A/N: This darned thing has really gotten away from me. There'll be one more chapter for sure, which I've already written the majority of, so hopefully there won't be as long a wait for it as there was for this. Also, I'd like to thank everyone for their feedback on this and my other stories. I'm really no good at responding to reviews and such—I'm incredibly shy and never know what to say—but every last one is appreciated. (I'm a bit more in my element on tumblr. If you're interested, you can find me there at iwouldlovetoeatyourtoast, where I have a slightly higher chance of being interactive.)
They slept like the dead. It shouldn't have really surprised her considering how much energy they'd expended the night before, but in her life, long stretches of undisturbed sleep were rare. She gathered the same was probably true for Red, too, though the sources of his sleep disturbances were likely rather different from hers, even if her reasons for sleepless nights had changed in the past few weeks.
There was no more Tom with his "helpful" habit of opening the drapes at the crack of dawn, no Hudson with his slobbery tongue or sharp, excited bark, no reason at all for her to do anything other than turn over and drift back to sleep whenever she stirred. Even the muted sunlight that leaked around the edges of the shades was soothing instead of harsh.
Lazy mornings were so unusual for her, she didn't know what to do with herself. In a way, it was actually reassuring when an insistent knock came at the door. It meant the world hadn't changed as much as it felt like it had.
Dembe's muffled voice called from the hall, "Mr. Reddington?" A pause, another knock, and then, "Raymond?"
"Red, wake up," she said, nudging his shoulder. "Dembe's at the door." He gave no indication that he heard her, so she nudged him harder and only earned a half-hearted grunt in reply. "Hey, come on. He'll think we've killed each other and break the damn thing down if you don't show yourself." He gave a sleepy harumph and burrowed his head into the pillows.
She blew out a breath through her lips, annoyed. She really didn't want to be the one to answer Dembe, but as Raymond Reddington had redefined nearly every aspect of life as she knew it over the past few months, it seemed only fitting that the self-conscious humiliation of the walk of shame would be redefined as well.
She steeled herself and called out, "You can come in, Dembe, I'm sure you have a key."
She heard the lock snick open. Dembe peered into the bedroom, on guard and suspicious, but he relaxed visibly when he took stock of the man sleeping peacefully next to her.
"Hi," she said, pasting what she hoped was a cheerful smile on her face, but it probably never made it very far past sheepish. She held up a hand in an awkward sort of wave. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Agent Keen." His lips twitched in amusement, and she hugged her knees to her chest, silently cursing Red for sleeping through this. "Feeling better?" he asked.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and shot him a tight, forced smile. "What did you need? We're… well…" Words failed her. Everything she could come up with amounted to some variation of 'We're indisposed at the moment because I fucked your boss into blissful exhaustion' and that was just not something she was prepared to vocalize, even if she managed to be a lot less crude. Dembe seemed to get the idea, regardless.
"Our intel checked out. Cooper is requesting Raymond's presence as soon as possible to discuss the details. I believe he has been trying to contact you as well. Since around seven this morning."
"What time is it?"
"Quarter to ten."
"Shit."
"Indeed." He regarded her curiously for a moment, a faint smile on his face. "I'm glad to see you and Raymond worked things out."
She snorted, the embarrassed tension she felt since he knocked on the door slowly bleeding out of her. "That's one way to put it."
Dembe took a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke again. "Raymond needs you more than you realize, Agent Keen," he said, his voice wistful but serious. "You may not believe me, but he's been better since you started working together. Lighter. More purposeful. I think he could actually like the man he is when he's with you."
Liz was taken aback, both by his sudden loquaciousness and his candor about Red. "I don't know how to respond to that."
"You don't have to. Consider it food for thought."
She looked down at Red, still seemingly asleep next to her. She laid a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin when he began to speak.
"I hate to interrupt your charming little heart-to-heart, but I think I should remind you two that I am actually in the room." He turned to smirk at Liz over his shoulder. "Morning, sweetheart."
She glared at him. "How long have you been awake?"
"I don't think you want me to answer that."
Liz slid down the bed, crossed her arms over her chest, and let out an annoyed huff. "You're an asshole."
"We've been over that, I agree." Red mirrored her posture, mimicking her irritated body language, and held her gaze. "Why is it you're so disgruntled when I'm the one whose dirty laundry is being aired to all and sundry? Or were you hoping he'd let you in on a few more secrets before I woke up?"
"You're not going to deny what he said?"
"That would be futile at this point, wouldn't it? The cat's out of the bag, so to speak." He dropped his arms to the bed, fidgeting with the blanket over his thigh, no longer mocking her irritation. "You already knew I needed you. You've said so yourself."
He played it nonchalant and casual, confirming what Dembe said while brushing it off as something unremarkable, but his eyes betrayed him. Having her there with him wasn't something he took lightly; she knew he needed her, yes, but his need for her ran deeper than whatever his objective was with his list. She didn't believe that at the beginning, couldn't let herself believe it, but now…
She allowed herself to relax, unfolding herself from her tense, defensive position, and if her hand brushed his on the blankets, she pretended it wasn't intentional, pretended not to notice he stopped fidgeting when she touched him.
Dembe cleared his throat. "We shouldn't keep Cooper waiting much longer. If he's impatient enough to send someone to retrieve either of you and finds you here, Agent Keen, or your apartment empty…"
He let the sentence hang and headed for the door.
"Dembe," Red said quietly, stopping him at the doorway. "I told you there was nothing to worry about, my friend."
Dembe gave Red a small smile, inclined his head to Liz, and ducked back out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.
A charged silence fell over the two of them. They watched each other, both waiting for the other to move first. When she noticed her own gaze dropping to his lips, she looked away, brows furrowed. She felt her cheeks heat as she wondered if she could trust herself not to show her hand at the Post Office. If she caught herself staring before, when she had tried so very hard to avoid thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, she was going to have issues now that she knew first hand, and more besides.
The back of his hand brushed hers, stopping her from worrying her scar. "You're welcome to use my shower, Lizzy. The water pressure is exquisite."
His offer jolted her out of her musings. There would be time for soul-searching later, she hoped. She snatched up her trousers from the floor and scooted to the edge of the bed to pull them on, trying to ignore the feeling of his gaze on her back. She shrugged into her shirt and jacket over the tank top she borrowed from him.
"As inviting as that sounds, I think it would be too much of a temptation for either of us. We're late enough as it is," she said. Also, it would be prudent if she didn't walk into the Post Office smelling like Red's shampoo.
He chewed on the inside of his lip, his eyes lingering as she bent to pull on her boots. "Hmm. You might be right."
"I will borrow your bathroom before I leave, though," she said, rounding the bed already.
"Be my guest."
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. She took a deep, steadying breath and checked her watch. If she hurried, she should be able to shower at home and still make it to the Post Office before 11:30. Quickly, she took care of her business and, with one last longing glance at his beautiful shower, she dried her hands and left the bathroom.
She found Red at the foot of the bed, contemplating two ties he had laid out next to his suit.
"What do you think, Lizzy, the green or the gray?"
She shook her head at the absurdity of his question. He wanted her to help him choose his outfit? She wasn't anyone's wife anymore, least of all his. Still, she found herself playing along. She grabbed the ties, turned him towards the window to take advantage of the late morning sun, and held them up on either side of his face.
She wouldn't have called his eyes green, but the way they caught the sunlight and the rich, tiny green paisley pattern, she could actually understand why the FBI had them listed as such. "This one," she said, "It brings out your eyes."
His fingers brushed hers when he took the ties from her. As she watched him put the gray one back in his wardrobe and pull out a dress shirt, a fleeting, thrilling, terrifying thought crossed her mind: she could get used to this.
He glanced back at her absently with a faint smile on his face and did a slight double-take when he noticed her rising panic. He tossed his shirt on the bed. "Hey," he said, a gentle hand cupping the back of her head. "What's wrong?"
She tried to work her mouth to answer him, but no sound came out, so she brought her hands up to his chest, absently tracing her way up to his shoulders, the soft cotton of his t-shirt soothing her, distracting her from the maelstrom of feelings swirling in her gut.
"I don't know what the hell we've gotten ourselves into here."
"If it makes you feel any better, neither do I."
She met his eyes, gave him a small, rueful smile. "I don't know if I believe you."
He huffed a laugh and pressed his lips to hers in a brief, fervent kiss. "Go. I can afford to be fashionably late."
"Looks like Reddington had a little too much fun last night."
Liz looked up from the file on the latest Blacklister, barely registering what Meera had said. She followed her gaze to Red, who was chatting with a slightly nervous Aram, and it was all she could do to mask her horror at the sight of him. She thought he would have done something to hide or at least minimize the bruises on his face or the damn bite marks on his neck, but he obviously didn't care one whit about waltzing into the Post Office flaunting every last scratch. She caught a glimpse of a row of small half-moon shaped cuts where she dug her nails into his scalp while he had his head buried between her legs and willed herself not to blush.
She felt like a teenager about to be caught out by her parents, but with much more dire consequences. In the heat of the moment last night, she didn't care much about the possible impact sleeping with Red would have on her job, but in the light of day, well… It would be a lot less stressful if it just stayed a secret.
Meera waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention; she flinched. "Huh?"
"You feeling all right? You look a bit peaky."
"I'm fine."
Meera narrowed her eyes at Liz. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."
"What? No, I'm… I…" So much for not blushing. "I have no reason to be jealous of Red."
She still seemed dubious, but let the subject drop as Cooper and Ressler finally gathered them around to start the briefing.
Ressler did a double-take when he saw the state of Red's face. "What happened to you?"
Red smiled blithely at Ressler, staying silent just long enough that it seemed he would ignore the question.
"Agent Keen has a mean left hook," he said, once he'd turned away to study the photos of the Blacklister taped to the glass wall.
Liz's jaw dropped before she could catch herself, but she managed to school her expression into something less mortified pretty quickly. Ressler eyed her with a speculative look on his face.
"Oh, come on. You really think I punched him in the face?"
"It wouldn't surprise me if you had. There are people who'd pay good money to punch him in the face."
"I should set up a booth, help finance my next coup. For you, Lizzy, the first swing is free." He leaned towards her, lifting his chin as if to give her a clear shot. The fondness in his eyes was entirely uncalled for.
"Do you want me to hit you? Because I'm starting to see the appeal; I might just take you up on it."
"Stop flirting, you two," Meera said. "We have work to do."
Liz waited until they were away from the prying eyes and ears of her colleagues, safely ensconced in the back of Red's car on the way to meet his contact, before she tore into him.
"What the hell do you think you were you doing in there? Most of these,"—she gestured vaguely to the various bumps and bruises on his body—"they look… Well, everyone can tell exactly what you've been up to. Why on earth would you want to link that image in their minds with me?"
"Relax, Lizzy. Whatever I say, they're going to assume I'm saying it to get a rise out of you. Put yourself in their shoes. If we were really sleeping together, would we rub it in their faces like that?"
"Apparently, yes," she snapped, still fuming. "I see your point about reverse psychology, but I hope you can see my point that we don't need to imply we're sleeping together in order to convince them we're not. Frankly, I can't believe I'm even arguing with you about this. I—"
"You're right," he said, cutting her off before she built up a head of steam, "I've seen the error of my ways. From now on I promise to be on my best behavior in front of your colleagues. Scout's honor." He held up his fingers in a perverse parody of a Scout sign.
She narrowed her eyes. He capitulated far too quickly for it not to make her suspicious. "Are you trying to goad me into lashing out at you like last night?"
He leaned back against the headrest and smiled across the seat at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He didn't deny it.
She shoved at his shoulder, annoyed. "You're an ass."
"I thought you liked that about me. Or was it my ass you liked? I can't remember."
She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to the window, the hustle and bustle of the city fading into the distance. She could feel him watching her as they drove and, despite her anger, the attention still warmed her.
After an interminable amount of time passed in silence, she felt him shift in his seat to reach for something in his pocket.
"Dembe found your rings," he said, his voice quiet. He held his hand out on the seat between them, the rings glinting in his palm. "I thought you might like to have them back, in case you wanted to sell them or bury them or toss them into Mount Doom."
She couldn't help the half-amused snort that left her as she took the rings. They were warm from his body heat. Familiar. A touchstone of the wreck of her old life. She spun them around the middle of her index finger, the air heavy with anticipation while he waited to see what she would do with them.
She jabbed at the button to lower her window and threw the rings as hard and as far as she could. Sure, it was an impulsive choice, but it felt like the right one. It felt like a turning point.
Red's hand still lay open next to her thigh. Without thinking or looking his way, she reached down and took it, lacing their fingers together.