To say Fitzgerald Grant had to have Olivia Pope, in every way possible was the understatement. He needed her. Looking at her was like Christmas, his birthday and election night wrapped in one. How attractive was she? He stood like an idiot, listening to her tear his administration to shreds for a solid two minutes before working up the courage to greet her properly.

He could not see her face when he had walked into Cyrus's office, but the arch in her back, her slight, yet curvaceous frame and glossy black waves, pinned up in a sophisticated up do was all he needed to know. After all, Cyrus had spent years bragging about her like she was his daughter. He even had a picture of her the day of her law school graduation on his desk.

The person in that picture was a bright eyed girl with a wide smile and a very big halo of ebony coils. She looked way younger than her 24 years in that photo, almost like a teenager. But the impassioned woman who had whipped around now, years later was all women. It was as though she had gotten better with age, radiating an air of self-assurance and power (although she had been rather embarrassed for insulting him).

But the caveat, it was her voice. It was raspy and very similar to that of Lauren Bacall's, his childhood crush, which was so not how he imagined her to sound. He imagined her to have a high pitched voice, one that matched her petite form, one that was almost childlike and prepubescent. But the smoky and sensual sound of her voice, one that he was sure had been the result of cigarettes, (he was a former smoker himself) was such a turn on. It was undeniably sexy.

The affect that it had on her was awe-inspiring. Ever since Mellie...he had a difficult time looking at other women. They had been college sweethearts, married for years. The tragedy of her death had numbed him, turning him off to the notion women, sex or even dating. He had been celibate for four years, focusing on nothing but the office of the Presidency and raising his two children. He had found solace in religion, prayer and therapy. But to be attracted to a woman the way he was attracted to Olivia was strange. But he could not help but indulge. As she stood before him, in a steel grey vest and pencil skirt combo, she was irresistible. And the fact that she was adorably rambling through an apology did nothing to help tamper the burning in his loins.

"…and further more I sincerely apologize if you thought I was implying that you, or your administration was responsible for funding terrorist-" Fitz laughed. The fact that she was so worried about offending him was cute.

"Relax, Olivia, I can call you Olivia?"

She nodded biting her lip. I wonder….

"For the last time, it's quite alright. I'm more concerned about you. You seem to have a very chronic addiction." He said with a straight face. He had to loosen her up.

Her coin-round eyes widened even further, her lips parted with a look of horror.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. President! I will have you know I have no such thing!"

Fitz felt the side of his mouth twitch with laughter. He coughed into a balled fist to mask his smile.

"Relax, the first step to admitting to a chronic addiction to apologizing is to admit you have a problem." And with that he smiled. Olivia's face morphed slowly from offended to relief. She rolled her eyes and smirked.

"That was kind of corny." She said cocking her eyebrow. Fitz shrugged.

"Anything to get you to shut up."

"So you admit, you want me to shut up, Mr. President, whatever would people think when they hear not only do you help fund terrorists, you're a sexist pig." She said playfully. There was a twinkle in her eyes…almost as if she were challenging him. Good, an opening to flirt.

He laughed at her joke and shook his head. "Well, only two of those things are true." He winked at her. Fitz felt rather pleased with himself when he she blushed deeply. He still had the moves.

"But seriously, Mr. President, I'm genuinely concerned about your-"

But before Olivia could switch back to professional gear, before she could switch back, Fitz blurted out the only thing his brain could think about. He wanted to see her outside of this element. Outside of the confines and watchful eye of the West Wing. He wanted to get to know her. Maybe she would never give in to his physical wants. That was fine. But he needed to be in her presence outside of a policy discussion confined to the Oval office.

"Have dinner with me." He said with force. Her left eye twitched as though her face had physically manifested her brain processing this information.

"Wha-What?" she sputtered, but Fitz acted purely on instinct. Crazy sex-obsessed instinct that involved him staring intently at her full pink lips. He wandered closer to her, invading her space.

"Mr. President, what are you-"But before she could inquire any further, he placed a finger on her lips. They were just as soft as they looked.

"Have dinner with me. We can talk further about the environment, and things, and other things." He said smoothly. He allowed his finger to trace the outline of her lips. Her eyelashes were aflutter and her breathing had labored. She clearly was affected by his advances.

She stepped back, breathing heavily and staring at him. Her eyes were glazed over and her lids where hooded. So it was perfectly understandable that Fitz was shocked when she smacked him across the face. It was an open hand, hard stinging smack. The kind one saw in the movies….

"Ow!" Fitz exclaimed, as Olivia grimaced at him.

"You pig! You think you can just detract me with your charming smile, and your good well-mossed hair!" She screamed incredulously. Fitz stood aghast. He thought this was mutual

"What, no! That's not-"

"Save it. You and your administration can go to hell, and oh! The next time you decide to come on to me, as a means to detract me from defending the good of the people and the environment, I will have my Jimmy Choo so far up your ass-"

"First of all, my hair is not mossed, it's gelled and-"

"…SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, YOU WILL HAVE MY HEEL FOR A TONGUE." She raced out of the Oval Office so fast, Fitz's head almost spun. He did not even bother chasing after her.

She was a stubborn one. Fitz thought as he gingerly rubbed his swollen cheek. But for the oddest reason, he liked it.

"Abby, it's not funny!" Olivia said annoyed. She was sitting behind the island in her kitchen, emptying a bottle of tequila with her best friend and old college roommate, Abby Whelan. The lithe red head was doubled, over hysterical with laughter as Olivia relayed her disastrous meeting at the White House. It had been a completely cathartic to unload about how pig-headed ever one was. That was of course until she got to the part where the President had tried to hit on her.

Olivia rolled her eyes as she poured more tequila into her shot glass and knocked it back, allowing the cold liquor to dance about in her mouth a bit before it made its way down her throat.

"Yes…it…is…ha…smacked!" Abby choked out.

"You know you're face matches your hair right now?" Olivia said with snark. Abby began to regain her barring.

"Okay, okay, so it isn't entirely, funny but come on, Liv! Why not entertain the guy?" Abby ran a hand through her hair.

Olivia rolled her eyes. She knew men like Fitz. Powerful, older…and rich. She had worked with them in the corporate realm for years. And they all gave off the same vibe. Way too forward and hungering for a young, exotic plaything. She was a serious woman, with an impeccable reputation. And she was not going to sully it by being…well, she was not sure what the President wanted her to be exactly. She had smacked him before she could find out.

"Because, I've been down this road. They are all the same. First it's the flirting, then they start calling-"But before Olivia could rant anymore, her dying Blackberry Curve chimed. She and Abby exchanged bemused looks. A crazy thought ran through her mind. But it was impossible. He would not dare…..

"Pick it up, or I will!" Abby said excited. "I bet it is him."

"It is not! It's probably Janice calling to fire me for being a complete ass-"

"Pick it up!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"NO, I'm not going-"But Abby picked up the phone. Olivia ran around the kitchen island and grabbed the phone out of her friends grasp. Abby started laughing so hard, Olivia could barely hear the muffled voice on the phone.

"Shut up!" Olivia said smiling. It was an unknown number.

"What?" The deep voice asked.

Olivia smacked her forehead with frustration. Of course it would be him. I have the worse luck.

Abby began jumping up and down, clapping her hands. Olivia shot her a look.

"Sorry, I did not mean you. Who is this?" she asked nervously, already knowing the answer to her question.

He chuckled softly. Very sexy…dear god, why?

"You know who this is. But I guess I that is why you told me to shut up? You know, you are quite the aggressive one, Olivia Pope."

Olivia blushed. She ran out of the kitchen and into her bathroom, locking the door. She could not have Abby acting ridiculous while she was talking to the Commander in Chief.

"How do I know this is really who I think it is?"

"Because I cannot stop trying to figure out how a woman that small packs such a powerful smack. I'm scared of what your punches must be like."

"Ha!" she guffawed. She sounded so dorky. "How did you get my number? FBI, Internal Revenue, but I guess these days, hey, what's habeas corpus, you can just tap phones right?"

She could practically hear him smiling over the phone.

"I could do that, I could, but there is a more fool proof method."

"Oh yeah, what?"

He chuckled again. "I got it from Cyrus."

Olivia smacked her forehead again. She felt so stupid. Why was she so defensive with him? She normally got along with men really well? When did she turn into a freaking Terry McMillan character?

"Right, of course. But I will have you know I am not going to apologize this time around. The smack was well deserved." She said forcefully, pacing back and forth on the cold tile. She could here Abby's footsteps out the doorway. She was probably listening in.

"I don't doubt that. I'm sorry I came across as really forward. But can you blame me?" he said softly. He sounded truly sorry. Embarrassed even. Olivia felt her heart flutter.

"That's not for me to decide. Why are you calling me? And is this even safe?" Olivia asked breathing heavily.

"Yes, I have a private cell phone number for-"

"…apologizing to women before they sue you for sexual harassment?" Olivia interrupted sarcastically.

"Ha, ha very funny. But the reason why I'm calling you is to follow up on that offer. Whether you believe it or not, my intentions were good." Olivia allowed for a moment of silence to pass between them. For starters, she had to compose herself. If she paced back and forth anymore, she would wear down the marble in her bathroom. She sat down on the edge of the clawed foot bath tube. And secondly, she needed to really thing about it this.

What if Abby was right? What could it hurt? It is not like she had to marry the guy. Hell, it was not a marriage proposition. It could just be a policy discussion. She would negotiate the terms so he would not get any funny ideas. But her gut was telling her she had no reason to be concerned. The sound of genuine regret was palpable.

"Sure, what's to talk about?" she asked cautiously, tapping her foot.

"You, me, dinner. Do you have a preference?" He asked kindly. Gosh he was so sure of himself.

She giggled nervously. "Well, I mean…I like Chinese."

"Fine, it's settled, this Friday, 6pm. I'll take care of the rest. There will be a black Lincoln Navigator SUV situated outside of your place of residence on the dot. You will be escorted by Hal, big fella, blond hair and freckles, kind of scary. And the rest will be handled upon arrival. By the way, how good are you at Nintendo Wii?"

The whole thing was surreal. A joke. Probably a dream brought on by too much drinking, too much work and not enough sleep. The most powerful man in the world was asking her on what could only be described as a date?

"Umm…I dabble. Is this a date?" Olivia asked confused.

"Its…whatever you want it to be. Luckily my kids are away for the weekend so this should not be a problem."

Olivia was offended. What did he mean by that?

"With all due respect sir, what does that have to do with our…dinner?"

He laughed. "I'm sorry I did not mean that the way it sounded. I meant so I could borrow the Wii. Not to mention, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. My kids are a handful sometimes."

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. Of course! Why didn't she think about the kids?

"Oh. Okay. Well, if that's the case, then 6pm it is."

"Great, I'll-"But before he could respond, her cell phone vibrated violently. The battery died.

Great, just great. Now he would think she was a bitch. Well he already thinks that Liv, you smacked the shit out of him.

She could just...no she could not. How was she going to call him back. Cyrus maybe? But no, that would be too weird. Olivia hung her head in defeat and made her way to the door. As she opened the door, Abby squealed, giving her a hug.

"It's a date!" she said excitedly.

"Gee, thanks for the privacy bestie?" Olivia said amused and conflicted at the same time.

"So what are you going to wear?" Abby asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

Olivia pondered the question. What does one wear when going on a date with the President of the United States?