I love this couple, they are both gorgeous. I think we have taken their relationship a little out of proportion, because there is hardly any romantic transactions between the two in the series, but they could totally work. The title of the song is from Chandelier by Sia. I apologize for any mistakes made.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the song.

Her job was to read people, their body language, their facial expressions, what they meant when they said one thing but wanted to say another.

But for the life of her, she could not catch a read on Donald Ressler.

She was pretty sure he didn't like her half the time, but then there were other times when there would be things that gave her the impression he did like her. There would be late nights in the office where he would go out and get her dinner from the Thai place that she liked down the road. Or there would be times she would look up from her work across the room and he would be staring at her, his eyes soft.

"Fuck!" Elizabeth Keen hissed as she bumped into the corner of a desk and her coffee sloshed over the edge of her cup. Don looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, his lips pursed. "I'm fine," Liz muttered, although he didn't make an attempt to get up and help her. She pulled a few tissues from the nearby box and swiped at her skirt, and then at her desk. It really was not her day. This morning she was cleaning out the spare room in her house and it had just brought up everything she was trying to ignore, given all the photos and mementos she ended up digging up. She had definitely wanted to call in sick to work that day and spend it drinking straight from the bottle of Chardonny. Or Bourbon.

"Lizzie," Don's voice interrupted her train of thought. Liz blinked up at him, pushing her hair over her shoulder. "I'm off now."

"Uh, right," she raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't aware that was something you needed my permission for." The strained look on his face was clear, so whatever he was going to say next was not something he was completely comfortable with. Liz knew that look well, it was pretty much the only one he wore when he was around her.

"I'm going out for a drink. Did you want to come with me?" It all came out in a rush, his eyebrows raised and his eyes pinned over her head. Her first instinct was to quickly decline, but then everything came back from this morning and the reason she was having such a shit day. Sure, Don wasn't the best of company, but drinking alone wasn't exactly a good look, so this could be the second best thing.

"Uh, yeah," Liz looked at her desk, messy with three different cases she was working on. "Yeah, that'd be great actually."

"You want to make a pit stop?" He nodded down to her stained skirt.

"Uh," she glanced down and realized that her quick job really hadn't helped much, and if she was going to be seen out in public—especially with gorgeous, immaculately dressed, chiseled Don—she didn't want to wearing something that was stained. She quickly shook her head at the thoughts she was having about her work mate and nodded once. "Yeah, that would be great."

"I'll just drive behind you, and we can just carpool," Don offered. "There's a bar just around the corner from my place, and you can take a cab home from there."

"Great," Liz plastered a smile on her face and stood up abruptly, pushing forward the papers on her desk and spilling her coffee again. She growled under her breath and caught a glimpse of a smile on Don's face as he turned away.

She didn't think there was any way for this day to get worse.

Don had only been at her place once, and that was the first day she had ever met him, when SWAT cars and armored agents had swarmed her house. It was a whole different atmosphere now. She parked her car up and glanced back to where Don had pulled up at the curb. She nodded her head up to the house, not sure whether he was going to wait in his car inside. He didn't make any move, so she walked inside, leaving the door unlocked as she quickly went upstairs to her room. She quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a singlet, ducking from her bedroom to the bathroom to check her makeup.

Don had followed her inside, just at his own pace. He waited downstairs by the front door, catching a glimpse of Liz as she walked from her room to the bathroom, her singlet bunched up under her breasts as she did up the zipper and button for her jeans. He quickly dropped his eyes at the glance of her toned stomach. How he felt about Liz was complicated, he really couldn't put it into words. He tried so hard to be indifferent to her, to treat her just like any other collegaue but there was something that just kept pulling him in. She came down the stairs, looking casual but still insanely attractive.

"You ready?" He asked, turning around sharply on his heel.

"Yeah," Liz muttered, staring at his back. "Sure." She locked the door behind her, sliding her keys and wallet into her front pocket before following him down the stairs. The car was filled with awkward silence that made her completely regret her decision to come with him. Drinking at home alone sounded like an exceptional alternative right now. She was about to open her mouth and come up with any excuse for him to turn around and take her home when he reached forward and turned up the radio.

"I really like this song," Don murmured. Liz was so taken aback she had no idea how to respond, so she snapped her mouth shut and listened to the song. She smiled slightly as she recognized it, Sway by The Perishers.

"Me too," she agreed. He shot her a small smile, and then just like that, the silence wasn't so awkward. He pulled up outside a corner bar that looked small but busy.

"After you," he said, holding open the door for her, putting a hand lightly on her lower back as he ushered her into the bar. It was only a slight touch, but there was nothing professional about it unlike the times he would brush against her at work, and a shiver went down her spine. His hand dropped back to his side, and he flexed it, before leading the way to the bar. He placed an order for a tumbler of Scotch, surprised when Liz matched his order. "First rounds on me," he told her as he slid a note over the bar and they were passed their drinks. "I always took you for a red wine kind of girl."

"I do like red wine," Liz stated as they took a booth at the back of the bar, one of the last empty ones left. "I also like Scotch."

"Hm," Don hummed, taking a sip of his Scotch. Liz raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes skipping over his face as he lowered his drink to the table. "You're doing your thing."

"My thing?" She asked.

"Yeah," Don leaned back in the booth. "You're profiling thing. I can see it in your eyes." Liz quickly dropped her gaze and took a drink from her tumbler. "Doesn't that take the fun out of things? Reading people like that, figuring out what makes them tick—takes the mystery out of things?" Liz pursed her lips, studying him.

"As opposed to you?" She asked. "Apart from your—" she twisted her mouth slightly. "Fiancee, I doubt that you have had a serious relationship in years. You don't trust anyone, you see a conspiracy in everything. You prefer girls that you can take home from a club—always to their home, never yours. And with your fiancee, before you let yourself get in too deep with you, you ran every background check known to man. You tell yourself that you don't have time for a relationship, to commit yourself to something that might not work out." His jaw was tightened but he kept his gaze steady. "Where's the fun in that? Never letting anyone in and giving yourself the chance to be happy?"

"Do you ever turn it off?" His tone was blunt. "Let yourself go?" Liz swallowed hard and ducked her head. She looked around the bar, from the businessmen who were sitting at the bar, alone, to the group of woman who were laughing and drinking cocktails. She looked back to Don, her expression becoming stubborn as she lifted her tumbler to her lips and drank until the amber liquid was all gone. She was proud that she didn't gag once as the burning liquid spilled down her throat. She slammed the tumbler down on the wooden table and raised her eyebrow in challenge.

"Do you?" She asked.

He was obsessive, competitive, needed to the best at whatever he did.

Just like her.

And he knew a dare when he heard one.

"Four tequila shots, and keep them coming!" Don called over to the girl behind the bar. Liz managed to hide her wince of disgust—tequila being one of her most hated alcohols. A bowl of lemon wedges, a shaker of salt and four shots were brought over. Don licked the side of his hand and spilled a small amount of salt, positioning the shot glass near his elbow and reaching for a lemon wedge. Liz matched his movements, their expressions blank and their gazes narrow as they nodded at each other. They licked the salt, tipped back the tequila and then sucked on the lemon wedge. This time she couldn't hold back a hiss as the alcohol burnt her throat. "Come on, kid," Don shot her the smallest smirk. "You can do better than that."

The four tequila shots doubled, then tripled. Liz was glad that she had remembered to have lunch today or she would likely have been passed out on the floor by now. No, instead she was laughing and giggling like a teenager on warm wine coolers. Don had taken off his jacket and undone the top couple of buttons of his shirt, his usually pale skin a little pink from the alcohol. For her part, Liz had tied her hair back, although several strands were still bouncing around her face. Her own cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and she was smiling more than she had for a long, long time. They had jumped from topic to topic, ranging from the their favourite movies to the stupid fads that they followed when they were into when they were younger. By the fourth round of shots, past lovers had been mentioned and Don had even made reference to the fact he had checked out Meera Malik a couple of times when she had first started working with them. Liz wondered if he would mention herself, but he had stayed well clear of that.

"Do you guys need more salt?" It was the busty bar girl, who was clearly asking the question more to Don that to Liz. He gave her a smile—something Liz was still trying to get used too—and nodded. She put down a fresh shaker of salt, shot another promising smile in the handsome mans direction, before turning around and going back to the bar. The music changed to an up tempo song that Liz liked and she nodded her head to the beat.

"Ooh, she looks interested," Liz grinned and nodded over the bar girl. Don looked over at her and shrugged.

"Not really into bimbo's who use their assets to sell alcohol," Don replied. He picked up the salt shaker, and then her hand. He turned it over, running his fingers lightly over the palm of her hand, sending sparks down her arm. He tipped salt on her palm, then reached forward, his tongue flicking out over her skin, before releasing her hand and picking up his shot glass and swallowing back the tequila. Liz curled her fingers over her palm, touching the moisture left by his tongue. Don was watching her carefully as he sucked on his lemon wedge.

"You're falling behind," he noted, his expression carefully blank. Then he reached out his hand across the table to her her. Liz felt her stomach squeeze in a way that it hadn't in a long time, and she picked up the salt shaker. She tipped a small amount onto his wrist, quickly reaching forward and licking it off before she lost her nerve, swallowing back the bitter liquid and following it quickly with the citrus fruit. The corner of Don's mouth twitched and Liz rolled her eyes.

"What? Thought I wouldn't do it?" She snapped.

"Wasn't sure," he smirked. Liz tried to keep her eyes narrow but everything just felt so good and fun and he looked so cute. A smile lightened her features and she went back to her tumbler of bourbon, not too sure how many she had had tonight. She should probably slow down, if she wanted to remember anything that happened tonight.

Or maybe that was the point.

"Do you think you can walk?" Don's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Mastered it before I was eleven months odd," Liz grinned at him. He rolled his eyes at her and pushed himself out of the booth, albeit a little unsteadily, and held out a hand. Liz ignored it, standing up quickly as if to prove herself. It was a really bad idea, given the world instantly started tipping to one side and she felt her body lurch sideways. Don's arm went around her waist, pulling her body tightly against his and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly their sides seemed to meld together. Don yelled something over his shoulder at the bar girl, maybe something about their tab, maybe a goodnight, Liz really wasn't sure. And then they were moving forward, out the exit and down the street. It was definitely the liquor in her system that gave her the courage to slid her hand over his shirt and drop to the hem, pulling it upwards and rubbing lightly at the skin of his taunt abdominal. Don's body jerked under hers and they almost went crashing forward as he stopped abruptly. He turned and looked at her, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"What are you doing?" He asked her softly.

"Definitely not doing 'my thing' on this situation," Liz replied, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Do you have any idea of how much we've had to drink tonight?"

"Not a clue," Liz tilted her head to the side. "Do you?" He considered her for a moment, before his arms were going around her waist and pushing her against the wall, his hands pinning her to the brick work and his face only inches from hers.

"You're sure about this?" His voice was soft, almost gruff, and it made liquid heat pool at the apex of her legs.

"I am," Liz managed to say before his lips were slanting over hers. The way he kissed matched his personality. It was possessive, claiming her mouth, sucking hard at her tongue, his fingers digging into her hips. And she wasn't sure whether it was something that came naturally for him or if he had practiced, but he was definitely the best at this as well. Liz groaned and sighed, rolling her hips against his, her hands going around his neck and holding his face firmly to hers. He tasted like tequila, and bourbon, and he smelt incredibly of some kind of cologne that she knew she was never going to be able to smell without getting turned on. Don groaned as she flicked her tongue over the roof of his mouth, biting down on her lower lip to show his approval.

This was going to be messy, and it was probably a mistake.

But as Don pulled her into his apartment, their fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers, his mouth dropping from her mouth to her neck, to her breast, she knew it was something that they both needed.

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