Midnight

Disclaimer: No need to really say it, but I don't own these characters.

Liz found Reddington on the veranda of his room on the eleventh floor of the hotel. The french doors were flung invitingly wide, letting in the frigid night air; no snow dusted the ground, but the temperature couldn't be much more than thirty degrees. As she approached, he made no move to acknowledge her presence, although the steady clack of her heels over the wood floor surely announced her intrusion into his peaceful reverie. She stopped beside him, shivering as the breeze cut through the velvet dress she wore, wanting to lean against the wrought iron guardrail but knowing that doing so would be a shocking wake up call.

Like Reddington, she held a glass of chardonnay loosely in her right hand. It was only half full; she was saving the rest to herald in the new year. Spending New Years in Manhattan rather than with her husband had been a hard choice, but they'd made progress in the tracking of another criminal on the blacklist. It led them to this hotel – a ritzy establishment on the edge of the city where they'd spent the last two nights. Liz felt the luxury was a waste, given their purpose for being there, but she couldn't fault the view. The Manhattan Bridge stretched before them beautifully shining, mirrored lights dancing below on the water's reflective surface. The waning moon was caught in the river, wavering in the ripples stirred by the wind.

Liz tore her eyes away from the lovely scene to look at Red. They trailed from his left hand, relaxed by his leg and stark against the dark navy fabric of his expensive suit, up his shoulder to his pensive face. His fedora was absent; he must have left it in the room before coming out. As she watched him gaze out over the water, the thoughtful expression retreated, replaced by the collected mask he showed to the world. He turned, finally acknowledging her, and offered a slight smile.

"Tired of the party?" he asked, referring to the packed ballroom from which she'd just come.

Liz hadn't been in the mood for a celebration. Attending the party had merely been something to do – a reprieve from the loneliness of her room. "I was just about to cut loose on the dance floor, but I seemed to have lost my date," she responded dryly, earning a chuckle. "They were playing my favorite song, Gangnam Style... but without someone to crawl on all fours between my legs, I would look like a real idiot."

Red snorted. "I wouldn't dirty my knees on that floor, and I wouldn't expect you to, either," he said, casting his eyes back to the river. He added with a trace of a smile, "Not even if I wanted you to."

Imagining the only scenario she could think of in which he might want her on her knees, Liz blushed. Suddenly uncomfortable, she continued with her query. "Why did you leave?"

He shrugged, watching the lights of the cars passing over the bridge. "Too crowded," he answered, though really there were too many reasons to name. He might have stayed, however, if he'd known a romp between Lizzie's legs was on the agenda.

Liz knew there was more to it but didn't press him. It wasn't any of her business. She just needed to make sure he didn't sneak out and spoil their arrangement.

Not that she expected him to.

"It's almost midnight," she said.

Red turned his wrist to see the time on his watch. Enough moonlight shown down that he could barely see the minute hand on the small notch before the twelve. "Less than a minute," he informed her, angling his body toward her. He studied her pale cheekbones, blue in the subdued light of the moon. A dark ring of mascara made her eyes stand out attractively, shimmering with the reflection of luminaries floating on the water. His eyes then fell to her lips, no less prominent with their deep red hue, and he remembered their short but wonderful kiss under the mistletoe.

Below the veranda, people were chanting the countdown to the new year. Their voices drifted from a distance – probably from the ballroom's large balcony, Liz guessed. "The countdown's started," she told Red in case he couldn't hear. He didn't seem to be paying attention; his stare was unsettling. The voices reached five. "Is there anything left in that glass?" She nodded to the flute in his hand.

"A little," he answered quietly. A chorus of "Three!" burst through the night.

Liz readied her own flute, raising it up in the space between them for a toast. "Two."

Smiling, grateful for his company on this special occasion, Red lifted his flute to hers. "One."

"Happy New Year!" rang out from below, and very faintly, the tune of Auld Lang Syne. Liz smiled at her criminal partner as they clinked their glasses and quickly drained them of the rest of their chardonnay. She'd no sooner lowered the empty flute from her mouth when Red's lips replaced it – soft and slightly parted over her lower lip. He applied gentle pressure, free hand cupping her cheek to hold her in place. Frozen, she caught his eyes and tried to tell herself the tug she felt in her gut was shock and not desire.

Red savored these few seconds with her, honestly surprised she hadn't slapped him by now. He would even swear her eyes had darkened a degree, but it could have easily been the poor lighting. Unwilling to press his luck, he drew away from her, bereft and chilled by the icy wind. Now that he noticed the temperature, Red could see her shivering too. "Payback for the mistletoe incident," he murmured.

"Right…" Liz continued to stare at the brazen man, still showing no reaction. A moment later, however, she turned on her heel, striding into his suite. "Get in here and close the doors, Red; it's cold."

He followed her into the room, doing as she suggested while still watching her flee to the door. Unable to resist teasing her, he called, "You can always keep me warm."

"In your dreams," she tossed over her shoulder.

Probably. Red shook his head as her hand settled over the doorknob. "Happy New Year, Lizzie," he remembered to say as she opened the door.

She paused momentarily, wondering whether or not to respond. She was married; she should be angry with him for kissing her. But part of her agreed that he had the right to retaliation, although that situation had been mostly out of her control. "Happy New Year," she finally returned then walked out.

Author's Note: Taking the suggestion of one of my reviewers, I give you this. It's short, it's... not humorous, like I'd originally intended when I set to writing it (actually, it went in a completely different direction than I'd anticipated.) And sorry there wasn't much to the kiss, but I plan to update this for the holidays, where their interactions might progressively become more intimate/honest. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. As usual, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my stories! I very much appreciate it!