"Fitz?" Olivia rubs her eyes and yawns. Trying to recall her dream she comes up only with random images. Her childhood horse, her college campus, the campaign bus on the trail, and lastly Fitz hunting with a stray curl on his forehead. Olivia's lips curled. She might not remember but still, her spirits are high as she fully awakens. It must've been good.
In contrast, the sight of the other side of the bed empty annoys her more than she would care to admit. Through the night she woke only once, and at that moment, she deliberately gazed at him. Unhurried and silently she savored his presence, with his back exposed and hair ruffled, she knew she would never tire of this, having him with her. Careful not to disturb him, she leaned closer and with her right hand traced his bare ring finger. He can be hers.
Eventually, the sound of his breathing would lull her back to sleep, but now, awake, his absence irks so she searches the room. When her sleep-filled eyes finally find his silhouette on the edge of the couch, with the TV on mute all tension leaves her body and right then he turns back to look at her.
"Good morning." Fitz smiles at Olivia, her face marked by pillows.
Standing up slowly, Olivia wraps herself around some blankets and drags everything to where Fitz is, seated on the couch on the opposite side of the room. On her way, Olivia yawns once more and looks out the window before sitting to his right. The sun is fully out now, and its light illuminates the room. Her sleep must've been extraordinarily heavy for it not to have woken her up. "What time is it?"
"11:13 am."
"You let me sleep in." Olivia's eyes sparkle.
"Yes." He strokes her chin.
"Thank you." Olivia kisses him. Taking her time, she relishes the feeling of his tongue against her. One kiss leads to another until after a few minutes they break apart. "What are you doing? she asks, looking at the computer Fitz has on the coffee table.
"Working."
Olivia beams. "Want any help?"
"You're half-asleep," he says, pushing her hair behind her shoulder.
"No, I'm not," she counters. Fitz can't help but smile at the way her wide eyes linger on him. There's an inscrutable air to her, her face softer than usual, unfamiliar and good.
"Are you sure this is what you want to do on your day off?" he asks.
"I have you all to myself and we get to work together?"
Fitz watches Olivia in awe, not a hint of irony on her face. "This really is a dream day for you, isn't it?" Her behavior is so Olivia-like that it uplifts his mood right away and not for the first time, it occurs to him that he wishes to spend the rest of his days with her.
"Show me," she says, curiosity peaked. Fitz reaches for the laptop and hands it to Olivia. She looks at the file in front of her, at Fitz, and repeats the motion. "You already have over a hundred pages," she says, shocked and incredulous.
"I know." He raises his eyebrows, daring her to say she's changed her mind.
Scanning her eyes through the document, Olivia bites her bottom lip. "We're printing it. My eyes can't handle looking at a screen for this long," Olivia says, not bothering to look up, the choice to spend the rest of her morning and likely most of her afternoon going through this already made.
"You're beautiful when you're focused," Fitz comments as he stares at her.
"Print it." Olivia shakes her head and points at the door while she scrolls through more pages.
Despite her incisiveness, Fitz turns back before he walks out of the room, "You're sure you want to do this now?"
"Stop stalling," she reprimands with no bite. If he insisted she could be persuaded but this feels nice, this…effortlessness.
Fitz disappears in the hallway only to reappear two seconds later. "I need the laptop."
"You don't have another copy?" Fitz shakes his head. Olivia's eyes pierce him, quite clearly questioning his decision.
"I don't want anyone reading it," he explains and she nods, not satisfied, but for now she lets it go. As he turns around, he takes his time to walk out of the room, too aware of Olivia's eyes on him.
She chuckles to herself, unbelievable.
Fitz paces around the room as the last few pages of this first draft are printed. Due to some struggle with the technology of it all, it's taking longer than he had originally expected but Olivia looked so carefree and joyous on the couch that the image of her is enough to keep his thoughts occupied. Only a few days and every plan to seclude himself as much as he could have dissipated, everything replaced by what he should do to make them work. It's a conversation they'll need to have in the near future but he doubts she'll oppose the most important parts. She's already shown interest in seeing Karen and Jerry and she's considering the gala, they only need to discuss the finer details.
When he has everything on hand, he leaves the office, coming to a halt as Olivia shuts the front door. "What are you doing?" He narrows his eyes, suspiciously.
"I–" the lie is on the tip of her tongue, but she reconsiders. "Asking for some stationery." Fitz grins at her. "Shut up." Olivia smiles and walks back to the bedroom. Her eyes are straight ahead, she doesn't need to look to know exactly what his face looks like.
"What happened to 'that's not their job?'"
Olivia rolls her eyes. "Shut up."
Fitz elongates his step to reach her quickly. He puts his free hand on her hips, presses her closer to him, and kisses the top of her head. Moving to her side he takes her hand in his and in what's left they walk side by side to get to the master suite.
Inside the room, knowing she'll need space to spread the pages as she reads, Olivia drags the coffee table away to clear the floor. Then, organizing her surroundings, she places a pillow on the floor and arranges another between her back and the couch for support, after she's settled, she takes the draft Fitz has set on the couch. "Can you get me a pen for now?" she asks.
"Already got it." He extends his arm and gives it to her.
Fitz leaves Olivia to her own devices to organize as she pleases and goes to retrieve his book on his bedside table. She might be focused on the task at hand but it doesn't mean he has to be away from her. This, being close enough to watch, enjoying her company in silence feels special.
He tries not to linger, afraid to distract her, yet once in a while he starts to caress her shoulder and neck, tracing small circles with his thumbs. So many years and she still takes his breath away. His preference for paperback books turned out to be very useful when Olivia groaned after he moved his hand away. It was more troublesome, reading with only one hand available but this was good, Olivia craving his touch.
Over thirty minutes pass and, finally, there's a knock on the door. Olivia doesn't move an inch, too busy and too focused scribbling something down on paper so Fitz places a bookmark on his book and goes to retrieve her order with the Secret Service. With the bag in his hands, he checks its content and mumbles to himself in disbelief at the number of colored markers inside.
"Here." Fitz places the brown bag on the coffee table and returns to his spot on the couch. He makes a mental note to order them some food in an hour, silently hoping she's let go of the habit of working too hard and forgetting to eat.
He has always been a slow reader, waiting for the words on the page to sink in, re-reading when he has to. Today, however, was the exception. His pace was not his fault. She's distracting. The aggressiveness of the pen on paper and the way she scatters pages all over the room in a system only she could ever understand. Then there are her facial expressions and the muttering. Her mind obviously works at an incredible speed, deconstructing mistakes, possible improvements, or things that need to be redone. Whichever option, Olivia's help feels right and his nerves are somewhat controlled as she reads through some of the worst parts of his childhood.
The hour flies by without a hitch and when the Secret Service texts him, the way he's asked them to, Fitz goes to the door to retrieve his order for their lunch. "Liv."
"Hmm," she doesn't look up, instead underlining a particular sentence.
"I got us food."
She sighs and rolls out her wrists in an attempt to ease the discomfort of writing too much. "What is it?"
"Indian."
"Hungry?" Fitz asks.
"Now that you mention, starving," Olivia confesses.
Fitz stands in front of her and offers his hand to help her stand. When she's up Fitz wraps his arms around her waist holding her still so she'll look at him. "Do you do this a lot?"
She tilts her head, sensing his apprehension. "What?"
"Forget to eat."
"No. On busier days it happens, but I try not to make it a habit," she answers softly, looking to ease the frown and the worry in his eyes.
"Okay." He nods and relaxes.
Before talking to Olivia, Fitz had set the cart with their food near the large table in the living room and placed all the plates and silverware for them. The smell of samosas and chicken tikka masala fills the air and Fitz can hear his stomach rumble. "How is it going so far?" Fitz asks, curious to hear her thoughts.
"I'll tell you when I'm done." Olivia smiles at him.
There it was again, that mischievous expression on her. "Really?"
"Really." She grins but takes pity on him. "I will say: I enjoy reading about you."
Fitz lets go of his inquiry. Appeased for the moment by the information she's given, they both dig into their meals. Fitz turns his attention inward, focusing first on his food, the different spices, and flavors in his mouth, then he shifts to Olivia, regarding how she moves, the little sigh of satisfaction she lets out after a bite.
As they enjoy their meal in silence, Fitz takes advantage of the closeness and rubs his foot against her ankle. His heart warms at the gentleness with which Olivia looks up and smiles at him. Moving slowly each mouthful of food a slice of heaven, he savors each part, the food, and the company.
Olivia rests her hand on his thigh. "I needed that. Thank you."
"Want to go back to work?" Olivia smiles at the immediacy of his suggestion and his ability to read her. "Go." He motions for her to leave. "I'll get everything in order."
Olivia walks behind his chair and digs her nails into his scalp. Fitz's chin lifts and his jaw drops slightly open. "Thank you," she says again and leaves, purposefully ignoring the heaviness in the air, she has work to do.
Fitz sits on the couch with a copy of "Are prisons obsolete?" in his hands and now Olivia's legs lay on his lap. Peering through the corner of his eyes, he watches her, ever since they had lunch his book is mostly a prop, a fully ignored one. He chooses instead to watch her reactions, the sighs, the small grins, and each different expression he can point out. A thankless and grueling work, trying to read her mind. When she finally sets the last page down, he forces his jaw to unclench.
"This isn't a memoir. It's a personal diary," she says with a raised brow.
"It's a thin line," he contests.
"You don't try to make all of your life into a big narrative. These are the parts that make you who you are, even the ones that could feel meaningless to someone else."
"Did you like it?" Fitz asks genuinely curious, he'd reread everything too many times to have a good perspective on it.
"It's good. It has a lot of heart." Olivia stares at him for a beat, and her doe eyes seem to get more beautiful. "It also can never see the light of day," she says softly.
His chuckle is bittersweet. "Honesty has a price."
"You're a good writer, always have been. This isn't one of your speeches but you're still you. Charismatic even in writing ."
"Throughout?"
"Yes." She grins at him, knowing exactly what he means.
"Even teenage me?"
"A bit of a slut, but I get where he was coming from."
"You highlighted a lot," he points out.
"Were you just pretending to read this whole time or-"
"You're very distracting. Plus I like to watch you work."
"It can be better. Not bad for a first draft."
"Tell me."
"Are you sure?" she asks playfully. "A lot of people break up when they work together."
"That's how I fell for you."
"True," Olivia admits. "You always did have a thing for me telling you you're wrong."
"I was very obvious, wasn't I?" Fitz can't help but smile at the memory of when they first met, how he had to physically distance himself from her to be able to think.
"From the beginning," Olivia giggles and the sound makes Fitz shiver with delight.
"You were just as bad. You stared constantly," Fitz boasts. She had always been more subtle but there was no denying that spark and how her eyes would linger far more than what was appropriate.
"You were very good. With that smile of yours, kissing babies, talking to people. You were very special." She feels a gentle ache at the memory of what they used to be.
"Were?"
Olivia begins slowly, "You could never change that, not even if you tried," she exhales, "but it's different now. You're older."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No." She shakes her head as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Considering her words, carefully she continues. "You have more wrinkles."
"Time passes," Fitz replies matter-of-factly.
"It's not that." Olivia bites her lip. "It's one of the first things I noticed in the restaurant. They're on your forehead. Those aren't laughter lines." She observes him from afar.
Fitz exhales and moves Olivia's legs away so he can slide down the couch and sit right next to her. He lets the quiet stretch for a long time. When he finally moves, he brushes his knuckle on Olivia's nose, taking his time, the movement is slow and intentional. Olivia closes her eyes and somehow everything feels calmer. "I can't legally talk about it."
"I know." She opens her eyes and takes in his pained expression. "It's okay."
There it was, that look. How had he missed being seen by the person who knows and understands him best. Fitz felt brighter then, confident that with her by his side and with time some wounds would eventually heal. "Tell me more about what you thought," he asks, stirring them back to their original conversation.
"It's very vulnerable. I knew or had guessed most of it, but it feels different reading about it in your words. It's uncomfortable and sad. Your teenage self lashed out so much and there was no changing who your dad was. I wish you would talk more about how you dealt with it by reaching out to your mom. You're holding back and it shows the parts where you don't are better. You've always been good at understanding and talking about your own emotions so when you act out it doesn't feel like teenage revolt but trauma due to emotional abuse. It's very detailed, not an easy read."
Fitz stands up wordlessly and sits down on the floor between Olivia's legs. He reaches back for her hands and brings them to his hair. With the tip of her fingers, Olivia starts to massage his scalp in slow movements. "Keep talking," he says in a low voice.
"You should write more about your mother. She's all over your childhood then she disappears. You were too close for that to happen."
Fitz frowns, frustrated. "I tried," he says and Olivia lets the weight of his words sink in. Fitz's face blanks as he thinks. "Do you think it's a sad life?"
"It could've been better. You deserved better." Olivia tilts her body forward and gives him a quick kiss.
"It's easier talking about him than her." Fitz closes his eyes and focuses on the image of his mother, and how she looked when he was a child. "How fucked up am I? I think about him more than I do her."
"But you're more like her," she adds. Aching to appease the heaviness in him and soothe his pain, Olivia forces herself to break down her own walls. "I think more about him after he died. Things I'd like to ask him. Most of the time it's just anger."
Fitz huffs, understanding her too well and piecing together the small details she offers him. "Is it better now?"
"It comes and goes," she says with a shrug. Her father had never been a subject she discussed. In this circumstance and with Fitz, it's the easiest it will ever be, which is still not easy at all. "Things felt meaningless for a long time. He died, I liked my job but it became automatic, then you divorced. I thought about therapy but I wouldn't be able to talk about most things, I'd have to either make up a similar story or lie and I didn't want to do it. I figured out how to take care of myself and I wouldn't say I got good at it, but it was better than before."
"Why didn't you go back to politics?" Fitz prods. "It wouldn't solve all of your problems but you love it. It could help."
"I know," she exhales, annoyed. She'd had this exact conversation with herself over and over again. The distance from the White House did her good, not only because of Fitz. One decision and she'd also detached herself from what her father had always expected of her. She was tracing her own path. But now he's no longer here, there would be no judgment and no expectations.
"It could be different. If it's someone, a campaign you believe in," he nudges, eager to see her intoxicated and with that hungry, almost lethal look, ready to move heaven and earth.
"I'll think about it," Olivia concedes but for now she sets those thoughts aside and focuses on Fitz. She puts more pressure on her fingers and smiles to herself when he lets out a small moan. They sit like this for a while, letting the minutes go by, Olivia massaging his scalp and Fitz completely relaxed under the spell of her touch.
Fitz is the one to break the silence. "Can we go through your notes together tomorrow? Even if it's for an audience of two, I want it to be good. But I also want to spend actual time with you today."
Olivia nods gently. "Okay."
"Thank you," he mutters in gratitude.
Olivia finally moves her hands away and curls up on the couch. Grateful to be able to take today at her own pace, she waits for Fitz to join her. As Fitz wraps his arms around her shoulder, she realizes that she hasn't had such a calm and relaxed day in years and night is only beginning. His company and touch throughout the day were more needed than she had ever dreamed and as he turns on the TV Olivia relies on Fitz's body for support and comfort.
A/N: For the two brazilians that read this story and the ones that I don't know about, I wanted to add a little cafuné moment (the part where Olivia runs her fingers through Fitz's hair) hope that felt tender. These last couple of chapters have been very slow I know, for the next one I promise I'm speeding up the pace a bit. Love you guys! Remember that I love validation and hearing about your thoughts!