The next day, Fitz showed up ten minutes late to pick up Ellie, looking every bit like the chaotic tornado Olivia had reluctantly invited into her life. His hair was a mess, his shirt was inside out, and he held a half-full coffee cup with a lid that wasn't even on properly.
"Wow, punctual as ever," Olivia said dryly, holding Ellie on her hip. "It's almost like you don't own a clock. Or a mirror."
Fitz grinned as he stepped into the apartment, brushing past her. "Oh, I own a clock. I just refuse to be oppressed by it. Time's a construct, Liv."
"Time's also the reason you missed every single one of Ellie's music recitals last year," she shot back, handing him Ellie's diaper bag.
"First of all, she's two," Fitz replied, setting his coffee precariously on the counter. "She wasn't exactly shredding a guitar solo, okay? Second, those recitals were during rush hour, and you know I'm allergic to traffic."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You're allergic to responsibility."
"And yet, here I am, ready to take our precious angel to the park," Fitz said, scooping Ellie into his arms. "Say bye-bye to Mommy, Ellie! Daddy's about to teach you the fine art of throwing sand at other kids."
"Absolutely not," Olivia snapped, pointing a warning finger at him.
Fitz smirked. "Fine, I'll only teach her how to make sand castles. Jeez, Liv, you act like I'm a bad influence or something."
"You are a bad influence," she said, crossing her arms. "Last week, she called me a 'bozo.'"
Fitz's grin widened. "I'm sorry, but that's hilarious. You have to admit, she nailed it."
"She learned it from you!" Olivia said, exasperated.
"Exactly, which proves I'm an amazing teacher," Fitz replied smoothly.
Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're going to give me an aneurysm."
"You'll be fine," Fitz said cheerfully, grabbing his coffee. "You've got, like, three brain cells left from dealing with me. Pretty sure they're indestructible by now."
Olivia glared at him, but Ellie was already laughing and grabbing at Fitz's hair, so she sighed in resignation. "Just don't let her climb any trees or eat dirt, okay?"
"No promises," Fitz said, heading for the door.
"Fitz!" Olivia called after him.
He turned around, one hand on the doorknob, his grin as infuriating as ever. "Relax, Liv. I've got this. Worst-case scenario, we come back covered in mud, but you love cleaning, right?"
Olivia was too tired to argue. "Just—don't lose her, okay?"
Fitz's expression softened for a split second, something rare but genuine. "Never, Liv. She's got my heart. You know that."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Olivia to wonder, not for the first time, how Fitz could infuriate her one moment and make her almost forgive him the next.
Almost.