a/n: Prompt: Foolish

Original Sentence: It was foolish to think it wouldn't come to this…him backed against the wall, trembling as she strokes him to a staggering completion…not wanting it to happen quite this way…feeling the great heaviness of the lack of intimacy in such an intimate act; but he gives her anything she wants without complaint or reproach, going to far as to hide the tears as she simply zips him back up and walks away.

Here you are, Libby! One smutty one-shot as promised!

She is angry with him.

It is nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected. She is always angry nowadays, and has made it very clear that there is nothing he can do to fix it…to fix her.

Lizzie has always done a very good job of convincing herself that she is broken.

He follows her to the apartment she has begrudgingly accepted, feeling himself shrink smaller and smaller under the weight of her silent treatment. It has been days since she has lowered herself to speak to him.

Red much prefers screaming and maybe even a little profanity. How can he know where he stands if she doesn't tell him?

From the sidewalk to the longest elevator ride in existence, Lizzie refuses to acknowledge his presence. It is impressive if not painful. Her face reddens as they exit the elevator and enter the hall. Perhaps he is stepping over a line…invading her private sanctuary.

Too late to turn back now.

"What do you want?!"

She turns on her heels in the hall, facing him with a fury that makes him take a step back.

He has pushed her too far.

Finally.

"She speaks! And here I thought we were playing an epic round of the silent game. You lose."

She shakes her head in disappointment and he flushes, embarrassed at his own inability to answer the simplest question.

"I'm serious," she says, taking a deep breath…something Red truly wishes he could do. "I don't know what you want from me. You aren't my father, you aren't my friend…."

"I'm whatever you want me to be."

And there it is… the first lie.

If she asks him to be her friend he'll die.

If she asks him to be her father he'll kill himself.

"You're whatever I want you to be?" Her voice is deceptively small, but there is something else bubbling under the surface, something that tells him to get out while he still can.

He cannot will his feet to move.

Lizzie is waiting for an answer…always waiting for an answer.

All he can give her is a slow nod.

She nods as well, bringing the arms that have been tightly folded over her chest down to hang by her sides.

"And what about what I need you to be?"

Danger.

The warning signs are everywhere, flashing in Lizzie's eyes and tugging at the frayed edges of his conscience.

True to form, Red ignores them.

He doesn't nod. He doesn't need to.

Lizzie is growing bold in her fury, closing the gap between them in slow intervals, a predator toying with her prey.

It is almost sexual.

'Almost' is enough to make him hard.

"You and I both know that you aren't my friend," Lizzie purrs, taking another slow step.

He wants to protest, but it would be another lie.

He has never been her friend.

Never wanted to be.

She takes another step and they are a breath away from touching.

"But what about something more? Something a little more involved?" Closing the distance between them, Lizzie reaches up to straighten his tie, though he is sure it is already straight. She leans closer, running her fingers down the tie as she lays her head on his chest. His arms itch to go around her, but somehow he knows that is not what she wants. She sighs, content.

He cannot breathe.

"You would do anything for me, wouldn't you?"

She is looking up at him again, her head still on his chest. He meets her eyes, soft and accepting and full of innocent curiosity and he almost melts.

"You would be my father. You would be my daddy and you wouldn't even have to look for Jennifer. You'd have me to love and spoil and fuck up beyond repair."

The softness disappears before Red's eyes, replaced by a coldness he cannot understand.

She is taunting him. She is taunting him and he doesn't know why. What has he done to deserve this?

Her hips grind into his and suddenly he understands.

His own body has given him away.

"But that's not what you want, is it?" Lizzie pulls away from his chest, smirking as the blush spreads down his neck to parts of him well hidden by well-tailored clothing. "You would do it…you would suffer through it to make me happy but it would kill you, wouldn't it?"

He feels sick. This is not what he followed her home for.

He doesn't remember what he followed her home for.

"What? Don't have anything to say? You followed me all the way home to get me to talk to you and now you choose to stay silent?"

It isn't a choice. He looks past her…through her… unable to process the venom in her eyes.

"Fine." Lizzie pushes on the lapels of his coat and proceeds to slide it slowly down his arms. "If you don't want to talk, we don't have to talk." The coat is quickly tossed aside…Lizzie's childish way of trying to get a rise out of him.

It doesn't work.

Fingers work the buttons of Red's shirt and he is a stone.

"A small part of me has always wondered," Lizzie murmurs as she tugs the shirttail out of his trousers, "if this was why you insist on keeping me close…if it was something sexual. I wondered if you were attracted to me." Her hand grips his belt and toys with the buckle. "Guess I'm about to find out."

He is backed against the wall in an instant, his palms held flat against the expensive stone in her grip. She squeezes slightly, her unspoken command clear.

Don't move.

She doesn't have to worry.

His palms are sweaty and his eyes are closed as her fingernails scrape down his abdomen and over his sides. If she is trying to make a point, she has succeeded. There is really no need for her to take it any further.

He cannot open his mouth to tell her, so she continues on.

Divesting him of his belt, Lizzie works frantically at the zipper, crying out in frustration as it gets stuck. Red is in no position to help her so she is on her own, yanking and grunting until she gets her way and the zipper loosens.

She grips him through his boxers and he whimpers. Her fingers are still for a moment, and he thinks she may be done with her little game, but his hips shift instinctively and she moves, stroking over the material.

Red has lost.

There is no pretending he doesn't want her.

Lizzie coos under her breath as he jumps in her hand, pressing a mocking kiss to his Adam's apple. He hasn't realized until now that his head is thrown back against the wall, straining to keep control. The material of his boxers shifts and she works her hand into the flap, taking him fully in hand. Her skin is cool where his is hot and tight and he finally allows himself to moan.

And he doesn't stop moaning.

Any misconception that she is going to take this slow is quickly squashed as she strokes firmly up and down his shaft, spreading his own weeping essence everywhere she can reach to help ease the almost unbearable friction.

It is an almost painful experience.

This is not how he had wanted this to work out.

He hates himself for loving it.

Lizzie doubles her efforts and he falls against her shoulder, forgetting that this isn't something he's supposed to encourage.

It was foolish to think it wouldn't come to this…him backed against the wall, trembling as she strokes him to a staggering completion…not wanting it to happen quite this way…feeling the great heaviness of the lack of intimacy in such an intimate act; but he gives her anything she wants without complaint or reproach, going to far as to hide the tears as she simply zips him back up and walks away.

He slides heavily down to the floor and sits for hours, hoping she will show mercy and open her door.

She doesn't.