reassure her. "I can't wait either," she says quietly.

"I love you, Olivia. I'm almost entirely yours. You don't have to wait much longer, baby. Now," he continues, deliberately changing the topic, "Tell me about your day. What are you up to?"

"Shopping. Trying to find something to wear on Friday."

"For dinner, or afterwards?"

She knows instantly what he's referring to. "Both," she says, her voice low.

"Any success so far?"

"Maybe."

"Photos?"

"No chance!"

He laughs, relieved they're back to normal again. "Not even a sneak preview?"

"Nope."

"Am I allowed to imagine what you'll look like?"

"You can try. I doubt it will come anywhere close, though."

Her flirtatious tones are turning him on and he's letting it happen, despite his current location, his impending meeting. "I'm sure it won't," he murmurs. "Can you give me a hint about the theme?"

"Such as?"

"Well, are we talking gothic black, Frankenstein green, pumpkin orange…?"

She giggles. "I said no sneak previews. Stop trying to cheat, Fitzgerald."

"You also said I was allowed to imagine, Olivia."

He hears footsteps behind him, heels for sure, and he knows it's his wife. "I have to go," he says quickly, hoping Olivia can hear the apology in his voice. "Let's continue this later."

"Okay. Shall I come over tonight, after dinner with Abby?"

"Definitely."

He ends the call with a smile, which quickly leaves his face as Mellie takes a seat opposite him. She's looking at him suspiciously and he wonders how much of his conversation she overhead - if any. He also wonders if he's getting paranoid about her; trying to convince himself she's against him when, in reality, maybe the way she's processing events is completely normal.

"I only have a few minutes," she says brusquely, by way of greeting. "I need to be back for a client at twelve."

"We could have met nearer your office-"

She waves her hand, silencing him. It's something she's taken many years to perfect - both at work and at home. He doesn't even care that it's effective, anymore. "I told you, I don't want to do this at work."

What she means by that is, she doesn't want her colleagues - all lawyers and paralegals - to see her being handed documents by her husband. There are a very limited number of conclusions they might jump to, and ninety-five percent of them would guess correctly. Ten minutes later, the whole company would know.

"Fine," Fitz says, passing the manila envelope to her across the table. If she's keeping it short, so will he. "There you go. You have forty days to respond in writing."

"I know that," she snaps. He ignores her glare and stands up.

"Are you free to meet with our lawyers next week?"

"Yes, my lawyer already has my availability."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you then."

He's aware of her gaze on him as he leaves, and it makes him feel self-conscious. What is with her? The last time they spoke - almost a month ago now, when she brought the photograph of him and Kim round to Henry's and he had to chase after her and explain - he thought he'd diffused the situation. Certainly, she went from angry and humiliated to… resigned. Sad. But now, she seems pissed off with him again and he has no idea why.

He goes over it in his mind on the walk back to his office and, by the time he's arrived there, he's decided to put her behavior down to her struggling to handle the end of their marriage, and to being genuinely busy and time-pressured at work. Unfortunately, none of those are things he can do anything about. He just has to sit tight, meet with her next week and hope against hope she agrees to write her signature on that damn piece of paper.


Fitz knocks on Olivia's door at seven o'clock on Friday evening, dressed up smart for Cyrus and James' dinner party in a dark gray, slim-fit wool suit with a crisp white shirt. She banned him from coming over early to get ready with her and, as such, he's brimming with anticipation at seeing her.

He isn't disappointed.

In fact, he's blown away.

Her tight, black dress is patterned with lines of bronze beading, creating geometric shapes all over her body: subtly outlining the curves of her breasts; redefining her already-tiny waist; leading his eyes downwards, to its hem just above her knees and the smooth, bare skin of her legs. She turns for him, pivoting on the balls of her feet in five-inch strappy black heels, and he sees that the back of her dress is cut out, showing off her gorgeous shoulder blades. But her outfit isn't even the best part. It's her hair: natural, corkscrew curls, spilling outwards and over her shoulders; framing her beautiful, perfectly-made up face.

The smile she gives him when he's finally finished checking her out is so damn sexy, he can't even speak. Suddenly he's kissing her instead; drowning in her, dragging her under with him. He slams the door behind him and pushes her up against it, ravaging her mouth, desperately trying to get closer. He wants to feel her, to get beneath her skin. She makes him lose his fucking mind, sometimes.

"Fitz," she gasps when he's sucking on her throat, his hands palming her breasts, his rapidly rising erection pressing urgently into her belly. "Stop. Stop!"

He doesn't. He can't.

He's kissing her again and she lets him, her fingers in his hair, her moans loud in his ears. God, he wants her. He doesn't think he's ever wanted her this much before. This overpowering lust has just come out of nowhere, completely bowling him over.

He does stop, though. She makes him, removing his hands from her thighs and pushing on his chest, forcing him backwards. She's breathless, bent over, recovering from his onslaught. With space between them, fresh air in his lungs, the red haze begins to clear and he realizes just how forceful he was being.

"I'm sorry, baby."

She looks up, surprised.

"What for?"

"I feel like I just attacked you."

Her laugh is low and smoky, laced with residual desire. She comes forward and wraps her arms around him, kissing him again. "I loved it," she confesses, gazing deep into his eyes. "You are so hot when you're like that. But you were about to ruin your Halloween surprise… plus, we need to leave soon or we'll be late."

He glances down at her dress, wondering exactly where this surprise is.

"It's underneath," she whispers, so close that her lips move over his as she speaks.

Jesus.

Now he has to survive the entire evening knowing she's wearing something devastatingly sexy beneath her clothes. Coupled with their passionate encounter and all the arousal still coursing through his body, Fitz isn't sure how he'll manage it.

He kisses her, tenderly this time, for several long minutes; pouring out all his love for her as his heartrate slowly settles back to normal. He won't ever get over the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth. He will always want more.

"I love you," he tells her, holding her tightly to him. "I love you so much, Liv."

Her eyes fill with tears and he feels it too: the raw emotion of being in love; of sharing one soul between two.

"I love you too," she says, smiling. She takes his hand and brings it to her abdomen. "Thank you for being my family."

He kneels in front of her and holds her hips, kissing her belly. "Thank you for being mine," he murmurs, and he's not sure whether he's talking to Olivia or the baby, or them both.

She runs her fingertips through his curls and they pause there, committing this moment to memory. It's been the most unbelievable week since she first uttered those fateful words in the dark. It seems like a lifetime, and yet it has also flown by. Today, she is eight weeks and five days pregnant. Fitz is sure the next few months are going to disappear so quickly, until he'll be kneeling here one day and she'll be thirty-eight weeks and five days pregnant. He wants to cherish every second of their time together until then but, at the same time, he longs to be so close to meeting his child.

"We need to go," Olivia says quietly, interrupting his reverie. When he stands, she pulls him into a hug. They don't yet have all the words they need to describe how they feel about becoming parents; sometimes, an embrace says it all instead.

"You look so handsome." She smooths down the front of his shirt, realigns the lapels of his jacket. "I love this suit. Is it new?"

"Yes." He nuzzles her neck, longing to stay close to her. "You look sensational, baby. Your hair is just… beautiful. I think that's what really got me."

"I hardly ever wear it like this."

"Why not? You should."

She beams at him. "Maybe I will in future. Especially if it's gonna have that kind of effect on you."

"I can promise you, it always will."

They kiss one last time before he finally lets her go. "I just need to put on my lipstick," she says as she moves towards her bedroom. "Good job I didn't before you got here, or it'd be all over your face now."

Fitz chuckles, thinking how he wouldn't care at all. He checks his appearance in the hallway mirror and a minute later she returns, ready to leave.

Her lips are painted a bright, matte red.

"Fuck," he breathes, because now she's even sexier than before. She grins mischievously at him as she passes, opening the front door.

"Eyes straight ahead, Fitzy," she instructs, pulling on a leather jacket. What is she trying to do to him tonight? "Let's go."

He can't help squeezing her butt on his way past; she returns the gesture with a sly smile, and he knows for certain this is going to be a long night.


"Wow," Olivia says as they exit the private car outside Cyrus and James's converted Carriage House. It's in a beautiful square in Brooklyn, just behind Grace Church.

"Nice, isn't it?"

Fitz takes her hand and leads her towards their front door. On the step are several pumpkins, artfully arranged and glowing with candlelight in the evening darkness. He rings the bell and, as they wait, puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. "You are gorgeous, Miss Pope. I'm a lucky man."

"You are," she confirms, smiling happily, leaning into him.

A second later, Cyrus is opening the door - and the look of surprise on his face when he realizes exactly which Olivia is his guest tonight is just priceless.

"Good evening, Cy. This is-"

"Olivia Pope," his friend finishes, eyebrows raised to the heavens. "I know."

"Hi," she says warmly, stepping forward to embrace him, kissing his cheek. "It's lovely to meet you at last, Cyrus."

Cyrus turns his stunned expression on Fitz; when he catches the smug look on his face, it breaks the spell. "You sly fox," he says, laughing as he shakes Fitz's hand. He gazes between the two of them for several moments, clearly still unable to believe his eyes, before finally realizing where they are. "Sorry, sorry. Come inside."

They cross the threshold into the sleek, modern interior. Fitz has visited many times before but he always appreciates the original wooden beams, the exposed brick walls, the roaring fireplace. It's exactly the kind of house he would love to live in.

Cyrus is taking their jackets when his fiancé appears from the kitchen. Before Fitz can say anything, Olivia speaks first: "I don't believe it. James!"

"Oh my god. Olivia Pope! How are you?"

They rush towards each other and hug, leaving Cyrus and Fitz looking at each other in bewilderment.

"I'm great thanks," she's saying now, moving back again. "I can't believe you're Cyrus's James. It's so good to see you."

"You too. You look incredible, as always." James finally turns his attention to Fitz and reaches for his hand. "Hey, how are you buddy?"

"Good, thank you. And you?"

"I am fantastic, although I feel a little underprepared now. You should have told us you were bringing the Olivia Pope as your date. I'd have rolled out the red carpet."

"Seriously, stop," Olivia says, clearly flattered. "And can everyone please stop calling me by my full name? It feels so formal."

"Sorry, hon," James grins. "Anyway, come though. Cy will get you drinks, I just need to check on the duck."

They follow their hosts into the open plan kitchen-living area, separated only by original wooden pillars and a long breakfast bar.

"Your house is stunning," Olivia comments to no one in particular, looking around.

"Hang on," Fitz interjects, "You're not going to tell us how you two know each other?"

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Washington," James calls out over the sound of sizzling meat.

Olivia turns to Fitz and Cyrus. "We met several times when I was living in DC, a few years ago now. James was working at the Post. He actually wrote a piece on me."

"We used to have the best nights out together," James adds from the kitchen. "Tell them about that time at the Jam Cellar."

Olivia rolls her eyes affectionately. "Maybe later."

"It's a good story."

"It's a long story. And I think you had to be there to find it funny."

She smiles at Fitz and she looks so beautiful, so happy to have found an old friend, that the urge to kiss her is almost overwhelming. He loves discovering new things about her. He wants to know everything.

"Well, what a lovely reunion for you two," Cyrus says genuinely, interrupting the moment. "Now, what can I get you to drink Olivia? I have a delightful French cabernet I was thinking about opening."

As they'd planned on the way here, she declines his offer. "Just a water for me, please. I'm not drinking at the moment."

"Oh?" Cyrus can't hide his surprise, which makes Fitz smile to himself. His friend has the worst poker face.

"Yeah." Fitz senses her hesitation. "I'm… detoxing."

"Right. Well, suit yourself, sweetheart. All the more for us then, boss?"

"Sure. Thank you."

Cyrus leaves them alone and Olivia steps closer to him. "I hate saying that," she whispers. "I sound so pretentious."

"It's better than the alternative," he reminds her fondly. "We've already shocked them once tonight; I don't know if they could handle our other news as well." He almost kisses her and then remembers that her lipstick would give them away immediately.

The doorbell sounds and James comes rushing past. "Trick or treaters," he says gleefully.

Cyrus passes them their drinks as they hear a group of kids at the door, asking the usual question. "He loves Halloween," he says of his fiancé; it's clear that Cy doesn't share this feeling. "We have so much candy, I swear it will last the next decade. Anyway, cheers. Welcome to our home, Olivia."

"Thank you."

"Now," their host continues, "I know you two met in London, but I'm afraid I'm going to need more details. Fitz has told me nothing."

They talk for about five minutes, mainly about the conference, before James returns. "A Von Trapp family!" he exclaims, accepting a glass of wine from Cyrus. "They were so cute."

"What the hell has that got to do with Halloween?"

"Oh, come on Cy. Who cares? They were adorable."

"Were there seven kids?" Olivia asks, her eyes wide. Fitz knows she's struggling with the concept that anyone could go through pregnancy seven times. Their one has already dazed them, emotionally.

"Yep. They even recited all their characters' names. I gave them two entire bags of chocolate eyeballs."

"Ah, now I see why you insisted we buy all that candy," Cyrus says sarcastically, but he's smiling. "You're trying to turn the next generation into diabetics."

"Don't say I never give back to the community," James quips, and they all laugh.

They sit down to dinner twenty minutes later: roast duck with marsala sauce, crispy potatoes and baby vegetables. "This looks amazing as usual," Fitz says, breathing in the delicious scent. He's eaten here many times before and James is an incredible cook.

"Thank you. A toast." They raise their glasses. "To you two lovebirds. I hope Cy and I still look at each other the way you two do."

Olivia glances at Fitz, blushing. She seems surprised that they've been noticed; he, on the other hand, is not. He's always watching her, fascinated by the way she moves, hanging on her every word. He's sure 'infatuated' is written all over his face when they're together, and he doesn't care.

They chat constantly over dinner: about how they met, Olivia's projects, James's current work at the New York Times. Roughly every ten minutes they're interrupted by more trick or treaters and James gladly excuses himself each time. When he and Cyrus are clearing up, refusing to let their guests help, the doorbell rings again and Fitz announces that he'll get it.

"Come on," he says, taking Olivia's hand with a grin. "This will be fun."

However, the sight that greets them on the doorstep is not so much fun as scary - and not because of their costumes. It's a family of four: a white woman, her black husband and their two adorable, caramel-skinned children. The little girl is dressed as a princess in a turquoise gown, her wild curly hair framing her delicate face. Her brother is only a few months old, cradled in his mother's arms… wearing a pumpkin costume.

Fitz's heart misses several beats. It's like looking at their own future. He turns to Olivia, who's smiling at the family, but her hand is squeezing his tightly and he can tell she's shaken, too.

"Trick or treat?" the girl asks, giggling and holding out her basket.

Olivia crouches down to her level while Fitz says a brief hello to her parents. He's aware Olivia is having a conversation with her, something about the movie Frozen, but his attention is completely focused on the baby: he is just the most gorgeous child Fitz has ever seen. Light brown skin, huge dark eyes, button nose, moist pink lips and tongue as he plays with his own fingers. He's wearing a green hat but wisps of his soft, black curls are creeping around the edges.

"Hi little guy," he finds himself saying. The boy looks up at him and smiles.

It melts him inside.

"Queen Elsa is so polite," Olivia is saying, standing again, addressing the adults. "I think she deserves a treat. But only if she doesn't eat it all at once."

"I might," the girl confesses as Olivia gives her some candy, and her parents laugh.

"Thank you," the father says, taking his daughter's hand.

"Thank you!" she echoes, skipping away beside him.

Fitz closes the door and turns to the mother of his unborn child, utterly lost for words. Seeing the look on his face, her eyes grow moist with tears and a huge smile curves her mouth as she pulls him into a hug. Once again, there's just nothing they can say to describe this feeling; this love.

After a long moment he draws back and kisses her, forgetting about her red lipstick, forgetting where they are. It's a fierce kiss, full of emotion. His arms tighten around her waist until he's sure he must be hurting her but she doesn't move, doesn't complain. She's right there, with him. They're in this together.

Eventually they separate, reality creeping back in. Olivia looks at him so tenderly, wiping his lips with her thumb. "Hmm," she says, laughing softly. "It's not coming off. You're gonna have to go to the bathroom to clean up."

They don't mention the family on the doorstep again but occasionally, through dessert and afterwards, when they retire to the couch by the fire and Cyrus pours him yet another glass of wine, he catches Olivia's eye and knows she's thinking about it too. It's an image which will stay with them both for a long, long time.

It's almost eleven when they finally leave, with heartfelt hugs and promises to do the same again soon. "You have yourself a keeper there, Fitz," James tells him earnestly. "And he's alright too," he says to Olivia, making her laugh.

"Let's catch up over lunch one day," she suggests to him. "I wanna hear all about your wedding plans."

"You'll need at least five courses," Cyrus adds, putting his arm affectionately around his husband-to-be.

James shrugs, grinning. "Fine by me."

"And me. Thank you both so much again," Olivia says as they step outside. "Oh, and by the way - I was having too much fun I forgot to mention this, but please can you keep our relationship to yourselves? We don't want it to get out until Fitz is divorced."

"Ah. How's that going?" Cyrus asks him.

"A work in progress."

"I see."

"Of course we'll keep your secret, darling girl," James assures her. "Journalist's promise." He's pretty drunk. They all are, apart from Olivia. She laughs and blows him a kiss.

"Goodnight," Fitz says, opening the door of the waiting car for her. "See you Monday, Cy."

"See you, boss."

Inside, they snuggle up on the backseat. It's a chauffeur service Olivia often uses: their non-disclosure agreements are watertight. "You okay?" she murmurs, stroking his abs.

He kisses her hair. "Mmm. I'm warm, well-fed, full of excellent wine and holding the love of my life in my arms. I could not be better."

She's quiet for a little while. "Next year… can we-"

"-Dress our baby as a pumpkin?"

She sits up, looking at him. "How did you know…?"

He raises his hand, brushing his fingertips over her cheek. "I can't stop thinking about it either."

They share ridiculous, dazzling smiles. Olivia kisses him, her lithe body pressing into his. "What a night," she sighs, running the tip of her nose around his ear, along his jaw. "I don't want it to end."

She climbs onto his lap, straddling him. Fitz gazes up at her: illuminated by passing street lights, she is absolutely radiant.

"It's not ending yet," he murmurs, running his palms along her bare thighs where her dress has ridden up. He's wanted her since the moment he first saw her this evening and now, it's almost time. She's almost his.

"Are you sure you're not too drunk?"

"No."

He's pleasantly buzzed, his reactions perhaps a little slow; certainly, he's too drunk to drive. But at this level of intoxication, with this woman, his desire will be… uncontainable. What has been simmering for hours will suddenly ignite, as soon as he lets it. He will burn for her tonight.

"I'm ready for my surprise," he says, grazing his teeth along her neck, making her shiver.

"Not until we get home," she admonishes.

"How long's that?"

"About five minutes."

"Too long."

She makes him wait, moving off of him; and then, once they're inside her apartment, she makes him wait again. She sits him on a chair in her bedroom and lights candles, puts on music - something he's never heard before, with a baseline designed to be gyrated to. She's never danced for him like this, in private, and he can't deny it: the anticipation has him rock hard already.

"Can you undo me please?" she asks eventually, turning her back to him. He reaches up, unfastening first the hook at the top of her dress and then unzipping the rest.

Red.

Three thin, red straps are revealed to him: one around her neck, the second around her lower ribs and the third, where the zipper stops, encircling her hips. There's lace, then, but it's mostly still hidden; teasing him.

Otherwise, there's nothing. Just inches of bare, glowing brown skin.

She vanishes into the bathroom, glancing at him over her shoulder on the way with the most wicked smile. She knows how sexy she is. What she can't appreciate, just yet, is how much he wants her; how much he needs her. It goes beyond words: it's physical, thrumming through his body. It's instinctive. Carnal.

And then she reappears, and he stops thinking altogether.

The devil is standing before him, in the tiniest one-piece of crimson lace and satin imaginable, with heels on her feet and horns on her head.

"Happy Halloween, baby." Her full, red lips move and fire shoots through him: a roar; an inferno. "Trick or treat?"


TBC...