Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or any of the characters recognisable from the show used in this work of fanfiction. I am making no profit from this work.


NO REST

DAY SEVEN

"Rise and shine," Red's voice roused her from slumber. She slid her leg to the other side of the bed to find the sheets cool – he'd been up for a while then.

"Go 'way," she mumbled, burying her head further into her pillows and kicking at the duvet, only to flip it off her leg. She flailed the limb with the intention of finding the edge of the duvet to pull it back again but failed.

"Charming," he observed dryly.

"I'm having a lie in." She huffed into the pillow. "We can't all be morning people."

"There's not a whole lot of morning left." He chuckled at her, tucking her foot back under the covers. "I'll leave you to it then," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. His footsteps descended the stairs and she soon dozed off to sleep again, her body needing a serious recharge after the week she'd had with Red.


When Liz finally surfaced and made her way downstairs she was aware of the silence of the house. It wasn't that Red usually made a lot of noise – not when his mouth was shut, at any rate – but his presence was always keenly felt, and the silence in her home felt empty. She checked for him in every room and out the back window but she knew he wasn't there. In the kitchen she found a note under the lone fridge magnet – a gift Red had brought her from Florence, the Statue of David's penis, she couldn't help but smile every time she looked at it – and the distinctive handwriting told her he had business so, regrettably, had to leave her. He'd be back in a couple of days. She sighed, replacing the magnet with a smirk, and binning the note. It was probably for the best that she didn't see him for a couple of days to give her some space to pull herself back together and get her head in the right place; the one where her mind wasn't in the gutter every time she so much as looked at him. If she found his mouth captivating before her vacation – damn cigars – she was positively addicted after knowing just what he could do with it.

Liz moved out of the kitchen, before she started comparing Red to her fridge magnet, and headed into the living room to make a start on her ironing. The pile was exactly where she'd left it, hidden behind the couch, except it was far neater and in three smaller piles. He had done her ironing. Come to think of it, the kitchen counter wasn't littered with the evidence of dinner from the night before. Ironing and washing dishes. He was a keeper.

Deciding to make the most of her last day off work, she moved with purpose back into the kitchen in search of wine.


Her cellphone buzzed excitedly off the arm of the couch and clattered to the floor. She made a mental note to buy a rug if this was to become habit. Fully expecting to see Nick's Pizza lighting up the screen, she froze in her awkward position – half on and half off the couch – and frowned on seeing it was in fact Ressler. She sat up and paused the video on her laptop before answering the call.

"Checking up on me?" she answered in a teasing voice.

"Something like that. Mainly making sure you're clean and sober," Ressler responded without missing a beat, his tone as blunt as ever. "How's the end of your vacation going?"

"Well, it's two in the afternoon, I'm on my third glass of wine and I'm watching Lambchop on YouTube. How do you think it's going?" By her standards it was going fabulously.

"I'm not judging you."

"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow, Captain America," she said jokingly and, after a quick goodbye from him, the call was ended. She settled back into the couch and pulled the laptop back on to her lap to resume her YouTube binge.


Her cellphone attempted suicide once again, alerting her to the fact she hadn't moved from the couch for hours and that it was now dark in the house. She grabbed the phone off the floor once more, pleased to see it wasn't Ressler before she answered it.

"Lizzie," her favourite voice greeted.

"Where are you?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips in the dark of her front room.

"Europe."

She rolled her eyes. "Well that narrows it down."

"I'll bring you a present and you can guess then."

"I need more magnets," she advised, eliciting a laugh from him. A bright sound. She wondered if he was ticklish. Wasn't that one of the first things she should've learnt about him after getting him naked? Maybe she had found out, back in the motel. She'd have to find out for sure when he returned.

"If all else fails, I will bring you another magnet."

"Thank you for cleaning up in the kitchen, by the way."

"It's no bother. You need to keep on top of your ironing though," he admonished lightly.

"You ironed my underwear," she stated, a hint of incredulousness in her tone; she had been surprised and a little mortified when she was putting her clothes away to find her most comfortable pair of panties had been expertly ironed. "Was that entirely necessary?"

"I was hardly going to rummage through your underwear drawer, Lizzie. It's where you keep your gun. Besides, you left them lying around"

"Yeah, lying around hidden behind the couch." She smiled despite herself. "So when you're back I take it we're back to business as usual?"

"Of course. Dembe is compiling a file on your next case as we speak." A murmur from beside him. "He says hello, by the way."

"Say hi back from me. So we'll go back to hunting down your Blacklisters and not getting ourselves killed in the process. Perhaps we could fit dinner in there somewhere?" It wasn't a serious question, if she was honest, and she was sure he knew it. Of course there would be dinner, and wine, and perhaps some tacos... but in a really nice hotel. She was done with deserts and motels.

"So that is the only criterion for shenanigans now? Don't die?" Red asked, ignoring her question and confirming her prediction.

She shrugged, a pointless gesture. "It's about the only one I can think of that we have a chance of keeping to."

"Even so," he trailed off, the implication of an answer hanging heavy on the line. He seemed preoccupied all of a sudden.

"Am I not holding your attention?"

"Of course you are. I'm just thinking of what we can do for your next vacation. How about getting away for a while? You would love Old Havana."

She considered his suggestion for all of three seconds, knowing exactly what she'd want to do. "How about we just have a naked taco night instead?"


Le Fin.


A/N: A big thank you to everybody who has favourited, followed and/or reviewed. It's been fun to write something more light-hearted for the fandom, and great to know you've enjoyed it.