Title: Five Times Olivia Was Trusted and the One Time She Wasn't
Fandom: Scandal
Rating: NC17
Length: 961
Warning: Includes minor spoilers up to recent episodes.
Summary: Five Times Olivia Was Trusted and the One Time She Wasn't.
Notes: Also written for Challenge #07: Weekly Quick Fic #2 . @ writerverse



The first time he was drunk. They had both been drinking, celebrating the latest polls with a bottle of scotch between them. He was genuinely pleased, she was giddy with relief.

He thanked her sincerely, throwing an arm around her shoulders to bring her close while his warm breath tickled her cheek.

When his lips met hers, she kissed him slowly, forgetting the fact that he was a politician, a man who was not hers, a man who was married.

She pulled back quickly and ducked under his arm instead, telling everyone that she had a headache and needed to rest early that night.

*

The second time it happened, it was needed. They had been avoiding each other, always staying a step ahead of the other as they went about and did their business. She rarely spoke to him; he rarely spoke to her.

But then his grandmother died, the one who used to bake him cookies and hide him from his father whenever he needed it. His wife wasn’t unsympathetic, but she wasn’t too kind about it either. He had to step out and give a speech and all he needed was a moment, just one moment.

Maybe Olivia made a bad decision that day, but when she saw him with his head in his hands, begging for a moment alone so he could grieve, she decided to do the one thing she was always good at doing: fixing this.

Her hands had been gentle as she moved his face up and her lips were light as she brushed her mouth against his. “They need you,” she said. “Your constituents need you. You should go out there and say your peace, but once it’s done, we will leave you alone and you can be with whoever you want.”

She leaves him quickly as he stares after her. Moments later, he steps through the doors with his blazer buttoned and a proper smile adorning his face.

*

The third time it happened, she tried to avoid it. He was after her like he had been the whole week, always asking for a private audience and insisting that they spend time together. She was adamant to do the exact opposite.

She avoided him the best she could, calling people into meetings with her, leaving the door open and even dating a man or two.

But he was persistent.

So persistent that when he finally cornered her in the elevator and kissed her for the first time in months, part of her responded, craving his touch, before finally pushing herself away and leaving as soon as the doors opened.

*

The fourth time was her fault; she admits it. She had been dating someone new; someone who she knew he would detest because of everything he stood for. Someone who Fitzgerald Grant despised because he wanted to.

“Is that it? Are you trying to make me jealous?” he said. He had been drinking a lot during the state dinner and now that they were alone in the hallway of an expensive hotel, he felt that he could rant and rave and demand.

“I was not trying to make you jealous. I was trying to do live my life and do what I want. My life is what is important at this very minute while we’re between elections. And my life is what you are not part of at this very moment as we stand here and argue something that has nothing to do with you.”

He stared at her for a moment, his demeanour being similar to one who had just being punched. “Aren’t I that important?” he asked quietly, his voice broken. “Aren’t I deserving of the great Olivia Pope’s attention?”

She meant to tell him to stop it. But between her lips parting to say the words and her legs moving away from him, he was on her, his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers. To this day, Olivia wonders why she couldn’t resist him; why she allowed him to pin her against the wall and ravage her the way she had imagined he someday would. And why, out of everyone in the Capital, did she not push him away?

*

The fifth time it happened, it was purposeful. They were only a little bit more than jokes and giggles as they snuk from one room to the other, his lips attacking her throat and her hand burying itself in his hair. They were a flurry of movements as clothing was pushed aside and he entered her with light, breathy kisses being placed on her crown.

The only thing that made her think that she could do this with him, betray a man and his wife so surely is the thought that it meant nothing more than lust. It was because they were sneaking around; the prospect intoxicating and sensual.

She arched against him and he groaned as their movements sped up and he stroked her between her thighs until completion. She held onto him tightly until she saw stars, promising herself that she would never do this again, while knowing that to be a promise she would learn to break over and over.

*

If I’d observed all the rules, I’d never have got anywhere.

Marilyn Monroe said that once because her illicit affairs had become her defining moments in life. Olivia had followed all of the rules, had done everything that had been deemed by the stars, but one.

“I trusted you,” he said, his eyes dark with unforgiving hatred.

She looked away, ashamed. “I know.”

He looked away too, his eyes closing with sadness. “I loved you.”

Her next words crack, but her face stays unaffected. “I know.”

Those were the last words she said to President Fitzgerald Grant; at least for some time.