Things aren't looking too great for these two, but I still love the idea of them together!
Disclaimer : I very unfortunately do not own any of the characters :(
Elizabeth Keen was starting to break.
She wasn't that same girl that had walked through the doors of the FBI building two years ago.
Despite all the shit that had been going on in her life; things with Raymond Reddington and Tom Keen, she had always managed to regain her composure.
She came into work every day, in her pretty, pressed blouses and her makeup just so and her curly hair tumbling down her back.
But not anymore.
First of all she had been dragged into the whole mess with Raymond Reddington, and then she had found out that her husband had been cheating on her with one of his colleagues. Somehow she had managed to hold it together, throwing herself into her work until early hours of the morning, and then still making it there before everyone else at the start of the next day. It was an out that Donald Ressler understood, because he did the same thing when things had gone sour with Audrey Bidwell.
But then the case they were working on now had really gotten to her.
There were girls, orphans, being taken. From foster families, from group homes—and the FBI was suspecting it was someone in the Social Services department that was taking them. Because these girls didn't have any immediate family, and had troubled pasts, a lot of them had been getting classed as runaways, and there wasn't any real investigation into their disappearances. But it had been brought to their attention recently when one of the girls had been spotted with a known human trafficker that they were tracking down. Whenever there were children involved, the case was bound to be hard. But of course, orphan girls...That was something that struck a chord deep inside Liz, and she was throwing herself into this case day and night.
"So what are we drinking tonight?" Don asked, resting his hands on the edge of Liz's desk. She let out a long huff through her nose before looking up at him with tired eyes.
"I don't think I'm up for a drink tonight," she murmured, running her fingers through her long hair and tossed it over her shoulder. "I think I'm just gonna head home and crash for the evening." Don raised his fair eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "I think I need to go home and get an early night—get in the right mind space to come back tomorrow."
"You know you're just gonna get all caught up in your head if you go home," Don said knowingly, his voice soft and his eyes caring. "And then you're gonna be burnt out tomorrow."
"I'm fine," Liz told him, and Don could already see her eyes closing off. That enduring patience that she had once had was long gone, and replaced with a hardened shell. That was completely normal when it came to agents—hell, Don had gone through it almost the instant he had walked through the FBI doors. But Liz had become like a whole other person, and it wasn't just because of the job. It was like everything in her life had dissolved her first day.
First, there was Raymond Reddington, who had cast a shadow as extensive as the one behind himself, over her and her career. Which had then lead to her second problem, and that was due to Red's intent desire to only speak with her, all of her new colleagues—including Don himself—had been suspicious of her.
And then there had been the third problem.
Tom.
Whatever was going on with Liz before she had started working here had lulled her into a false sense of security. It was as though she was living in some kind of happy families bubble. But this job made you suspicious—of everyone—and it hadn't taken her long to figure out what was going on, which had resulted in an extremely bad break up and late nights spent sleeping on the uncomfortable couch in her office. That was what had alerted Don to what was going on, although Red had already know, as usual. Red would comfort and distract Liz through the day with his Blacklist and his unusual anecdotes, and then Don would take the night shift.
Not every night.
And not always for the whole night.
But enough.
Enough for Don to know it wasn't just a respect for a colleague or friendship that he could leave at the door at five o'clock in the evening that he felt for her.
Nothing had actually happened between them. He didn't know if it was to soon or even if she returned his feelings. But that didn't stop him from sneaking glances at her throughout the day, or when she fell asleep in his bed after they had eaten take out pizza and watched trashy movies. He head no problem taking the couch if it meant the next day his pillow and sheets were going to smell of her lavender shampoo.
He just wanted to get the corners of her mouth to tip upwards into that gorgeous smile he hadn't seen in so long.
"I'll catch you later, Ressler," Liz mumbled, picking up the pile of folders that were perched precariously on her desk. Don felt his eyebrows knit together as he saw her pick up the case files, but he glanced away so that she didn't see his expression. "Have a good night."
"Yeah, you too, Keen," Don said after her, as he watched her retreating figure.
Liz was sitting on the floor of her apartment, the case files in complete disarray around her. She took in a deep breath, her chest heaving.
Don was right.
She was stuck inside her head.
Shit, she hated how well he knew her.
Liz would never have thought on her first day that her god send would be a world re-known criminal and a man who had made her feel less superior to rubbish on the side of the street the first time they had met.
There was a knock, and Liz frowned up at the wooden door, her hand instantly going straight for the gun that was loaded and ready on her coffee table. There was another knock and Liz uncurled her legs from where they were tucked underneath her and stood up silently from the floor. She padded over to the door and looked out the peep-hole, rolling her eyes in self-deprecation for being so worried when she saw who it was. Liz unlocked the door and opened it wide.
"I thought I said no drinking," Liz raised an eyebrow at him and the bottle of expensive bourbon in his hand, but didn't look upset at being disturbed. Don walked past her, into the apartment that he had helped her move into after her split from Tom.
"And I thought I said not to get caught up in your head," Don stopped as he reached the throw rug where all of the case files were sprawled out messily. Liz closed and locked the door before turning back to join him.
"Clearly neither of us are good at listening," Liz responded, a small smile pulling a the corner of her full lips.
"Clearly," Don repeated back, his blue eyes twinkling and his lips quirking upward and drawing Liz's gaze. She hoped he didn't notice the clench of her shoulders as her eyes glanced down at his mouth and wondered—for the hundredth time—what they would feel like pressed against her body. "Liz?" Don seemed to be talking and she blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "How much wine you had, Keen?" Don asked, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he looked down at the glass that was perched on the coffee table next to her gun.
God, she loved that smile.
It made him look like a teenager again—so happy and relaxed. She had only just begun seeing it a few months ago when they had started hanging out outside of work.
"Liz? Shit, girl, are you drunk?" Don was waving his hand in front of her face and Liz cleared her throat and blinked again, realized that she had once again zoned and he thought that that was because of the wine.
"No, not drunk," Liz rubbed a hand over her face and shook her head. "Just tired."
"But you're not in bed," Don said pointedly, looking up at the clock where the hands were announcing it was just after twelve. Liz looked at the time and widened her eyes.
"Hell, Ressler! You always make house calls at this time of night? What if I was asleep?"
"Knew you wouldn't be," Don replied, already walking toward the kitchen to get himself a tumbler. He knew where everything was, given he and Meera Malik had been the ones to help her move in when she was escaping Tom. She had to admit that she liked him in the kitchen, looking as though he belonged there. He got a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself a couple fingers of bourbon. Then he walked back out into the lounge area and collapsed on the comfortable maroon armchair that he always claimed. "So what are we working on, then?" He looked down at the papers on the ground.
For the umpteenth time, Liz felt a rush of gratitude toward him.
He didn't question why she was throwing herself into the case, or why she was drinking alone on a Friday night.
In fact, she was pretty sure that it was more than appreciation that she was feeling toward Don, but she bit her lip to tamper that down.
"So? We going to work and drink, or what?" Don raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Liz flashed him a smile before picking up her glass of wine.
Don grinned as he looked down to where Liz was now fast asleep. It was almost three, and she had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago. She was resting her head on his shoulder, and her body was curled up at his side. He wasn't too sure what was going on with Liz when he had first shown up; she kept zoning out and not listening to him. She clearly wasn't drunk and Don's only other thought was that maybe she didn't want him there. But then she had invited him in and didn't seem to mind him being there.
"Liz?" Don whispered, jiggling his shoulder slightly to see if she would wake. Her eyes remained firmly closed and Don chewed down on his lip as he took in the slightly mussed hair and her make up free face. She sighed, and her body leaned even more heavily into him. The arm of the hand she was resting on was balanced behind him, and one of her own hands was resting next to it. How comfortable she was around him was amazing, and he knew not to take it for granted.
Hence why he hadn't tried to make a move on her yet.
Don moved slowly, holding her head carefully in place as he moved off the ground. He had abandoned his usual armchair a while ago so that he could sit down next to her on the ground. When he was on his feet, Don easily bent his knees and lifted Liz up, one arm under the crook of her knees and the other under her back. Her bedroom was the second down the hallway, and he toed the door open before going inside. Despite coming to her apartment a couple of times, he had only come into her bedroom once, on the day that he helped her move in and put her bed together. Liz was already dressed in sleeping clothes, a tiny pair of shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs and an oversized sweat shirt. He awkwardly pulled back the duvet and sheet and laid her down on the bed. Liz rolled from her side to her back and Don distracted himself from looking at the strip of smooth skin on her stomach that had been exposed when her sweatshirt had slid up. He pulled the duvet up to her chest and paused as he looked down at her sleeping face. Some hair had escaped the bun she had tied at the nape of her neck. There was a strand that had fallen over her eye and curled against her cheek. Don couldn't help himself as he leaned down and brushed it away.
Liz's eyes flashed open.
Don froze, his fingers still resting against the smooth skin of her cheek.
The two stared at each other for a long time in silence—maybe a minute or so but it felt like an hour. Liz's expression never changed and Don's breath was frozen in his throat. Finally, she broke the trance, tilting her head slightly into his touch and letting her eyes close again. Don let out a long sigh of relief; glad that she hadn't shied away from his touch but uncertain as to where that left them.
Liz solved that for him.
"Stay with me?" She murmured, her voice sounding uncertain, but Don knew there was no way he could ever say 'no' to her.
"Yeah," he replied, moving his hand away from her face and walking around to her side of the bed. The light was still on in the lounge but Don wasn't going to go out there and riisk breaking this moment. He shed the jersey and shirt he was wearing, and then kicked off his jeans and socks, sliding between the cool covers of Liz's bed. Once inside, he was stuck with the same problem as before.
He didn't know where that left them.
But this time, Don didn't wait for Liz to take the lead; he rolled over and circled an arm around her waist and tugged her in closer to him. Liz rolled over willingly, pressing her back to his bare, muscular chest. She made a little mumbling noise under her breath, but then her breathing evened out and Don guessed that she had fallen asleep.
It didn't take Don long, before his own breathing had deepened also, and he had followed suit.
Liz woke up with a start, her body jerking alert and feeling like she had slept past her alarm. There was a warmth surrounding her and for a panicked moment, her mind went straight to Tom. But then the scent of Don's cologne hit her and she calmed down.
Liz rolled over so that she was facing Don, and as she turned, she glimpsed the time, which said it was four thirty. So she had probably only been asleep for an hour or so. However long she had been asleep, it hadn't been long enough to get rid of the wine taste in her mouth, or have the horrible morning taste take over. Don's eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted—and Liz couldn't help herself as she reached out to touch the corner of his pink lips with the edge of her thumb.
Don's eyes opened slowly, and Liz moved her hand down slightly so that she was cupping his sturdy neck. Don made a small noise at the back of his throat and Liz felt a jolt shoot her as he leaned into her touch. She could see a slight smile on his face as he let his eyelids rest again. Liz stroked her fingers up and down the lines of his neck, loving the way she could see his body reacting to her touch. Goosebumps were breaking out over his skin, and she hesitated before leaning in close and pressing a quick kiss to his pulse point
She was not disappointed by his reaction.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and his eyes snapped open.
Liz was pinned by his stare, barely centimeters away from his face, still in the position she in when she had moved back to look at his face. Don was breathing short and hard, his chest rising and falling as he stared at her.
Then they crashed together.
The kiss was a mess of tongues and teeth, and they tangled their bodies together as Don gripped her hips and rolled her over, so that she was stretched out over him and her legs fell to either side of his hips. He brought one knee up so that it was pressed against her pulsing center. It had been a long time since Liz had felt this way; like every nerve in her body was on fire and her center was throbbing with want. Don's fingers inched under the light sweatshirt that she was wearing, brushing against her soft skin and massaging at her lower back. Liz sighed and keened against his touch, arching her back slightly so that she could get closer to his touch. Don rolled them over so that she was on the bottom, and he was cupping her face, licking at the roof of her mouth and sucking on her plump lower lip.
"Are you sure about this?" Don managed to ask as he kissed his way over her jaw bone and down her slender neck. Liz nodded her head feverishly a couple of times but then he paused and pulled away.
"What is it?" Liz asked, her glazed eyes trying to focus back on his face, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed heavily.
"Are you sure about this?" He repeated. Liz licked her lips, her eyes skimming over his face.
"Yes," she said, quietly but determinedly. He stared down at her, considering her.
"Then I need a smile, girl," he told her softly, reaching down to trace the bow shape of her lips with his fingers. She closed her eyes for a moment as he touched the corner of her mouth and then pulled gently at the lower lip. And then a second later, those lips were turning upwards at the corners, and giving him a small but true smile. "That's it," Don breathed, reaching down to join their lips again.
Let me know what you guys think :)