A/N: Alright y'all, so this is a bit of a 'gonna disappear' notice. Deadlines are closer that they appear in the mirror and now i've got to get on them. I did promise myself that I'd try to set a bit of time aside every now and then to tinker on this and Sleep On the Floor, though.
I know i'll fail at disappearing, though, so don't take that too seriously because I've actually manage to map this entire fic out.
Our world gets wider in this chapter. We learn a bit more about Fitz and a tad bit more about Olivia. We also get to new albeit familiar faces. One who is probably up to no good.
I hope you enjoy.
A week is all that remains of the school year for the students and staff of Saint Gabriel Our Lady of Sorrow. Papers litter the hallways, students' attention spans dwindle, and staffing decisions are being made. The archdiocese has yet to replace Sister Langston, although Fitz has been reassured repeatedly that a couple of candidates for replacement are on the way. Sally's abrupt departure and the reversal of Olivia's firing have left some faculty members whispering - questioning his actions the entirety of the year, but he's unbothered. This year has left him with a lot to think about – a good deal to consider – as he gears up to take a break from it all. He likes his job, always has, children have always been dear to him, but there's another part of his job he is no longer certain of; priesthood.
Fitzgerald Grant hasn't always been a religious man. He'd grown up in a two-parent home, the only child of a Merrill Lynch investment banker, (Fitzgerald "Big Jerry" Grant, II) and tea company heiress (Margaret 'Maggie' Grant). His father had, had political ambitions the entirety of Fitz's formative years, serving two terms as a California Senator, and then as the thirty-fifty governor of California in the early 1980s. Big Jerry had always eyed the presidency, but to reasons unbeknownst to Fitz, hadn't been successful in his attempts. Religion in his household had always been used as a prop, a press op, to further his family's reputation in the public eye; a fact Fitz came to learn was commonplace in the world of politics. Religion was a weapon to wield, a campaign slogan, a soundbite. It hadn't been until Fitz lost everything and hit rock bottom that he'd found religion – the good in it – and God.
Dedicating his life to God had been an easy decision; a life of solitude and good deed to ensure that the world kept turning with as little as pain possible to spur it forward. As a priest, a man dedicated solely to the Lord's teachings, Fitz knowingly closed himself off to life, to love.
There wouldn't be another in his heart, as far as he'd been concerned; no second family nor second chance. But then she'd shown up. His draw to her had been instantaneous.
She's young, he knows and he often wonders when she'll grow tired of him and his old man ways, but he can't stop himself from fantasizing about a future with her. Before, when he'd thought of where he's life would lead in the years to come, he'd always seen himself in a confessional or at a pulpit. But now he sees himself besides her – with a family. She's the new beginning he wants except the priesthood is – amongst other things - a vow of abstinence and solitude; and he doesn't know if he wants that part any more. He wants to serve God, but is this the right path for him to continue to do it?
These are all thoughts he ponders upon as he watches the school yard abuzz with children from Olivia's classroom window. The room is stifling beneath the strong June sun. Saint Gabriel is a K-12 private Catholic school and while the younger children are at recess, their older counterparts are in liturgy. Olivia paddles about her classroom, pulling down decorations and boxing them up. The soft sounds of old soul and R&B saunter from the radio on Olivia's desk.
Fitz pivots on his heels to watch her, a crooked smile on his face. She's changed her hair; the long braids now replaced by a low ponytail of thick curls that stretch below her shoulder blades. She's dressed in white linen slacks, open toed sandals, and a lightweight sky blue sleeveless blouse. Ever since their date, nearly a month prior, they've been inseparable. Each spare moment inside and outside of the school, they've spent together. He's been to her apartment so many times now that he's started bringing Huck food. Huck no longer eyes him with (as much) suspicion, but rather with slight warning.
Her eyes catch his and she's smirking. She knows he's been staring – again. They do this often –stare – so in awe of the other that they're at a loss for words.
"I have to cancel dinner tonight." her smirk transforms into a frown. "My best friend is in town and I promised dinner."
Disappointment inches it's way across Fitz's face. "Oh."
"I'm sorry. I just haven't seen him in a while."
Him? The pang of jealousy that seizes his gut takes him by surprise. The sheer thought of another man out on the town with Olivia inspires envy within his tall frame. He's suddenly reminded of that moment all those months ago in this very room he'd interrupted a kiss between her and her ex-boyfriend.
"Okay." Fitz says, voice even.
Olivia quirks a brow in his direction and tilts her head.
"What? It's okay. Enjoy time with your friend."
"His name is Harrison. He's Mr. Gaines's grandson. He's like my brother." She informs him, rolling a poster of Shirley Chisholm up. "I've known him my whole life. We've thrown dirt at each other; played in mud together; I was even his Prom date."
"Somehow I can't imagine you throwing dirt." jokes Fitz; he knows she's trying to placate him by explaining away her visitor, but the uneasiness is still there. Olivia Pope is beautiful, breathtakingly so. Fitz sees the way men stare at her, eye her as she moves. And he's just an old man. An old man with a job that possesses endless complications in the formation of a new relationship.
Olivia shoves the posted into a tall box that houses the rest of her posters and then make her way towards him. He can't help himself as his eyes fall to her hips, the way they sway mesmerizing him.
"I was the best dirt thrower you've ever seen. Knew how to get him right in the eyes." She stops just short of reaching him, her ebony eyes shining against the warm glow of sunlight slipping into the room from the window. "He's a friend."
Fitz's fingers twitch at his sides as the song switches. A friend that knew her well; a friend she shares history with; a friend who isn't a man bound by the cloth.
"Fitz…"
Insecurity and jealousy battle back and forth in Fitz's chest. This is supposed to be the honeymoon phase of their relationship, but circumstance is impeding the lightheartedness of it all. He sighs, looking to center himself. The voice of Chaka Khan fills the air; Sweet Thang. He cracks a smile and looks around the partially barren room, eyes crossing the empty doorway. The usually busy hallways just outside her door is empty and he supposes those who aren't outside with children are in faculty lounges with food.
He kicks away from the windowsill and walks to her door, closing it before he trudges back to his spot near the windowsill. He then extends his hand out towards her. "Dance with me?"
"What?"
"Dance with me. Please, Liv." he repeats.
"What if someone sees us?"
"Two co-workers, innocently dancing to a song?"
"A priest and a woman."
"So?"
/
Olivia both loves and hates moments like these with him. Moments where he throws caution to the wind and moments where he seems uncertain of himself. She wants to shake him and tell him that he's the only man she'll have eyes for, for the perceivable future; he's caught her heart. Any hesitation on her end isn't because of him. It's because of the situation they're in. He's a priest. And then she wants to smile, moved by his hesitancy because each second they spend together he's reclaiming a part of his life he'd thought he'd long lost.
Any argument she has against taking his hand flies right out the door the moment her palm is in his. Just like that night all those months ago when he'd kissed her, his movements shock her. Again, he doesn't move like a man that's been cooped up in a rectory for the last ten years. He's light on his feet as his free hand drops to her waist and he pulls her close. Olivia's palm tingles in his and she reaches up with her left hand to hold onto his shoulder.
The song is smooth, soft, yet soulful, and she recognises it from her childhood as one of her mother's favorites. Maya Pope would sing it to Olivia as she hummed about the house cooking dinner and helping her daughter with her homework.
Fitz pulls her closer and Olivia tilts her head back to look up at him. His gaze is intense; his slate eyes now bright blue beneath the sun's sideways glare. Her heart flutters in her chest and she doesn't protest when she feels him pull her closer.
"You're pretty good on your feet."
"Pretty fly for a white guy, huh?" Fitz grins.
Olivia's eyes widen and she immediately drops her head against his chest, unable to stop the laughter that shakes her frame. "Where did you even get that from?" she manages to choke out in between chuckles.
"Some guy in your building. He said, and I quote, 'You locked that down? Wow, you must be pretty fly for a white guy.' Now I'm not sure what I locked down, but I took it as a compliment."
His words only encourage her laughter to grow stronger and she shakes her head. "Oh god, you said that outloud. He said that outloud." she stops and Fitz drops her hand. He slides his own down her side, causing gooseflesh to pimple along her skin even though it's at least 84 degrees outside.
They've kept their touching to a minimal. though their kisses have remained heated. She isn't sure where he falls regarding sex, they've yet to broach the topic, but she wants remain respectful to him and to his faith.
Olivia follows his lead, looping her arms around his neck, as the world falls away around them and her laughter subsides. She gazes up at him and they start to move once more.
"Since you move like this, I'm going to make you take me dancing one of these nights."
"You wouldn't have to make me, I'd be your willing participant."
"Where'd you learn to dance like this?"
"Childhood lessons, adulthood reiterations…" he leans her back slightly and Olivia has to stop herself from swooning. He's an enigma. One minute insecure and uncertain, the next all bravado and confidence.
"The dancing priest from D.C. Bet we could sell that as a reality show and make a bunch of money."
"I've dedicated myself to a life of poverty and piousness, remember?" he laughs and Olivia's eyes land on his mouth. She wants to kiss him. They're in her classroom, mid-day, with the grapevine already buzzing with rumors about them, and yet...she wants to kiss him right here; only slightly aware of the fact that they're semi in public.
Fuck it.
Reaching up on her tippy toes, Olivia seizes his lips. Her movements are tentative at first, slow as she waits for him to catch on. She nips at his bottom lip, tugging on it with her teeth before drawing his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking it gently. He gasps, breathing into her mouth and returns her movements with vigor. One of her arms loosens it's grip from around his neck and her fingers find his cheek. Short spurts of stubble meet her fingertips as she traces his jaw and chin. Fitz deepens the kiss, breathing her in, his tongue slipping past her lips. He tastes like butterscotch and bright days - his lips are sunkissed - and against her sides his hands travel down and around so that he's lifting her up. All of her weight is against him and thank God because she has no more strength in her knees.
Suddenly she's hungry, but not for food. The burning in her lower belly has her clawing at the short strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck. She pulls him closer, drinking him in - thirsty. She needs more; wants more, but just as quickly as it begins, it ends.
Her classroom door creaks open. A short man, perhaps 5'6 or so stands in front of them. He's a bit balding with a round face and silver hair; he's dressed in black slacks and a black button down with a white collar.
His grey eyes shift between Olivia and Fitz as Olivia wipes at her mouth, her back to the door as she faces the window.
"I'm sorry, have I interrupted something?" the man questions, a tinge of bemusement to his otherwise flat tone.
"No, no." Fitz assures.
Olivia keeps her eyes pointed to the playground where children line up; recess is coming to a close.
"I'm Father Beene, the archdiocese sent me." the man tells them. Behind them there's shuffling of shoes and Olivia knows they're shaking hands.
"They didn't tell me they were sending anyone."
"Ah, right. I'm Father Beene, your new vice principal. I'm here to replace Sister Langston."
"Oh, right. They said they were sending candidates over, not that they'd found someone. How about we head back to my office to get things sorted?"
A few beats pass as she hears the bell ring to signal regular class schedule is set to resume. She pivots on her heel and her eyes find Fitz's. There's a pink tint to his cheeks, but other than that, he looks composed.
"Miss Pope, we'll continue our conversation later." Fitz tells her as he ushers Father Beene towards the door. Olivia simply nods.
/
"You have lipgloss on your mouth, Father Grant." Father Beene informs Fitz on the short steps to his office.
Redness creeps up Fitz's neck as Father Beene answers the question that'd been on Fitz's mind since the old man had popped up in Olivia's doorway (without knocking). He wipes at his mouth before opening the door and shuffling into his office.
"What you saw back there was -" Fitz pauses, searching for words to explain the complexities of the moment that the man had just interrupted. A moment that had needed interruption, if Fitz is honest with himself. He's wanted Olivia and his body had begun to respond to their proximity and touch.
"Am I starting before the end of the school year or do you want to integrate me now into the swing of things?" Father Beene asks, the topic changing on a dime.
Eyebrow raised, Fitz attempts to size up the shorter man in front of him, wondering idly what the man is getting at.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Am I sitting on the shelf until August or am I going into the game now, Coach?"
"Uhm, well I suppose we can start building together. I'm still sorting through the mess Sister Langston made while I was on health leave, so I could always use a second hand."
"Great, good. I'm here to help."
There's a glint in Father Beene's eyes that leaves Fitz on edge; the man's overeagerness leaves Fitz's brows knitting together in confusion. For some reason, he gets the feeling that Father Beene may do anything but help.
"Good, did they send you with any papers work? A CV? Something…"
/
Olivia absentmindedly touches her hand to her lips as the train chugs along towards home. The normal hustle and bustle of post school antics floods the train as she heads home. It's a bit past 5pm when she finally left Saint Gabriel; she'd held out for an extra two hours hoping to have a moment to say goodbye to Fitz, but the new vice principal had made that nearly impossible. The man had stuck to Fitz's side the rest of the day.
As the train docks at her stop, Olivia shuffles out, her tote in hand. Huck stands at the platform waiting for her.
"Where's the Father?" Huck questions as the stride towards the exit.
"At school still. I have dinner tonight with a friend and he has a new vice principal to cart around for a bit more." the disappointment seeps into her voice. As excited as she is to see Harrison, she wishes she were spending the night sharing greasy takeout and stories with Fitz.
Together Huck and Olivia exit the train station, making the short hike down to her building.
"You know, the offer still stands for cleaning crew at Busboys and Poets, Huck. Fitz knows the owner and that'd at least give you something to do besides babysitting me. Plus, there's a lot of other vets that frequent the place. You might find a friend." Olivia digs through her purse, searching for her keys. "It'll give you something to do besides babysit me."
"I like knowing you're safe, but I'll think about it. I promise, Liv."
"Thanks." She knows not to push him. "Want to come dig through my fridge or give me an order. It might take me awhile to get home tonight." They come to a halt in front of her building.
"I like him."
"What?"
"The Father. Fitz. I like him. He's good for you. You're good for him. He has sad eyes like you, but when you look at each other it goes away. I like him."
Huck's candor takes Olivia by surprised, but she isn't allotted the chance to answer his words. A familiar face comes into view as she opens the entrance door that leads to the stairs to her apartment.
"Good Golly Miss Molly, is that Olivia Pope?"
"Harrison! How'd you get into my building?" A grin spreads across her face as she looks at him, dressed in a three piece suit; he's clean shaven with a smile that could charm the sandals off Jesus.
"You know me, Liv."
"What are you doing here, I thought I was meeting you in U-Street?"
"I thought I'd swing by and surprise you. Pick you up. Didn't think I'd be picking you up in Anacostia, though."
"I'll be out here if you need me, Liv." Huck backs out of the conversation before Olivia has a chance to rephrase her question about dinner and to further probe him regarding his comments about Fitz.
"Okay…"
Harrison grabs her tote and takes off towards the stairs. "What floor?"
"Third. C."
-x-
An hour later old friends have become reacquainted as they sit on Olivia's couch, foregoing an adventure somewhere out for takeout and a film long abandoned. She's in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair hanging down her back in soft, albeit frizzy, curls.
"Do you remember when your grandfather caught you with that girl...what's was her name, Maria? In his apartment. You were acting like you owned the place. Had Maria believing you were son 17 year old emancipated wiz-kid."
"Maria believed me, too. Had her thinking I was the grandson to the inventor of oil sheen."
They both cackle and Olivia leans forward to grab her wine off the coffee table.
"I can't believe you. Always able to fast talking your way out - or into - anything. God I've missed you. How's California?"
"Hot, overpriced. Nothing like DC." he shrugs before undoing the buttons on his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. "I'm surprised Eli let you skip law school to live here, to work in a school."
"He didn't let me do anything. I chose not to go. It's not where my heart is. I like helping people - I like helping kids."
"So is that why you're here, in Anacostia? He cut you off?"
"Actually, no. He bought me a place in Foggy Bottom I refuse to take. I'm here because I like the area and I can afford the area. I don't need my father."
"You two are just alike, you know that. My gramps tells me you finally got back up to U-Street to see him."
"I did. I hadn't intended on it, but a friend took me up to that new restaurant, Busboys and Poets. We passed Ben's on the way and I somehow convinced him to double back. I hadn't realised I'd been gone so long."
"I used to tell you when we were kids, but between your dad sending you to private school out in McLean and then you just not wanting to hang out with us lowly folk any more…."
She pinches his arm at his insinuation. She'd hated attending Madeira, being secluded away from her friends and the community she'd grown up, but Eli Pope hadn't cared.
"Ow."
"I hated that school."
"I know; remember when me and Abby broke you out?"
At the mention of their the third in their trio, Olivia grins wide; oh Abigail.
"I do because I remember the missing person's report my dad filed and then the cops arresting us for underage drinking."
Her friends had made the forty-five minute drive to break her out of her stifling boarding school just to get caught at a party they shouldn't have been at the tender age of 16.
"Ah, I bet your dad still hates me." Harrison grins, leaning back against her sofa. "So what's this my gramps tells me about you shopping in the old men's department?"
Olivia's brows furrow as she gets up and heads for her kitchenette. She grabs a slice of pizza from the box on the bar and nibbles on it. "What?"
Harrison turns to face her. "He says you're dating some old white guy 'Old enough to be her damn daddy'. That true?"
Ha! She knew it! Fitz and Mr. Gaines had been discussing her, not the menu.
"My dad has at least twenty-five years on him." Olivia defends, affronted. "And your grandfather is nosey."
"So he is older than you...I thought you were out of that phase after what happened?"
Olivia's eyes drop down to the counter in front of her as he subtly refers to a part of her pass she wishes she could forget. A past where a teen girl desperate for male attention had turned herself into Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita.
"It's not like like that with him, at all. And his name's Fitz. We met at work. He's...he's different."
"What happened to white Man Can't Jump?" Harrison continues, turning back around to reach for his own wine glass on the corner of the table.
White Man Can't Jump. The nickname still gets to Olivia. "Jake and I broke up. I wish someone would've told me that that was a bad idea."
"Abby and I both did. Any guy recommend to you by your father...just run, girl."
They share another hearty chuckle as Olivia toys with the toppings on her pizza. She wonders what Fitz's doing at that moment. If he's getting ready for bed or if he's pouring over work things. If he's spoken with the new Father about what the man may have seen.
"I'm serious though, I like this guy. A lot. There's a bit of an issue that we'll have to deal with," she says, minimizing the elephant in the room to a mouse, "but I think we can figure it out."
"You're swooning. You're Olivia Pope and you're swooning. This is...please stop. Bring back the bitter, withdrawn girl who knocked back shots with me on Saturday nights."
She balls up a napkin and tosses it at him. It doesn't hit Harrison, instead, it falls to the floor in a pitiful clump. "She's not coming back. She's taking control of her life and that includes her love life."
"Well, I'm glad; her mother would be proud."
They share a soft gaze and Olivia feels a sob yearning to crack open her chest. A deep breath in, she shoves it down. Each day she copes with the loss of her mom a little better, but some days - some moments - it almost becomes unbearable, as if it were brand new.
The buzz of her cell phone breaks their exchange and Olivia crosses the room to her front door. "Hold that thought." She tells Harrison as she flips the phone open.
A baritone voice that melts her like butter on a hot July day fills her ears. "Hi."
Her response is instantaneous, a smile already on her face. "Hi."
"That's him, isn't it? Ew." Harrison shouts, making kissy noises and mocking Olivia from his perch on her couch.
Olivia's eyes narrow to slits as she searches for something to throw at him with her free, pizza greased hands. She locates a pen from her purse and flings it at Harrison after making certain the cap is on tightly.
"Is that who? Am I him?" Fitz asks her on the other side of the phone. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Yes, well no. My friend I was telling you about? We decided to stay in and he's about to get the boot if he doesn't shut his mouth!" Olivia yells at Harrison before turning her attention back to the phone.
"You weren't lying when you said you two were like siblings. Look, I won't keep you long. I just wanted to call to say good night, Livvie."
She fights not to melt at his words knowing full well Harrison is paying attention to her every move. The fact that Fitz has called just to say good night almost brings her to her knees.
"Night, Fitz…"
"We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow."
The line goes dead as Olivia finds Harrison sighing and fluttering his eyelashes mockingly in her direction. "It's only a day awaaaay." he sings and Olivia again looks for something to throw, wanting to ping him in the head with her phone, but knowing better.
"I hate you."
"But you love you some Fitz."
"That's it." She dives towards him knowing full well Harrison is right.
/
Across town Fitz sits in bed thinking about the woman he'd just hung up with and the summer ahead of him. He can't shake the feeling, however, that it's not all smooth sailing ahead.