Author's note: Lizzington two-shot! The title is a shameless play on Dream Lover, as well as a reference to both Ultron and a little problem that has been plaguing our dear Lizzie in her sleep.
After the sudden explosion of Spader hotness while he does the obligatory press stuff for Ultron, my brain kinda stirred this up of its own volition. I'm calling the first chapter T, but the second is definitely moving into M territory. (Yeah, I've got a one-track mind. Sorrynotsorry)
Thank you for reading, and double thanks for any and all reviews. :) I hope you guys like it.
-...-...-...-
She couldn't go on like this.
For the third time in only a week, Liz woke up in the middle of the night laying horizontally across her shitty motel bed, panting, frustrated, and covered in sweat.
Well, fuck you very much,
Raymond fucking Reddington.
Oh wait - no. There was no fucking. She always woke up before he got that far. And YES she blamed him for the jilted dreams.
If he wasn't constantly in her personal space -
If he didn't take every opportunity to touch her -
If he wasn't always dressed. so. fucking. well -
If he didn't always speak to her in tones that were an entire octave below a musical staff -
And this one, Liz was loathe to admit even to herself, because goddamnit, she can take care of herself, and she never asked for any of this! But... If he didn't have a habit of trying to exchange his own life for hers at such an alarming frequency -
Well, if he didn't do ALL OF THAT, then these dreams wouldn't be happening in the first place.
Then, to make matters worse, Liz suspected that he knew, somehow. He'd recently started teasing her in the mornings, and oh, he took great pleasure in it too. Bastard. NO, Red. She wasn't sour like a grapefruit gusher slushie.
She was sour like a starving woman whose mouth has been wired shut. She was sour like a woman in her sexual prime who hasn't been laid in a year.
She could only scowl.
Sweat.
Sigh.
Salivate.
Fucking Raymond Reddington, for fucksake.
-...-...-...-
As soon as she arrived at The Post Office, Liz's phone started to buzz. She didn't need to check the caller ID to know who it was. She took a deep breath as the elevator doors parted, simultaneously swiping her finger across the screen.
"Keen!" Ressler shouted from behind an enormous cup of coffee.
She hates morning people.
Liz held up one finger, silently signaling him to wait, and lifted the phone to her ear.
"Reddington, you have something for us?" She asked.
All business.
"I do, if you'll meet me at the Adams Morgan safehouse in twenty."
"Oh, hell. I JUST got here. Fine, whatever. I'll be there soon." she replied, pocketing the phone without bothering to say goodbye. She mumbled a tiny prayer of thanks that he hadn't deemed it necessary to taunt her.
Then again, she hadn't given him the chance.
She spun a 180 on her heel and pressed the elevator button, but before the doors could even open, Ressler was behind her, tugging on her coat. "Where are we going?"he asked.
"*I* am going to meet up with Reddington."
"No, WE are," he argued.
"Don't worry about it. I'll fill you in when I get back."
"I just want to be gone before Navabi gets here." Recalcitrant, he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I thought you liked Samar."
"I do, in the field. I hate being the third wheel with her and Aram."
Liz sighed and relented. "Alright." It's not like she wanted to be alone with Reddington, anyway.
The elevator doors opened and both agents stepped in. "Although," Ressler continued, "being the third wheel with you and Reddington isn't much better."
Her hackles raised instantly. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"
He chuckled humorlessly and shoved his free hand into his pocket. "You're angry with him 24/7. The rest of us have to start carrying knives to cut through the tension because it's so hard to get anything done with both of you involved, and in case you haven't noticed, he doesn't deal with us much without you."
Liz pushed her way past him and speedwalked to one of the FBI suburbans so that she could drive, trying to make herself appear too busy and task-oriented to bother with a reply. Frankly, she knew that she was too exhausted to fight without becoming emotional.
During the drive, Ressler made a feeble attempt to smooth things over with small-talk, and she played along, thankful for a change of subject. "Have you been to the new theatre in Georgetown yet?"
"Um, I didn't even know that we have a new theatre in Georgetown," she replied.
"I've heard it's really nice. They have an adults-only section that serves alcohol during the show."
BOOZE, YUM! It wasn't even 9AM, and a drink sounded absolutely divine. "Interesting concept," she replied non-commitally.
"The new Avengers movie came out last week."
She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. Tom had taken her to see the first one. She liked it too, and actually wanted to see the new one, but had resisted the temptation. It seemed like every day, she had to do something that she still wasn't used to doing on her own. Eating alone in public and going to a movie theatre were both things that she hadn't mustered the bravery to attempt yet. She lived on takeout and motel cable.
When they parked, Liz heaved a heavy sigh that was masked by the sound of Ressler's door opening and closing. Thank goodness. She trailed behind him on their way to the door, where Dembe extended a greeting that looked just a little TOO even to Liz. She masked her immediate suspicion with a smile.
"Raymond's waiting for you in the library," he said.
"Tell him I'll be right there. Just gotta use the restroom real quick. We left The Post Office in such a hurry that I forgot how much coffee I'd already had."
"Certainly," he replied, but the corners of his mouth nearly twitched with tension.
Liz hated that she was better at reading Dembe than Reddington. As her eyes briefly met her partner's, she noted his suspicion of her, and she hated that even more. The clicking of her boots on hardwood echoed in the cavernous hall as she strode in the opposite direction of the men. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure that she was safely out of their line of sight as she passed the hall bathroom and made her way towards the one attatched to the master bedroom. If she got caught, she decided, she'd just say that she doesn't much like the soap in the guest bathroom.
A weak excuse, but whatever. Dembe was clearly uneasy about something, and whatever that 'something' was, she didn't expect Reddington to leave it somewhere that she might see.
She opened the door and her eyes immediately landed on a woman with wavy black hair who was pulling the thick curtains aside to peer through the window.
And oh yeah,
she was clad in only black lace panties and a men's white undershirt. Her legs were slender, toned, and at least a mile long. She looked like -
Liz's fists clenched at her side. Without turning around, the woman said, "Well, that was fast." She laughed and added suggestively, "Never thought I'd say that to you."
SAMAR.
THAT BITCH.
THIRD WHEEL INDEED, Ressler.
Fucking idiot.
Liz spun on her heel and practically ran to the safety of the hall bathroom before Samar could turn and discover that she wasn't talking to Red.
Liz splashed cold water on her face, biting her cheek so hard that it bled. SHE WOULD NOT CRY. Not here. Not now.
No. Scratch that. NOT EVER. Not for him. Never again for him.
She didn't really see what her problem was, anyway. Wasn't this what she had expected? Wasn't this exactly what she had assumed was going on? Wasn't it the reason that she had disliked the woman instantly? The reason she instinctively didn't trust her?
Not exactly.
The problem was that she actually DID like Samar. Maybe not at first. No, definitely not at first, but they had bonded, finally. That tends to happen when you stare into the face of death alongside someone and survive. God, she'd even had a highly-uncharacteristic heart-to-heart with the woman. Samar knew how possessive she was over Reddington. She knew, and apparently she'd only pretended to sympathize.
And then Liz woke up in the hospital, and who was holding her hand? Reddington. Reddington was in HER room, NOT Samar's. She later found out that Aram was with her. Truthfully, she knew what Ressler had meant about the pair, but to her, it always looked a little one-sided.
It looked A LOT one-sided, now.
Liz used a hand towel to dry her face, took a few deep, composing breaths, and made her way towards the library. As she passed the kitchen, she saw Dembe pouring a cup of coffee, but he didn't look up.
As soon as her feet hit the Persian rug that covered the library floor, Red's head snapped up, and he grinned. "Lizzie!" he boomed, so resonant that it penetrated her bones, and she winced before she could stop herself. Damn the high ceilings and their godawful acoustics.
He knowingly smirked at her reaction.
"Reddington," was the nicest greeting she could muster, crossing the room to take a seat next to her partner on the setee, safely out of Red's reach.
He'd get a black eye and a bloody nose if he tried to touch her now.
He studied her face carefully, and his stomach instantly filled with dread and concern. He swallowed thickly and clutched the corners of the manilla folder in his hands.
Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong, and he knew better than to ask her about it in front of Ressler. He had a sneaking suspicion about what the problem might be, but he thought too little of himself to believe that it could be true.
But his Lizzie was impatient. Apparently he'd taken too long to get down to business. She felt his eyes on her. "So, how can the FBI cater to your personal interests today?"
Ouch.
He stood up and passed the folder to Ressler. "That's the intel I've gathered from Glen, about our friend Jasper. It should prove helpful. I trust that you'll know how to put it to good use."
"What? Too busy to tell us exactly how to approach him? You aren't worried about our blunt, black and white thinking this time?"
Red still didn't think that his suspicions could be correct, so he decided to test them.
"Unfortunately, I don't have time to hold your hand. I have another engagement to attend this morning," he replied.
An unwise decision.
Liz huffed and turned towards Ressler. "Well, if this doesn't take all day, would you like to check out the new theatre tonight? I wouldn't mind seeing that Avengers film you were talking about." She smiled at him just a little too brightly.
Red's jaw tensed and lowered as if to speak, but then he closed it again, both wordless and worried.
Ressler momentarily blanched, more than slightly surprised. He reluctantly glanced at Red, wary of answering honestly in front of him. What the hell was she doing, anyway?
Before he could respond, she continued, "We should invite Aram too."
Red almost hissed.
Fuck. Really?
And Ressler relaxed at the suggestion, but only slightly. Tentatively, he replied, "Yeah, sure. That sounds good. He'll probably bring Navabi. It could be fun."
Oh, hell. He hoped that Reddington wouldn't think that it sounded like a double date. He hadn't meant it like that.
"Yeah, maybe," Liz replied, "if she doesn't already have plans."
If looks could kill, then the glare that she shot at Red would have done exactly that. He survived the moment, but while her eyes continued to cut into his heart, he wasn't convinced that he'd survive the night.
Or that Agent Ressler would either, for that matter, even though it was Lizzie that had put him into the awkward, dangerous position that he was in.
As worried as he was about Lizzie, both his jealous hackles and ire had been effectively raised. "Sounds like a party," he said, "Am I invited too?"
"Uh.." Ressler started.
Liz jumped to his rescue, "Aren't you usually too busy at night, anyway?" She smirked as if she had him all figured out, twisting the knife, and then stood up to leave. "We'll be in touch," she threw over her shoulder on the way out.
-...-...-...-
While Raymond met with Agents Keen and Ressler, Dembe brewed some coffee, and brought two mugs back to the master bedroom.
"Did you forget something?" Samar asked him, accepting the offered mug with a smile.
He looked at her, puzzled. "Is it too dark?" He asked. "I added two creams, one sugar, just like always."
"No, it's perfect." She grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. "I mean a couple minutes ago, when you came in, turned around, and left again."
"Oh... It seems I've forgotten something else." He pressed a kiss to her temple and smiled. "I'll be right back."
He headed towards the library with purpose. "Raymond, I think we have a problem."
Red sighed, running a hand across his scalp. "I'll say."
-...-...-...-
Red tried to contact Liz five times that day. Such a relentless bastard. If she'd actually needed help with the case, she would have answered, but she didn't. The only message that he left simply came out as a plea for her to call him back, but didn't say why. Most likely, he figured out that SHE KNEW about Samar, and wanted to apologize. She wasn't exactly subtle with him earlier.
But whatever. She didn't want to hear it.
Aram declined the movie invitation, claiming that his parents were in town. Liz was a little disappointed. She wondered if he knew about Samar and Red. She hoped that his parents really were in town.
That night, she took a cab to the theatre, anticipating a steady flow of white (not red) wine. In addition to service during the movie, there was a bar in the lobby. She shrugged off Ressler's protests as she pushed past him and made her way over. "We don't NEED to watch the previews," she huffed.
"That isn't the point. We'll get stuck with shitty seats."
"Then you can go in and save them for us."
"I'm not leaving you alone at some bar to get hit on by creepy old losers."
Unnecessary, but Liz appreciated his concern. She was more than just a little unhinged, and yeah, it probably showed. He was a good partner.
Then he added, "Reddington would probably kill me if he found out."
Did he really have to mention him? For christsake, could she ever get away from Raymond Reddington?
Apparently not.
Ressler glared at her when they finally walked into the dark theatre and found it packed. They managed to squeeze into the third row, which was far too close to the front for either of them.
But she found that she didn't much care. She was already tipsy when they sat down, but the movie was fantastic, and the wine kept flowing as they watched. Ressler wanted to stay through the credits, just in case there was an extra, post-credits scene. She really, really had to pee, but otherwise, she didn't mind too much.
Sadly, there wasn't one. As they stood up to leave, Liz's tongue was uncharacteristically loosened by the wine. "It might be for the best. The theatre seats can only take so much of Ultron's voice. They probably have to be hosed off between viewings."
"WHAT?"
She rolled her eyes at his shock. "Don't act like you didn't notice. They gave that robot a ridiculously-sexy voice. What the hell kind of casting choice was that, anyway? I need a cold shower."
"You've got to be kidding me. Ultron sounds EXACTLY like Reddington!"
She crossed her arms defensively. "No he doesn't."
FUCK.
FUCKFUCKFUCK.
He was right.
He knew better than to push her, so he let it drop.
"Well, I'm gonna hit the ladies room." She looked at her watch. "Gotta hurry though. My cab's probably out there waiting. This was fun. I'll see you tomorrow."
Okay, so she lied about the waiting cab. She'd have to call them, but if Ressler knew that, then he'd want to wait with her, and she was too embarrassed to deal with that.
"Alright, yeah, it was fun. See you tomorrow."
She hastily walked towards the bathroom. After she exited, Liz was relieved to see that he had actually left. Fortunately, she'd fooled him well enough with the little ruse. Standing outside on the sidewalk, she pulled out her phone to call the cab.
A cool breeze blew her hair back, away from her face, and a sudden warmth hit her ear, accompanied by a menacingly low voice. "I'm gonna show you something beautiful..."
Her breath caught in her throat as strong hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around. "Redd-" was all she got out before he pulled her close and covered her lips with his.
She started to pull back, indignant, but he just let out a low little growl and pulled her closer while his lips worked their magic on hers.
And god help her, she gave in and kissed him back, momentarily lost in a sensation that put her stupid dreams to shame with its intensity.
Too soon, however, she came to her senses and pushed him back, snarling. "I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate this very much," she spat, turning on her heel to escape.
But Red was quick to grab her hand and pull her back again. "Wait, Lizzie! Can we talk, please?"
She eyed him warily. He had some nerve!