Work Text:
A week after Marko Jankowics, a week after Hannah left him Ressler sits alone on his couch nursing the same beer for three hours.
The weekend looms before him.
He had only dated Hannah for a few weeks but still had gotten used to having plans again. Plans that didn’t involve alcohol or pining about a woman he would never be with.
As he slams back the rest of his now warm beer there’s a knock on his door. Sighing he stands up, expecting a deliveryman who got the wrong door. Instead, Liz’s anxious face greets him as he opens the door. Automatically he looks down at her hands, registering they’re thankfully clean. As much as he loves her, he really doesn’t want a repeat of last weekend.
He invites her in without asking why she came. Knowing Liz shell talk about it soon enough and given the last few weeks it won’t be something he wants to hear.
He knows he isn’t fine, but he had been irritated with her even before she appeared unexpectedly. Hannah might have cited the lies, but he knows Liz played a part. And he knows Liz couldn’t have known about Hannah, but he can’t help but feel that the way she asked for his help was her staking her claim on him. A claim she defended against a lot of women they met on cases without ever acting on it. Sometimes after another unfulfilling one-night stand or the fourth beer, when he is the most fed up, he puts all the blame on her. On the fact that she doesn’t want him but also doesn’t want anyone else to have him. Now he has only drunken one beer, but his mood is nearly the same. Maybe he shouldn’t let her in.
"So, Hannah really left?" Liz askes after hanging up her raincoat, taking in his flat. "
Yeah. No thanks to you," Ressler answers bitterly.
He really shouldn’t have let her in. Well, too late now.
Liz steps in front of him putting a hand on his chest. On his side his own hands clench. "Look I know I made a mess of things. With you, with Hannah, with Reddington. And I know we have to talk about that."
"About what?" Ressler interrupts. He knows he’s being unfair, but her hand is still on his chest, and he feels loke he might explode if he doesn’t finally let everything out.
"That you’re sorry? About what? The dead not-pregnant drug mule in my flat? The blackop? Which by the way is really something to have a blackop from a blackop. Or about the way you scared another potebtial partner off? So, you thought you come here and what? Make sure you still have me? Did you decide, now that you realised I wouldn’t wait forever, that you’d rather have me? Scared I wouldn’t be let on your string anymore? That someone else will come first to me?"
She shakes her head, face ghostly white now, her hands limp at her side. Her touch still burns his chest, like her hand had been a branding iron. As if he hadn’t already been branded as hers.
"No Ressler no. I didn't know." He scoffs. "I didn't. I joked about Alter Ego, but I thought you already had a date, I thought you told me about the wedding because your current girlfriend was really serious, and you geared up to tell me about here. Which is why I chickened out, because for some reason I now know was jealousy, I didn’t want to hear about her. I really thought you simply didn’t tell me about them, because you're private, because what happend when Audrey met our world. I thought you were my best friend and I was yours and neither of us wanted more."
She sounds so small in that moment that Ressler’s anger simply deflates.
He doesn't know what he expected to happen if he ever told Liz about all of it, all the bitterness and heartbreak and accusations. Given their respective hot-headedness a shouting match had been a certainty, but he never thought it would only be a one-sided near shouting match.
Slowly he walks over to the couch and pads the seat next to him. Liz sniffles but takes the offered seat, stiffly. He relaxes just a bit.
Maybe she'll hate him after tonight but at least it seems like they'll get everything out. They'll have to, after the beginning statement he made in his anger.
"Then what Liz? Please I want to understand. From my perspective it looks, looked like you were stringing me along. Kept me as a Backup, a safety net. And that was fine, I loved our friendship, it always was enough for me. But sometimes it felt like you played with me. Used my feelings against me. Like when you killed Connolly."
Her head snaps up. "But that was…Ressler that was years ago."
Her genuine shock is like a balm to his heart. A small seedling of hope rears its head in Ressler. Maybe he still has a chance. Maybe everything isn't as bleak as it seemed a few minutes ago.
He turns towards her and takes her hand between his. Her hand is clammy and trembling and still he revels in a touch he dreamed about for so long.
"I know. And yet it was after I had come to terms with my feelings for you," he answers softly, then he chuckles equally soft,"and here I thought I was so obvious."
Liz’s eyes widen comicaly. "Kaplan! I always wondered … she knew." He nods "At least I think so. And Redington. And Tom, even before I admitted it. And Cooper. And Samar. And…"
"I get it im the worst profiler in the world" Liz smiles.
She holds his gaze so he can watch the smile leave her eyes and determination take its place. Her hand is warmer now.
"I truly didn’t know. I didn’t even know I had feelings for you beyond friendship until I met Hannah and I was just so…hurt and angry and afraid. And even then, with Jennifer and everything it took me a week why the thought of Hannah made me angry and the thought of your breakup happy. Guilty happy. I've never really been jealous before. And then today I had a call with Agnes, and I just kept thinking you’d be a great dad and that’s when I realised thar every time I thought about you as a father before, even as far back as the good Samaritan, your future kids had my eyes. That my fantasies had more depth than he’s damn hot. I just never connected the dots. Or didn't want to. Im so sorry Donald. I…what?"
Ressler’s heart jumps wildly in his chest and he knows he has a goofy smile on his face. But there is nothing he can do against it.
Not when the woman he had been hopelessly in love with for years seems to be gearing up for something he hadn’t dared to dream about. At least while awake.
"Elizabeth Keen are you telling me that you stared?"
She gets beet red but laughs as she hits his chest with her free hand. "Shut up I really am not the only one who did."
During her speech she had turned more fully towards him so he lets go with one hand to cares the side of her face. The moment has grown tender yet still fragile, as if there is one wrong word between the fulfilment of their dreams or a complete nightmare.
Liz takes a deep breath. Now or never. There had been a reason she came here tonight, areason she chose to take that risk and now they got so far…
"But that’s not the important bit. The important bit is that if you want me Im here. I’ve known for a while that I want you. Physicaly. And today I learned that I want a future with you. That I," her eyes flit down as she stops speaking and it obviously costs her a lot of strength to look him in the eyes.
He has grown serious again, his heart feels like a helicopter wanting to take off. Briefly he hopes she can’t feel it. He squeezes her hand. Liz straightens her shoulders.
"I came to tell you that I love you." her gaze is strong unwavering even though he sees the nervousness in them. Leaning in he keeps eye contact searching for any form of doubt. Finding none he closes his eyes and savours the first brush of his lips on hers. "In case it got lost in my rather rude outburst back there, I love you too, Elizabeth Keen," he whispers leaning in again.
This time the kiss is more forceful, nearly desperate even though he still holds back. Her free hand comes up to play with the hair in his neck as she kisses him back. With that gesture his restrain fails; the kiss growing more and more heated while she meets him every step of the way. He barely remembers to ask her if she is sure before he picks her up and transports them both in his bed never stopping his kisses. Their clothes get carelessly thrown around his room; he is pretty sure her bra actually lands on his wardrobe.
Afterwards she lays cuddled in his arms warm and sweaty and sated, and he feels like he floats in a cloud of bliss. Next time he will savour it more, he thinks to himself. This time had been hard and fast, years of pent-up emotions breaking free. Now Liz is nestled in his arms, her fingertips drawing lines on his chest and he feels the happiest he can remember in a very long time.
“I had a lot of fantasies about this,” she finally murmurs, lifting her head to look at him. “You did?” “Hmm-mm. Our office got a whole lot of action in them, especially in the beginning. I used to feel so guilty about it until I realised who Tom was. Then I didn’t anymore.”
“You fantasized back then.”
Ressler grins smugly. For some reason it was one thing to know she had fantasized about him, just as he had fantasized about her, but another to learn when she started.
Laughingly she swats his shoulder. “Hey you were and, by the way are, a very hot, very strong agent, who fills out this suit deliciously. And by the way is even better then my fantasies." He glowers at her praise and kisses her again, roughly. "I wear suits deliciously?" "Don’t tell me you never noticed the looks you got, even from the married ones.”
He takes her hand from his chest and kisses it “I did. Sometimes. And I also did notice your rather territorial behaviour. I just… interpreted it differently than you did.” “You really thought I played with you, didn’t you?”
He nods suddenly ashamed. “I thought you simply must have realised how I felt. That there was no way you couldn't have known. Afterall you are the profiler in the team and after Aram asked me about it...” “Aram? Did everybody know about your feelings but me?"
Ressler pretends to think for a while until Liz swats his shoulder again. "Seriously?" He shrugs "I don’t know about Dembe but otherwise…" This time he catches Liz hand with his, his other hand pulling her closer to kiss her, slow and sweet.
They break apart when both are out of breath, silly smiles on their faces.
Suddenly Liz face grows serious, "you said Samar knew. Was it before...?" He shakes his head. "She might have suspected, we never really talked about what drove us to … that. But after you" he gulps "well after you died, she said she definitely knew after that because I said your name in my sleep." Liz pulls herself up on her elbows to look him in the face.
Softly she turns his head towards her and caresses it. "Im sorry Donald. I know I put you to much more shit than I have had any right to, and I can’t even promise I’ll stop. But I can promise you that I’ll be honest, that will include you, when though it scares me. And above all I can promise you that I love you.
I love you, Donald Ressler." "I might have to ask you to only call me that in private," he growls flipping them around. "And for the record: I love you too Elizabeth Keen." with that he descends on her, kissing every inch of skin he can find.