AN: Alright, so this chapter's got some angst and some cheesy stuff, since I couldn't stop myself. I think I wrote this around the time when I finally realized that I got a little carried away... I really, really, really wanna go to Iceland. How beautiful is this place? Thia, I hope you like this one! Thanks again to redisthenewblackington!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Chapter 3

Entering the hotel they currently occupied, Red nodded his thanks to Dembe who in turn, just raised his brow at him. The concierge of crime made his way to one of the rooms and carefully knocked on the door. Not receiving an answer, he tried the handle and was relieved that the door was open.

Inside, he saw Lizzie packing her clothes into her bag and his heart clenched again. "Lizzie." She didn't react. "Lizzie, what are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"Sweetheart, please."

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. Please don't leave."

She didn't stop what she was doing and ignored his plea. "It hurts when someone purposefully ignores you," she said, zipping up the duffle, but without picking it up. Instead, she walked towards the door. "I'm going down to the bar. Do NOT follow me!" With that she slammed the door shut, making him wince.

'You fucking idiot! How many times do you have to break her heart?!' He thought, kicking a chair leg. The sadness he felt couldn't be described, but he hoped that letting her cool off would make her return sooner.

It had been hours since her departure and Red was in his bed, unable to sleep. He couldn't even think of sleep, not with Lizzie still out there. He just hoped she wouldn't leave. This time truly could be the last time, and he did not even want to go there.

When he heard the door open, Red got out of bed, but then he heard her stumbling around, bumping into the furniture. She had obviously had too much to drink. It would do neither any good if he tried talking to her now. That would probably just end in yet another fight and he was tired of it.

Listening closely, he could tell the exact moment she found her bedroom. He waited a couple more minutes and then went to work. He would do anything to persuade her to stay.

LizzingtonLizzingtonLizzington

Liz woke with a mild hangover the next day. She should really know by now just how much she could drink... or not drink. Groaning, she buried her face into the pillow for another moment, until she finally felt able to leave the bed. She had a long trip ahead of her and would need any energy she could get.

As soon as she opened her bedroom door, her eyes fell to a little note on the floor and she bent over to look at it.

'Sometimes' it read.

Looking up she saw another note a little further down the corridor and she picked it up. 'Stupid'.

She cocked her head to the right and went to pick up the next one. 'People'. The corner of her lips started tugging upwards as she picked up the next note. 'Do'. She picked up the next sheet of paper. 'Stupid'. When Liz picked up the last note, that lay in front of closed double doors, she couldn't stop the smile anymore. 'Things'. Was he trying to be cute?

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said from behind her.

She sighed, but didn't turn. "Red..."

"I'm an idiot." Her expression softened before she finally turned to look at him. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you." When he saw no disagreement in her eyes, he pulled the silk scarf he had given her from behind his back, a twinkle in his eyes. "I would like to surprise you." She shook her head, unsure of what that meant, when he tied the scarf around her head, using it as a blindfold.

"Red!" She started to protest, but ended up laughing.

She heard the door in front of him open before she let him walk her into the room. Once inside, he carefully took the scarf away from her face. In front of her was a whole banquet breakfast with food she could only dream of; there were even strawberries present. In the middle of the room was a little round table with a snow white table cloth and a vase that held one single red rose. If this was her man, she would've taken him right then and there.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie. I really am. And I don't want you to leave.

"What happened?" She asked softly.

"It's stupid," he said, but she just shot him a look. "I'm sorry. I… I got jealous."

Wasn't jealousy something he didn't care for? Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Jealous?"

Red grimaced. "The blond hunk."

"Why not just tell me? Why feel the need to hurt me instead?"

"Because I'm an idiot." He said again and her heart fluttered at the words. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I honestly am. I really don't want you to leave. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," she whispered.

He released a breath he hadn't known he had held. Then he stepped forward and drew her into a hug. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, dropping a kiss to her head. "Have breakfast with me," he whispered into her ear.

"Yes," she grinned.

Red was once again the perfect gentleman. He took her to the National Museum and then took her to the biggest mall in the city. Even though Liz protested heavily against him buying her clothes and jewellery, Dembe ended up carrying five huge bags to the car's trunk. From behind him he could still hear the FBI agent arguing with his long time friend and he couldn't suppress a grin. It was about time that the two of them grew closer. All of that had happened those previous months had started to make him angry. The two were apparently blind when it came to the topic of love.

"Red, seriously, you have to stop doing this."

"Doing what?" He asked innocently and got an elbow in the ribs in return.

"You know exactly what I mean."

He chuckled and linked his arm with hers. "Sweetheart, you can't take this away from me. I like spending money on you, you deserve it."

She groaned. "But I can afford to buy stuff on my own, Red."

"And it's absolutely wonderful that you're such a strong and independent woman. I still want to do it." She bumped her shoulder against his. "And I'm positive that this perfume will smell amazing on you. Also, that dress? My, my, Lizzie." He clutched at his heart.

"Red…" She shook her head, but he could see the smile on her face.

"Lizzie," he sing-sang. "Live a little," he threw back her own words with a wink.

She hugged his arm a little tighter. "Thank you, Red."

He just patted her hand with his free one and pulled her towards the car. "How about dinner?"

Liz pulled back the sleeve of her coat and took a look at the watch she was wearing. To her surprise it was already 6 pm. How time flies! And really, what kind of man took a woman shopping for hours straight!?

"Now, this I don't want to see anymore," Red spoke, unfastening the clasp of her watch and pulling it away from her wrist, before taking a blue velvet box from inside his jacket pocket and opening it, revealing a new watch. A very expensive-looking watch.

"Red!" She protested as her eyes caught the name of the brand. "You can't be serious!"

"So how about dinner, Lizzie?" He asked again, letting his thumb stroke over the skin of her wrist. She shook her head at him and was about to chide him again, when her stomach grumbled loudly. She blushed heavily at the sound and Red couldn't help but chuckle. "That answers my question then. Dembe, to the restaurant please."

When they arrived at their destination, Red helped Liz out of the car, taking a moment to appreciate her new outfit. "You look beautiful in that dress, Lizzie."

She smiled at him and then turned towards the restaurant. The building was painted in an orange color with huge windows out front, and from where she was standing, she could see a warm light streaming through the opened curtains.

"Grillmark… Grillmarka… Grill…"

Red couldn't help but chuckle at her. She looked cute while she was trying to read the name of the restaurant. "Grillmarkaðurinn," he helped.

"What?" She looked at him with her eyebrow crinkled in confusion, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip and he wanted nothing more than to kiss those full lips right now.

"Grillmarkaðurinn," he said again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her frustration made him chuckle again. "It basically means Grillmarket. Come on, let's go inside." As he gently took her by the arm and led her towards the entrance, he could hear her trying to say the restaurant's name as quietly as possible, but he didn't let on just how endearing that was.

The maître d' greeted Red enthusiastically and it was obvious to Liz that he had been here before, probably with some woman. She chided herself for the sudden rush of jealousy that ran through her as they followed the man leading them to their table.

"Sweetheart." The concierge of crime tired getting her attention. He had pulled out the chair for her and was waiting for her to sit down now.

She mentally shook herself and sat down, shooting him a small smile and he settled down in the chair opposite her.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm? Yeah, sure." She smiled as the waiter passed her a menu.

He accepted the menu that was offered to him and ordered both of them some wine. "Lizzie."

"What?" She asked, not looking up at him, but she could feel his eyes burning a hole through her head.

He sighed and started studying the food on the menu. "You know, Dembe and I usually come here alone and you see how he always refuses to sit at the table with us. He has an issue with security measures, and I absolutely hate dining alone, so I'm glad you're here with me."

She looked up at him then. Damn the man for always knowing what her problem was. In that exact moment he looked up and caught her eye and she couldn't help but smile at him. "Is that so?"

"That is so." He winked at her. "Do you need help with the menu?"

She closed the menu and put it on the table in front of her. "I was hoping for pictures I could point to, but there aren't any. So, yes, please."

He studied her for a moment, loving how her eyes looked in the dim light. "Trust me?" She raised her eyebrow at him. "Let me order for you."

Liz nodded. "Okay. Just nothing fishy. I heard they eat whale here. And after yesterday, I don't want to take any chances."

She was adorable. If she hadn't become a FBI agent and profiler, she would have probably ended up fighting for animal rights. "No whale for you, I promise."

Fingering the napkin to her right, her hand came in contact with the tabletop. "Is that…" It felt so smooth. "Is this table just a huge, varnished slice of a tree trunk?"

"It is."

"Wow." She looked around and saw that all tabletops looked the same.

"Do you not like it? We can always go somewhere else," he offered, not sure if this was what she had had in mind.

"What? No. It's beautiful. It would fit right into a cabin in the woods, with a crackling fireplace and bearskin rug. A fake one of course," she hurried to say.

Red smiled at her. "Of course, Lizzie."

When the waiter returned, the concierge of crime ordered for the both of them, surprising the man with his knowledge of the Icelandic language. Liz loved watching him in action. He was so good at communicating, at everything really. He was just one of those people that had no problems wherever he was going. She envied him a little for his people skills. She was a profiler after all, but still managed to embarrass herself quite often, especially around him. Speaking of him, was he staring at her? And where was the waiter?

His lips curled upwards as he watched her coming back to reality. "Lost in thought, sweetheart?"

She mentally shook herself. "It happens sometimes," she answered, taking a sip of her wine, before putting it back down without releasing the stem of the glass.

He leaned forward, tracing the skin of her hand with his index finger and she could barely contain a shiver. The way his eyes bore into hers was intense and Liz found herself wondering just what he was thinking about. She didn't like being scrutinized, whatever the reason, and self-consciously let her eyes drift away.

"So." She cleared her throat. "Where did you learn to speak Icelandic?"

Story time. Liz loved story time. Red would lean back into the chair as he was telling his tale and his hands would wildly fly around the air, telling their own story, and his eyes were sparkling with excitement. And his voice… oh his voice, she was sure that one of these days his voice would be the death of her.

During the part where he was telling her about the 107-year-old woman that was fighting off a robber with her crutch, the waiter brought their food and Liz's mouth dropped open. They served their food on stone platters!

"I took the liberty of ordering you a good ol' rib eye, medium, of course, with a side order of curly fries and grilled green asparagus and mushrooms. Make sure to use the gravy over there, it is delicious. The salad dressing tastes wonderful as well and everything is house made. And you will love dessert, just wait."

"Red!" She looked at the huge platter in front of her. "How am I supposed to eat all this?"

"Sweetheart, you need to eat. You've been losing weight lately and you don't have any to spare. So please, dig in."

She must have been hungrier than she had first thought, or maybe the food was just too good, but the FBI agent had actually managed to clear her whole plate… or well, stone platter, and was already digging into the dessert that Red had ordered.

She was happily sticking the small spoon into her mouth, humming in approval as the chocolate hit her senses. Red had translated the dish as 'Death by Chocolate' which basically was a hot chocolate fudge cake with two scoops of chocolate ice cream, extra chocolate sauce and a couple of strawberries on top. His eyes were glued to her mouth as she licked some of the sticky sauce from her bottom lip, releasing with a smack.

"You really like chocolate, don't you?" He asked and his voice was even lower than usual.

"Who doesn't love chocolate? And gosh, Red, this is so good! You have to try it," she said, scooping up a generous amount of the sweet dish.

"No thanks, Lizzie, I'm actually not really a fan of this much sweetness."

"Oh come on! You have to." The spoon was getting closer, and before he knew it, she was gently cupping his chin to pull him closer. His mouth opened on its own volition and then closed around the metal that had been warmed by her lips and tongue.

He had to admit that the dish really was good, but knowing that they were sharing the same spoon was even better. Her thumb ran over his lips, clearing off some of the chocolate sauce, but Red barely noticed. He wanted to kiss her. Now. He had to. God, how much he wanted her.

"So?"

He mentally shook himself. "It's delicious." 'Just like you are, I'm sure of it.' He could feel himself getting excited, pressing painfully against the inside of his trousers. Was he turning into a horny teenager again?