"I risked my life for you because I care about you. Deal with that."

Liz exited the SUV trying to forget the look on Red's face. Trying to forget the way his voice sounded when it shook. Trying to forget the way it felt when her heart cracked in several different places.

She had Ressler drive her back to her apartment. He remained silent like he always did when she came to him. He told her to take the next day off, that they'd debrief her later. She nodded, not really hearing him. She needed to be alone. She longed for unconsciousness, for her brain to be shut off.

She lay still clothed on top of her comforter, wide awake at 3 in the morning.

An insistent pounding at her door had Liz out of her bed in seconds, gun cocked and aimed.

"LIZZIEEE," a voice that was all too familiar sang from outside.

"Red?" she called, lowering her weapon and opening the door for him

He entered – as he always did – before she could invite him in, throwing his hat on her bed and then sitting down himself.

Lizzie glared at him.

"Are you trying to wake the entire motel?"

He chuckled. He was cloaked in shadow after she shut the door behind him. No light entered through the curtain drawn windows.

Lizzie leaned against the dresser with her arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

When she didn't get one, she asked,

"So you gonna tell me why you're here? At 3 AM no less?"

"You weren't asleep."

It wasn't a question.

She rolled her eyes. Of course he knew. The same things were probably keeping him up too.

"Does Dembe know you're here?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Heavens no. Getting rid of that guy is like trying to ditch the secret service."

Lizzie watched as he tried to maneuver himself into the chair beside her bed.

"You're drunk."

He let out that insincere Raymond Reddington cackle she loathed.

"As perceptive as ever I see."

She shook her head, not amused.

"You're also an ass."

"Again with that astute per-"

"Red," she interrupted, "I'm going to call Dembe. It's been a long night."

"The longest night of my life," he agreed in a half whisper. Liz tried not to react to that comment as she fished around in her bag for her phone.

He grabbed her wrist.

"No. I'd rather just sit here for a while if you don't mind."

Letting go of her, he crossed his legs and leaned back in her chair. He threw her a strained smile that reminded Liz of cracked concrete.

"Red, you're wasted. And in your pajamas. You'll thank me tomorrow, trust me."

"Please," he whispered.

He gave her a drunken, lopsided smile that made Liz's stomach feel weird.

"I'd like to stay. Please. I need to keep you safe."

She knew it was absurd. He could barely protect himself in this state. But he was still smiling so endearingly at her, eyes bright with something akin to hope and longing.

How could she not oblige him?

"Fine. You can stay. But I need to let Dembe know where you are."

Before he could thank her, he lurched from the chair and clumsily made his way into her bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

"Red?" Liz called after him. She turned on the light and immediately noticed the bit of vomit that made it onto his undershirt. She crouched down to lift the shirt from his body but he suddenly grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"Lizzie, no."

"Red, let me help you. We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Help me up. I think I'll take a shower if you don't mind."

He smiled weakly at her.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm a big boy, Lizzie. I can handle myself."

She swallowed at his teasing tone.

"Yeah, okay. I'll go call Dembe"

She closed the door and dialed Nick's Pizza.

"Elizabeth?" a sleepy Dembe questioned confusedly.

"Yeah, hey Dembe. Red is drunk and with me. You think you could bring him a spare change of clothes. He kind of threw up all over his pajamas."

"Is he okay?"

She heard the worried tone in Dembe's voice.

"He's fine. Just extremely drunk. I told him he could stay here."

"Are you sure? I've seen Raymond drunk before. It is not pretty, Elizabeth. I am happy to drive him home for you."

She smiled.

"Thanks Dembe. But no. I- I think I want him to stay."

She wasn't sure why she felt comfortable telling him that but she did.

She heard the smile in his voice.

"Of course. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Thank you for taking care of him, Elizabeth."

She felt like he was talking about something more than just helping out a drunk friend.

After hanging up, she knocked on the bathroom door to check on Red.

"You okay in there? Still conscious?"

"Need a towel Lizzie!" he called.

She rolled her eyes.

"Use mine hanging on the shower rod."

A few minutes later, Red emerged in nothing but her towel wrapped around his hips. There was something strangely erotic about Red using her towel to rub his body dry. The thought warmed Liz's cheeks.

He flopped down on her bed playfully, making her squeal.

"Red! You're getting my blankets wet!"

He giggled. Actually giggled. Liz tried to remain angry but struggled.

"Lizziiee," he sang, voice muffled by her blankets.

"It smells like you," he said, sharply inhaling.

His face was buried in her sheets.

"Mmm you smell good, Lizzie."

He turned on his side to face her.

His eyes were clenched shut and his nostrils flared. Liz felt her face flush at the sight. Suddenly she heard a knock at her door that roused her from her thoughts. Red didn't seem to notice the noise. He was humming pleasantly beside her with his eyes still closed.

She hurriedly opened the door for Dembe.

"Is he okay?" he asked, again.

"Yea, yea he's right there," she said, pointing at Red who was now snoring loudly on top of her bed.

Dembe furrowed his brow.

"I've rarely seen him like this. Are you sure you want to handle this?"

Liz nodded.

"Trust me."

Dembe smiled.

"Of course I trust you."

He laid a bag with Red's clothes on the bed and began to leave.

"I am renting a room downstairs. Call me if you need me."

"I will."

Dembe took one last look at Red and shook his head, then walked out.

Liz elbowed Red, trying to wake him up. The towel was now loosely draped around his waist. Liz licked her lips.

"Red. Wake up. Dembe brought your clothes."

He groaned then opened one eye. With the bathroom light off, the motel room was once again painted in darkness. He could make out Lizzie's profile. He sat up, clutching the towel before it could fall from his body.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I will be once you hand me my clothes."

She passed him the bag and watched as he dug around for pajamas. Finding what he was looking for, he began undoing his towel. He stopped suddenly and looked up at Liz.

"Close your eyes, Lizzie," he said salaciously. She blushed and quickly turned her head. He slipped on a t-shirt and boxers, then jumped under her covers.

"You can look now," he told her, amusement etched on his face.

She still felt warm as she slipped underneath the covers with him.

She wondered if he knew how much she ached for him.

"Goodnight Red," she said, turning to face the opposite direction.

"Lizzie."

She turned back toward him.

"Yes?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing. I just like saying your name."

He smiled at her, eyes bright with affection.

Drunk Red was oddly forthcoming with his feelings and Liz reveled in the moment.

"I'm glad you're okay, Red."

He beamed at her.

"Sleep Lizzie."

Even an inebriated Red was worried about her wellbeing. The thought made Liz shamelessly happy.

She did what he said and fell asleep, body still facing him. There was a secret thrill to be had at the feeling of his eyes studying her as she drifted off.