Same Old Love

Found the perfect song for angsty writing: "Don't Deserve You" by Plumb. Thank you to FrostyBear4 for the prompt/request for some flangst :) and thanks to BlackInk07 for previewing and encouraging!

As always, I do not own anything related to The Blacklist; just playing!

*****

"Don't we deserve a chance?" She waited, her gaze pinning him, his impassive "That is, unless you don't want me?" she held her breath, afraid to even consider that alternative.

He crushed her to him then, appalled at himself that he could even let her think that.

"You must know that's not true," he whispered into her hair. He knew he would die before letting her go.

They were going to start with dinner.

Both Lizzie and Red had agreed that it would be a safe place to begin. For all the undercover operations, all the time spent on his jet, all the conversations in busy coffee shops, the had never actually sat down and completed a meal together. For Lizzie's part, she had usually been too keyed up about their assignment, too anxious to relax enough to enjoy a meal with him. And as for Red, well, he had already spent a fair amount of time trying to convince her to sit and eat, enjoy a cocktail, try the baklava, eat the pecan pie.

She hadn't been able to decide on something fancy enough for wherever he was taking her, so she had eventually decided on something that would be passable for most occasions, a navy shift dress and a charcoal wrap paired with stilettos and a delicate silver chain with a small teardrop diamond that had been a graduation gift from Sam; wearing it always reminded her of his steady presence, calming her. She definitely needed calming tonight, she thought to herself.

Lizzie was acutely aware of his closeness on the seat next to her, of the rich scent of his cologne enveloping her like a warm breeze. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she resisted; he looked so pensive as he stared out the window of the town car in his suit.

Red peered out the window, desperately fighting the urge to rest his palm on the bare skin of her thigh, exposed by the lift of her dress when she had slid onto the seat next to him. It had taken him over an hour to choose his clothing for the evening, he was so nervous about their dinner. He wanted this with her, wanted it with every cell in his body. An equally powerful and opposing urge to run away strangled him, as it had every moment since they had concluded their passionate coupling. Everything about their situation screamed out at him "Danger!" He knew continuing this relationship would expose her to the perils of his life and he needed to protect her. The warring emotions battled in his head, vying for conquest.

"Red?" her uncertain voice pulled him from his musings.

He turned his head to look at her.

"Are you...is everything ok?" she asked hesitantly.

"Certainly, my dear. Everything is fine." He smiled at her.

"You seem," she paused, dropping her gaze to her lap where her fingers were twisting together nervously, "If this is too much for you, if you don't want to...we don't have to do this," she finished finally, eyes still on her hands.

"No!" he replied automatically. "I mean, I do want to have dinner with you. I want to...date you." He stumbled over the word; it was so pedestrian, far too insubstantial a term for what was between them.

His reassurances calmed her marginally, but she still felt unsure. Her uncertainty must have showed on her face, because he continued, his jaw working nervously between his words as he struggled to give voice to his own doubts.

"Lizzie, you must understand, that for the better part of your life, my primary concern has been your safety. To do something which puts you in peril is a direct contravention of everything I believe. Every fiber of my being is crying out, urging me to walk away from you, to run as far and as fast as I can in the opposite direction because not doing so puts your life in immediate, incontrovertible danger." His eyes never left hers during his speech, boring into her with the intensity of his words.

"Red, I-" she began.

He stopped her, holding up a hand as he cut her off, his voice insistent, "Do you understand that the people who want me dead will stop at nothing, nothing, to see that a reality? That includes kidnapping, harming, even killing people close to me, even a young, beautiful FBI agent." His voice faltered and he broke eye contact with her for a moment, returning to stare out his window before he gathered himself and continued, quieter.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you, Elizabeth. Except the one thing I should do, which is walk away from you now. And...trying to come to terms with that, with the realization that I cannot do the one thing that would protect you best, because of my own failing, my own lack of self-control, is proving...difficult for me. So, please, just try to bear with me while I reason this out with myself." He finished his rant, and turned his eyes once again to study the passing scenery in the fading light.

Lizzie sat in stunned silence in the impending darkness, mouth agape, staring at him. In slow motion, she turned her eyes forward. She felt like a weight was pressing down on her chest, like she couldn't breath. "Stop the car."

Red turned to her, "Lizzie-"

"I said, stop the car!" she exclaimed.

Their driver pulled over, braking against the curb. Before the car had completely halted, Lizzie had already pulled open the door and bolted out. She stomped quickly away from the car, pulling her wrap tighter around herself protectively.

"Lizzie!" he called after her. She ignored him, her pace increasing as she furiously swiped at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Lizzie, wait!" he shouted as he grabbed her elbow, spinning her around to face him.

"No!" she screamed at him. "No, Red! I can't do this right now." She pushed his arms away and walked away from him.

"I don't get close to people," he called after her. She stopped, but didn't turn around. "I don't...have people in my life. Not for years. Not until you."

She turned around, her face stricken.

"What about Dembe? What about Kate?" she flung at him angrily.

"They can protect themselves."

"You don't think I can protect myself?" she shrieked at him incredulously.

"I don't think you will protect yourself," he explained. "Can you honestly say that you would do whatever was necessary to save your own life? Would you kill? Would you break the law? Would you give up everything to save yourself?"

"I managed to survive for thirty years without you looking over my shoulder!"

"You gave up your gun, you came back to the King's auction, you stood by Tom," he listed her failings. "Your sense of self-preservation is less than absolute, Lizzie, and it can't be." He shook his head. "I can't lose you, don't you understand that? It's better for me to see you alone than to lose you."

"That's weak, Reddington, and you know it," she hurled the words at him. "I think we both know the real reason you think this shouldn't happen. Are you too much of a coward to say it out loud?"

"I don't deserve you!" He shouted across the night, finally angry enough with her to raise his voice. "I am not good enough, not by half. What we did...It never should have happened. I should never have let it happen," he corrected himself.

"You deserve so much more than I have to offer, Lizzie, you deserve everything. And I...I'm broken, damaged, evil...wrong. You are the light. But you can't shine here with me. My darkness eats away all the light it's near...and I won't do that to you. I won't darken you any more than I already have."

He hung his head, fedora twitching against his leg. There it was, the truth, finally on the table in front of them both.

Liz raised her head to the sky, searching for answers in the stars, searching for...something. With a deep breath, she brought her eyes back to his forlorn figure.

She ran to him, crashing into his body, crushing her lips to his. He made a raw, primitive sound as he opened to her, all of his carefully constructed walls crumbling down around the two of them as he held her in his arms.

The pulled apart infinitesimally, resting their foreheads together, eyes closed, breathing heavy.

"Lizzie," he whispered.

"Shhhh, don't," she said, choking on her tears. "I don't care. I don't care," she repeated furiously. "It doesn't matter, Red! Can't you see that? Without you, my whole world is dark anyway."

His brows knit together, his jaw clenching fiercely as he fought off his own tears. "You-," he began, but she shut him up by pressing her lips to his again.

He returned her kiss with the same intensity as that first night, arms tightening around her. She backed away from him when she was sure she'd silenced every argument.

He looked at her questioningly. "We're done talking about this," she stated with finality. She took his hand in hers. "Now, let's go. You're taking me to dinner."

His resolve shattered, he followed her back to the car.

TheBlacklist-TheBlacklist-TheBlacklist

Their dinner date was less awkward than either of them had anticipated after their legendary fight. Red managed to keep the conversation light and Lizzie let him order for her. They laughed over cocktails and stories of her childhood, expanding on the things Sam had told him, allowing him a deeper look into her memories, fleshing out the meager glimpses he had been afforded throughout her life.

He regaled her with fantastic fables of his travels over a shared appetizer, weaving pictures with his words. She leaned into her hand propped on the table, hanging on his every word as he told story after story of adventure and chaos, mayhem and redemption, falling more in love with him with each far-flung tale.

They discussed their plans for concealing their relationship from the FBI, absorbing one another's ideas as they consumed their entrees. They both agreed, to Red's surprise, that no mention should be made of their relationship to Harold Cooper or the taskforce. It would mean the unnecessary end of Lizzie's career. Red would keep the inner workings of his business from her for the time being, both to provide her with plausible deniability if it was ever required as well as for her protection, but he hoped one day to share with her every facet of his life. She was warmed by the admission that he wanted her to know everything about him; it was more than she had thought he would be able to give.

By the time dessert arrived, they had lapsed into a companionable silence that was fraught with suggestive glances and the gradual caress of Lizzie's bare foot sliding along the inside of Red's thigh. He hastily ordered their check without finishing his tiramisu, which prompted a sly chuckle from Liz's sultry lips.

The mood on ride back to his safe house was electric, sexual tension crackling between them as they sat close together, her hand gripped tightly in his own, resting against his thigh. Occasionally, she stoked his craving by leaning into him and whispering a suggestion, her breath hot against his ear. He was uncomfortably hard by the time they arrived at their destination.

They were no more than two steps inside the front door when Red whirled her around and pressed her into a fiery kiss. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt over his chest, clutching him to her as fervently as he did her. There was an intensity to their passion that transcended time and reason. She ached for his possession in a way that embarrassed her, and yet, he responded to her urgency with a demand that was as fearsome as her own.

Even before their kiss ended, they were hurriedly undressing each other, buttons pinging off of surfaces, garment fragments falling from nimble fingers, the hasty, uncontrolled frustration of desire making them clumsy in their eagerness.

Lizzie succeeded in untying Red's Half Windsor knot and pulled him along by the ends of his tie, still draped around his neck. She backed up toward the stairs leading to his bedroom, but Red had other ideas.

Swiftly, he lifted her, both hands sliding beneath her derriere, and settled her onto his hips, her legs immediately wrapping around him. He crossed to his desk against the far wall, freeing one hand to sweep the ledgers from its surface. He sat her on the edge, leaning into her kiss and rocking his hips against her. The remainder of their clothing joined the pieces littering the floor around them as they answered a powerful yearning for each other.

He read the insistence in the signals of her body and responded. They were both too impatient for finesse. He spread her legs, stepping between them, filling his hands with her breasts. She gripped his hot length in her hand while she latched her mouth onto his neck, sucking the smooth skin of his scar against her tongue. Red groaned against her mouth, dropping his hand to her fevered flesh, her hips surging up to meet his hand.

He dipped two fingers into her cleft at her invitation, finding her already damp with her arousal. Twisting them inside her, he coated them with her wetness before raising his hand between them and slipping one finger between her lips and the other between his own. Her eyes widened in surprise, then relaxed as she sucked his finger harder into her mouth, tasting herself on his hand.

Red shuddered against her at her willingness to let him lead. She continued to stroke him firmly in her hand. He wanted to feel her smooth, satiny heat enveloping him once more. He pulled his fingers from their mouths, hers letting go with a wet pop. He brought both hands to her hips, letting her position him at her entrance. Without further preparation, he thrust into her, her cry of pleasure echoing in the quiet of the house.

She was tight and already clenching around him as he plunged into her, rocking her back on the smooth surface. Lizzie dug her heels into his buttocks, encouraging him as he worked into her with his powerful thrusts. She kept her hands on his shoulders for balance, her nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half-moon scratches behind.

He could feel himself stiffening inside her. He reached up to his shoulder, grasping one of her wrists in his hand. He brought her hand down between them, pressing her fingers against her clit. Lizzie stroked herself as Red plunged harder, pinching and rolling the sensitive flesh with her fingertips until she was writhing and panting with him.

"Lizzie...please," he gasped.

"Go, baby, let go," she emboldened him with a whisper and he lost his rhythm, spilling his seed haphazardly inside her.

Her fingers pulsed frantically against the tiny bud, and she followed while he was still pumping into her body, her head dropping onto his shoulder with a scream, closing her teeth over his flesh to contain her cry of pleasure.

The house swallowed the sounds of their frantic breathing while they remained, locked together, chests heaving, sweat cooling on fevered flesh.

Red lowered his head to bury it in the curve of her neck as he caught his breath. He pressed a kiss to her smooth skin after a long minute. He turned his face to the side and whispered against her heated skin, "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Shhhh," she quieted him, her cheek resting on the melted surface of his shoulder. She nuzzled him affectionately, "It's over. It's ok now; we don't have to go back there."

He sighed against her, the weight of their earlier conversation, the rapid evolution of their evening, the frenzied pace of their lovemaking suddenly crashed down on him, overwhelming his senses in a way that was most unfamiliar to his normally controlled self.

Eventually, he wrapped his arms around her again and carried her to his bedroom, tucking them both beneath the blankets. They lay together quietly for a long time before Lizzie spoke.

"Really though, where did all that come from?" she questioned him. "That business about you not being good enough, you know that's nonsense, right?"

"I see how other men view you, darling. Ressler, Aram...they're much younger than me, certainly more appropriate for you for any number of reasons," he answered regretfully.

"Raymond Reddington! Are you...insecure?" Liz exclaimed in amazement.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Red bristled. "I am merely stating the obvious fact that you are used to a more robust man, a relationship with fewer complications. You had someone from your own generation, with whom you shared interests and hobbies."

"I don't want what I had with Tom. It wasn't real. I am so tired of the same old thing; it makes me sick to think about all the time I wasted with him on a life that wasn't even true." She was impassioned in her denial, sitting up emphatically.

"You could never compare yourself to Tom, because you are a world away from him," she spoke quieter now, leaning close to his face. "There is no one like you in this world, Red."

She lowered her lips to his and his arms came up, fingers weaving through the locks of her hair. With a growl, he rolled her beneath him, deepening their kiss, his hand angling her jaw up to meet him.

He pulled back to gaze into her eyes seriously. "You are everything to me, Elizabeth."

She smiled up at him, her hands stroking the back of his shorn head. "I don't know what I would do without you, love. I don't ever want to find out."

She urged his head down to meet her upturned lips. He poured all the things he felt for her into that kiss, hoping she could sense all that she meant to him. He entwined his limbs with hers, rolling them both onto their sides, holding her in the circle of his embrace. They drifted to sleep, his lips still on hers.