A/N To dear Catherine Medici. Happy Christmas/New Year and sorry for all this nonsense. :-) Fucking DISCLAIMED with a capital D.
Part 1
It was past 5 in the evening on a Friday when Liz returned to the post office, her limbs aching and her favorite leather jacket ripped. Why do they always run she thought huffily as she played back the afternoon's events in her head. This wasn't even a blacklister; it was a snivelling little snitch who did some low level dealing for a guy who worked for a blacklister. Oh he'll be no trouble Reddington had said dismissively. No trouble my ass she grumbled to herself. As she exited the clanking yellow elevator she examined the tattered sleeve of her jacket ruefully and considered briefly what Reddington would say if she sent him the bill. Moneybags would probably buy her another apartment and fill it full of jackets, like that would fix the clusterfuck that was their relationship.
Part of her wondered whether he had sent her on a wild goose chase on purpose. It would be just like that arrogant son of a bitch to teach her a lesson by having her chase pointlessly after a spineless nark. Nonetheless, the infuriating, fedora-wearing deviant was coming in later for a report, and she was now faced with the unpleasant task of informing him and her colleagues that the target had gotten away.
As she rounded the corner she was surprised to hear laughter - Aram's nervous little chuckle, a sultry purr from Samar and someone who sounded like Ressler, although she didn't think she'd ever heard him properly laugh before, ginger little sour-puss that he was.
"Liz!" Aram waved cheerily, spilling some liquid from a paper cup in his hand. "You're just in time! TGI Friday, eh?"
Liz frowned. "Just in time for what?"
Samar beckoned to her with a playful little smile. "One of the clerks found a crate of wine left over from the 4th July and we figured what the hell – it's Friday. It's been a tough week. Especially for you, by the looks of things…" Samar approached her and examined her torn sleeve before looking earnestly into her eyes. She raised her hand slowly to her face and stroked her cheek softly with her thumb. "You ok?"
Liz laughed nervously, stepping back. Ok, that was weird... "Yeah fine – the snitch got away though, I'll have a mountain of paperwork to do to explain that" she sighed.
Ressler snorted. "You take everything too seriously Keen – lighten up before you get recruited by the fun police."
What the… She raised her eyebrows incredulously.
"Have some wine Liz, and chill. Turn on… tune in… and cop out!" the ginger finished in a deep voice, grinning sloppily.
Reluctantly, she accepted the paper cup he offered. "Jeez you guys…Ok you're on, but I need to write up some notes before I join you. I'll be in my office."
As she left the main floor she looked back – it was dark in there, but for a moment she could have sworn she saw Ressler put his hand on Aram's ass.
About an hour later, Assistant Director Harold Cooper stepped out of his office and sauntered onto the raised walkway that looked out over the main floor of the black site. It afforded him a view of his kingdom, which although little more than a clandestine tin-can, was where some of the finest agents in the country busted their asses to thwart the world's most dangerous terrorists. He was so proud of them.
Ressler, dependable and by the book, was a stalwart if rather inflexible second in command. Aram's interminably nervous disposition and formidable intellect had served them well over the years. Samar, something of a wild card, had nonetheless acclimatised well, making herself indispensable. She was, of course, Reddington's plant. Cooper didn't give a shit. She was a good agent, and it was predictable that Reddington would want someone on the inside. Someone to protect his interests…
That brought Cooper to the final member of the task force, Elizabeth Keen, a little firecracker of whom he had grown rather fond – protective even. He knew that when it came to her, Reddington couldn't be trusted. Call it a father's instinct, but there was something in the way the debonair concierge of crime looked at the young agent that made Cooper want to dangle a shotgun from his arm and tell Reddington to have her back by 11pm, no matter how powerful and dangerous the man might be.
He shook his head and refocussed on the scene below him. Aram sat at his desk, still working on a Friday evening he observed proudly – so dedicated, so professional… A second later Cooper blinked as he watched what looked like a pair of feet rise up over Aram's shoulders, accompanied by a breathy laugh. His confusion quickly turned to horror as he saw Samar arching up off Aram's desk, playfully caressing his beard with her bare foot. His stomach heaved when he heard Aram bark like a Chihuahua in heat before nipping at her toes with his teeth.
Cooper fled back to his office with his eyes averted, slamming the door behind him. What in the name of God had he just witnessed?
Shaking his head, he looked up and started in surprise. Ressler had slipped into his office and was leaning casually against the desk.
"Knock next time Agent Ressler" Cooper chastised. "I've had enough surprises for one day – did you know about Agents Navabi and Mojtabai?"
Ressler quirked an eyebrow. "They're…intimate" he shrugged lazily.
Cooper frowned, taken aback by the agent's blasé attitude. "And you didn't think to tell me? Staff relationships are against agency policy, and needless to say that includes flagrant toe-sucking!"
Ressler's lips curved into a sly smile. "I'm sorry sir, but the truth is I, ah, dropped the ball on this one. I've been a bad boy, and I deserve to be punished..."
It took a few seconds for Cooper to process what he had heard – it was like his brain had suddenly decided to take a vacation somewhere where his agents weren't behaving in a way which made him want to remove his own eyes with a fork.
By the time he came to his senses, the ginger agent was bending over his desk fumbling ineptly with his belt buckle.
"Oh god no no no" Cooper moaned. "Agent Ressler stop whatever you're doing right now, THAT'S AN ORDER!"
Ressler threw him a flirtatious smile over his shoulder, before slowly and deliberately lowering his pants to the floor.
Reddington was uncharacteristically nervous as he took the elevator down to the black site. It was a bit of a stretch sending Lizzie after the snitch and she would surely have seen through his ruse by now. She'd reduced him to this, he thought bitterly; determined to believe he was using her she had become snide and distant, so much so that he had been forced to invent a task for her just so that he would have an excuse to see her. His only hope was that her hurt feelings indicated that she cared for him in some way. Pathetic, he said to himself scathingly. As the elevator shuddered to the ground he twisted his features into a mask of indifference, straightened his fedora and swept elegantly through the doors.
The scene which befell him was bordering on indescribable, though if anyone was up to the task, it was Raymond Reddington. The first thing in his line of sight was Aram and Samar engaged in a positively acrobatic embrace on a desk, her ankles crossed behind his neck while she tried to reach for his belt. Reddington cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. Agent Navabi was certainly as limber as he might have guessed, though lacking in grace, he concluded, observing the cracked screen of a laptop where it lay discarded on the floor, presumably a casualty of passion.
This bizarre little vignette was punctuated by plaintive cries coming from the walkway above.
"Sir! Come back sir! I've been such a bad, bad boy – punish me! Punish meeeeeeeeee!"
Reddington looked up slowly to see Agent Ressler bouncing up and down on the walkway, his pants round his ankles.
"Reddington!" Cooper exclaimed behind him. "I never thought I'd be glad to see you. I need to get the hell out of here!"
Reddington turned to face him. "But then who will punish Agent Ressler?" he said solemnly with a twinkle in his eye. "He's been such a bad boy."
"I'm glad you think this is funny" Cooper snapped. "There's something seriously off here and I can't figure out what it is while I'm being plagued by the image of Donald Ressler's bare white ass" he finished with a haunted expression on his face.
Reddington laughed gently. "Well if you can ignore Captain America's positively patriotic little tush for just a moment you'll notice the empty bottle of wine on Agent Mojtabai's desk and three cups – I think it's likely that Agents Ressler, Navabi and Mojtabai have ingested a drug of some sort which has resulted in this behaviour."
As he spoke Aram and Samar untangled themselves and made their way towards him, while Cooper stepped away nervously. Reddington observed Samar's tiny tank top with interest – how delightfully unconcerned with appropriate workwear the woman seemed to be. He briefly recalled their first meeting in which he was tied to a chair while she circled him predatorily. So…the predator becomes the prey he thought wryly as the lethal former Mossad agent sank to her knees in front of him, staring up at him suggestively with doe eyes, her hand trailing up his pant leg. He enjoyed the sight immensely, and was about to comment when he was distracted by Aram's timorous voice next to his ear.
"Mr Reddington, I know we've had our differences - like that time you asked me to steal 5 million dollars and threatened to kill me - but I have to tell you I really feel we have a connection. You're a great man Mr Reddington, a powerful and attractive man-"
"I am rather, aren't I?" Reddington cut him off smugly, resisting the temptation to allow the poor guy to disgrace himself further. He looked down at Samar who was gazing hungrily up at him. She licked her lips and proceeded to reach for his zipper. He groaned in frustration before regretfully cupping her chin in his hand and bringing her gently to her feet.
"Agent Navabi, whilst I'm exceedingly gratified, I suspect the delicious post-orgasmic high you would no doubt bestow upon me would be dampened somewhat when you return to your senses and gut me like a fish for having taken advantage of you, and so regretfully I'll have to resist your manifold charms on this occasion."
She frowned, and Reddington smoothly put out his hands, one on her back and one on Aram's, gently directing their attention back to one another.
Cooper appeared behind him as the agents began what looked like a face-eating competition. "Now do you see the problem?" he said with more than a note of disgust in his voice.
Reddington nodded, grimacing. "I do. Agent Mojtabai has all the finesse of a squid eating a French fry."
Cooper glared at him.
"Yes, yes, this is quite the predicament" Reddington continued conversationally "- I saw something similar in a brothel in Thailand years ago. It was one of the best nights of my life until the local police came to break up the party and ended up sampling the drug themselves as corrupt officers in rural towns are wont to do – every single one of them was armed with a truncheon Harold, I'd have been better off spending a week in jail with ten Cambodian street wrestlers" his finished, shuddering at the memory.
Cooper winced and shook his head. "Well at least this lot don't seem dangerous."
Reddington looked at him sharply, his expression serious for the first time. "There's nothing more dangerous than a love drug Harold, make no mistake" he warned, his voice dark. "Love makes you powerless…" he added quietly, looking about him. "Where is Agent Keen?"
"She clocked in an hour ago and I haven't seen her since. There's no reason to think she's been affected."
Reddington nodded, chewing his cheek. "Keep this lot out of trouble Harold, I'm going to retrieve her. I suggest you gather everyone together in the break room, and if you have any spare handcuffs lying about I'd make use of them before someone gets hurt. Or pregnant" he added, glancing back at Aram and Samar.
"I'd appreciate it if you could return quickly" Cooper said distractedly. He didn't like the way Ressler was looking at him from the walkway, a school boy glint in his eye as he shuffled about in his boxers.
Reddington followed Cooper's gaze to Ressler's cheeky grin and chuckled drily. "Oh don't worry Harold – he's nothing you can't handle. And if he gets too much we could always put a leash on him. A resident gimp would be just the ticket to match the décor in here and I'm sure Donald would perform admirably in the role."
Scandalised, Cooper began to splutter a response but Reddington had already moved away down the dark corridor, humming a jaunty tune to himself.
The post office was dark and quiet, and much as he had maintained an unaffected air around Cooper, Reddington was privately worried. He'd feel much better once he found Elizabeth. He walked past her office, and although the blinds were drawn he detected a hint of movement. He opened the door and was relieved to find her sitting at her desk as though this was a normal day and he had just dropped in to see her. Perhaps she hadn't imbibed the drug along with the others. He hoped oh so dearly that she hadn't. He would find that behavior from her…challenging.
"Good afternoon Lizzie – no time for pleasantries I'm afraid. Your colleagues seem to have succumbed to the effects of a rather strange drug and I wonder if you might join Director Cooper and the rest of the team in the break room until the situation has been resolved" he said stiffly.
She looked up from the papers she was studying and drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment. "How bizarre. What kind of drug?" she responded.
Reddington scanned her face for signs of inebriation but saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than her cheeks being a little more pink than usual. But it was very warm, even in the depths of the black site, he reasoned.
"All will be explained, I assure you. If you'd be so kind as to accompany me" he continued guardedly.
Liz picked up a pen and tapped it against her bottom lip as if deep in thought. "Hmmm. I think I'd like to stay here, Red. With you. I'd feel much safer that way."
For a moment his heart soared to hear those words from her, to hear that she felt safe with him, but he had to admit that it didn't sound like something she would say. They really were not on the best of terms, he thought regretfully. He was still considering his next move when she rose from her seat and came out from behind her desk.
Oh God. His breath caught in his throat. She wasn't wearing pants. She stood before him, biting her bottom lip provocatively, the hem of her lilac shirt grazing her bare thighs.
"You little minx" he choked under his breath as he caught sight of the white paper cup on the filing cabinet behind her.
She smiled softly and took a step backward, hopping up on the desk with her legs slightly parted.
He swallowed hard, his tongue rolling in his mouth for a moment as he tried to find the words to speak.
"What's the matter Red" she said breathily "don't like what you see?" she finished mischievously.
Oh he liked what he saw alright. She was divine. A goddess with alabaster skin, long, graceful legs and womanly hips that her run-of-the-mill pant suits did not in any way do justice to. He tried to keep his eyes at the level of her face but his thoughts were scattered.
Oh Christ, was she even wearing underwear? He glanced down and noted a tiny scrap of black lace covering her modesty. He'd seen ladies of the evening in Amsterdam with more substantial undergarments. Was this seriously the kind of thing she usually wore to work under those suits? How marvelously impractical! And how marvelous. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment in a tremendous effort to compose himself as he felt the inevitable warmth spread below his belly.
"Elizabeth please put your pants back on and come with me" he said tightly.
"And exactly how are you going to make me cum with you Red?" she giggled suggestively, lightly swinging her legs as they dangled over the edge of the desk like a naughty school girl. He watched in horror as she raised her hands to her shirt and began to undo the buttons.
Fuck, it was too damned much. She was going to kill him. Actually kill him. "Lizzie!" he said sharply. "Get down from there, get dressed and come with me now" he said in as stern a tone as he could muster.
Her face crumpled into an adorable pout, her lower lip jutting out. Oh how he wanted to kiss that plump little lip of hers, he wanted to suck on it, run his tongue over it. He briefly wondered what the point was of being a reviled criminal mastermind if his conscience prevented him from having the fun that goes with it. He pushed the thought quickly aside.
Striding over to her, he lightly tapped her bottom and she slipped off the desk obediently. He looked around cursorily for her pants but couldn't see them. Sighing, he removed his jacket and she allowed him to slip it on her, gently guiding her arms into the giant sleeves.
"That will have to do for now" he said unhappily.
"It smells like you" she said smiling up at him adoringly. His heart broke a little then.
He walked her to the break room and couldn't help but smile at the scene which greeted him. Cooper was standing in the corner as far away from his agents as possible, his arms folded and a look of pure horror on his face. Aram and Samar were handcuffed to a heating pipe with their backs to one another, wriggling and twisting their necks in an attempt to kiss. Ressler was sitting alone, cuffed to a filing cabinet, his knees drawn up around his ears and his head bent studiously.
Red regarded the ginger agent curiously. "Harold… is he trying to-"
"Yes." Cooper snapped, cutting him off.
"On himself…"
"It appears so" Cooper finished testily.
Red nodded sagely. "You know I once came across a man in Kuala Lumpur with a voracious sexual appetite, insatiable man; he had three ribs removed just so that he could fellate himself, and I often wondered-"
"I am not having this conversation with you!" Cooper cut him off sharply.
Red shrugged and ushered a giggling Liz onto a couch in the corner, where she sat eyeing him, enraptured. Suddenly there was a loud clang from across the room and they turned to find Ressler straining and kicking against his cuffs, banging the locked drawer of the cabinet.
"She's mine" he growled, wriggling on his bottom towards Samar as far as his bonds would allow.
Aram scoffed as he twisted round the heating pipe. "I've loved her since the moment I set eyes on her you arrogant ginger prick."
"Weasel-faced nerd" Ressler shot back.
"What's happening now?" Cooper asked exasperatedly.
Reddington sighed. "It appears that Donald has finally given up his attempt at self-gratification and is now attempting to enlist the services of agent Navabi, much to the outrage of agent Mojtabai who, I believe, has a prior claim. It's positively Shakespearean."
As Reddington spoke he watched Samar rise slowly to her feet, working her cuffs up the heating pipe behind her.
"But none of that matters" she said in a sultry drawl "because I find myself drawn to another man entirely. Someone distinguished, someone…dangerous…" As she spoke her heavy-lidded gaze was set on Reddington.
Before he could respond, he saw Liz rush past him in a blur and land a hard, open-palmed slap right across Samar's face.
"You little tramp!" she hissed and Reddington's jaw dropped open in genuine shock.
"Agent Keen!" Cooper cried indignantly.
"How dare you!" she continued obliviously, her blue eyes shining with rage. "You wanted to know if you're stepping on my toes? Well you are! He's mine, and he always has been!"
Reddington knew he should step in but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to believe his ears. It's just the drug he told himself desperately.
Samar sneered at her smugly, tossing her hair. "You're pathetic Liz – you can't see what's right in front of you – hell, you didn't even realize your own husband was a criminal plant. Face it – you're a frigid, whiny little bitch."
The room echoed with the sound of Liz's fist connecting with Samar's face, and the ensuing noise was deafening – Samar's indignant screeching and kicking, Ressler and Aram shouting and clanging like rabid monkeys trying to get free and Liz's cries as she moved in on Samar again.
Reddington stepped forward quickly and wrapped his arms around Liz before pulling her away from the other agents, hissing and kicking.
"Agent Keen, calm down!" he said forcefully as she struggled in his arms, and then more gently "Lizzie, Lizzie…It's alright, I'm here. You have me" he added quietly, not meeting Cooper's eye.
"But I don't!" she cried angrily. "You don't want me."
Reddington chewed the inside of his cheek, his expression pained. "Sweetheart, you're under the influence of a very powerful drug – you don't know what you're saying…"
He felt the moment something changed in her; she went very still in his arms, and he could practically feel the tension crackling. She slowly stepped out of his grasp and turned to face him, her eyes bright with cold fury.
"You're telling me how I really feel now? You've been manipulating me since the start, maybe even since before I joined the bureau. You made me love you and now you're taking that away from me too!"
His breath hitched as she withdrew her hand from the pocket of his jacket that she wore, her shaking fingers raising the barrel of the Beretta 950 he kept there for emergencies.
"Lizzie put the gun down" he said quietly, his voice like soft, rolling thunder. "Give it to me" he continued, taking slow steps towards her, watching intently as her hand shook and her eyes focused and unfocused. Never taking his eyes from hers, he continued forward until the barrel of the gun was pressed into his chest. She seemed calmed by his proximity, and broke into a girlish smile as he reached her. She giggled happily as he took the gun from her unresisting hand and drew her to him in a soft embrace. "Harold" he murmured, and the chastened director wordlessly took the gun from him and placed a set of cuffs in his hand. Reddington pushed Liz gently down on the couch and secured her hands behind her back as she wriggled coquettishly in protest.
As the cuffs clicked shut around her wrists his mind assaulted him with fantasies he'd had of her cuffed to his bed, at his mercy, begging him to allow her to climax after hours of sensuous torture. He wondered if her tastes ran that way…he would never know. He closed his eyes and grimaced, blinking the images away. This was torture, but not the fun kind he thought bleakly as the girl stared vacantly at his chest, apparently now mesmerized by his tie.
Stroking her hair soothingly, he looked up at Cooper, his expression grim. "Do you still think they're not dangerous, Harold?"
Cooper surveyed the scene in front of him unhappily. "They're getting worse – more erratic, more violent. And they seem to develop new obsessions at the drop of a hat. How are we going to cure them? And should I even ask what happened to Agent Keen's pants?" he added suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.
"Those are very good questions Harold" Reddington responded smoothly whilst extricating his tie from between Liz's teeth "but I think the more pressing point is how you and I are going to prepare for the impending attack."
Cooper stared at him blankly. "What attack?"
Reddington turned to face him. "Oh come now Harold – don't tell me you were so distracted by your team's nympho-maniacal shenanigans that you've failed to appreciate the bigger picture here."
"We're vulnerable" Cooper said slowly, realization dawning.
Reddington gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "We're more than vulnerable - your entire team is incapacitated Harold. I'd say we're as wide open as Agent Ressler over there. Someone has orchestrated this entire thing and they'll be all over our asses like a pack of starving ferrets before you know it. There will be a breach of this facility imminently - I guarantee it."
To be continued…
A/N Still with me? Tune in soon for Part 2!