Chapter 1

Liz sighs, slamming her car door shut with as much force as she can muster and trudging up the driveway to the front door of Red's latest safe house, wishing with every part of her that a meteor would fall from the sky and just kill her.

Cooper has forced her to drive an hour and a half outside of the city to talk to Red and get the latest on their current case. And Red is probably the last person she wants to talk to right now. Or maybe for the rest of her life.

Why?

Because she and Red had sex last night.

They were both totally drunk, of course, staking out a nightclub for hours and hours into the night in an effort to catch their blacklister and for some reason Liz just kept ordering rounds. At first, she only pretended to drink them (she has some sense of duty, after all) but then it passed midnight and she was technically off the clock and they played her favorite song on the dance floor and suddenly she realized exactly how long it has been since she had a fun night out.

So, she started throwing them back.

Red had raised his eyebrows, surprised (and a little turned on, she figured out later), and had quickly followed suit, downing glass after glass of scotch in a self-proclaimed effort to keep up with her. And then, after her fourth or fifth tequila shot, Liz dragged him onto the dance floor where things proceeded to get interesting.

(Red can dance. Dirty.)

Before too long, they were both danced-out, hammered, and leaning on each other, giggling like crazy. She suspects that the bartender cut them off and ordered them a cab because the next thing she knew she was tucked in a car backseat in the dark, her hand on Red's thigh and Red's hot breath ruffling her hair, speeding towards his safehouse. By the time they stumbled through the door, they were making out and, well…they barely made it to his bedroom.

Liz comes to a stop in front of the door now, exactly where she and Red had struggled with the keys last night, giggling loudly with hands wandering bravely, and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to banish last night's hazy memories. It hadn't been a bad one-night stand, as one-night stands go. In fact, it was one of the best nights Liz has had in a long time. Red was…amazing, actually. And, surprisingly, she finds herself thinking that she wouldn't mind a repeat performance at some point.

That is, should would, except for the fact that this morning, after waking up naked and tangled with Red, her head pillowed on his strong chest, warm and content (albeit with a raging headache and an awful dry mouth), she had panicked. She had leapt out of bed, completely terrified, wasting no time in getting dressed, and left, with Red only waking up as she was grabbing her bag and hurrying out the door. He only had time to prop himself up on his elbows and call her name in a deep morning voice that she had a very hard time ignoring.

They haven't spoken since.

And now, here she is, her headache still pounding lightly behind her eyes, being forced to speak to him long before she is really ready to, all because of stupid work. She huffs, glancing towards the sky and making a last desperate plea for that meteor. This will teach her not to sleep with her coworkers.

With an internal groan, Liz decides to just get it over with already and she knocks on the door with a roll of her eyes. But before she can perhaps change her mind, maybe turn around and make a break for her car, she realizes that the door isn't actually latched. It swings open soundlessly under her fist, granting her entrance into the safehouse with no questions asked.

Oh. All right then.

Liz pushes forward into the house with a shrug, knowing that on any other day, she would have taken pleasure in playfully reprimanding Red for not checking the locks on his doors like a real criminal.

At least, she would have.

If she and Red hadn't had sex last night.

(She really has to stop saying that to herself.)

She walks quietly into the house, wondering which room Red is in. She is just trying to work up the nerve to call out for him when she hears voices coming from what looks like the library down the hall. Thinking that, at this point, she'll do just about anything to delay talking to Red, she creeps forward to listen.

"And she just left?" That's Dembe's voice.

"Yes…" Liz hears Red sigh, sounding defeated. "I was barely awake and she was already out the door. She must regret last night. I didn't…"

"Raymond," Dembe says firmly. "Elizabeth is a grown woman, she is responsible for her choices. You did not take advantage of her."

Liz nods approvingly from out in the hall. She was simply embarrassed this morning, she thought Red had assumed as much. She wasn't drunk enough that she didn't know what was happening last night. She's not some light weight teenager. Red should know that. Silly man.

"I know, Dembe," Red mutters. "But we were both so drunk…" Red sounds regretful. Liz frowns, worry quickly filling her. She hadn't considered that yet. Does Red regret last night?

"Do you regret it, Raymond?" Liz has never been more thankful for Dembe and his keen observational skills.

There is a tense moment of silence, Liz holding her breath out in the hall.

"No," Red says finally. "Elizabeth was…exquisite. I just wish she had stayed this morning so we could talk about it, that's all."

Liz blushes lightly in the hallway but feels very grateful to Red for not sharing any sordid details of their night of passion, the way a more tactless man might. But she feels better now, relaxed. She and Red are clearly on the same page, they just need to talk about last night.

(She should have stayed this morning.)

"I'm sure she will be ready to talk soon, Raymond," Dembe tells him wisely. "Just give her time."

Liz smiles, making a mental note to give Dembe a card or a fruit basket or something in thanks. She's been so silly.

But then she is startled to hear footsteps leaving the library and coming closer and suddenly she is face to face with Dembe himself, who has entered the hallway and is staring at her, thoroughly surprised.

"Elizabeth," he says loudly, probably mostly for Red's benefit. Liz hears a thump from inside the library. Liz can clearly imagine Red running into something as he whirls around in surprise. Even through her panic, she has to stifle a snort. But Dembe seems to be waiting for some sort of explanation. Liz blinks at him.

"Uh, the door was open," she says stupidly.

"I see," Dembe murmurs kindly, no anger in his voice. "Raymond is in there," he says, a little unnecessarily, nodding to the library. He gives her a look, part amused and part exasperated, and moves quietly past her down the hallway.

Liz brings a hand up and pinches the bridge of her nose. She could have handled that better.

"Lizzie?" she hears Red call from inside the library. She sighs. Well, here it goes. With a fortifying breath, she rounds the corner and enters the library to see Red standing next to a desk in the far corner, staring at her inscrutably and gnawing on his cheek.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asks stiffly, after a long moment.

"I'm not sure," murmurs Liz in response. "Enough to know how you feel, I think."

"I see," he says, looking at her cautiously. "And how do you feel? Do you regret it?" The last question seems softer and more tentative than the others. Scared.

Well, that won't do.

"No," says Liz firmly. "Actually, it was…the best night I've had in a while." She smiles a little crookedly at him and his lips twitch.

"Me too," he says, chuckling breathily, sounding distinctly relieved. "But that's to be expected, I suppose."

She hums non-committedly at that, just looking at him affectionately. She'd rather not get into Red's feelings right now, things she knows he has been harboring for a long while. That's for another day.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, his posture relaxing but his tone still a little hesitant.

She smiles.

"I'm not sure," she says, pretending to think about it. "But I do know that…I still remember the way you taste."

She watches as his eyes darken in what she now recognizes as arousal. The thought fills her with excitement.

"Do you now?" he questions lowly, starting toward her in something that looks deliciously like a prowl. "Because I believe I'm starting to forget."

She grins as he gets closer and she takes a few steps meet him in the middle of the room. They stop in front of each other, barely a breath of air between them. "And I think you'd like to remedy that, wouldn't you, Red?" she draws his nickname out into one teasing syllable, walking her fingers up his chest to lace them around the back of his neck.

"Aren't you presumptuous?" he murmurs, his eyes sparkling, hands coming up to wrap around her waist, thumbs rubbing at her sides.

She raises her eyebrows playfully.

"Tell me I'm wrong," she dares.

He smirks, his eyes darting down to her lips.

"Never."