Work Text:
Fitz taps his left foot on the floor repeatedly as the tip of his pen hovers over the paper. Before he changes his mind, with a sigh, he drops the pen and loosens his tie. This is not how he wished the day would've gone. His schedule had been cleared for one single goal and he'd failed miserably.
With a quick glance at the phone on his desk, he stands up. He will allow himself to relax for a minute but not to act on the one impulse that will not leave his head. Instead, he walks around the office and tries to push away the thought.
Taking his time, Fitz paces around the presidential seal, noting the number of arrows, clouds, and leaves. When he starts to question his own sanity he reaches for the scotch. This shouldn't be this hard. He has a room full of people whose sole job is to write him speeches, yet none of it feels right. Even after a whole day of rewriting the parts of his Correspondents' Dinner that seemed off, it's still not good enough.
Walking towards the window he takes small sips of his drink, pacing himself so he doesn't do anything stupid like call Olivia. This had been a special corner for them from the beginning. As soon as they knew about the cameras, this became their spot, and ever since she left it remained haunted by her. The conversations they could've had, the time they could've spent together.
He knew it wouldn't be easy, doing the job without her but as the Correspondents' Dinner approached the lack of her in the room is all he can feel. Time and time again he reached for the phone and stopped himself before doing something he'd regret. He could never be ashamed of the urge to reach out to her but questioning her wish to be away from him was something else. Before he changes his mind and does something he might regret, he finishes the rest of his drink in one gulp and walks out of the Oval, trying his utmost to leave there any thought of her.
Fitz readjusts himself on his chair. The sun set long ago, and much like yesterday, his movements were limited to stretching when his limbs felt numb and his focus on work had gone, replaced instead with Olivia. Before he can think any better of it he reaches for the phone and dials her number.
First ring
It's fine. She might not pick up, he tells himself. If she doesn't, he'll let the idea go. The end result might not be as good as he knows it can be, but he will have something anyhow.
Nevertheless, he holds his breath. His lungs are filled with dread and a cumulative of other emotions that lay dormant and now threaten to spill out. The selfishness of his actions does not matter in the impossibility of him doing anything else besides waiting for her to answer the phone.
Second ring
Nothing.
He recalls the softness in her voice during their late-night talks. His fingers freeze as the seconds seem to drag on endlessly and a single tear falls from his eyes. Though impulsive, this decision was guided by his feelings and it might be the first act that's true to his wants in a really long time. Even in loneliness and fear that she will not pick up or that she indeed will, he laughs, relieved that he still has it in him, the ability to let his love for her free him from himself. She has given him the greatest gift of all, to be able to walk and live freely, leading with his heart.
Third ring
"What?" Olivia says, causing Fitz's heart to skip a beat.
"It's me," he says barely above a whisper. With one word from her, he knows he made the right decision. Her voice is enough to clear out the chaos of wandering thoughts and emotions. When the other end of the line remains silent he continues, aware of how this call could come as a surprise to Olivia. "Is this okay?" Fitz notices the background noise disappearing as she likely turned off the television and his eyes gleam.
"How are you?" Olivia asks.
"I'm fine," he smiles softly. "I'm lingering in the Oval."
"Working?"
"Failing at it," Fitz can hear Olivia sigh from the end of the line.
"Is your speech ready?" she asks.
He chuckles. "No."
Olivia can't help but grin. Despite the knowledge that any contact between them is a risk of falling into old patterns, she had hoped he would call again this year. Stolen glances and off-chance meetings could only go so far and there was no denying she missed him. Still, the joy brought out by him was too dangerous to have on a day-to-day basis, so she relied on this, the Correspondents' Dinner, and on him needing her from time to time.
"How are you?" he dares to ask. It doesn't matter what terms they're on, he can't help but reach for as much information as he can, especially when they never get to properly talk.
"Worried," she admits. "I was waiting for you."
"I almost called yesterday but I thought you might not like that."
"And today?"
"I chose to take my chances."
"Mhmm."
Fitz considers what he's been through this last week and the thought of dealing with the same thing until the end of his term causes knots in his stomach. "Can I call you? Every year? I know you want your distance but just for the White House Correspondents' Dinner. I need to know what you think."
"Okay. For this."
"Okay," Fitz repeats, unable and unwilling to keep the giddiness out of his voice.
"Are you nervous?" Olivia asks, genuinely curious.
"No, frustrated I think. I'm used to it by now but the speech isn't right so nothing else falls into place."
"It could be worse. There could be a scandal going on."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Yes."
Fitz smirks. "Wait. If anything happens could I hire you?"
"That would be crossing a line."
"It wouldn't be the first time," he teases.
Olivia shakes her head. "Try not to need it."
"Okay," he exhales, peaceful to simply be talking to her. "Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you want to come over?"
"Fitz. That's a–"
"Bad idea. I know," he sighs. "Worth the try I guess."
"I'm sorry," Olivia says regretfully. Given the uniqueness of their situation and considering it will take a long time until she has a new opportunity she suggests a safer option. "We can have a drink together. But not too much we need to work."
"Do you have scotch?" Fitz asks eagerly.
"You could literally never say that about Mellie. They would find some legal loophole to impeach you just for that," Olivia says.
"What happened to 'you should be honest and wear your heart on your sleeve'?"
"We know there's a limit to what people can take."
"Ok," he smiles. "Scratched that."
"Fitz?"
"What?" he crosses one ankle over the other and readjusts the pillow on his head. By his third drink, he'd given up on any formality and simply moved to the couch in the center of the Oval. As time flew by he progressively got more comfortable. First removing his shoes, then his tie and jacket. By now he's fully lying on the couch with more than a third of the original speech draft completely gone and another third is already rewritten.
"It wasn't a Correspondents' Dinner but…. in that debate why did you think it was a good idea to say you were in love with me?"
"Wow," Fitz draws out the sound, completely shocked. along with it. "Well, honesty might not work all the time, but it was true and I mean it, even if I was deflecting. My marriage was in shambles but loving you made me better. It gave me joy and belief in this world I didn't know I had. It's why I won. Also, I couldn't say it and not look at you. It felt appropriate."
"To stare at me like that in a public space, then almost jump me in the elevator?"
"I did no such thing," Fitz smirks. "I slowly and intentionally moved in your direction, very different. And you did it too, you don't get to judge me."
"I could barely breathe after you left."
Fitz thinks back to the memory of the closeness of their bodies and the need to touch her barely contained. Not even the opening of the door that made her completely out of reach could dissipate the tension in the air. In contrast to that, the physical distance of now is less tortuous than the lingering "what if?" that accompanied him constantly back then.
"Liv," Fitz bites his lower lip, nervous, but emboldened by the alcohol, "when did you know you liked me?"
"Really?" she asks in disbelief.
"When you think about it it's kind of unfair that I told you the moment we met. Never had any mystery to it."
"That's what you're hung up upon? The mystery?"
"Yep. Now tell me," he might be taking advantage of her good mood but he doesn't care. He's always wanted to know.
"I don't know. It was fast," Olivia furrows her brows in thought. "I do remember one particular lunch, Sally was there and you were charming everyone. And I didn't know what it was at the time, it was just this feeling in my gut, looking at you and being happy." Olivia purposefully does not mention the way she felt as she saw him hold babies and play around with children. "Then it appeared again and again. That's how I knew"
"Thank you, for telling me."
"You're welcome," Olivia can't help but answer with no hint of irony. He's too happy for her to ruin that. "Now, about immigration- "
Fitz's eyes sparkle as Olivia leads their conversation back to where it should be just like she's always done. Relaxed, he shuts his eyes and listens to her speak. Thankful for the blissful minutes he gets to spend in her company.