"Hi," he says as he presses his thumbs into his sleepy eyes.

"Hi," she smiles back, before returning her attention to the frying pan. Se tries to focus on the thin crust that is forming around the edges of the pancake and turning caramel, on the small air bubbles that burst because of the heat, on the the smell of vanilla and molten chocolate. She tries to focus on that, to overwhelm her senses by the mundane, because the alternative is looking at him – in all his morning glory, and that, that would be a very bad idea. She already knows – the way he struts when he walks, his shoulders moving with the firm steps; and his abs, they way they're just there, everywhere, so in-your-face flawless; and the tent in his sweatpants – the way it just looks at her, teasing, inviting. Oh, no, she already knows, she has dreams about it, and then wakes up to the unsated reality.

"Morning," He says in that husky tone that makes the very core of her being pulsate with overwhelming heat.

Focus. Pancake. Frying pan. Flip. "Morning." She whimpers out as he wraps his arms around her midsection and pulls her flush against his body, his hardness pressed into her back. She can feel it twitching through the thin fabric of the NAVY shirt that is covering her bare body. He drags his tongue along the ridge of her ear, as his hand traces a feather-light line from her navel, to her tender breasts. She moans as his fingers twist her hardened nipple and his teeth scrape the soft skin of her neck. She grinds against him and he grunts, as his teeth dig deeper into the heated flesh on her shoulder. "Fitz…" And it's weak, a whisper, a breath she lets out as his other hand cups her center.

"I'm tired of waiting." He whispers coarsely in her ear, and the rawness of his voice makes her shiver; the carnality of his tone; the hunger.

"We said…" She manages to get out between thready breaths, as she grinds against his pulsing member and his large hand – the sensation almost too good to bear.

"No… You said…" And he pinches her nipple.

"Oh god…" And she digs her nails into his arm, as incoherent words stumble from her lips, between hurried breaths and soft moans. "We." And he plays with the hem of her underwear. "Should." Her head is falling back on his chest as he drags his finger slowly against her dripping slit. "Wait." And she thrusts her hips, trying to get him to move his thumb just… a… little… bit… "Oh god."

"I knew you two were screwing each other." And it's like an ice cold shower. His hands are leaving her body, and she's stepping out of his embrace instantly. Her cheeks are flushed, a shade he hasn't seen yet; and he is staring at the wall, trying to get the problem in his pants to deflate. "Makes sense. I mean there's no way Fitzgerald would have stayed… left the company and his family behind, unless he was getting some." And that does the trick, the rising anger replacing all other thoughts and sensations coursing through his mind and body.

"Dad." He says with an icy smile as he turns around. He wants to walk over to her, to take her hand, and kiss it – kiss the inside of her wrist and tell her; let her know – that what he's saying isn't true. Make her see, believe that they're more than that. Because she wanted to wait, she wanted them to wait until their first date; which means that somewhere, deep inside, she still doesn't trust him – not completely; not that she's the one and he isn't fooling around. But she's avoiding eye contact as she furiously scrubs the burnt pan. "When did you-"

"Last night. Surprised Olivia didn't tell you." He says in a deep voice, almost honey-soft. But he knows better, he knows that tone.

"I didn't… I came back late. And we don't… we're not." Two minutes with the man and he is ten again; hiding behind Teddy – drowning in the irrational guilt.

"Big Gerry, coffee?" She asks, gingerly, trying to defuse the tension in the room.

"Don't mind if I do dear." She just nods, and reaches for the mugs in the cupboard, her shirt hiking up, exposing her underwear and a side of her flat stomach. And his father gulps, his eyes taking in the exposed skin; and he can feel his pressure rising, his blood boiling. And he can tell she's noticed, because she pulls the hem of her shirt down, awkwardly with her free hand, and she looks at the floor, blushing, her lip quivering.

"I'll get the coffee." He says, and walks over to her, taking the mugs out of her hand, and she just nods, giving him a weak smile.

"I'll go shower." And he can tell; he can see it in her eyes – she feels dirty; he made her feel dirty. And in that moment – he hates him.

He pours the coffee, and shoves the mug into his father's hands, before heading to her room. "Liv insisted we invite you, because today will be… will be hell for Lynn. And she thought it would be good for her to have family around. So I agreed. But pull any of your usual crap, and you're gone."

His father just smirks, and takes a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee. "Are you sure you can threaten me? It's her place after all. That she is paying for. With the money that she's earning." He always did know how to get to him. Just what buttons to push, which ones hurt, and which ones sting, and which ones leave the bitter aftertaste. He just nods his head, and walks away – he's gotten so good at that.

He knocks on her bathroom door softly and he can hear the shuffling on the other side, and he knows, he just knows she's cried and she's trying to hide it and it breaks his heart – he didn't protect her. "Liv, open up."

"Just a sec." She calls out in a shaky voice. He doesn't wait he just opens the door. She left it unlocked. And he wants to believe that she wanted him to come in, she left it for him; but there is always that dark corner of his mind filled with doubt – maybe, maybe she just forgot. She looks up, her eyes bloody, as she wipes the tears away with her wet hands, then lets the cool water wash them away.

"I'm sorry." He says, with a crack in his voice. "He's an ass Liv… He just…"

"No. No, this isn't your fault." She says as she drops the towel she was drying her face off with. "I should have known better. I should have… He came in last night, and it was late and I set him up in the guest room, and I was going to wait up, but then I fell asleep. And I should have known better this morning. I should have, but I just… You were in my head, and everywhere, and I just… everything else just faded. I'm sorry. I should have known better."

He just stares at her incredulously, as she says it all in one breath, barely blinking. He steps closer to her and takes her face in his hands, brushing his thumb along her lower lash line. "This is your home. You didn't do anything wrong. He just… he's an assLiv, and he's trying to find ways to get to me. And he's figured out that you're my Achilles' heel."

"I am?" She asks with a small smile, tilting her head in his hands.

"Yeah." He says, as his lips brush against hers. And he trails his hands down her body, until he's grabbing the hem of her shirt, and pulling it over her head.

"We shouldn't…" She says weakly, as she shivers under the tenderness of his touch.

"We won't… But I got interrupted." And with that he's lowering himself on his knees, running his fingertips along the back of her legs. He inhales her scent, as he hooks his fingers through the sides of her drenched underwear. "You smell so good baby…" She just lets a moan in response, and leans against the sink, as he throws her leg over his broad shoulder. The first lick is long, deliberate, meant to make her eyes roll back in her head as her fingers thread through his hair. And then he's nibbling, and sucking, as his fingers tease her opening. And she's trying to thrust her hips, but his hand is keeping her in place, and all she can do is plead for sweet release. But he stops andblows cool air along her slit, sending chills through her heated body. And then his fingers are sliding into her heat, and she is so wet, and so sweet – and he knows, without a shadow of the doubt, that this, this is for him. And he hits her spot, andsucks her swollen bud into his mouth. And her legs are weak, but he holds her up. He picks up his tempo, and she's shaking, losing control of her body. And it starts from the very pit of her stomach, and her muscles clench around his thick fingers as the waves of painful pleasure spread through her body – it feels like abyss; like disappearing; the lightness that comes with release. And he keeps going, until she stills, until the whispers of his name are replaced by her ragged breaths. He lowers her leg, and kisses his way up her body. He licks her essence off his fingers, and she watches him, biting her bottom lip. She wraps her limp arm around his neck, her fingers lost in his hair, and kisses him – her tongue tasting her sweetness in his mouth. And he can feel her hand travel down to his body, and she's massaging him.

"Livvie…" She stops and looks at him, questioning. "We should wait. You wanted to wait…"

"I was wrong." She says, as her hand plays with his waistband. "I want this no-" But she stops as an excited squeal echoes through the house. She drops her head on his chest, letting out an exasperated, "She's up."

"She is." He chuckles, "and it's her birthday, so one of us should at least go out there."

"What will you do with…" And she looks at his crotch, licking her lips. "I could sort that out for you." She says gingerly. "I promise to make it quick."

"You can't say stuff like that to me, not when you're naked and I can still taste you in my mouth." And she smirks as she feels his erection get harder under her hand. But then there's a loud crash in the kitchen, and they both roll their eyes, as they break apart. He inhales deeply, trying to think of anything, anything to calm down, but all he can think about is her, naked in the shower. "Fitzgerald!" A man growls, and again, that does the trick. Instantly, as the iciness washes over him, the evidence of his arousal disappears.

He washes his hands and splashes some cool water on his face; grabbing the NAVY T-shirt he took off of her, and putting it on.

"Where's the birthday girl?" He yells as he enters the room, and she runs towards him, throwing herself in his arms. He lifts her up, as he tickles her sides. And she laughs, the laughter drowning out the charged silence.

"Do I look older?" She asks, as she re-adjusts her tiara.

"Let me see…" And he leans back, squinting, pretending to inspect her face. "Most definitely." And she giggles. "I think your nose, your nose has definitely grown."

And he pinches it. She swats his hand away, giggling. "No, Fitz!"

"And your ears. Your ears have definitely gotten bigger." And he tickles her behind her ears. "And what's three times four"

She thinks for a moment, furrowing her brows and biting her lip. "Twelve!" She exclaims triumphantly as she twists a strand of her long red hair.

"Yep. Your brain definitely got bigger as well."

"It did not. Brains can't grow!"

"How do you think it got to the size it is now?" He asks, with a wide smile, as he lowers her on to the stool at the kitchen island.

"It grew." She laughs. "What do you think grandpa?"

And it reminds him of his presence. He looks up and is startled by the expression on the man's face. It's something, almost akin to… tenderness. But then he shakes it off, the familiar sternness creeping in. "I think that the size of a brain has no bearing on a person's intelligence." And she just looks at him, confused and unsure, but gives him a weak smile, hopeful reassurance. Fitz just kisses the top of her head, poking his eye on the top of the tiara, as he drops a plate of pancakes in front of her.

"Ouch." And he rubs his eye, but she moves his hand away and kisses it for him.

"Where's Liv?"

"Showering. She'll be done in-"

"Where's the birthday girl?" She yells, as she runs towards her, with a wide grin. She picks her up from the stool and spins her around. "Happy birthday baby girl." She says as she kisses her cheek tenderly, and runs her slender fingers though the girl's long hair.

"Thanks! Do I look older?"

"Let me see…" And she does the same move he did, and then…"Well your ears definitely seem bigger." And he smiles – in that moment, despite everything, he is happy.

"Did you two decide to tease me?" She asks pouting, and Liv looks at him quizzically.

"I said the same thing." And she smiles back at him, temporarily lost in his love; in his eyes.

"Nope." She finally says, as she lowers Lynn back into the chair, "I guess we're just in sync."

"Yeah, you breathe in sync." She says as she bites into her pancake.

"What?" They both ask, sitting on either side of her.

"The other day, when you fell asleep on the sofa, while we were watching The Parent Trap-"

"For the fiftieth time." He mutters under his breath, and Liv giggles, but the girl continues, oblivious.

"And you fell asleep, and your chests were rising and falling at the same time; you were breathing the same. Amber's dad's girlfriend-"

"Let's not ruin this story." Fitz says with a wide grin. "I'll go get ready, and then we need to decorate." And he kisses both their temples, his lips lingering on Liv's skin. He passes his father, who is standing in the doorway – broad shouldered and proud, tall. Teddy looked a lot more like him, the same physique, the same voice – except in Teddy's the warmth, the sweetness, it was genuine, not threatening. He pauses and looks into his eyes, haunted shadows behind the cerulean. "I miss him too dad." The man just looks away, and he walks away. He needed to say it, and he wants to believe, that somewhere, deep down, his father needed to hear it.

They decorate the entire apartment. Unicorn theme. Balloons, and a Unicorn piñata filled with skittles; colorful cupcakes that taste like heaven. And the party is a success. The kids love it, and the parents become fun enough after a couple of glasses of champagne. Lynn seems happy, determined to be happy – and the conscious determination is heart-breaking, but also hopeful. Her resilience, it makes him feel like they're doing something right; her smile, the laugh that echoes and melts hearts – it makes him feel like they're not failing. It would make Teddy happy. So, infinitely happy.

"Hi." He says as he enters the kitchen, a large trash bag in his hand. She's putting the food away in semi-darkness.

She looks up and smiles, "Hi."

"This is all." He says, somewhat unnecessarily and she just nods, her eyes focused on the cupcakes that she's sorting. "Today was a smashing success." He says as he leans his back against the counter, dropping the bag to the floor.

"It was." She says quietly, still avoiding looking at him.

"I feel guilty." And she finally looks up, stilling her hands.

"Fitz…" She says softly.

"This should be them. They should be singing her happy birthday, and they should be blowing out candles and helping her unwrap gifs. They should be here."

"They should." She wipes her hand with a paper towel, then cups his cheek. "But they're not. And that – that isn't your fault."

"I'm the reason he stayed you know… the reason they stayed the extra day. Teddy had to stay, to meet with Big Gerry, to tell him to back off, because he was trying to get me to transfer my shares to Teddy. That's the reason they left that day. He was doing me a favor, and he postponed the trip, and then… then they crashed and they died." He never said it out loud, never let himself admit it. If feels like freedom, like her eyes – there's no disgust in them, no judgment, just love.

"If they had left fifteen minutes earlier, or fifteen minutes later; if they stopped at another traffic light; if the weather had been different, and if the other driver wasn't distracted… there are a million things that could have gone differently. A million. But they didn't. And they died. It was an accident. Awful, and tragic, and utterly accidental. Random. It's not your fault." And she pulls his head into her chest. "And they should be here," she says as she runs her hand though his hair soothingly, "but today… that girl was so happy. You made her so happy. Her face lights up when she sees you, and you just have a way with her. She is lucky to have you. We are lucky to have you." He looks up and kisses her cheek tenderly. "Come to bed with me?" He looks at her, and she brings his lips to hers, "Come to bed with me Fitz."

"OK." And they both smile as she leads him out of the kitchen. He pauses as they pass the sofa, his father sprawled out on it – drunk. "I'll just go cover him up with a blanket, or something."

"I'll wait for you in bed." She says with a mischievous smile.

He gets a couple of blankets from his room, and throws them over the familiar figure. He kneels down as he tucks in the sides, and he runs his hand through the man's silver-white hair. "I love you dad." And he kisses his temple. He gets up, but a hoarse voice stops him in his tracks.

"I wish it was you. I wish it was you Fitzgerald. I wish it was you and he were still alive." And with that he turns on his other side.

He stands still, the world spinning. He can't breathe. And he grabs his jacket and his keys and leaves. Walks away. The cool, early March, air fills his lungs, but it doesn't steady him, it doesn't ground him. His head is buzzing, and his throat is closing. He goes down the familiar streets, the familiar way, to the familiar place. He goes in and his shoes stick to the floor, as the smell of alcohol and sweat fills his nostrils.

"Hey, Tom." He calls out, as he collapses on to a stool. "A scotch. And keep them coming." And the man just nods.

The alcohol glides down his throat as the warmth fills his body. It eases the pain, even if just momentarily. And another one. And another. Until it no longer hurts, until the numbness is turning wounds into scars.

"Hi." And the familiar blonde smiles.

"Hello beautiful." And he smiles – the hollow smile, the familiar one. "What are you drinking?"

Don't hate me!

Sorry it took forever to update, but I was just crazy busy. And I needed the pieces for this story to click in my mind. But they have… so we're back on.

Thank you so much, for all the reviews and messages, and asking about this story – I am constantly overwhelmed by your support. So, let me know what you thought. They still haven't done the deed, but hey, at least some hotness in this chapter. And Big Gerry is the devil… but he's also hurting. And then the ending – who do you think it is?

Let me know what you think will happen.

Until next time… ily lovelies!