"That boy is a menace, Fitz," Liv whispers as she giggles quietly into his chest. After a quick dismissal and a that's enough questions for tonight, kiddo, Fitz and Olivia are finally wrapped up in each other once again, snuggling in the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and whispering into the dark space between them.

Teddy is fast asleep, finally, and blissfully unaware of the conversation going on across the room, thanks to Olivia turning on the white noise machine on the nightstand to mask any possible sound.

"You say that as though I don't know just how similar he is to me…" Fitz chuckles deep in his chest as he lifts his arm and settles it underneath Liv's head, drawing her body closer to his.

"Yeah, I mean I think I knew he was, but tonight was just the icing on the cake," she sighs, wiggling her body around and trying to get comfortable. Wordlessly, Fitz's free arm grabs one of the spare pillows and guides it down their bodies, tucking it between her knees for her and letting her finally relax into him on her side.

And with her comfort returning, her brain finally has the energy to begin piecing together all of Teddy's comments–his questions, his inquiries, his heartfelt statements. Will Daddy still want to be my daddy? I don't even know how to take care of babies. Are you gonna get married?

And as she lays there, Fitz gives her time. He waits, knowing she's awake, hearing her breathing, but he doesn't push. He doesn't question even though she imagines that he has a million of his own that he would like to ask. But he doesn't. He lets her lead the way, knowing she will initiate the conversation when she's ready.

Her voice is soft and quiet when she finally speaks. "He's carrying a lot of anxiety, Fitz."

While he's not sure what he expected her to start the conversation with, he's surprised at that. "Anxiety? Why do you say that?"

"It was wrapped in everything he said. Obviously, he didn't just outright say "I'm nervous or scared or anxious", but he is a smart little boy. I think that he understands more than we give him credit for and right now he's so worried about what all this change will mean for him."

"Hmm," Fitz murmurs, contemplating her words. "I guess I can see that. Tell me about before we walked in… You said he was asking questions?"

He feels her nod against him, and immediately he softens as she starts to recount their little talk for him–all of the minute details, the questions, the silly ones, the sweet ones, the heart wrenching ones. He stiffens at some and laughs at others, and Olivia's observations finally make sense to him. The family has spent so much energy keeping Teddy safe and comfortable, that not talking to him–not being open and transparent with him–is actually making everything worse.

They don't really talk to him about the baby because they don't want him to not feel important or special, but in turn, he's developed this looming anxiety about what it means to have another baby in the house. They don't really talk about what it will look like to divide their already divided time with another child. They don't talk about him no longer being the baby of the family, and all of the changes that come with that new reality.

And in turn, he feels the opposite of what they want him to. He doesn't feel safe and comfortable. He feels scared and anxious, like he's floating down a river alone without a life preserver.

Fitz's heart aches because this phase of his life is supposed to be all about his kids, and he's seeming to already fall behind with Teddy, and he doesn't want that. He wants to fix it–wants his son to know that his dad loves him and to hear from his own mouth that he's not going anywhere. Vowing to make it a priority in the morning, he tries to let it fall from his thoughts now, his brain swimming toward new topics already.

Apparently, Liv is on the same wavelength because as soon as he thinks it, she says it. "So, marriage…" She says it in a wispy, light voice, almost reverent of the word. Not pressing, not confused, just admiring how it feels on her tongue.

"Marriage…" He repeats in a similar tone.

Of course, after being together for 10 years, marriage has been something they have talked about, time and time again. On year one, when it was dream, a fantasy she never thought possible to attain. On year five, when things got so hard, so overwhelming she needed to escape back into her dream world just to survive it. On year seven, when it actually was a possibility before it all fell apart so horrifically. On year nine, when she left the White House and their lives immediately slowed to a new pace that they could savor. On year nine-and-a-half, when he said that he wanted to propose but she said she just wanted him, and marriage felt uneasy and forced. And now, on year ten, mere months away from a baby being added into the equation.

"What are you thinking about?" Fitz presses, finally realizing the little push she needs to get her thoughts pouring out.

She hums, and he can hear the click of her tongue as she opens, and then closes, and then opens her mouth again, trying to form the words she wants. The words that feel right. "Honestly? I don't know."

"Do you want to get married?" He asks, a bit more directly this time. His voice is light in its whisper state, and he hopes it's enough to simmer the harsh undertones of the question.

"That's a hard question," she whispers, sounding terrified of her own words.

"Why, Livvie?" He urges, wrapping his arms tightly around her–he's not going anywhere for this conversation.

"Well, because–um… I think the answer is yes, but my immediate answer has never been yes and that scares me…that I feel so differently about it now."

Smiling at her honesty, he brushes his lips against her forehead. "Tell me more. What do you feel differently about?"

"Just everything…" She traces little swirling patterns across his chest as she thinks. "I mean…first of all, we are having a baby…"

"...that we are…" Fitz agrees, chuckling and caressing her bump, feeling the thud, thud of his daughter's tiny foot– or is it her hand? or elbow? –against his palm.

"...and I never anticipated feeling like this about it–so happy and content and excited. I think it helps me realize that new things don't have to automatically be scary, just because they are new."

"...ouch, baby girl. That was a strong one… I think she heard mama talking about her…" His thumb rubs a soothing circle around the side of her belly, and the way he calls her mama never fails to take her breath away. Mom and mother and mommy are still foreign, but she lets Fitz get away with the occasional mama. And she doesn't think she'll ever get used to hearing it. "I get what you mean about the newness though… We have had a lot of that in our time together."

"Yeah, we have. But I've also just had this feeling, especially over the past few days, of–I don't know–almost like a longing feeling. Longing to be a family. I know in a lot of ways we are, but the idea of being a legitimate, official family, with documents and certificates and rings… I feel like I'm ready for it, when before, I wasn't… I don't know why, but I know it feels right."

His heart hammers in his chest at her words because he's waited a decade to hear those exact words. Since the day he met her, he's longed for her to be his, and her finally wanting it… it's just everything.

"So, you wanna get married, pretty girl?"

"Are you proposing, mister?"

"Right now? Oh god, no! You'll know if I'm proposing, trust me," he laughs, his hand now cradling her jaw and angling her face up toward him, and although he can't really see her, he can feel her. He can feel how her cheeks are pulled taught, her lips drawn in a wide smile, and he needs to kiss her.

He reels her in, settling their lips together softly, ghosting his over hers in a delicate manner–like the softest covenant, the sweetest promise of what is to come. Fitz hums against her mouth, content at the feeling of their love overflowing as it pours into every molecule of their bodies. She lets herself be kissed, lets his hands roam her body, and lets the rest fall away.

As his mouth leaves hers and begins to peck along her jaw to her neck, she feels him whispering once again against her skin.

"Are you gonna take my name?" He asks, sucking a wet kiss deliberately on her pulse point as he does.

She moans as quietly as she can, mindful of the young ears not too far away. "Mmm, maaaybe," she singsongs. "Might hyphenate it. You okay with that?"

The groan he makes signals that they should really slow down because it makes her wet, hearing him growl at the thought of his name attached to hers. His right hand scoops her left thigh up, crossing it over his hips and granting him further access to her body.

He kisses her once more as he squeezes her ass, murmuring into her mouth and punctuating every word with a kiss. "Olivia…Carolyn…Pope…Grant. I love it…"

They fall into a series of indulgent kiss with hips rocking together and skin touching skin wherever it can. She's feeling soft and gentle and knows that they cannot take their love any further tonight, so she delivers two quick pecks before pulling back and returning to her spot on his chest. Her fingers draw little circles and lines directly over his heart, already practicing signing her vow onto his soul.

It's all so much, but for some reason it doesn't feel like too much. There's a calm, peaceful glow that settles deep within her at the thought of getting everything she's ever wanted and some things she never thought she did. Her love. Her baby. Her family. Her husband.


AN: Hello beautiful people! Here is just a short little update, completing the conversation at the end of the last chapter! I hope you're enjoying the tooth-aching fluff bc that's all I have the capacity to write these days. Thanks for reading :)