A/N: Firstly, thank you. I'm consistently blown away by your kind words. You guys are the best and I want to write for you all forever.

Secondly, I have to mention the guest reviewer who commented that I 'must be a beautiful person to create this beautiful world', because you brought me to tears. What a lovely thing to say. Thank you so much. I've realized that I've never credited the man who makes me beautiful, who has inspired every aspect of my writing - my other half. So much of him is in my Fitz: the cuteness, the humor, the never-ending adoration. I've even stolen several of his actual quotes ('you look sunkissed'/'you look kissed' being my favorite). It's easy to write this love story because I'm living my own, right now. So thank you, baby. You're my best everything.

Thirdly, and finally, this chapter was supposed to take us forward a few weeks but these two just have a habit of writing themselves off in a totally different direction. This whole story was only going to be 3 chapters when I started it! Unbelievable now, almost two years and 140,000 words later...

This is fiery from the beginning - you have been warned.


Chapter 21: Did We Wake You?

Fitz is having the best dreams.

And somewhere in his mind as he dozes, sunlight creeping in around the edges of his consciousness, he knows they're not even dreams. They're memories; so extraordinary, so fantastical, it's hard to believe they actually happened.

Firstly, there's red. Red and brown; all lace and warm, silky-soft skin. He could sketch her lingerie on a sheet of paper. He spent so long looking at it last night, it's imprinted on him. Where the material touched her; where it left her bare. The scalloped, scarlet edges, rising from between her legs, high on her hips showing off those creases he so loves to tease; climbing upwards, dividing into two just above her navel, each band of material heading over one of her breasts. The satin straps formed a halter neck; held the tiny piece of fabric to her gorgeously toned body around her ribcage, her waist. It left so little to his imagination it may as well have not been there at all - but its presence, the way it accentuated her chest as the perfect sculpture it is, how it enticed him to reveal what was beneath, was a thousand times more arousing than if she had been completely naked.

The only other bit of lace was covering her ass - although he uses the term 'covering' lightly, because most of her delicious derrière was bared. She stood in front of him, facing away; dancing to the heavy beat with the most erotic, undulating movements. He won't ever get over that image: her glorious, round bottom, her toned thighs; the beautiful curves where they meet. He put his hands on her, and his mouth; pulled at the lace with his teeth, kissed along its borders. He bit her, quite hard, and made her moan; slipped his fingers between her legs and rubbed her, feeling her heat, her wetness. The impulse to bend her forwards and lick her, to bury his face in her, to drown, was so strong and he almost got his chance but then she turned, stopped him.

She stripped him down to his boxers, looking at him the entire time; desire dilating her pupils, the thrill of the game curving her rouge lips. He couldn't stop watching her either; he thought maybe he'd never be able to. When the song changed into something a little slower, all bass and breathy, high-pitched vocals, she straddled his lap and danced for him.

It went on for a lifetime.

She didn't let him touch her - not at the beginning. His hands were allowed on her thighs, and that was it. Banned from action, all he could do was observe; feel. Her hot center grinding on his enormous, throbbing erection; the texture of lace and her hard nipples as she pushed her breasts into his face, over and over; her red mouth on his, so fleetingly it made him ache, like a thirsty man desperate for water.

He begged her - exactly what for, he can't remember, but he couldn't help it. Release, probably. Maybe he asked her never to stop. One thing he is certain of, though, is that almost every other word he spoke was 'fuck'. Fuck, baby. Fuck yes. Fuck me, please.

He must have looked as close to the edge as he felt because, eventually, she climbed off of him with a smirk. "Please what?" she asked, her voice sultry. How was she still so in control of herself? He was falling apart at the seams.

Clearly, she wasn't expecting a coherent answer because she was already kneeling between his legs. She rid him of his Calvin Kleins, damp with both their excitement, and pressed a line of red kisses down the middle of abdomen. It was agonizingly slow. His breath caught in his chest, his fists clenched and still, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

When she wrapped her mouth around his cock and took him in almost to the hilt, he thought he was going to come. Certainly, his whole body pulsed, his hips rising from the chair as he groaned in a way he didn't know he was capable of. She was ready though, and moved with him; put her hands on his pelvis, pushed him back down. It took every ounce of his fragile willpower to stay there with her, to watch her blow him: to feel her tongue sliding around him, her cheeks as she sucked on him, those lips caressing his tip over and over again.

When she eventually looked up at him, so obviously enjoying herself, that was the end. His orgasm hit and her eyes fell shut as she concentrated on the finale, giving him everything; seconds later he exploded into her mouth - one of the most shattering climaxes of his life. He rode the wave, coming and coming, as she licked him clean and he floated, breathless and weightless, somewhere beyond his body.

A long time later he became aware that he was sprawled on the chair, his head hanging over the back, the ceiling gradually coming into focus. Olivia was lovingly running her hands over him, kissing his thighs, his stomach. He couldn't speak, couldn't tell her how fucking amazing she was but, from her satisfied expression, she definitely knew she had turned his world upside down. She moved to sit on his lap again, sideways, curling herself into him: the sexiest devil, who just wanted to be loved.

And god, did he love her.

Their kisses were tender, lazy; Fitz was still coming to his senses, still settling back into his own skin. He was so relaxed, so thoroughly sated and yet, at the same time, he knew he had to have her in that lingerie. He didn't even consider that he might be too tired - partly because he wanted to satisfy her, too, and partly because the very thought of it was already turning him on again.

"Baby," she murmured; a question. Were they continuing, or had she ruined him for the night?

He drew back to look at her; his eyes, his expression, must have told her everything she needed to know because from then on, there was no more talking. He pushed her legs apart and slipped his fingers between them, beneath lace and into her. He already knew she was soaking wet but feeling it for himself, the sensation of her sensitive vagina clenching him as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, sent desire surging through his veins once again. They gazed at each other as he slid two fingers in and out of her, unhurriedly; each time circling her clit before sinking back inside, deeper and deeper. When he'd spread her fluid around he used his thumb outside, continuing to fuck her, until she was kissing him again - hard. She bit on his lips and he knew he had stirred something wild within her; that she was flooded with pleasure, blood pumping, heart frantic.

He was fully erect, aching to bury himself inside her. He had never known anything like this before; never suspected, at the age of forty, his libido would still be so energetic, so easily rousable. In fact, previously there had only been a handful of times he'd ever had sex more than once in a short space of time - until Olivia. She did something to him; she'd bewitched him. She sent his hormones out of control. He reacted to her - to her touch, her skin, her scent, her soul. It was chemical and it wasn't, because chemistry alone could never explain the truly incredible intensity of this connection they shared.

He played with her a little while longer; with her tongue, and with her center. She was begging him, just as he had begged her, but she didn't use words: it was her fingernails digging into his arm; the tension of her hand on the back of his neck; the way she whimpered into his mouth, pleading. He broke away, panting for air, and looked at her beautiful face, framed by those curls. She was so far gone, so ready to come, he was surprised she was still holding on. Her dark eyes were almost black in the candlelight and full of love, of need. This was when she was at her most stunning; when he craved her more than ever. This was when she gave her body to him, trusted him with every piece of her, and he broke her on purpose and then put her back together again, even more perfect than before.

He kissed her a final time; reached up and took off her horns because they were a costume, and this was real. Then he turned her so her back was against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder; she spread her legs so her heels settled on the floor outside of his feet. He trailed his hands up her body, over every sensational inch of her; finally cupped her breasts, massaged them. The way she writhed on his cock, nestled between his belly and the scrap of lace covering her ass, was making him grunt and groan in time with her rhythm, with the heavy bassline of the music still thumping somewhere in the background. He grazed his nails over her nipples, rolled them between his thumbs and fingers, squeezed them as hard as she could stand - and from the desperate quality of her moans, that still wasn't hard enough.

She snapped, not long after: one minute he was in control and the next, she had taken all the power. She leaned forwards, taking her weight onto her feet so she could rise up; pulled aside the red material between her thighs and, holding his cock in her other hand, sank down onto him. He was huge tonight - whether that was really true or just his perception, he couldn't say - and he had to fight to keep still as he felt her adjusting to his size, dilating around him. It was agonizing, torturous and blissful, all at once.

"Fuck," Olivia breathed, squeezing him involuntarily with her pelvic floor muscles, her hands gripping his knees.

"You okay?"

His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. He ran his palms along her smooth thighs; touched her clit, because he couldn't help himself, and made her spine arch even more, taking him deeper.

"God yes," she gasped.

Then she began to move, and the most erotic minutes of his life began. She went slowly, sliding up and down his entire length; he watched himself disappearing into her body, further than he'd ever gone before, and felt his adrenaline surge, his arousal hit a new high. Because she was still bent forward at the hips, her back at forty-five degrees to his chest, the angle was extraordinary - he was stimulating her G-spot, filling her so completely that she was making sounds like he'd never heard before: raw and primal, they rippled through the hot, thick air around them, raising all the hairs on his body. If this was heaven, he'd happily have died right then.

She lifted his hands to her chest and he snuck them beneath the lace, playing with her breasts again. Or at least, he tried to, but his brain had little capacity for concentration when it was already overwhelmed by such obscenely explicit imagery; by Olivia's movements and moans and those fucking gorgeous curls; by the feeling she gave him which enveloped not just his cock but his entire being. Her fingers occasionally brushed against him as she touched herself; he felt the coarseness of the soft red lace against his most sensitive skin with each and every rise of her body. With almost every single one of her buttons being pressed, with all the foreplay they'd shared, she was ready to let go - and fuck, so was he.

He began to speak, then; told her not to stop, told her she was fucking incredible and he was so fucking close and then he grabbed her hips because she was tiring, unsurprisingly, and helped lift her up and down, so wet, so hot, until she started to come around him, started to scream

His phone is ringing.

What? No, no, Olivia is orgasming on his cock and he's about to-

But he's waking up, despite his desperate attempts to remain in his fantasy; daylight piercing his eyelids, so much brighter than the candlelit scene he's just left.

His phone is ringing, but that's the least of his worries right now. His whole body is throbbing, blood and lust thudding in his groin, and this part definitely wasn't just a dream: he really is right on the edge of climaxing. He reaches out to Olivia's side of the bed but it's empty; tries to call her name but his voice has abandoned him. For a split second, desperate for the sweetness of release, he contemplates finishing himself off. It would only take a moment, a few strokes of his hand… But he doesn't. It would feel like a betrayal and besides, it would never compare to her hand, her mouth, her soft insides.

Just thinking that makes his hips jerk and he redoubles his efforts to regulate his breathing, to slow his heart rate. It takes time, staring at the white ceiling, and willpower, but eventually he starts to settle down enough to stand, to make his way to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror above the sink and barely recognizes the man looking back. He's a wreck: tired, hair an unruly mess of curls, red lipstick all over his face. A sex-wreck.

He calls for Olivia again but she's obviously gone out; checks the clock and sees it's past ten in the morning. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, turning on her coffee machine before retracing his steps and getting into the shower. It must be a combination of a slight hangover and his fevered sex dreams because, despite the amount of sleep he's gotten, he feels exhausted.

He climbs back into bed once he's clean, sipping his double espresso, sending her a text to ask when she'll be home, to tell her that he's missing her. His earlier phone call was from Mark; just as he's checking the news online, his display changes to signal that the same number is ringing again. What he really wants to be doing right now is cuddling his girlfriend, maybe revisiting the final moments of his reverie, but she's not here and it's just not in his nature to ignore his oldest friend.

With a sigh, he answers the FaceTime call. "Hey buddy."

"Hey."

"Hi Fitz." As the video comes to life, he sees Annabel is there as well.

"Shit, did we wake you?" Mark asks, obviously noting his current state of undress, the roughness of his voice.

"No… Well, yes. You did the first time." Fitz tries incredibly hard not to think about exactly what they woke him from.

"Sorry mate. What time is it there?"

"About ten thirty. Wait, who's we? Are the girls there too?" He tilts the camera upwards, hiding bare chest, just in case.

"No, only us two."

"Good. I am completely naked under here."

Annie rolls her eyes. "Nice."

"Thought you'd like to know," he grins.

"Where are you?" Mark inquires, frowning. "That's very nice wallpaper behind you. Very… feminine."

"Yes, Fitz. Are you having a sleepover somewhere?"

The look of amusement and intrigue on both their faces widens his smile even further. "Maybe." Then he hears the front door open and glances in that direction, which makes Annie gasp.

"Is that her?"

"Who?" he asks innocently. "I have to go. I'll call you back in five."

"No, don't you dare-"

He hangs up, laughing to himself. Those two always make him so happy. He's just as close to Annabel as he is to her husband: their relationship, their lighthearted teasing, is just as fun.

"Morning Livvie," he calls out and a second later she's there, looking absolutely beautiful as she slips off her jacket and makes her way towards him. She's dressed in a vibrant blue crop top and black yoga pants, her feet bare, her hair no longer curly but parted down the middle and plaited into two long braids. He can't help but stare at all the bare skin on show, particularly her tiny waist, her flat abdomen. Still no visible sign of her pregnancy but the thought of it makes his heart beat harder in his chest, filling him with love.

"Hi Fitzy," she says softly, kneeling on the bed and crawling across to him.

"Wait, are you sweaty?" he asks playfully. Not that he cares, really. He'll take her however she comes.

"No, it was a gentle class. Just stretching. Is that okay with you, Sir?"

She pauses just before she kisses him and they share besotted smiles. She doesn't need an answer from him: she presses her lips to his anyway, cool from the November air outside. He slides his arms around her, draws her closer - but within moments she's pulling away, stopping him.

"You taste like coffee," she complains, her nose wrinkled.

"Sorry, baby." He moves to stand up. Not kissing her is not an option. "I'll brush my teeth."

He can feel her eyes roaming over his naked body. "You're eager this morning. Wasn't last night enough for you?"

"Nope."

Her laughter rings in his ears as he enters the ensuite, picks up the toothbrush he left here weeks ago. He has amassed quite a collection of belongings in her bathroom: razor, shaving foam, moisturizer, shower gel. Enough for him to live here quite comfortably, in fact.

He's bending over the sink, rinsing his mouth, when he feels her come to stand behind him. Her small hands rest on his abs and she holds him tightly, her cheek between his shoulder blades. He finishes off and she kisses her way around his ribs, tucking her head under his arm so they can gaze at each other in the mirror.

"Hi," she beams. Her fingers drop lower, caressing the base of his cock.

"Hi." His eyes are questioning; she responds by taking hold of him in her palm, soft now but already starting to grow thicker, harder. "Baby," he groans. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel great. No nausea right now, as long as you don't taste of coffee anymore."

He turns, looking down, watching as she strokes him, rapidly coaxing him towards another raging hard-on. He can see her nipples are erect beneath the thin blue material which covers them and reaches up, scratching his fingernails over the left one. Her breath catches in her throat, her pupils dilate and suddenly he's bursting with desire once again. Fuck the phone call; fuck everything else in the world. There is only this girl, only them.

He picks her up beneath her thighs, loving the way it makes her squeal; takes the sound into his mouth as he kisses her fiercely. He pins her against the wall momentarily, pressing his body into hers as they rid her of her top; licks her bare breasts the second they're free, sucking on her nipples, making her body tense and her cries rise to the ceiling. He spins them, finding his way back to the bed; sets her down and pulls off her pants, her underwear, pushing her knees apart, diving between them to taste her. His need to be inside her, to finish what his dreams began this morning, is almost overwhelming but he tries to delay for as long as possible, to pleasure her too, because once he's fucking her there won't be much time for anything else.

Olivia starts to push him away, closing her legs; his brain is too hazy to understand at first, until she's kneeling low in front of him and blowing him once again. Her fingers dig into his buttocks and he can barely breathe because the sensation of her lips around him, the memories it invokes, are driving him right to the brink.

He doesn't stand it for very long. It feels like just seconds before he's lifting her, kissing her; lowering her back to the bed, lying over her, thrusting into her heat. She bends her hips, tucks her heels into his lower back and he tilts her pelvis even further with his hands, pounding into her, making her come in no time at all. There's no air, no oxygen when he's tasting her mouth like this but it doesn't matter because now he's coming too, emptying himself inside her, giving her his all.

God, he's missed morning sex.

In the calm after the storm, when they've cleaned up a little and he's recovered enough to speak, he tells her as much and she laughs.

"Me too," she sighs happily, nuzzling his neck. "Me too."

He cuddles her close, kissing her forehead. "I didn't hear you leave this morning."

"I'm not surprised. You were sleeping like the dead."

"Because you damn near killed me, woman."

He rolls on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his body as she giggles and gazes at him with such adoration in her dark eyes. "Are you complaining?" she asks mischievously.

"Never." He kisses her tenderly, basking in the simple pleasure of being naked with her. "Last night was fucking amazing. I woke up reliving the entire thing… For the first time in thirty years, I almost had a wet dream."

She looks shocked, and also like she's trying not to laugh. It's unbelievably cute.

"Oh my god!" She pushes on his shoulders; turns them again so she's straddling him now, sitting up and interlacing their fingers. "That's hilarious. What did you do?"

"I almost did something bad," he confesses, unable to stop himself grinning. "But I resisted. It was damn hard though."

"I bet it was."

She wriggles her hips and it reconfirms her position as the only woman he'll ever love: their shared sense of humor, the way they understand each other, the ease with which he can share anything with her, is once-in-a-lifetime.

"Stop that," he says firmly.

"Why?" she smirks.

He narrows his eyes. "Someone's horny today."

"Says the guy who almost came in his sleep."

His laughter hits hard, deep in his belly. "Touché, Livvie."

She leans down and kisses him with smiling lips, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. "I love you," she says softly, moments later. "I love everything about you."

Fitz holds her close. "I love you too, you horny devil."

Her body shakes with amusement. He reaches out to the nightstand where the headband from yesterday's costume is lying and puts the sparkly red horns on her head.

"You get to wear these today," he announces. "And when I'm the insatiable one, I'll wear them."

"So that'll pretty much be all the time, then?"

"Mm hmm," he agrees, and they laugh together even as they kiss, their sounds muffled in the warmth of each other's mouths.

Fitz never wants this morning to end. Unfortunately, the world keeps on turning, and his phone signals a text alert. He instinctively knows who it is and plans to ignore it for a little while longer, but guilt begins to get the better of him. It's been way more than five minutes since he promised to call his friends back again.

With a sigh, he moves Olivia off of him and finds his phone on the floor beside the bed. Sure enough, the message is from Mark, but as he reads it he knows it's Annie typing:

Five minutes my arse! Call us back! We await your salacious gossip xxx

He chuckles.

"What?" Olivia asks, curled up against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Annabel is messaging me. I was speaking to her and Mark just before you got home."

"Ah. Have you told them yet?"

"No. I didn't really have time, between the issue of my rampant morning erection and you arriving back."

"Damn. Still can't believe I wasn't here for that," she says, smiling.

"I can promise you there'll be more."

"There'd better be."

He kisses her hair. "I should call them back. I said I'd only be five minutes."

"Okay. I'll go shower quickly."

"Come and say hi when you're done."

"Sure?" She's standing now, completely bare and totally stunning.

"Well, maybe put some clothes on first."

"Ha ha."

He has to tear his eyes away from her bottom as she walks away, because there are dangerous memories trying to resurface and now is not the time.

He redials his friends and immediately apologizes. "Sorry guys, I got distracted."

Annabel's eyebrows are raised to the sky. "I bet you did. So, who is she? We've literally been waiting here with baited breath."

"You make us sound so dull," Mark complains. "We haven't just been waiting here."

She shoots him an amused look. "Making a cup of tea hardly counts as doing something interesting, darling."

Fitz laughs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you."

"Oh, I don't care," Annie says, waving her hand dismissively. "Just tell us about this new lady of yours. I'm guessing this was the news you wanted to share. Are you dating her?"

He can't prevent an enormous smile from curving his lips. "Yes."

"How exciting!"

"So soon after Mellie," Mark says thoughtfully, and then looks embarrassed. "Sorry. Did I say that out loud?"

Fitz doesn't mind though. "It's fine, don't worry. You know, it doesn't feel soon at all. I met her in London and we just… fell for each other straight away. It just happened."

"Wait, you'd already met her when you stayed with us?" Annie asks, surprised.

He nods, still smiling. "I was already head-over-heels."

"Wow," Mark says, and it's echoed by his wife. "So, what's her name? What does she do? Is she English?"

"No, she's a New Yorker and her name is Olivia. Olivia Pope. She's a women's rights advocate-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. "We know who she is!" Annie cries over him, and he can tell this is gossip unlike anything they usually get to hear in their sleepy Oxfordshire village. "Oh my god! She's gorgeous, Fitz."

"And young, isn't she?" Mark adds, equally stunned.

"She is both those things," he confirms with a grin. "She is also the most amazing person I've ever met. I love her, so much. I fell in love with her the second I saw her. And there's more," he goes on before he can stop himself - he hadn't planned to say this but it's going to burst its way out of him anyway. "She's pregnant. We're having a baby."

It's too much for his friends: Annie jumps up, her hands over her mouth, while Mark just stares at the screen, completely shocked. Fitz is distracted though, because Olivia has appeared in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, her eyes filled with tears as she tries and fails to hold back a smile. She obviously heard what he was saying about her, heard him share the news they'd planned to keep secret, and she shakes her head slightly as if to say: It's alright, I don't mind. He drops his phone onto the bed and crosses the room, taking her into his arms.

A small sob escapes her and he withdraws just enough to tilt her face up to his. "I'm sorry," he says but she quietens him with a kiss.

"Don't be," she whispers. "You just said the sweetest things about me to your friends. And hearing how excited you are about our baby - how could I ever be upset with you?"

A tear spills over her lashes and onto her cheek, which he catches with his thumb and wipes away. "I meant every word."

"I know."

They share smiles, kisses. "Want to come and say hello now?" Fitz asks afterwards, taking her hand.

"Sure. Let me just find something to wear. And you should probably-"

She gestures to him, still naked, and he reluctantly lets go of her so he can pull on his boxers and one of the t-shirts she's washed for him, which are sitting in a neat pile on her dresser.

Mark and Annabel are still there when he finally picks up his phone again. "Apologies," he says. "Liv is here. She's gonna say hi, once she's put some clothes on."

"Fitz!" she berates from inside her closet.

"Sorry, baby," he laughs. "She was in the shower. Anyway… that's my news."

"Well, congratulations mate," Mark says emphatically, grinning from ear to ear. "You've made my day. And you've made my wife speechless, which doesn't happen very often."

When Annie moves nearer the camera, Fitz is astonished to see that she's crying. "I don't know what to say," she gushes, brushing away tears with her fingertips. "I'm so pleased for you, Fitz. You're like our brother, and we've always wanted to see you this happy. I can't believe you're having a baby! You are going to be the best dad."

Her words bring a lump to his throat. He loves her like a sister, too. "Thanks Annie," he says quietly. "That means the world to me."

Olivia is waiting at the edge of the bed, wearing a gray v-neck tee and black leggings, and he gestures for her to join him. He loves that she is so at ease with herself, that she doesn't need to dress up or put on makeup to meet his friends. "Here she is," he announces, the proudest man in New York City. He tilts his phone to landscape so they can both fit in the picture as she comes to sit beside him.

"Hi," she says, a little shyly, given these two strangers know her biggest secret. Fitz watches the three of them make introductions; notices Annie and Mark taking her in, no doubt comparing her to photos they've seen of her, deciphering whether the Olivia Pope they think they know is anything like the one who's chatting to them now, young and beautiful and bare-faced, halfway across the planet. Fitz thinks she is and she isn't, in all the best ways.

"Congratulations!" Annie is saying to her. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel great," Olivia replies with a smile, and he can sense an immediate warmth between them. "A little nauseous in the mornings, but otherwise okay."

"Oh, you're lucky. I was so sick with both my pregnancies."

"Really?"

"Every day for the first twelve weeks. Actually, with Sophie it went on even longer."

"Darling," Mark interjects, "Don't freak her out."

Annie looks contrite. "Sorry. I'm just another one of those awful mothers who has a hundred pregnancy stories to tell. I bet you're already fed up of listening to us."

"Actually, I don't really know anyone who's had a baby," Olivia confesses. "And we haven't told anyone yet. It's still pretty early."

"Of course. How far along are you?"

"Nine weeks tomorrow," Fitz says proudly, because with every day that passes there's more chance he'll be able to see changes in her body, and he is so excited about that.

"Nine weeks already?" Mark comments, and his wife elbows him in the ribs.

"We didn't waste any time," Fitz jokes. Olivia looks up at him, blushing and smiling, which just melts his heart.

"Ugh," Annie says, "You two are so bloody cute. Look at you!"

He laughs, wrapping his arm around Olivia's shoulders and drawing her close so he can kiss her cheek. "We are pretty cute," he admits. "Aren't we, baby?"

Olivia pulls away, making a face. "I'm so sorry about him," she tells his friends seriously. "He can be so gross sometimes."

"Oh, we know," Mark says, chuckling. "If you ever want to hear some truly gross stories about him, we know them all."

"Yes please, that would be awesome! What are you hiding from me hey, Fitz?"

He's beginning to get the feeling he's being ganged up on. Olivia is gazing at him with the most adorable, defiant expression on her face. The temptation to kiss her is strong, but he suspects she wouldn't be impressed.

"I don't like this," he says, frowning, and the other three laugh.

"She's already come over to the dark side," Annie teases. "You can't have her back now."

"I'm not sure what you can do about it from all the way over there," he retorts.

"Hmm, true. Well, you'll just have to bring her to visit us."

"I'd love to," he says honestly, suddenly feeling overcome with sadness at the fact that his closest friends live so far away. He gets used to their long-distance relationship, to watching his goddaughters grow up via photos and video calls, but every so often he longs to be able to spend an evening in their cozy home or take Mark out for a drink and reminisce about old times.

"I think we'd all have a lot of fun together," Annie adds and he knows her well enough to see that it's a slight dig at Mellie, who never had fun doing anything, particularly as a City girl in the English countryside.

"We would," Mark says sincerely. "Now what do you want us to tell the girls, Fitz? They have explicitly informed us that they want to hear all about New York and we haven't to miss out a single thing or they'll be very cross with us."

"Have boys," Annie mock-whispers to Olivia, who laughs. "They're much less precocious."

"I guess you can tell them that Aunt Mel and I aren't together anymore, and that I have a new girlfriend."

"Do you mind keeping me a secret, and especially the baby part?" Olivia asks them. "We're not going to announce anything until Fitz is divorced. It doesn't exactly look good."

Annie shrugs. "From what I've seen, it looks perfect. You two make such a gorgeous pair. I can't imagine it will be a huge issue, will it? Fitz was already separated when you met."

"I know," she sighs, "But I don't trust the media. They could choose to run with a completely different angle, to paint me as a homewrecker, because I'm sure that would sell - 'Good Girl Olivia Pope pregnant by older, married man'."

"Hey," Fitz says sternly, pulling her close again. "It's all going to be fine. I'll make sure of it."

She doesn't look particularly reassured but manages a smile. "We'll talk about it later."

"Do you have a PR team for this kind of thing?" Annie asks gently. Fitz can sense her maternal instinct kicking in.

"I do," Olivia confirms.

"We should meet with Harrison soon," he suggests, "Make some plans. I'm sure you'd feel better then."

"Okay."

He can tell she doesn't want to think about it anymore so changes the subject. "Anyway, how are you guys? We've literally just talked about me and Liv for the past fifteen minutes."

They chat for a while longer, hearing about Holly and Sophie, Mark and Annabel's work. Halfway through, Olivia's phone rings and she excuses herself to answer it in the living room. She returns just as they're starting to say their goodbyes.

"Sorry, that was work."

"The UN?" Fitz asks, interested.

"Kind of. It was someone from the White House about a women's health project we're collaborating on."

Annie looks seriously impressed. "Bloody hell," she says to her husband, "The White House calls Olivia Pope on a Saturday morning. What have I done so far today? Two loads of washing and cleaned out the guinea pig's cage."

"You also got rid of that rogue spider and threw out the moldy Halloween pumpkins," Mark adds helpfully, which earns him another sharp elbow.

Olivia smiles and, as usual, takes such comments with humility. "At this stage it looks very promising," she says. "I'm hoping we can take it as far as the First Lady. I would love to work with her."

"I can see that," Mark says, nodding, which makes Olivia beam.

"Thank you."

"Now, before you go," Annie chimes in, "If you ever have any questions, Olivia, anything you're unsure about - or if you just feel totally overwhelmed and emotional and need a good cry - please feel free to call me. I haven't been pregnant for nine years but I can still remember it like it was yesterday: the pregnancy glow, the first kicks, those weird pains in the last few months which you're never quite sure what to make of…" She tails off, stopping herself from saying too much again. "Enjoy it, both of you. It's the best time. Once the baby comes, your lives will never be the same again."

Fitz looks at the woman he loves and can see his own excitement reflected in her eyes. "Thank you, Annie," she says, turning back to the screen. She's clearly touched. "That's so kind of you. It was so lovely to chat to you both."

"You too."

"Fitzgerald, my friend," Mark says with a grin, "You are one lucky man."

"I know."

"We're over the moon for you." Annie blows them a kiss. "Take care of yourselves. And let us know when you're going to visit us!"

"We will. Love to the girls."

"Of course. Bye!"

"See you."

He ends the call. Olivia climbs onto his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. "Your friends are so nice, Fitz. I'm sorry I freaked out a bit over the media thing. I hope I didn't come across as childish."

"Not at all." He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "I do think Annie's right, though."

She sighs. "I don't want to talk about it now."

"Okay."

He backs down, but decides in that moment to call Harrison next week, to see what her PR manager thinks of their situation. He won't reveal her pregnancy, just discuss their relationship. He understands Olivia's fear but he's not entirely sure how realistic it is, and he's worried about her. It's obviously causing her stress and that's the last thing he wants for her right now.

"What do you wanna do this afternoon?" he asks, pressing kisses to her mouth, her jaw. He starts to massage her shoulders too and she's quiet for a little while, letting him play with her.

"What I really want," she says eventually, her voice small, "Is to go somewhere with you where we can be a couple. I want to walk outside holding your hand. I want you to kiss me under the sky, somewhere the whole world can see us."

Fitz looks at her, suddenly so melancholy. All their talk of outing their relationship has robbed her of her good mood and he feels terrible. "Okay," he says softly. "Let's do it."

"But where?"

"Do you own hiking boots?"

"Yes."

"Then I know just the place."

Her smile is so bright it seems to light up the room. "Thank you, Fitzy. I love you."

He kisses her, passionately, holding her small body to him. She is just so precious. He doesn't know how he'd survive without her, now.

"Love you too. Come on, let's go."


They drive out to Harriman State Park, just an hour upstate from the city. Olivia has been here before; in fact, it was one of her parents' favorite places to bring her as a child and she tells Fitz this, reminiscing about her mom, their adventures together.

"It looks busy," she warns as they get nearer, traffic starting to build up in the small towns they pass through.

"Well, it is the weekend," Fitz says lightly. "But don't worry, I'm taking you to my favorite spot. Not many people know about it."

He eventually parks up beside several other cars at the start of a hiking trail. Signs indicate they're near Silver Mine Lake. It's a beautiful fall day: sun shining, blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and a slight chill in the air. The weather is perfect for her disguise: a knit hat, thick coat and sunglasses. With her hair braided and no makeup on, she doubts anyone would recognize her unless they got really close.

Fitz kisses her after he's locked the car, uncaring about the families nearby who are milling around. It's just a peck but, followed by that irresistible smile of his, it means everything to her. She sneaks a glance around and no one has noticed a thing. It's so thrilling, she reaches up and kisses him again - simply because she can.

He leads her away from the main path, which is busy with hikers, and onto a smaller trail heading off to the east. The freedom she feels being able to hold his hand out here makes her heart soar. She loves how soft his skin is; how his fingers curl around hers, squeezing tight. This path is rocky in places and soon they start to ascend - and he doesn't let go of her once. At one point, for no particular reason at all, he uses their joined hands to pull her into his body and catches her breathless squeal in his mouth. The contrast between his warm, smiling lips and his cold nose on her cheek makes her knees weak. They are outdoors, free to act like a normal couple, and it is everything.

They're both fit but they're out of breath by the time they reach the peak of the hill. Fitz draws her onward, off the track now, until they reach a small clearing and the most stunning sight comes into view.

"Oh, wow," she murmurs, taking off her sunglasses.

"I know."

He stands behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin tucked over her shoulder. The lake in front of them is perfectly still and bright blue, mirroring the sky, the clouds. The trees around its edge are the same ones they've been walking beneath - red, pink, amber, yellow and green; a symphony of fall color - but reflected in the water, the whole scene is twice as bright and a hundred times more spectacular.

"I've never been here at this time of year before," he says near her ear, the timbre of his voice and the kisses he places on her sensitive skin making her shiver. "It's so beautiful."

His hands are in her coat pockets and she slips hers inside too, linking their fingers. They stay there for a long time, their hearts beating together, silently absorbing the tranquility, the peace, the untouched glory of nature. Apart from the birds swooping and calling overhead, there isn't another soul to be seen for miles around. This is the best medicine for Olivia's worries. What is there to feel stressed about, when the world looks like this? There's nothing they can't face together, no problem too big for them to overcome. As long as they love each other, as long as their baby is healthy, that is all that matters to her.

"Feeling better?" Fitz asks quietly. She turns in his arms and smiles at him, burying her hands deep beneath his jacket, around his lower back.

"I feel amazing. Thank you for bringing me here."

"My pleasure."

Their kisses are long and slow, savoring each other and this wonderful place. When they eventually trail off she hugs him as hard as she can, emotion fueling her muscles. "I can't wait to have your baby," she tells him, because that feeling is overwhelming her right now. She made a fucking baby with this man! How lucky is she? How lucky is her child, having Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III as its daddy?

Fitz kneels in front of her and unzips her coat, pressing his lips to her belly through her sweater. Even if there were people around right now, she wouldn't have cared. "I am so excited to meet you, little one," he says solemnly. "I love you already, more than you'll ever know. Keep on growing nice and strong. Your mommy will look after you. She is already the best mommy in the world."

Olivia thinks she might cry again. Her hormones are crazy right now, making her anxious, sad, deliriously happy and then tearful all in the space of a few hours. She hopes they'll calm down a little soon, although from what Annie hinted at and what she's read, the rest of her pregnancy is likely to be a rollercoaster as well.

"You know, he or she is the size of a grape now," Fitz is continuing. "Our little grape."

She laughs, wiping away tears. "Little G."

"Little Grant. Or Pope, if you want." He stands again and draws her close.

"No… Grant is good."

He smiles and leans down, rubbing his nose against hers. "Thank you, Olivia."

She doesn't ask what for, just covers his mouth with hers, showing him how she feels instead. A little while later, when they're gasping for air, she thanks him too. He does ask the question. Her reply is instantaneous: "For being in London. For falling in love with me. For having sex with me on the most fertile day of my cycle and not wearing a condom."

His laughter echoes around them and she can't help but join in. "Such a romantic," he teases, taking hold of her hand again. "Ready to go, Shakespeare? I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today."

"Oh, poor Fitzy. Wait, though. I want to get a picture of us."

She takes several selfies of them, unable to believe how utterly smitten they both look, and then snaps some of the lake as well. "One more," Fitz says, taking her phone from her. He kisses her and captures the moment - she hates to admit it, but it's damn cute.

"I really wish I could just post this on Instagram," she sighs as they begin the hike back. She doesn't often put personal pictures up there; mainly it's Quinn uploading shots of her outfits when she attends events, mentioning the designers who dress her and certain brands she's affiliated with.

"You will be able to, one day soon."

"I still don't know if I'd put up a photo of us kissing."

"Who cares?"

And for the first time, she actually doesn't. When the time comes, she decides that she will share all kinds of sweet pictures of him, of them together, of their adorable baby. She knows that will make her happy and, at the end of the day, that is what's important.

They drive back to the nearest town, Stony Point, and Fitz buys them bagels which they eat on the banks of the Hudson River, strolling along. Olivia spots an ice cream shop she used to visit as a child and ends up getting three scoops because she can't decide on the best flavors. He laughs at her when she can't finish it - but doesn't complain when she offers it to him. They finally head back to the city in the late afternoon. She has a cocktail party to attend, a great networking event for her, and Fitz is meeting Henry for dinner.

"I've had the best day," she tells him when he's saying goodbye outside her front door. He doesn't seem able to stop kissing her. "Fitz... Fitz!"

"What?"

"Do I need to get the devil horns for you to wear?"

His grin is so handsome she almost drags him inside and straight to bed, despite the fact her hair and makeup team will be arriving soon.

"I'll put them on later tonight," he says seductively, making it a promise. "Then it'll be my turn to treat you."

Her whole body tremors. It's going to be a very long evening apart.