Welcome to another installment of Romance Writers Weekly! This week, Jo Richardson wants us to write a bit of fan fiction.
FAN FICTION : stories involving popular fictional characters that are written by fans and often posted on the Internet —called also fanfic, \-ˈfik\
Hopefully, you hopped over here from the wonderful Kristi Rose‘s page, where she no doubt made you blush and smile with her writing.
I could pretend that I have no idea what fanfic is, but…if you know me at all…you know I am well-versed on the subject. My first fandom was Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Spike/Buffy forever!) and I wrote my very first long-form fiction in that universe. Some of it is still floating around online under the name Xionin. Read at your own risk, ehehe. Jo wanted us to write an opening scene from a piece of fan fiction that we might write. I’m going to cheat and update a short piece that I wrote for Scandal, ABC’s scintillating political drama.
Here’s some background on the show: California Governor Fitzgerald Grant has been been in a loveless marriage for 20 years, but finds fulfillment in his political career. He decides to run for President and his campaign manager pulls in a trump card, one Miss Olivia Pope. She’s a brilliant strategist and is just the thing Fitz needs. It’s love at first sight, but alas, they are star-crossed lovers. Right? Well, this is Washington, D.C. where just about anything can happen, and often does. Fitz and Olivia have an epic love, dammit. Neither the Presidency, his dead marriage, or back-to-back-to-back political scandals and conspiracies will keep them apart. Right? If only. (Stand down, Jake lovers. I am Olitz all the way, lol!)
This was written early in Fitz and Olivia’s relationship. I didn’t realize until I pulled it for this post that I’d written it in the present tense. Very rare for me. Anyway, enjoy!
Universe: Scandal, season 2
Pairing: Olivia and Fitz
Fitz is distracted. Cyrus is riled up about some sticking point, practically foaming at the mouth as he berates the assembled staff. He’s the pit bull on the team and Fitz murmurs a word of caution, but his heart isn’t in it. There’s someone missing from this meeting. Someone whom, despite her title, holds more sway than anyone else in the room. Himself included. They shouldn’t even have started without her.
“Good afternoon, everyone.”
Olivia enters the room with a purpose and a presence that alters the mood of everyone gathered, whether they like it or not. Fitz likes it very much. And he knows his eyes are dancing, so he doesn’t look at her.
Instead, he follows her movement as she crosses the office. Watching her reflection in the Federalist windows, in the antique picture frames, and in the ornate mirrors. Never directly, it’s too risky. He continues to nod at Cyrus, mmm his agreements, and hopes he’s being appropriately presidential. Any attempt to concentrate on whatever point his Chief of Staff is trying to make is laughable. Fitz has a singular focus, and the object of his focus seems just as actively engaged in avoidance. Still, he knows there’s a tiny smile on her lips, even if he can’t see it. Won’t.
“Cyrus.” God, her voice is an opiate.
Without invitation, though none is necessary, she sits in the chair opposite his. Yin to his yang. Fitz can feel the force of her pulling him into an easy orbit.
She still doesn’t look at him directly, and Fitz only tilts his head in her direction. A peripheral glance is all he will dare and, yes, the smile is there. Even surrounded by staff and lobbyists, he can’t say her name without some telling inflection. If anyone ever stopped to notice, it would betray all that he feels.
Cyrus hands her the latest brief and Fitz watches their heads come together to look over the data. Grey and black nodding in agreement. Fitz envies the ease of their proximity. He sits back in his chair, planting his feet flat on the floor as if it will anchor him. Stop him from jumping up and rounding the table to take her in his arms. He allows his thoughts to briefly caress her bowed head.
Olivia pushes a folder across the table, withdrawing her hand too quickly for him to give in to his temptation to touch her. He would, and she knows he would. She’s always had so much more control. Awareness. Frustrating reserve. But he’s seen her unravel, shaking breathlessly beneath him. He can’t help but let his gaze linger a little too long on the sweep of her eyelashes against her velvet cheek. He can’t control the very noticeable hitch in his breath when she rests a pen between her full lips, oblivious to the promises they make. Or maybe not so oblivious.
Her smile widens infinitesimally, as if she can feel his eyes on her. Of course, she can. Fitz can’t turn away any more than he can control the alarming speed of his pulse when she finally looks up at him. She steals all his reason.
“Mr. President?” And then she is all business, awaiting his approval on this new directive. Whatever it is.
Cy clears his throat. Loudly.
“It looks good, I think,” Fitz says, no idea what ‘it’ even is, but he trusts her. Implicitly. She nods, confident and assured, her eyes returning to her work as if they hadn’t just shared that tiny bubble of intimacy. And that’s the part that scares Fitz the most.
When he’s around her, time stands still. The world simply…stops. All rational thought goes out the window, and there is only her.
She holds all of the power, even though he wears the crown.
You own me, he’d once said and he wills the memory towards her. As if by magic, she lifts her eyes from her paperwork and into his gaze.
“It’s a good deal, Mr. President. Everything you wanted.” There’s a little more heat in her voice, and that smile – his smile – plays just at the corners of her mouth. His body betrays him, blood coursing at formula one speeds through his veins. The tickle in his throat travels south to warmer climates.
“Almost, Olivia. Almost.”
Hop on over to see what S. C. Mitchell has in store for us. I guarantee it will be something amazing! See you next time.