A/N: I just did a ridiculous and unnecessary amount of research on the White House grounds to get a visual for this in my head, haha. The track does exist. I could definitely see them running together, and I wanted to make it fun.

PS-Still accepting drabble suggestions. Anything you have to say could spark inspiration!

On Track

Fitz hated running. All his life he had been athletic and in decent physical shape. He played basketball and tennis (occasionally football if there were enough people to make it worthwhile). It was part of the whole red-blooded Republican schtick, he supposed. It was how he was raised. While he had taken the time to learn how to play guitar in high school to try to round himself out, the pressure to be a 'man's man' was strong. Be a man, love sports!

And he did.

But god, did he ever fucking hate to run.

She loved it, though, and she was dragging him along with her. Olivia moved so smoothly and with such grace. Each stride was fluid, her body barely seeming to jostle with the impact of her feet planting against the ground and propelling her forward. Meanwhile, Fitz felt like the least agile creature on the planet next to her. All crude bulk and no spunk for the activity. Normally, he knew that she worked out mostly when she was stressed. When her head was full to the brim with colliding and feuding thoughts and she needed to work her body into a relaxed state. She still used exercise for that purpose, but she was trying to keep him healthy. She would sneak into his junk food stash and switch out the worst items with fruit. She was making him run. She encouraged him to hit the weight room in the White House often with her cute little remarks about how much she loved his body. Knowing just what to say to push him to maintain his wiry, toned frame without being too heavy-handed about it.

He both loved and hated that about her.

It was the crack of dawn, and they were jogging circles around the track that Clinton had placed around the South Lawn. Four laps made a mile and thankfully, they were on their last. A mile a day to start, they had agreed, unless his presidential duties absolutely stopped it from happening. Though he was sure she wouldn't accept many excuses in that regard. It would take a war to get her to back down on keeping him fit. She was determined that the life they had just started together last as long as possible, which meant keeping him alive despite his horrid eating habits.

He was tired.

He needed coffee.

She was going to kill him.

His torso was slick with sweat and the cotton t-shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably. Their shoes beat a steady rhythm on the asphalt, though halfway through the lap, Fitz began to lose steam and he fell behind her a stride. His side was starting to cramp and each harsh breath made it clench and pull painfully. He wasn't a bit mad about it though as it gave him the opportunity to shamelessly check her out as she moved. Her black spandex running shorts left little to the imagination, her curves on display for him as she dashed ahead of him. For a moment, he was lost.

Her ass had a tendency to have that effect on him.

"Come on, old man. We're almost done," she teased, looking at him over her shoulder for a beat, a tiny smirk forming on her mouth when she caught him staring.

"I'm having pancakes for breakfast," he panted, ignoring her jest about his age. "And bacon. Just to spite you."

She laughed and slowed, just enough for them to be side by side again

"If you beat me to the gate, we can have shower sex before your meeting," she challenged, her words coming in between breaths as she looked over at him. "But I'm vetoing that breakfast."

They were in sight of the South entrace gate to the White House and she was baiting him. If he pushed himself and got there before she did, he would be rewarded.

With sex.

But no bacon.

Seemed like a fair trade.

He returned her gaze and gave her a breathless smile. His hand drew back and he gave her ass a playful spank before taking off past her in a full sprint, forgoing his agreement of the challenge to get a head start. She scurried behind him, keeping up but not passing him. It had to at least look like she was trying to beat him. But the outcome was favorable for both of them if he won. The man loved bacon, but he loved sex even more.

Fitz beat her by three strides and raised his hands in victory and shouted triumphantly as he crossed the threshold of the door, the air conditioning hitting his heated skin. The agents who were posted there shook their heads in amusement. The entertainment never ended.

It was the little things, really, that kept them going. That kept them pushing through the bullshit they had to wade through since they came out as a couple.

She chuckled soundly as he stooped over and gulped in air, trying to catch his breath. Her hand smoothed over his damp back.

"Now, was that so bad?" she taunted with a smirk.

"It was!"

He stood upright and lunged at her, ensnaring her in his embrace. His face nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"You better get upstairs and get naked," he instructed her, his voice low as he kissed a trail up to her ear. "Because it's winner's choice and I know exactly how I want you…"

She hummed her approval of his words.

"I serve at your pleasure, Mr. President…"