"So you and Olivia are having dinner?" Cyrus asked curiously. It was late Thursday night. One of those days that flew by so fast that Fitz could not conceptualize time. He had been in and out of briefings, meetings and met with his speechwriters to work on an address he would be giving at a solar panel factory in a few weeks. He was so wired that he could not tune down. So what did a game of pool in the residence with his Chief of Staff hurt?

Another reason he was so wired was in a matter of hours, he would be on a date with Olivia Pope. He was giddy with excitement. So much so that he could not help but tell Cyrus.

"Yup." Fitz said smiling widely, hitting a series of billiards successful into their respected holes. He was in such a good mood, his pool game was better than ever. But Cyrus was hardly jumping for joy when he had shared the news. And it was understandable. Cyrus was a serious workaholic who saw Fitz as a bill passing machine. Any sense of distraction, even from a former pupil of his was discouraged. His large face, round and dour was etched with worry.

"Mr. President, are you sure it is a good idea? I mean how did this even come about?" he asked hesitantly striking a ball, but missing his mark.

"Well, she smacked me, I sexually harassed her, you know the normal kind of stuff. I've been out of the dating game for a while, what do you think? Did I do a good job my first time in?" Fitz said smirking. Cyrus cocked a slivery grey eyebrow, looking amused.

"It sounds kinky, I'll give you that but what do you mean-"

Fitz interrupted him, laughing. He knew Cyrus, and Cyrus was a worrier. He was immediately thinking the very worse.

"Relax, Machiavelli, we don't have a Paula Jones on our hands." Fitz said as he began shaving the end of his dull pool stick.

"Good." Cyrus said sternly. "Because we have this immigration bill coming up soon. The Dream Act is not going to just sail through. The loony bin caucus will already have your ass for the EEI bill. Green jobs, though good is still thought to be a liberal pipe dream according to the polls.

"Cy, I know that already. Why are you reiterating all that?" Fitz asked confused. The warning tone in his voice was inescapable.

Cyrus sighed, leaning heavily onto the pool table.

"Mr. President, Olivia is-"

"I know, I know, like a daughter to you, thanks Dad. Now is this the part where you give me the safe sex talk?" Fitz joked.

Cyrus rolled his electric blue eyes while shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Mr. President, I'm not joking. Olivia Pope, regardless of my personal affinity for her is first and foremost, a lobbyist." He said gravely.

Fitz was perplexed. What does this have to do with his date? "Cyrus, I'm aware of what she does for a living, for God sake, you would not shut up about it and the rest of her accomplishments for years."

"Yeah, well, you should also know that lobbyists are among some of the most disliked professionals, alongside used car sales men and telemarketers. And I'm just concerned about what the visual of the President of the United States literally being in bed with a lobbyist would do to you politically." He says quietly.

Fitz rolled his eyes. Sure, Cyrus had a point. But then again, there was no precedent really for a widowed President dating. Well there was Wilson, but he did not date in the age of YouTube, Facebook and online blogging. Then again, he was not really dating Olivia Pope, not yet at least. She was a bright woman, with an important job who wanted to talk policy for all he knew. As attractive as he thought she was, he was not exactly sure she felt the same way about him. For all he knew, this could go nowhere.

But here's hoping it does go somewhere. He thought as he pondered, placing his pool stick down and rubbing his chin.

"So you are saying that I should be careful because I could be seen as a lobbying romancing lothario?" Fitz asked confused.

"No." Cyrus said seriously, his face overcome with sadness. "I'm afraid Liv will be maligned as being an influence peddling lobbyist, literally whoring herself out to the most powerful man in the world for favors. She's a beautiful woman, young, smart with a history of working with powerful men. And never once has she been smeared personally. And to think what could happen to her if she is involved with you, would kill me. Her love life is and has been impeccable. And she's a saint. So you better keep it that way."

Fitz nodded. He understood where Cyrus was coming from. He would never want that to happen to Olivia either.

"Cyrus, believe me. You have my word. Olivia's honor will be protected by me."

Olivia had spent hours that week contemplating on what to wear. She had settled with a snug black cashmere turtleneck, her favorite Levi skinny jeans and leather riding boots. It was casual, yet chic. She had accessorized with a black Ralph Lauren blazer and a brown satchel. She had pulled her hair back into a high sleek bun and had worn very little make up.

Standing in the expansive elevator, staring at her reflection in the shiny walls made her feel even more nervous. What if she was well, overdressed, spoke too much? drank too much?

"The President will be with you in approximately five minutes, he's attending to delicate matters." The Secret Service agent said in an urgent voice. Olivia smiled. She could not say there were many dates she had been on where security detail made excuses for lateness.

Hopefully, that was a good sign.

"Can you share what he might be up to?" Olivia joked to the large man. He smiled kindly at her and shook his head.

"No ma'am." He said.

"Right" Olivia nodded. The silence continued to linger as the elevator hummed along. It was incredibly awkward. But then again, being picked up by a government car, escorted by Secret Service agents into the White House and led into the elevator that takes one into the residence was hardly a walk in the park. She felt as if she was in a James Bond movie.

The elevator finally opened, revealing the expansive yellow Oval Room. She had been in this room years ago, as a child. It caused a rush of nostalgia to overcome her. The plush crème carpets, the egg shell colored furniture and the beautiful view of Washington's monument from the Truman balcony were still the same.

"Have a seat ma'am, the President will be here shortly." Her agent said. She smiled and walked out of the elevator.

She had expected the agent to stay with her, but he stayed in the elevator. Olivia breathed a deep sigh and walked over to the French doors. She could not resist the view of the night sky, midnight blue and dotted with bright stars…

But before she could actually open the door, she heard a scratchy noise meet her ears. It was almost like clawing. She turned around to see a beautiful Golden retriever running toward her. For a moment, she panicked. After all, this was a foreign dog that she was not familiar with. But when the dog started sniffing her shoes and looking at her with his big, inky black eyes, she melted. It was too cute.

"Hey, boy, where's the big guy?" Olivia cooed, bending down to pet the dog's silky blonde mane.

"He's right here." President Grant said friendly, walking over to Olivia. Olivia felt her stomach do a backflip. He was wearing dark blue jeans with a black North face fleece. It was odd seeing him so casual. Yet he still seemed so handsome. Even more so than he had been a suit.

"Mr. President." Olivia said brightly, standing up to extend a friendly hand. But he ignored her hand and embraced her warmly.

My god he smells so good. Olivia thought. His body was firm and warm. She could barely contain herself. So much so that she started giggling like an idiot.

"Liv, how are you." He said, smiling widely. "Wow, you look incredible!" He observed. Olivia bit her lip and blushed heavily. Damn those sparkling stones of sexiness.

"Um…Thanks. I'm….you know, busy, busy and busy. How about you Mr. President?" she asked politely. It felt odd, standing there making small talk, knowing that 72 hours earlier, they were standing in the very formal Oval office where she had smacked the life out of him.

"Recovering from my cheek injury." He said cheekily, his eyes sparkling. Olivia felt her skin heat up with embarrassment. But he smiled widely, motioning for her toward the balcony. He opened the doors, unleashing a beautiful sight. There were two comfy looking chintzy chairs, with a woven table groaning under delicious platters of Chinese food. There was a bottle of wine, two glasses and candles. The crisp fall air was just the right temperature. The whole thing felt so…romantic.

"Wow." Olivia whispered as she followed him out onto the balcony. He had a seat, studying her carefully. Okay, this man was officially perfect.

"So I take it you like the view?" he said flirtatiously. Olivia sat down opposite him, getting comfortable and removing her satchel. The golden retriever was the only thing making noise, panting excitedly as Fitz stroked him.

"Yeah, the balcony is gorgeous" Olivia said trying to maintain some sense of sanity. But looking at him, it was so very hard not to.

"Sure, the balcony." He said. The dog barked as if agreeing with his owner.

Who did this guy think he was? They maintained a very intense gaze, with nothing but silence. Olivia could feel herself giving into the certain je ne sais quoi Janice had shuddered at. Her body relaxed, her nerves were in kinetic overload. His effect on her was otherworldly.

"How about we start eating before the food gets cold." He offered kindly. But there was a playful glimmer in his eye. And a very slight emphasis on the word "eat." His smile was mischievous. It was though it said: I'm up for it if you are.

Eat they did. Thanks to good wine, too much food and the loveliness of her surroundings, Olivia had finally been able to converse with the President. They had a lovely time, talking about art, history, politics and everything but the environment.

Screw the environment. Olivia thought as she poured her fifth glass of wine while Fitz did his Christopher Walken impersonation, causing her to laugh so hard, she almost had wine come out her nose. He was funny, sarcastic and self-deprecating with an almost childlike wonder of the world.

He was a romantic, loving impressionist paintings, jazz and English literature. His favorite subject in history was studying the golden age of the Greeks. He loved the classics. Aristotle, Socrates and Plato.

He was surprised by her cynicism. Was fascinated by how well traveled he she was. She shared her love of 60's rock, Jimi Hendrix, and reading about the fall of the Roman Empire. They were opposites in so many ways but they worked. Playful touches, sexy glances and flirtatious smiles littered their time together. And it was driving Olivia crazy. By her sixth glass and Don (he had named his golden retriever after Don Corleone his favorite movie character) had gone inside, she had decided. She wanted to bed Fitzgerald Grant. There was no two ways about it. The pull that she felt toward him wad undeniable and she was crazy to let the opportunity slip away.

"So, wait, you woke up naked?" She giggled, as he told a crazy story about his college years.

He laughed heartedly. "Yeah, I was so high, I just passed out. I don't know exactly what I did but all I remember was waking up naked!"

Olivia laughed so hard her stomach hurt.

"Okay." She slurred slightly. "The craziest high I had was when I was in law school. I just took the Bar, and my girls and I thought, why not? So we score a bag from these guys from BU, next thing I know, I'm eating my whole fridge." She said smiling as she fiddled with his zipper on his fleece. She was now sitting on the arm of his chair. His hand was resting softly on her thigh. He laughed so hard, his face had begun turning beet red. The sight of him so happy made her feel oddly warm inside. Or maybe that was the wine.

"You were crazy. Are you still that crazy?" he asked flirtatiously, leaning towards her. He being to close was too much. The look in his eye,the intoxicating cologne was too much. She could not focus. So she did the only thing her body had been craving for.

She leaned in even closer, whispering against his lips. "Oh, yeah, I'm pretty fucking wild."

"Show me." He whispered back. Their lips were so close yet so far. Teasingly taunting.

I need this. Olivia thought as she kissed him tenderly. In that moment, that sweet moment, her body came alive. She was floating. Maybe it was the wine, maybe the candles and the stars, but whatever it was it was the most alive she had ever felt. The kiss deepened as she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth. He moaned deeply as she softly nibbled on his bottom lip. But before they could get any further, he pulled away, his face overcome with lust.

"Mr. President. I'm so-"

"Call me Fitz." He said unevenly, as he tried to regain his composure." And please do not apologize. I…I've been waiting to do that." He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his large hand. Olivia did not care anymore. She had to have him.

"Okay, Fitz. So if you don't want me to apologize, what do you want me to do?" She said standing up and taking his hand, as she led them into the yellow room. But he grabbed her and locked her in an impassioned kiss once again. His hands squeezed her waist as her hands glided through his silky curls. They could not stop. And did not stop until they reached his bedroom.

When he had finally entered her, she felt as though she had fallen apart. She had come undone. Olivia Pope, mind, body and spirit belong to this man. No longer was he the President of the United States. No, he was her lover. And a good lover he was. It was strange to think that he had confessed to her embarrassed, that he had not had sex in years. Because from the way he touched, kissed, licked and caressed her, it felt like quite the opposite.

They fit, like two pieces, built for each other. Getting lost in the haze of their drunkenness, lust and whatever other feelings they might have been developing.

"Mm…" he moaned into the crux of her neck. The feel of him moving slowly, agonizingly in her was sweet torture. To be that full, that satisfied by the slightest motions of his hips were breath taking.

"Uh!" Olivia groaned softly in his ear. "You feel so good." He laid gentle kisses on her neck, sucking her most sensitive spots.

She did not care that she barely knew him, she did not care that he was the President. All she knew was the feelings and sensations she was feeling did not come along all that often. And it was a good thing they had taken advantage while they could.