So people pitched this scenario to me, and here it is. It'll be two chapters and ch. 2 is almost finished, so the wait won't be long. We all need something cute these days, don't we? Reviews would be much appreciated! Enjoy.
She's not quite sure how this happened.
How exactly she ended up here, in a cabin on a mountaintop, the middle of nowhere really, a fireplace, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, wearing a sweater that isn't hers. And then him. Looking back at her with wonder in his eyes, marveling at the sight- it's just a sweater- and savoring the moment- not an evening gown- and smiling.
She had laughed at him when he had asked her the first time. A vacation, a skiing trip, he had to be out of his mind and of course she couldn't go and of course it was a ridiculous idea.
And of course she desperately needed a break.
And of course work was exhausting.
And of course she wanted to spend time with him, yes, that too.
And of course she finally agreed.
And now, days later, this is where she found herself. This is where it starts.
Raymond Reddington doesn't ski. Not anymore.
He used to, he tells her on the first evening, but now it's the quiet he likes, the tranquility, sweet isolation from the cruel world he inhabits. He comes here to rest, he says, to put things back into perspective and clear his head, and the chilly air certainly helps, she has noticed that as well.
They sit across from each other at the kitchen table, empty plates taking up the space between them. He's cooked again, as every night, one dish more elaborate than the other and she wonders if there is anything he has no talent for, besides modern technology. They have stayed at the cabin for almost a week now, and it really is a vacation, those long walks through the snow, their shared days and conversations, it's all so very reminiscent of their time on the run together and she wouldn't admit it but she's glad he asked her to accompany him.
She has missed him. Deeply and bitterly. She has missed him so damn much.
Because it's lonely without him. Because she is lonely without him.
"Lizzie? Lizzie, are you alright?" She hears him then, his tone worried. She shakes her head, brings herself back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I think I just drifted off for a moment."
"We can call it a night if you would like to get some sleep."
He looks so concerned, so caring, and she's overcome by a wave of affection, can't really help it, how her hand finds his in the center of the table suddenly, how she holds on to him.
"No, I'm fine, Red, really, I'm just…Thank you for bringing me here."
He is staring at their hands, their interlaced fingers, seems oddly flustered by it.
"My pleasure, Lizzie" he says. It's a bit too strained, a bit too forced, and the chemistry in the room has shifted now and she still hasn't let go. "My pleasure." And then he lifts her hand and kisses it. Just like that. The easiest thing in the world.
"So you're telling me you still have the full outfit hidden away in a closet in this very cabin?"
"Yes, but-"
"Show me."
"Absolutely not."
"Oh yes, Red."
Well. It's not like he has much of a choice now. Maybe he should have never mentioned it, how his old ski gear is still safely locked away in his bedroom, unbeknownst to the world and for the better of it, because it looks ridiculous and he is the first to admit that, not really in congruence with his usual wardrobe, but he gets sentimental so easily these days and yes, it's a memory at least, if not much else. And now she is practically beaming at him and he can't really deny her anything and she seems to realize that more often lately. Takes advantage of it. He needs to be more careful.
"I will not put on the suit," he states quite confidently and she is pouting and dammit, "but I'll grant you the hat."
"Done."
It's much later into the night, long past dinnertime, and they have spent their evening exchanging stories, trips and travels, and then one thing led to another, as these conversations go, and now she is waiting for him to emerge from his bedroom in a ski hat. He surprises her, still, even though they know each other so well now, and while Red is starting to make sense, Raymond continues to remain an enigma. But she wants all of it. Past and present. The future, too.
She hears him rummaging around his closet and can't help the smile settling on her face, he really would do anything for her, as outrageous and self-deprecating as it might be, and she isn't too familiar with the feeling, to be adored and cherished like that, anything to make her happy and you have me, the good times and the bad.
She sees him then, entering the living room slowly, and yes, this was most definitely worth the wait, she wants to memorize every detail, his wool socks on the wooden floor, the sound it makes, the dark jeans, thick navy sweater, and the hat, the vintage pattern and ball on top and god. And the suits are good, of course, they're extraordinary, but this is a glimpse at him, not the persona, just him and it's so much better, there's so much more there, so much to discover.
He stops in front of her, expectant and waiting and hoping, nervous tics here and there, and she stands, positions herself just right, just a bit too close, raises her hands and adjusts the hat the slightest bit, tugs and pulls, the material soft beneath her fingertips, his skin warm.
"You know, Red, I appreciate the fedoras, but this might just be my new favorite look of yours."
And it's sweet, the way she says it, it's loving. Somewhat breathless even, and he notices, too.
She could if she wanted to. It would be so easy to just lean in, to close the distance, it would be so-
"It's getting late," he says and he sounds sorry, she thinks. She hopes.
"Goodnight, Lizzie." A kiss on the cheek, and then she's alone.