A short, sexy Christmas interlude for you. Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate you all so, so much.


Chapter 32: Cake For Breakfast?

Olivia wakes up alone on Sunday morning, four days before Christmas. There's no warmth left on Fitz's side of the bed; he hasn't been here for a while. Then she checks the clock and realizes why: it's eleven AM. She can barely remember the last time she slept so late. Her crazy week of events has finally caught up with her, but it doesn't matter. Today, they have no plans other than spending time together.

It's cold, despite the heating, and she pulls on her fluffy white robe over her pajamas. When she opens the drapes enroute to the bathroom, it's to find that the pale grey sky is speckled with snowflakes, a thin covering already settled on the ground below. She smiles: she loves snow. Winter has always been her favorite season because it's so magical - and because she adores the fashion. Thick coats, knit scarves, cashmere sweaters, leather boots. She'd wear them all year if she could.

She finds a note from Fitz propped against the bathroom mirror when she's washing her hands. It reads:

Good morning, beautiful girl.
Four months today! I know I've known you less time than that but I feel like I've loved you forever.
Can't wait to spend today (and every day) with you.
F xxx

"Oh my god," she breathes, already blaming her hormones for the tears in her eyes. "Your daddy is the sweetest thing, little one. We are so lucky."

She brushes her teeth - because lazy weekend mornings with Fitz almost always involve playtime in their California king bed - and then sets out to find him. The first thing that hits her when she steps into the hallway is the Christmas music coming from the kitchen, and the most delicious smell of gingerbread. Then she enters the living room and her visual senses are overwhelmed too: he's decorated the space with festive streamers, dozens of colored candles; there are new red and green cushions on the sofa and, in front of the window, a real - but currently bare - tree.

She's blown away - and not just because he did all of this before she woke up. For the first time, it really feels like their apartment. He's finally made his mark here, instead of just fitting himself in around the edges of her life. It is warm and comforting and cozy; their home, for their little family of three.

Fitz is in the kitchen with his back to her. He hasn't heard her arrive, so she manages to sneak up on him and wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing him tight.

"Morning sleepyhead," he says fondly, ceasing whatever he was doing with his hands. He turns and she gets to hug him properly now, pressing her cheek to his chest and closing her eyes for several moments; trying to convey everything she's feeling for him.

"Good morning." She eventually lifts her face, looks up at him. "This is incredible, Fitzy. What time did you get up?"

"About six," he admits with a rueful grin. "I got first pick of the Christmas trees. I know we have your fake one but I decided we needed a real one. I wanted everything to be perfect for our first Christmas together."

"It is." She's sure her gratitude is reflected in her lovestruck expression, but she can't help verbalizing it as well. "Thank you. For all of this. And your note in the bathroom… You almost made me cry."

He presses his smiling lips to hers, warm coffee and a hint of mint on his breath. "Mm. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she murmurs.

"Okay. Then I'm not."

She laughs and he captures it in his mouth, kissing her more deeply. Sadly, they're soon interrupted by the oven timer going off.

"Whatcha making?" Olivia asks cutely, reluctantly letting him go.

"Spiced ginger cake. I'm testing the recipe before Wednesday."

Christmas Eve. They're continuing her usual tradition of inviting all her friends over in the afternoon for festive food, drink and Secret Santa before everyone disperses to see their families. Because of Fitz, this year will be different in lots ways: the presence of Henry, Cyrus and James; his enthusiastic determination to home-bake everything; and the addition of mulled wine (and mulled apple juice for her), an English custom he picked up from Mark years ago.

Plus, the fact that she's happy now. And pregnant. The two biggest, best changes of her life - which she knows for sure will make for the most wonderful holiday ever.

"It smells amazing," she tells him, feeling her mouth water as he places the Bundt pan on the counter. He must have bought it this morning, along with the rest of the baking paraphernalia that she can see spread around the kitchen, because her cupboards have always been poorly equipped. "Is it ready? Can I have some?"

He eyes her suspiciously. "Cake for breakfast?"

"Blame the baby."

She senses him smirking at her but can't tear her gaze from the hot, moist, caramelized crumb. It smells like orange and cinnamon and thick, sticky ginger, and it's seducing her. She needs it.

"Your first craving?"

"Maybe." She finally looks at him. "Shit. I'm gonna get so fat if I crave cake all the time."

Fitz places his hand on her belly. "You're adorable. And perfect. And you'll always be perfect."

She smiles; reaches up for a kiss. "So… does that mean I can try some now?"

He laughs. "I think I might be seriously harmed if I say no."

"Good boy."

"With coffee? I got some more hazelnut syrup too, your favorite."

"Oh my god. That sounds like heaven."

She sits at the kitchen table and he serves her, theatrically singing along to We Wish You A Merry Christmas, making her giggle. When she finally gets to taste the cake, which is dense with nuts but also light, and bursting with all the flavors she was expecting and more, she's sure the look on her face is close to orgasmic.

"That is… the best thing I've ever tasted. In my life."

"Really?"

"Yes. Have you made it before?"

"Nope. First time."

"Ugh." She nudges him with her knee beneath the table. "You're so fucking talented, Mr. How are you so good at everything?"

He takes a sip of his coffee, blue eyes twinkling at her over the rim of his mug. "I just followed a recipe. It's not rocket science."

"It is. I've tried to bake before and it's always been a disaster."

"Why's that? No, wait. Let me guess." He gazes at her thoughtfully. "I bet… you get bored and stop reading the recipe. You just start adding whatever ingredients you want in random quantities, convinced you know exactly what you're doing because you're Olivia Pope, and how hard can it be?"

There's a pause. "Am I right?" he asks mischievously, clearly already aware that he is.

"No."

She says it in her most indignant voice, stunned that he knows her so well and embarrassed at being read so easily - and Fitz laughs out loud, tipping his head back. She can't help but admire his strong jaw, freshly-shaven neck and broad shoulders, wrapped tight beneath the wool of his black sweater - and she wants him. She wants to curl onto his lap and kiss his throat and breathe him in. She wants to be held and cherished and never released; his willing captive, forever.

"Oh sweet baby," he sighs, looking at her again across the table with so much love shining in his eyes. "You are adorable."

"Shut up."

"No. It's healthy for you to have weaknesses, to learn how failure feels sometimes."

He's teasing her, thoroughly enjoying himself, and she reluctantly lets a smile curve her lips. "I hate it," she admits.

"I know you do. But guess what? You can get better at baking. All you have to do is-"

"Find a handsome but very annoying boyfriend who can do it for me? Already did."

Fitz frowns. "I was going to say, read a recipe. But now you've insulted me, I don't think I want to talk to you anymore."

"I called you handsome!"

"And then 'very annoying'."

She shrugs. "It's the truth."

He reaches forward and takes away her plate. "No more cake for you."

"Hey! Give that back."

"No."

"Fitz!"

They stare each other out, both flirty and happy and teetering right on the edge of breaking down into laughter.

"Make your own," he suggests, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. He's showing off his body to her and Olivia forces herself not to look, not to let him win.

"The baby wants it," she counters. "Would you deny your unborn child?"

He raises his eyebrows. "My child's mother is really guilt-tripping me into feeding her cake?"

"Your child's mother has cravings beyond her control."

Something changes in Fitz's gaze. "I have cravings beyond my control." His voice is suddenly lower, full of unspoken promises - but Olivia hears them loud and clear, and her entire body reacts.

"Do you?"

She unfastens the belt of her robe and lets it fall open. She's wearing her white I heart London t-shirt without a bra and when his eyes fall automatically to her chest, her nipples harden further, tenting the thin material.

"Come here," he murmurs.

He doesn't need to ask twice.

She stands between his legs and his palms settle on her hips. He kisses her bump; trails his mouth lower, down over her pubic bone; gently bites on her clit through her plaid pajama pants, her underwear. It makes her moan and shiver from head to toe.

"Baby," he groans, squeezing her bottom. "You are so sexy."

"Even in my jammies?"

"Especially in your jammies."

They smile at one another. She bends down to kiss him, sliding her fingers into his soft curls.

"Let's go back to bed," he says, now massaging her boobs, flooding her with lust. He stands and takes her hand.

"Wait."

She turns away to eat another forkful of cake, because even though she has a different craving now, her first one hasn't been entirely satisfied. Fitz laughs; presses himself up against her back, his arm around her waist, lips close to her ear.

"You're seriously making me wait to have you, just so you can finish your breakfast?"

"Mm," she grins around a mouthful of heaven. "It's seriously good cake."

"I don't care."

He tugs her backwards, away from the table. She fights him, giggling even as she eats another piece and tries to reach her coffee.

"Fitz! Just a bit more."

"I can't," he says seriously. "I want you."

"You need to learn to have some patience."

He relents, letting her sip her drink but staying wrapped around her body. His warm hands delve beneath her t-shirt, her pants, making her tremble. It's about ten seconds until he's convinced her that even cake as good as this just isn't worth it.

"Okay. I'm ready now."

She squeals as he lifts her up, holding her beneath her shoulders and knees.

"I knew I'd convince you," he says, amused and aroused and absolutely gorgeous as he makes his way towards their bedroom. "You're so persuadable."

"You're so persuasive."

"I know."

He drops her onto the bed and she drags him down with her, kissing away his self-satisfied smirk. He tastes so delicious, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hard body surrounding her completely. They slowly divest one another of their clothes until she's left in her panties and he in his boxers and they've slipped beneath the covers to escape the cold, barely breaking apart for air. She writhes against him, so turned on by the luxury of all his bare skin on hers, by his rough chest hair on her nipples, by the helpless noises he makes in the back of his throat. Their hands find their way into each other's underwear and she strokes him up and down, his cock huge and smooth as silk in her palm as he curls his fingers inside her, sliding them up to her clit, drawing circles there. Flames roar, higher and louder and fiercer with each passing second.

Then he ducks his head and sucks her right nipple into his mouth and she cries out, reaching a new level of desire, a new peak. She's so close already, in that place she always wants to stay forever where every part of her feels so unbelievably good.

"Don't stop," she whimpers between loud moans that come in time with the undulations of their bodies, as his fingers and his tongue and everything about him brings her closer and closer towards oblivion. "I'm so… Fitz… Oh my god."

He captures her mouth with his, ravishing her as she falls - and it happens slowly, and doesn't stop for a long time. She rides his fingers, his body all the way, finally burying her face in his neck, weightless and mindless for several blissful moments.

"Fuck," she breathes eventually, her heart pounding against her ribs. "That was… incredible."

"Good."

She lifts her right leg over his hip, rolling him onto his back, straddling him. His erection pushes against her sensitive clit and sends shockwaves bursting through her, clenching all her muscles.

"Uhh," he sighs, watching her reaction through heavily-lidded eyes. "You are a goddess."

"I know."

She leans down, pressing her smiling lips to his.

"I need you to fuck me," he murmurs, gripping her ass tight and then slapping it, just hard enough to hurt. She groans as her core throbs again, hot and ready for more.

Always ready for more.

"Take off your pants."

They separate briefly, to get rid of their underwear; then she's scooting down the bed and welcoming him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him, loving the way it makes him tense and swear out loud. She watches him, desperate to please him the way he's pleased her; so in love with him it makes her chest hurt.

She tells him, as she's climbing up his body a minute later and sliding onto his cock, taking him so deep it steals her breath away.

"I love you."

He holds her hips and they both pause, adjusting to each other, to this feeling which is so well-known and yet still seems new every time.

"I love you too."

She kisses him again and he fucks her hard and fast, stretching her into an orgasm which makes her scream. He follows not long after, holding her tight, grunting against her skin.

"Baby."

She can't even reply; just brushes her fingertips over his arm, letting him know how much he rocked her world by her inability to function.

It feels like five minutes until they finally start to move, to draw apart and reach for tissues and make their way to the bathroom on shaky legs. It's the first time Olivia has ever peed in front of him and he comments on that fact, making her blush.

"I've never peed in front of any guy before," she confesses, smiling and feeling slightly embarrassed - although not as much as she thought she would. "Congratulations, Fitzy. You're my first."

"And your last, I hope," he says with a grin.

"Unless we have a boy."

"True."

After they've showered together, he takes their usual Sunday morning photos of her standing against the bedroom wall.

"So much bigger this week," she comments, looking at his phone and then down at her belly. "I feel like I'm about to pop any day now."

"Eating cake will definitely help with that," Fitz teases, earning himself a playful punch in the shoulder. "Ouch."

"That didn't hurt."

"No, it didn't. You're such a weakling."

And she wants to be mad at him, or at least pretend to be, but she can't because he's so damn charming and she is just head-over-heels for him.

"What now?" he asks, sliding his arms around her, keeping her warm. "Do you want to decorate the tree?"

That is her favorite part of the Christmas preparations. "Yes please!"

"Okay. God, you're so cute."

She closes her eyes and pouts her lips. He obliges her with a kiss straight away, lingering there, humming contentedly.

"Fitz?" she asks eventually, looking up at him.

"Yes, gorgeous?"

"Can I have another piece of cake? Please?"

His laughter warms her soul. "For the baby, right?"

"No, the first slice was for the baby…" She knows she's being cheeky, and she knows he absolutely adores her when she is. "This one's for me."


They sing along to all the festive classics while they adorn the tree with white lights, rose gold tinsel, black and gold baubles. They're all new decorations, ordered together online - a fresh start for them both. The only items she's kept from her past are ones from her childhood: a salt dough angel, roughly painted by her five-year-old self; a hand-stitched felt star, red with green buttons. There's a set of wooden toy soldiers which were her mom's from when she was little, and a small rocking horse which Olivia can remember choosing with her in Barneys one year. She tells Fitz the stories behind them all and she can almost feel her mother's presence, surrounding her with love.

Then she retrieves the gift bag she bought when out shopping with Abby, and hands it to him to open.

"What's this?"

"An early present for you. Well, for us, really."

It's a set of three small bird ornaments, patterned in black, silver and gold. Two are larger than the third - the baby of the family.

"I love them," Fitz says, pulling her into a hug. "God, I'm so excited about the coming year. I can't wait to see what life throws our way."

"Hopefully nothing but a smooth pregnancy, a two-hour, pain-free labor and a beautiful, healthy baby at the end of it."

He blinks. "Wow. It just became real."

"What did?"

"The fact that one day, we'll get to hold our baby. To bring them home. That they won't just be a bump in your tummy but a wriggly, soft little baby. Part of you and me." He looks amazed. "Sorry. It's just hit me all over again."

"I know," she says quietly, leaning into him. "It happens all the time to me too. It's so hard to imagine, and yet I want to meet him or her more than anything. I want to be a mommy so badly."

That feeling has been building ever since she made the decision to go ahead with her pregnancy, but she hasn't verbalized it until now. Part of her has been too scared to, just in case something goes wrong; in case her whole world is shattered. Until she has her child in her arms, she knows nothing is certain.

"You will be," Fitz says, his voice full of confidence, and it's exactly what she needs - almost as if he knew what was going through her mind. Looking into his eyes, she realizes he did. "You're young and healthy and growing every day. You're going to be fine. Both of you."

She takes a deep breath, willing away tears. "I know. Thank you. It's just… overwhelming, sometimes. I love this tiny little thing inside of me so much. It's kind of ridiculous, really."

"No it's not. It's completely natural."

"My hormones, I guess."

"Exactly."

She glances down, her palm absent-mindedly resting on her abdomen.

"Stay there," Fitz says suddenly. "Don't move. I need to take a picture of you, because you look so beautiful right now."

He captures her in front of the tree, with the lights twinkling and her hands curled protectively around her bump and her dark eyes overflowing with love.

It leaves him speechless, but she can read exactly what he's thinking in his gaze:

If I wasn't already married, I would be proposing to you right now.

And she silently tells him what her answer would be, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips:

Yes. A million times yes.