3. Ice Cream
"How was everything, sir, madam?"
"Everything was excellent, as always, thank you, Andre," Red answers the waiter smoothly, not taking his eyes off Liz as he does so.
And Liz has a feeling that Red is referring more so to their flirtatious banter, blatant bedroom eyes, and the high stakes game of footsie they've been playing during their romantic Valentine's Day dinner, and a little less about the delicious French cuisine the waiter is currently clearing from in front of them.
(But Andre the waiter doesn't need to know that.)
"Would the happy couple care for anything else tonight? Perhaps dessert? Soufflé, cheesecake, ice cream?"
Red turns to her. "Lizzie?"
"I think some ice cream would be lovely, Andre, thank you," answers Liz, shooting him a winning smile.
"Certainly, madam. And what flavor would you like?"
Liz thinks for a moment, feeling Red watching her curiously as well. "Something fruity, I think. Do you have strawberry?"
Red raises his eyebrows in surprise and, if she's not mistaken, mild disapproval.
Well.
"We do, madam," Andre affirms. "And for you, Mr. Reddington?"
"Oh, something befitting of the day, please, Andre," Red says pointedly. "Something indulgent. What do you suggest?"
"Well, our house special for the evening is chocolate truffle," Andre offers.
"That sounds perfect," Red answers with a satisfied grin.
Andre nods and hurries off, leaving them alone once again.
Red wastes no time. "Strawberry, Lizzie, really?"
Liz huffs playfully. "And what's wrong with that, may I ask?"
"Fruit flavors are for warm weather, Lizzie, not Valentine's Day," Red says, sounding positively aghast at the suggestion. "Tonight is a night for something much more special. Indulgence. Decadence."
And his voice sounds like chocolate as he practically purrs the last word, his eyes dark, promising, and slightly dangerous. Liz smiles back, unafraid.
"And there's nothing romantic about strawberries?" she questions delicately, reaching for her champagne. "I seem to recall substantial evidence to the contrary on that night we spent in Paris." She takes a sip from her flute, blinking innocently at him.
Red barks a deep laugh, clearly reveling in the memory. "Ah, I seem to remember the addition of whipped cream in that particular instance, Lizzie, a circumstance I welcome at any time, I'll have you know."
Liz laughs in response, opening her mouth to reply – something about swinging by the corner store on the way back to the house – but stopping short as she spies Andre approaching the table with two large dishes of ice cream. He silently places the dishes and spoons in front of their recipients and makes a graceful retreat.
Liz picks up her spoon as Red wastes no time in digging enthusiastically into his dessert, plucking a truffle from his ice cream and popping it into his mouth, closing his eyes and uttering a low moan as it melts in the warm cavern of his mouth.
"Good?" Liz asks unnecessarily, watching him through lowered lids, not paying the least bit of attention to her own spoon as it brings a scoop of strawberry ice cream to her mouth.
Red opens his eyes to gaze directly at her. "Just…decadent, Lizzie," he growls, and she feels his foot slide suggestively up her calf as he speaks.
Liz shivers in delight, a reaction that has little to do with the cold ice cream now in her mouth, and more to do with anticipation of the night to come.
"Better than strawberry, I presume?"
"Oh, naturally," he murmurs assuredly, though she catches a curious glance to her own dish, and she smirks knowingly. His chocolate does look tempting.
Though she'd never admit it to him.
"What's so great about chocolate anyway?" Lizzie says, her voice bored and uncaring, even as her spoon drifts across the table towards his dish. Red catches the movement, of course, and grins at her, his own spoon starting to gravitate towards her side of the table.
"And strawberry, who would want those pesky little fruit pieces, seeds and all?" As he speaks, his spoon makes it to her bowl, moving with a fell swoop to steal a spoonful, leaving pleasing dark streaks in her otherwise pink dessert.
(Liz rather likes the look of it.)
"And truffles, too sweet, just too much chocolate," Liz says sadly, shaking her head a little, as she swipes a generous scoop of his chocolate, making sure to snag a truffle as well, accidentally leaving a strawberry piece in his dish as she does so.
She smirks.
They try each other's desserts at the same time, holding a stare all the while, neither willing to make a concession.
(And it wouldn't be the first time both of them were too proud to admit defeat.)
Red is the first to break the silence.
"Though I must admit," he murmurs, his voice persuasive and warm, despite the cold ice cream turning his lips an appealing shade of pink. "Strawberry does have its virtues."
Liz hums in response, grinning in victory. "And I'll agree, there is a time and a place for a little…decadence."
(And she takes pleasure in kneading the inside of his thigh with her foot, heels abandoned under the table.)
"Oh, I'll say…" he growls, eyes turning dark as his hand reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with hers. "Finish your ice cream, my valentine. I've got plans for you."
Liz grins, returning to her dish of strawberry with gusto and more than a little urgency.
She's just remembered they have a can of whipped cream in the fridge.
Wonderful.