Blacklist [h.s]

eight

tw/ this episode gets a little dark at the end, you may be okay skipping to the the end of the next one as it continues there.

Grace

I'm brushing my teeth in my pajamas when there's a knock on my door. My neighbor across the hall (not the ones who keep calling the cops) has been coming over every morning to borrow sugar and I'm too much of a pushover to say no. The first day he came over, he tried to introduce himself. On the second day, he told me about the American Pie Movie he watched the night before. On the third day, I told him I was running late and then had an awkward exchange when we both left our apartment two hours later.

Today, I was brushing my teeth so, of course, I won't be able to talk to him. I walk to the kitchen, grab the ziplock bag I've already prepared and shove it into his chest as soon as the door is open.

And should I say I'm really surprised when it's not my neighbor standing at the door? (Hint: the answer is no)

"I don't need any sugar, thank you," Harry laughs, pushing himself past me to invite himself inside.

"I will take a cup of coffee though if you're making it."

I stare at him, the door still half open, toothbrush still in my mouth, hair pulled into an I-don't-even-know-what on top of my head. Harry strides in and takes a seat on the barstool at the breakfast nook in my kitchen.

"Are you going to close the door? Or just let your neighbors assume we slept together last night?"

I roll my eyes at his comment and trudge to the kitchen sink to spit the toothpaste out of my mouth. I mock him in my head in a dumb voice. I thought for someone who can't answer a single question, he would be more subtle about the flirts.

"What are you doing in my house?" I ask him, wiping the excess toothpaste from my face with a clean kitchen towel. I want to ask him how he knows where I live, but I know it would be pointless. He wouldn't answer anyway. Harry stands up and pours himself a cup of coffee, and me  cup of my coffee. Not that I was going to drink the entire pot, but still, I was annoyed.

He sits back down again.

"I wanted to wish you good luck at the trial today," Harry said setting the coffee down next to me on the counter. He turns around and leans against the kitchen counter, quietly sipping his coffee.

"Thank you?" I raise my eyebrow in confusion. I felt weird having Harry in my small apartment. It was much different from his fancy hotels. I like to decorate with vintage items, the same as my mom. I have a small torn-up green couch that almost takes up the entire living room. I didn't clean up from last night, but it wasn't extremely messy. Although, some photos of Harry's mugshot did sit awkwardly on the coffee table.

There is one bedroom off to the right of the kitchen, but it has no door. You really get what you pay for I guess. I hadn't made my bed this morning so the orange comfortable sat crumpled up and thrown to the side. The clothes I was wearing yesterday still sit on the floor next to my bed.

"Why are you actually here?" I ask him, taking out the coffee pot and washing it off in the sink.

He doesn't answer right away. He purses his lips as if he was debating on answering or not.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for putting you in danger the other day."

This Harry felt different from the one I've seen before. This one felt like, well, genuine. I could feel the sorrow in his voice and could tell he really did mean it.

"You always put me in danger," I want to say, but I don't. Instead I mumble "I signed up for this whenever I joined the task force."

He sets his cup of coffee down and gently grabs. t waist to me towards him. I'm a bit taken aback by the sudden movement and the closeness, but I don't necessarily move away. He moves his hand gently up my shirt and to my stomach, sliding it up slowly. My breath hitches in my throat at the feeling of his hands on my bare skin. He's looking down at my stomach not saying a word or showing any emotion. His thumb traces the outline around the stitches.