A/N: Just a little update for you. I should have carried on to Thanksgiving but hey, it came to a natural end point and I felt like sharing. (My hiatus is going so well, as you can see.)
Also, I'd just like to say one thing: you don't get to leave me 'complaints'. This isn't a service you're paying for. We writers spend so much of our time doing this because we love it, and we want to share our worlds with you. You don't have to agree with what we write, and I am always open to discuss my characters, my plot lines - but when you hide behind your anonymity, you take that option away from me and leave me powerless. So please just be mindful of what you write in reviews. You can complain about restaurants, public transport, the government - but remember that this is all for free, and contains a lot of my heart and soul.
Rant over. And I don't need sympathy, honestly. I just had to get that out there.
Please enjoy this chapter! Love and thanks to all of you for your feedback, as always.
Chapter 27 - You're Fitz's New Girl?
Olivia wakes early in Fitz's father's house, just as the sun is starting to rise. She never copes well with jetlag. Since they gained so much time flying across the country the previous evening, her body thinks it's mid-morning already - time to start the day.
She turns onto her side to find that her handsome man is still fast asleep.
Her man.
That word catches in her brain. She still hasn't completely processed the news that he's getting his divorce; that he will be fully, legally free as soon as their case goes to court. Free for her to love for the rest of her days; free for them to stand up proudly together, to share the joy of her pregnancy, to celebrate their relationship in front of the world.
More than anything else, though, she's mainly glad it's over because of all the stress it's been causing him. She knows he's been trying to hide it from her but she's noticed how tense he's been, how badly he's been sleeping. He put so much pressure on himself to end his marriage quickly, as if a lingering piece of paper signed ten years earlier was restricting him from being the best boyfriend, the most doting father-to-be - but nothing could be further from the truth. He was already everything she needed. If she'd had to live with him in the shadows her whole life, she would have. It would never have been easy but it wouldn't be a choice. She just loves him so much.
She watches him in the semi-darkness, listening to his steady breathing and the patter of rain against the window panes. Even though she knows his wife was never a threat, in the very back of her mind there's always been the knowledge that he was someone else's first - and although that will always be true, at least the divorce will finally close that door on his past. While it was open he was stuck, one foot on either side. Gazing into his beautiful face right now, it feels like they are new, all over again.
This is where their lives together really begin.
She thinks she could lie here and look at him all day; study him for years and still want more time. He's just so fascinating. She wonders what parts of him their baby will inherit. Probably not his blue eyes, because she knows her genes are dominant, but what about the shape of his mouth, and the way it curves when he's happy; his easy laugh, his laid-back personality? If she could choose, she'd take so much of him for her child - but at the end of the day, it doesn't even matter. The little life inside of her is already perfect.
Fitz doesn't stir when her craving for a cup of tea finally gets her out of bed. It's cold, the end of November, and she takes the fluffy blue robe from the back of his door and puts it on over her silk pajamas. It doesn't smell like him - the washing powder is different, and he probably hasn't worn it for a long time - and that makes her sad. She loves being wrapped up in his scent. It's like a secret hug.
The house is silent, and even colder outside their bedroom. Fitz gave her a brief tour last night. His father was out at a dinner party, not expecting their arrival until later today. They were both so tired they went to bed before he even arrived home, so she's not had the pleasure of meeting him just yet. She hopes she won't have to at six AM, in her pajamas, without a shower. Hopefully she can make her tea and get back to Fitz without seeing a soul.
The large kitchen-living-area stretches along the back of the house, with several sets of doors opening onto the porch. She's sure the view of the countryside would be incredible, especially on those summer evenings Fitz always talks about, but today there's nothing to see except dark gray sky and rain. She makes her drink and stands there awhile, looking out, lost in thought. This is the house her baby will spend time growing up in, when they visit: crawling on the soft antique rugs which cover the hardwood floors; taking slow, uneasy steps, holding onto the furniture for support; and later, running outside, over the vast expanse of lawns and the fields beyond. She's only seen it at night, and in photographs, but she knows it's an incredible place for a child to play. So different from New York, and her small apartment. Maybe one day, they'll move…
"Good morning."
The voice startles her so much that she jumps, spilling her tea, heart pounding in fright.
"Shit," Big Jerry is saying, rushing over to the sink for a cloth. She notices a slight limp as he moves. "Here. I'm so sorry I scared you. You must be Olivia…"
And then he looks at her, really sees her for the first time, and it's his turn to be taken aback.
"Olivia Pope, no less. You're Fitz's new girl?"
She takes note of his incredulous tone but smiles, and nods. Her pulse rate is starting to return to normal again. "Hi, Mr Grant. It's a pleasure to meet you. Even in… these circumstances."
She gestures to their bedroom attire and he smiles too. Fitz's smile. It disarms her. She knows Fitzgerald Thomas Grant II from his speeches and TV appearances during his years in the Senate; she even passed him several times in Washington while she was working there. But seeing him in real life, up close, there is so much of him in Fitz it's uncanny.
It takes her a moment to realize he's still holding out the cloth towards her. "Oh, thank you." She uses it to dab at the tea on her robe, while surreptitiously checking that her baby bump is well and truly disguised - which it is. Fitz hasn't told his father yet; they're saving it for Thanksgiving.
"So…" There's a slightly awkward pause. Jerry looks like he wants to say something and then seems to change his mind. "I see you've made yourself at home." He gestures to her mug. "That's good."
"Your home is lovely," she enthuses. "Thank you for having me to stay."
He moves away, turning on the coffee maker. "No problem. I mean, I didn't know it was you who was staying until just now. How did…"
He tails off. It's clear there's something he's holding back, but he's a stranger to her and she doesn't feel comfortable pushing him.
"Is Fitz still in bed?"
"Yeah. He's exhausted."
"He's always been lazy in the mornings."
Olivia frowns. That's not her impression at all. "Well," she counters, instinctively defending him, "With the flight yesterday and the stress he's been under lately…"
"You mean, with Mellie?"
As usual, she bristles each time she hears that name. "I should let him tell you himself, really."
Jerry shrugs. "Fair enough." He gazes at her intently, leaning back against the counter as the smell of coffee starts to fill the air. Olivia is so glad it no longer makes her feel sick. "How did you and Fitz…?"
She waits for him to finish his sentence. When he doesn't, she guesses the end of it: "…Meet?"
"Get together. I mean, I never thought he had it in him."
It's all starting to make sense now. Fitz has always told her how estranged he and his father have been, and how Big Jerry doesn't know him nor respect him - and she's witnessing that, first hand.
"Had what in him?" she asks, as politely as she can. "I don't know what you mean."
"Come on," he says with a smile. "You're Olivia Pope. You could have anyone you want. I'm just curious to know what Fitz has, that's all."
This conversation is making her so uncomfortable. She's torn between keeping the peace, because this man is a part of her family now, and calling him out on his blatant rudeness towards Fitz, and his intrusiveness into their relationship.
In the end, the latter wins - but she tries her best to be diplomatic. "I think that's a very personal question," she says levelly, looking straight into his eyes. "And I also think that, if you have to ask what your son has that makes me want to be with him, you clearly don't know him at all."
Jerry holds her gaze for a long moment, absorbing her words. Then he drops his head and sighs, running a hand through his hair in much the same way Fitz does. "Christ, I'm sorry Olivia. I realize how that sounded. I'm just trying to get to know him better, after all these years. You are an extraordinary woman-"
"And he's an extraordinary man."
There's a short silence.
"I only know what he tells me," Jerry says finally, "And what I can read about him whenever his work is mentioned in the media. I used to get more updates from Mellie than I ever did from Fitz himself."
"I'll keep you updated, if that's what it takes." She offers a small smile and he gratefully accepts.
"That shouldn't be necessary. All I need to do is pick up the phone and call."
"Exactly." She finishes off the last of her tea and rinses her mug. "Well. This has been… intense."
Big Jerry laughs. "It has. I apologize, again. Would you like some breakfast?"
"I might go and wake Fitz up, have a shower. Then maybe we can start over?"
He nods, still smiling. "You're feisty, Olivia. I like you."
She wonders whether she can say the same in return.
Fitz is mortified when they're showering together and she recounts her entire conversation with his father. "I am so sorry about him. God, he's such an asshole."
"Yeah, a little."
She smiles, but he doesn't find it funny.
"I should have told him who you were before we came. I just didn't expect you'd meet before I could introduce you."
"It's fine, Fitz."
"It's not. I can't believe he was so rude to you. Well, I can, actually."
"It's not me I'm worried about." She washes his upper body, exploring the contours of his muscles beneath his warm skin. "I hope I didn't overstep the mark but I couldn't listen to him talk about you like that. He really doesn't know you at all, does he?"
"Why would he? We barely speak to each other. I still think he remembers me as a moody teenager half the time. Turn around."
She stays quiet as he massages her back, giving him space to think.
"Maybe it was too soon to bring you here," he says eventually. "Maybe we should have stayed in LA instead. I thought our relationship had improved since I visited last month but he's obviously just the same."
"He said he was trying," Olivia counters, her tone gentle. "I genuinely don't think he realized how inappropriate he was being, asking why I'm with you."
She turns to face him again, lifting her arms to his shoulders, pressing her wet body against his. "Why are you with me?" he asks, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice as his hands settle on her ass. She loves how she can distract him from his worries, the same way he does for her.
Instead of answering she kisses him, drawing him in, letting him sweep her away.
"Mmm," she sighs a minute later, gazing into his eyes. "So many reasons. Mainly because you are an excellent kisser."
"Am I?" he grins, covering her mouth again, squeezing her tightly against him. He slowly backs her into the tiled wall and holds her there as his palms explore the curves of her hips, her waist, her breasts. "God, Livvie. Your body is incredible."
He starts to trail his lips downwards, slowly kneeling as he goes until he's kissing her belly, saying good morning to their baby. He turns her sideways, admiring her from all angles. She rests her hand on top of his on her bump and they share wide, besotted smiles. Her pregnancy is still new and exciting, each and every day. Sometimes she wonders if it will ever feel real, if she will ever accept that she is this lucky, this blessed.
Fitz tries to seduce her as she's getting dressed in the bedroom, standing behind her, kissing her neck, slipping his fingers into her panties. She wriggles out of his embrace, admonishing him with a sparkle in her eye - a promise for another time. "Your father is expecting us downstairs," she says firmly, pulling on her jeans. They're the stretchiest ones she owns and they only just fasten. "We can't be late."
"We can. I don't care what he thinks."
"I do."
He sighs and reluctantly puts on his clothes, too. He watches her as she checks her reflection, making sure their secret is hidden.
"Maybe we can go live on an island somewhere," he says out of the blue. "You can walk around all day in whatever you like, embracing the fact we made a baby."
The thought has crossed her mind once or twice before. If only they could escape to paradise, far away from his wife and the press and all the expectations, the judgements of the world.
"I am embracing it," she tells him seriously, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's all I think about, all day long. I love my body. I'm so proud of it. And I can't wait for my bump to grow, to finally show it off. We'll get there, Fitzy. I know we will."
He smiles and kisses her forehead. "I know we will too. I've never doubted you, sweet baby. And I never will."
"I love you."
"I love you more. Now, can you give me five minutes with my father before you come downstairs?"
"Fitz…"
He ignores her warning tone. "Don't worry. I just need to set some boundaries with him."
"Be nice."
He's already halfway out the door when he calls back: "I'm always nice."
She sits down on the edge of the bed, wondering whether it was indeed a mistake to come here.
They manage to have a perfectly civil breakfast, actually. It's probably the fact that Marilyn is there too, and the housekeeper Betty, who has cooked up a feast. Certainly, father and son are being polite but she can sense the tension between them. This is the last thing Fitz needs right now, just one day after dealing with his wife.
"So, what are you doing in LA Olivia?" Marilyn asks as they eat the fluffiest pancakes and drink freshly squeezed juice. Olivia likes her immediately. She's a very smart woman who clearly has a lot of influence over Big Jerry. Maybe between the two of them, they can help their men resolve their differences.
"A few talk shows, one this afternoon and another couple tomorrow morning. And I'm hosting the Women for Women fundraising gala tonight."
"Liv is one of their ambassadors," Fitz says, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Oh, really? How fascinating." Marilyn smiles warmly at her. "What projects have you been working on recently?"
Olivia could talk about this for days. "Well, the UN has just released a twenty-year follow up study looking at the impact of mental health in childhood on long-term outcomes for women: their overall health, their education, work prospects and so on. The results are as you'd expect. It's really, really heartbreaking. So, we've been collaborating with the government both locally and in DC to start the ball rolling on making positive changes: better access to counselling, psychologists, psychiatrists, right from junior school onwards; more funding for support services; more publicity so young girls know where to turn."
"How's that going for you?" Jerry asks skeptically. "DC is full of pigs, Olivia. I'm glad I've gotten out of there, honestly. They'll corrupt you on day one if you're not careful."
She wonders how corrupt he became during his long political career; how many dirty deals he made, how often he pandered to the GOP, the NRA, the innumerable billionaire businessmen throwing their money and their weight around. As soon as she's had that thought, though, she decides she doesn't want to know. Some stones are better left unturned - especially when she has to know this man for the rest of his life, when her child has to look up and call him Grandpa.
"I think having the weight of the UN behind you, and the support of the First Lady, definitely helps."
He concedes her point with a smile. "I'm sure it does. Kudos to you. You really are making waves. If you ever need help, I still have friends in high places - even if I am a Republican."
She shrugs. "I don't care what you are, as long as we believe in the same cause."
"That," Marilyn interjects, "Is the most sensible thing I've heard in years. More juice, darling?"
Olivia beams at her.
Afterwards, she says goodbye to her hosts until the following day and Fitz drives her into the city in their rental car. It's about an hour and a half from the ranch, giving them plenty of time to talk. He tells her what he spoke to his father about before breakfast: the fact that his divorce is in motion, that Olivia Pope is a permanent fixture in his life now and that he would like them all to have a friendly, peaceful Thanksgiving in two days' time.
"He apologized to me for the way he spoke to you." He glances over at her. "Says he's going to try harder. We'll see."
"Baby, you two haven't gotten along in decades. You're not suddenly going to have a perfect relationship in the space of a month. Don't expect too much, okay?"
He reaches out and squeezes her knee. "How are you so wise?"
"Because I'm Olivia Pope," she grins.
He drops her off round the back of the hotel she's staying in, where her usual LA styling team have set up her suite for the next twenty-four hours. She's already chosen her outfits from images they've been sending her over the past couple of weeks, and she hopes to God they all fit. She doesn't want to tell another soul about her pregnancy unless she absolutely has to. All the staff are bound by NDAs, but this secret is too important to entrust to anyone outside her immediate friends and family.
"I'll miss you," he says sadly, his lips lingering on hers.
"I wish you could come with me."
"One day. Good luck, Livvie. You'll be amazing."
"Thank you." She's almost opening the door when she turns back. "And be nice to your dad, Fitz. He's the only one you have."
Time flies.
She's busy from the moment she meets her team: trying on dresses (fortunately they fit, and peplum waists are in this season); choosing accessories; having her hair, makeup and nails done. It's nice to be pampered but she's trying to practice her speech too, and to go over all the stats from the UN report one final time.
Then she's driven to one of the studios to record for an evening talk show the following week, where paparazzi and fans are crowded outside. After that, it's back to the hotel and the whole process starts again. She doesn't have a spare second to text Fitz, to wonder what he's doing - but she does love her job. She loves meeting people, talking about her passions, getting glammed up. She can't wait to share this experience with him, sometime in the not-too-distant future.
There's a red carpet outside the gala, which is dotted with celebrities posing for photos and interviews. Fortunately the rain has stopped, but it's bitterly cold. Olivia is glad for her floor-length Vera Wang gown, with its black bodice and huge taffeta black and gold skirt, hiding the fact that - just like most of the women around her - she's wearing thermal leggings beneath.
Inside she's offered a drink several times which she always declines for water. It's plausible, given she's hosting the whole evening. And that part goes smoothly too: she talks about the charity's work, what she learned when she visited Rwanda with them the previous year, and exactly where everyone's generous donations from tonight will be put to use. Then there's dinner and an auction, followed by dancing. She enjoys every minute of it.
The next day she's up early, in the television studio at six AM for a live appearance. Then she has to get changed again before her final booking, which is pre-recorded. She's met Ellen before, and her interview is the most fun.
Finally, she's in a car on the way back to the country and she can reflect on the whirlwind she's just experienced. It still blows her mind that people want to take pictures with her, to print her photos in their magazines and comment on her hair, her makeup, her clothes. She's briefly scanned through a few websites and there's no mention of her weight, her boobs; no hint that anyone suspects a thing. Thank god.
How is she going to keep doing this over the next few months though, when her baby bump grows? She really needs to sit down with Harrison when she's back home, to make a plan. As far as she's concerned, the sooner they get the truth out there, the better. She's getting less and less worried about the media's opinion of her by the day, and instead focusing more on what is going to be best for her, for Fitz, for their child. It's obviously her mothering instincts kicking in: she's not the only one, now. She's no longer the most important person in her life.
She gets dropped off outside a motel, just a couple of miles from Big Jerry's ranch. As the driver pulls away, Fitz appears in his car from around the corner. Inside, she kisses him so hard she makes herself breathless.
"You looked stunning last night," he says as soon as she lets him go, his lips stained, his hair messed up by her fingers. She doesn't know whether it's their time apart or her insatiable pregnancy hormones finally kicking in, but his words fly straight over her head. She wants him. It overwhelms her in a second, setting her whole body on fire.
"Is your dad at home?" she asks, sliding her hand into his crotch, touching him through his jeans.
Fitz looks at her, eyebrows raised. "He is. What's going on?"
"I'm horny. Can't you tell?"
"I can, but… why?"
"Because you're hot. Because I'm pregnant. Because it's been two days." He's growing beneath her palm, thicker and harder, and it makes her core throb, her panties wet. She needs him inside her as fast as possible. "How many reasons do you want, baby?"
He considers her for a split second and she wonders if she looks as sultry as she feels. She hopes so. Either way, suddenly he puts the car into gear and accelerates so quickly the wheels spin in the mud as they set off.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere private. Well, as private as I can think of."
"Ooh. Is it some rustic barn? Or the stables?"
He frowns. "Liv, it's freezing cold outside. And I'm not having sex with you in the stables. They stink, and there are people there - it's a riding center."
"Oh. So where then?"
"You'll see. Are you sure you want to do this? We could wait until later."
But she's so turned on already, blood pumping through her body, that the idea of postponing seems impossible. Is this what it's going to be like for the foreseeable future? If so, she's going to have to keep him at home, available whenever she needs him.
She suspects he would be more than happy with that arrangement.
It's raining again, the sky gray and dark even though it's mid-afternoon. They drive for about five minutes before he pulls off the road and starts heading cross-country. She's grateful she let him choose an SUV at the airport; grateful he grew up here and knows how to handle it. Finally, he stops. There's nothing to see for miles around but wetness, low-lying clouds and the vague outline of trees in the distance.
"Where are we?"
He unbuckles his belt; she does the same. But instead of opening his door, he turns to her instead. "We're right on the boundary of the ranch. The house is about six hundred yards that way; the stables are beyond that."
Then he looks around the interior of the car, a smirk forming on his lips. "This is the best I can do, gorgeous. Now, do you think the front seat or the back?"
She laughs. It's perfect, and bizarre: hiding from his father in the storm, like two teenagers in some illicit relationship.
"I don't know. I've never done it in a car before."
"What? Oh, sweet baby. You haven't lived." He leans over and pushes her seat all the way back. "Can you stand up for a second? I'm going to sit where you are…"
After some maneuvering, she ends up straddling his lap. He smiles at her, his hands resting on her waist. "Hi, Livvie."
"Hi."
She kisses him softly, the mechanics of the situation having reduced her arousal to a warm simmer. Sometimes there's overwhelming lust, and sometimes there are the tender moments where she feels like they're sharing one soul between two. In the between, there's this: barely-contained desire, pushing at their edges; the thrill of knowing the explosion will come and tempting it, teasing each other, wondering who will break first or if they'll go down in flames together.
"When was the last time you-"
He anticipates her question; answers before she can finish it. (-Had sex in a car?)
"Years ago. Probably when I was in college."
Good. Not with his wife, then. She hates herself for being that girl, but at the same time, the thought of him with her is… unbearable.
"Baby," he murmurs, tilting her chin up, making her look at him. "You okay? We can stop if you want."
She shakes her head. "No. I don't want to stop."
She unfastens her coat; takes it off, throws it over his shoulder and then follows it with her sweater, her blouse. Fitz's gaze travels downwards, automatically focusing on her chest, and she kneels higher so his face is between her breasts, so he can kiss them. She feels his fingers slide up her back, unfastening the clasp of her bra and then removing it altogether. When his mouth closes around her nipple, her whole body floods with pleasure; with need.
He licks and sucks on her nipples for what feels like forever; massages her tight, aching boobs with his hands until she's writhing on him, desperately seeking friction, making him groan against her skin. It's seriously hot, being half-naked with him in a car, steaming up the windows. It makes her feel so naughty; so close, already.
"Fuck," she whimpers after several minutes, when she's not sure she can stand it much longer. Her whole center is pulsing, her clit pushing rhythmically against his rock-solid erection, and she's on that border between earth and heaven, that place where she wants to stay for the rest of her life, where nothing else could ever feel this good.
Fitz knows this, of course. He always knows. He unfastens her jeans as he kisses her, ferociously, his other hand still squeezing her breast, rolling her nipple. She cries out when he thrusts his fingers inside her, when he stretches her, but he won't let her break away, biting on her bottom lip, thrusting his tongue into her mouth again. He loves to collect her sounds; to feel her when she falls apart. These are always their messiest kisses; their most intimate moments.
She holds on as long as possible, wanting to prolong this ecstasy, the way he fucks her with his fingers and then withdraws them to circle her clit, so slick and wet, so tender, so fucking good… Over and over, building sweet, sweet tension inside of her until it's too much, she's right at the edge, she can't breathe-
And then she lets go, screaming against his lips, riding his fingers, palms slamming against the window and the roof as wave after wave crashes over her body. It lasts an age. Fitz watches her through it all, sharing her release. The look of animalistic hunger on his face when she can finally see again is so erotic, she immediately wants more.
They get her out of her clothes as fast as they can and she frees him from his pants and boxers, kneeling above him again, teasing his tip with her entrance.
"Fuck."
It's more of a growl than a word; then she realizes it's actually a command because he takes hold of her hips and pulls her down as he thrusts up, filling her to the hilt. Their eyes meet for a second. His pupils are dilated; he's half-gone already. God, she wants to make him feel good more than anything else in the world. Her gaze falls to his mouth and then suddenly they're kissing again, and he's fucking her so hard the car is shaking, and this is definitely one of the most deviant things she's ever done and it's incredible.
"Come for me," she whispers in his ear, even as she's falling apart again. "I'm coming for you."
It's different, this time: less physically intense - more centralized, internal - but emotionally more profound, as they share it together.
And it's just as amazing.
She lies on him for a long time afterwards, slumped against his chest as he strokes her hair, tells her how much he loves her.
"You just lost your car virginity," he says, amused, his voice hoarse. "How was it?"
"Mmm. So great. Not sure how I ended up completely naked though, and you're still fully dressed…"
He laughs. "I'm not sure either. But I'm definitely not complaining."
"Of course you're not." She looks around. It's pretty dark, the condensation from their body heat dimming what little light is still available outside. "So, what do we do now?"
"Um… Do you have any tissues?"
"Nope. There are makeup wipes in my case though. In the trunk."
"Right."
Together, they manage to get her onto the driver's seat so Fitz can brave the weather. When he comes back, he simply looks at her for several seconds.
"You know, it's rude to stare," she says, taking the wipes from him - but she loves it really.
"Sorry. I never realized I had any vehicle-related fantasies, but after that, and with you naked in that leather seat right now…"
"…We should go for drives in the country more often?"
He doesn't miss a beat. "How about tomorrow?"
"It's Thanksgiving."
"The day after, then?
She grins at him. "Deal."
