It was an ordinary day at the Post Office and Liz was leaning over Aram's shoulder to get a better look at the information about their latest target that he was showing to her and Samar on his computer when Ressler decided to ask the question.

"Hey, Keen," he called out as nonchalantly as possible considering the nature of what he was about to ask, stepping out of their shared office, and by the time he had the full attention of Liz ( and everyone else, to be honest, even Cooper, who had just descended the stair from his office ), the idea didn't seem as funny to him as he initially thought, so he voiced the question in a milder, a little awkward tone of a person who realized that the joke they were telling was inappropriate only half-way through, "Who knocked you up?"

The room fell eerily silent, all gazes fixed on the pair of agents.

Liz straightened up slowly, crossing her arms with an equally nonchalant and threatening 'What did you say?' expression on her face.

( She knew that the time would come for this question ever since she'd broken the news about her pregnancy to the Task Force. And honestly? She still wasn't sure she was ready for that talk. But they say that the best defense is a great offense, don't they? )

Ressler decided that the idea wasn't funny at all.

The tension in the air was thick enough to be sliced with a butter knife.

But then…

"That would be me."

…an all too familiar voice boomed from behind Elizabeth, tone equally confident and nonchalant to the point of threatening.

Liz whipped her head around to see the owner of the voice ( who was supposed to wait at least quarter an hour before entering the building himself – just to be sure that no one could possibly suspect that they arrived together – but evidently was eager enough to be by her side again that he had enough time to exit the elevator, remove the trademark fedora from his head and hear Ressler's infamous question ), her expression shifting rapidly from surprised to panicked to terrified to indignant and finally settled on a vaguely threatening 'we'll talk about this later' one.

Raymond Reddington took his time placing his hat on a desk that happened to be vacant at the moment, seemingly heedless of everyone's unwavering attention and one particular pregnant and, as a result, very emotional and vindictive agent's glare, and strode up to Liz, wrapping his arms around her waist in a gesture that screamed of familiarity.

"Nice to meet you, Donald," he drawled out as if they were just introduced to each other, the teasing purpose of this phrase punctuated by the use of the agent's given name.

Liz debated for a moment whether she should kick Red in the shin and keep up the charade of not being in a relationship with the infamous Concierge of Crime but ultimately decided against it – since the cat was already out of the bag – and welcomed his embrace instead, tension leaving her body as she leaned back against Red's strong form, hands coming up to cover his and head tilting back to rest comfortably on his shoulder.

"You're gonna pay for this," Liz whispered low enough for Red to be the only one who was able to hear it, taking advantage of the fact that her lips were now so close to his ear, and smiled pleasantly at Ressler who, at that point, looked vaguely nauseated.

"I'm looking forward to it," Red whispered back, placing a sweet little kiss to her temple, lips lingering for a moment, and looked back at Ressler with a smirk, tilting his head in that infuriatingly Reddington way of his and cocking one eyebrow, as if silently challenging the agent to embarrass himself further.

His hands shifted slightly to cover Liz's stomach that was just beginning to show in a gesture so tender and protective it warmed her to her core.

( Perhaps, she mused languidly, it was the best way of nipping all possible inquires about the identity of her child's father in the bud )

Ressler swallowed thickly as if he was struggling to comprehend what was happening in front of him.

Cooper – who, on the other hand, understood perfectly well what was happening in front of them… and wasn't happy about it – took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose in a universal 'i'm too old and tired for this bullshit' gesture.

Aram rose slightly from his seat to offer a tentative – mostly, because of Mr Reddington's protective, with just a hint of passive-aggressiveness, posture – "Congratulations!" to the couple.

And Samar smirked as if she knew it all along.

A/N: After everything that happened on The Blacklist in the 8th season's finale, I earnestly declare that this show is no longer my canon.
Lizzington and Agnesgate are.

Also, if you'd like to request a Lizzington one-shot/drabble, feel free to visit my Tumblr ( ace - of - spaders . tumblr. com ), go over the tag 'prompt list' and send in whatever catches your eye!