Word Count: 14805, (I may have got carried away)
Summary: After Sam has turned his back on hunting, Dean has continued to fight the coming Apocalypse. Exhausted, lonely and hurting he sits in a New York bar, a dark haired stranger walks through the door and by the morning helps give him the strength to keep fighting on.
Pairing: Dean Winchester/ Neal Caffrey
Disclaimer: I don’t own either Supernatural or White Collar, no matter how much I wish I did. These wonderful characters belong to other people, although I would happily give a home to Dean and Neal.
Notes: This story was born of a conversation about how hot Jensen and Matt would be together, what started as PWP, became, a tale of Dean set early season five, after Sam had gone and before The End. I take the blame for this entirely, and will protect the identity of the person who inspired this, please direct all torch welding mobs to me, thank you. As always many thanks go to bigj52 my truly awesome beta and images for my banner are from, andreas_ri.
Dean let himself be led, following Neal, wondering where this was going to go. He was impressed with how Neal had taken charge again. No hesitation, just doing what he needed. Neal led them to the king-sized bed. Like the rest of the apartment the room was simply decorated and elegant; almost like the man, Dean thought. Neal turned on the lamp on the bedside table. Good! Dean wanted to see what Neal was going to do. Dean found himself being manoeuvred back towards the bed, once again Neal’s hands almost danced over his skin. Damn! That guy had a thing about touching him and every touch felt like it had set a trail of fire racing across his skin. By the time the back of Dean’s legs had hit the bed he was convinced his knees were going to give out.
This was it - the moment of truth. Dean reached out and pulled Neal close to him and this time he initiated the kiss. He pressed his lips to Neal’s and swept his tongue over his lower lip, demanding entrance. Neal submitted to the insistent pressure. When he did he was almost overwhelmed. Gone was the meek, submissive, lost man. In his place was a fierce, confident lover. Dean’s hands began to repay the compliments Neal had paid him, moving with assurance, stroking and caressing every sensitive part of his body. Dean’s hands ran the length of his back, stroking his ass. Dean dominated the kiss, his tongue flicking in and out of Neal’s mouth, imitating just what he wanted to do to Neal. He wanted to fuck the gorgeous man he held in his arms, but he held back, unsure of his ability to control himself at the moment. All his life consisted of was fighting and right now Dean wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could trust himself not to hurt Neal.
Dean broke the kiss and Neal’s legs buckled as he clung to Dean for support. He managed to focus on Dean after a couple of seconds, shock plain in his eyes, “Where the hell have you been hiding? Does Dean let you out to play often?” Neal found his voice and his balance at the same time. He was just about to hurl himself on the bed, point to where the condoms and lube were and let Dean do what the hell he liked. Damn, he’d been played! He was impressed by Dean, and really thought the man was on the edge, but this was a man in control of himself.
Then Neal had looked into Dean’s eyes and he saw a conflict raging there. Want and desire battled with fear and hesitation, and he knew instinctively Dean was scared of hurting him. The ball was in Dean’s court now; he was pretty sure what he read wasn’t that far wrong. He looked at Dean differently now. He saw a warrior returned from a long, hard war - a war that still raged and Dean hadn’t escaped it which would explain the injuries he carried.
Before Neal could move to the bed Dean’s voice stopped him, “Neal, I want you to fuck me. No holding back. I want to feel you. I need to feel you. Can you do that for me?” The voice was raw, pained and full of need; its timbre sent arousal coursing through Neal’s body.
They stood looking at one another, the silence stretched to breaking point, and then Neal moved forward decisively. He pulled Dean back for another kiss. This time there was little tenderness there, instead there was passion, raw and aggressive. Neal took complete control, his tongue pushing past Dean’s lips. Dean sucked on Neal’s tongue, letting him know he was in charge now. They broke away from one another, panting.
“On the bed! Now!” Neal ordered Dean. He sat down and lay in the centre of the bed, looking up at him. The smirk was back, along with a glint in his eye.
“Well, come on then, or are you all talk?” Dean made the challenge and licked his lips in anticipation as Neal opened the bedside drawer and fetched out a bottle of lube and a condom. Neal climbed on the bed and straddled Dean’s hips. Looking down at him, he gave a wicked smile before crawling up over Dean’s body. He knelt level with Dean’s shoulders, feeling his thigh muscles burn with the strain of the position he was in, but he really wanted to see what Dean’s mouth could do.
Neal placed his hand on the wall to steady himself and leant forward, and brushed Dean’s lips with the tip of his cock, rubbing slowly back and forth in a teasing gesture; suddenly Dean’s tongue snaked out and ran up over the head. Neal paused in his movement, letting Dean run his tongue over the underside of the head, pressing against the sensitive glands there. Neal pushed forward slightly and Dean opened his mouth and his cock was engulfed by Dean’s lips. Neal rocked back and forth gently, allowing Dean to get used to the motion before thrusting forward and a little deeper. Dean adjusted to the penetration and Neal felt Dean’s mouth working on him
God! Dean’s mouth was amazing, the way he sucked and nibbled, his tongue twirling over the head when Neal pulled back. While Neal had been fucking Dean’s mouth, Dean had brought his hands up and they were holding his ass, not to slow him but to support him, his fingers stroked back and forth. Neal looked down to watch Dean, watching the way his lips were stretched around the girth of his cock; they were swollen and gleamed with saliva, then Dean scraped his teeth gently over the sensitive skin of his cock. Neal’s head fell back and he groaned. He pulled out of Dean’s mouth, not wanting to come that way but if he didn’t stop Dean now it would all be over.
When Neal had pulled out of Dean’s mouth, he had lifted his head chasing after him, his tongue giving one final lick at the head, catching a drop of pre come that had formed like a pearl. Dean let his head fall back, licking his lips, leaving them glistening in the lamp light. Dean’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, and before he knew it Neal was snaking back down his body. As Neal moved down he traced the bruises on his skin with light kisses and gentle touches. He was taking his time, mapping out each mark, pressing against the fresher bruises with his tongue, causing Dean to hiss at the touch. He felt pain bloom and rapidly fade when Neal then kissed the same area, soothing away the fresh hurt.
Neal took his time, so that when he moved lower he wanted Dean to be flying by the time he was ready to fuck him. Judging by how his hands had fisted in the covers and were white knuckled he was well on his way to his objective. By the time Neal was lying between Dean’s parted thighs he was trembling with arousal. Neal casually reached up and gently stroked Dean’s nipple with his fingers, making him arch up off the bed, “Fuck me!” Dean’s voice was a breathy rasp after swallowing Neal’s cock.
“I fully intend to, you just be patient there.” Neal heard muttered curses and licked the inside of Dean’s thigh making him twitch and swear. Neal grabbed the bottle of lube, flicking the cap open he poured a generous amount onto his fingers then slowly ran his finger over Dean’s puckered entrance. With each pass he felt tremors run down Dean’s body. He contented himself with tormenting Dean, circling the tight hole, applying the slightest of pressure but never breaching it. Neal moved himself higher, his breath ghosting over the hard length of Dean’s cock. With each exhale, it twitched and pre come started to well up in the slit. Neal licked from the base to the tip, flicking his tongue in the slit, and made Dean tremble even more.
When Dean relaxed Neal did it again and this time Dean arched up off the bed as he did so. Neal opened his mouth and let Dean’s cock slip inside as he did that he pushed his finger inside of Dean. Neal sucked at Dean’s cock while pumping his finger slowly in and out, gently stretching at Dean’s tight hole, picking up a little speed. Neal withdrew his finger and pushed two inside, keeping a low rhythm and carefully scissoring his fingers to continue stretching him open..
When Neal had licked at his cock Dean had thought what the hell? Then the second time when Neal had just sucked him straight down, Dean had nearly screamed, the sound dying in his throat when he felt Neal push his finger inside at the same time. He didn’t know whether to thrust down Neal’s throat or rock back onto his finger so he shuddered back and forth as Neal had worked him open. Then with the addition of a second finger the burn had increased before dying back to pleasure. Dean was aware that Neal had stopped sucking his cock and was now busy licking and nibbling at his inner thigh, suddenly Neal sucked hard enough to leave a mark. As he did that he pushed a third finger in and brushed over his prostate. Dean did scream at that, and Neal just kept rubbing over his prostate again and again. Dean tried to get away from what Neal’s mouth and fingers were doing but he kept on going, never letting up until all Dean could do was whimper with pleasure and need. Finally Dean found his voice.....”For fuck’s sake, please.....”
Neal had watched as Dean had started to come apart but kept on moving his fingers back and forth, carefully stretching the tight channel of muscle. Neal wanted to feel him and he would, but he had no intention of hurting Dean. When Dean begged, Neal slowly withdrew his fingers, Dean whimpered at the loss of contact. Neal saw his eyes flicker open to follow what was happening. Neal got onto to his knees, picked up the condom, tore open the foil and slowly rolled it down his own throbbing erection. Neal needed to be inside of Dean now; he picked up the bottle of lube and poured some onto his cock. He placed it on the bedside table out of the way.
Neal placed Dean’s legs over his shoulders and lifted his ass slightly off the bed. He lined himself up and slowly pushed into Dean’s tight heat. Neal’s head fell forward as he pushed inside. Even with all the preparation Dean was still so very tight. Neal kept driving forward until he felt his balls smack against Dean’s ass. He let his head rest on Dean’s shoulder, his lips brushing over his collar bone.
Dean panted as Neal penetrated him, feeling his ass burn and stretch as Neal pressed on. When he felt Neal balls hit his ass he shuddered, slowly relaxing around Neal’s cock. He needed Neal to move, he wanted to feel alive, “Jesus, fuck...” His voice was wrecked and he knew he was pleading.
Neal lifted his head looked into Dean’s hazy eyes, “No... Neal... but since you asked so nicely.” Neal slipped his arms under Dean and curled his hands round his shoulders and with that he pulled back then rocked his hips forward. Neal pulled back again and began to set a steady rhythm, his thrusts slow and measured. Neal could see Dean’s fists gripped even tighter on the covers. Neal felt Dean rock back against him, setting up a counter rhythm of his own. Neal began to pick up speed and power with each stroke; he changed the angle so with each thrust he brushed against Dean’s prostate.
As Neal pounded into his ass, Dean saw stars; he was hitting his sweet spot over and over and he could only whimper and hold onto the covers as if his life depended on it. Dean managed to rock into Neal adding even more friction against his prostate; he bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from screaming the place down. His ass clenched on Neal’s cock as he arched up towards him.
When Neal saw Dean bite down on his lip he leant forward and sucked the lip into his own mouth, worrying at Dean’s lip with his teeth. Just then Dean arched up and his ass muscles gripped him tighter. Neal growled softly and pushed Dean’s legs higher. Nearly folding him in half, he fucked Dean with abandon. The thrusts came faster and harder now, and with this new position he struck Dean’s prostate with force. Neal knew he couldn’t last much longer, the noises Dean made, the whimpers and soft growls were pushing him closer to the edge with each thrust, “Touch yourself for me, Dean”
At Neal’s order Dean’s eyes flew open. They had slid closed at some point, and he’d been watching the fireworks display that had been going on behind his eyelids. Somehow he managed to prise the hand loose from his death grip on the covers and his right hand inched towards his cock. After what seemed an age Dean’s fingers closed round it, and he began to pump it. There was no style or finesse, just the raw need to come.
When Dean began to fist his cock, Neal felt the tell-tale signs of his orgasm building. His balls began to tighten, and Neal managed to move even faster, knowing that Dean would feel this every time he moved tomorrow. He let Dean’s legs slip from his shoulders and just concentrated on taking Dean over the edge with him. Somehow Dean managed to wrap his legs round his waist, and pulled Neal even closer to him, encouraging Neal to fuck him harder.
The rhythm of Dean’s hand started to falter, and the pressure on Neal’s cock increased. Dean threw his head back and made a low keening moan as he shook apart beneath Neal. Neal felt the first stirrings of Dean coming when Dean became even tighter and the muscles in his ass seem to pulse. Dean’s breath hitched and Neal felt come spurting up over their bodies, covering them with the force of his orgasm.
As Dean came, his eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He tried to draw breath, but the sheer power of his orgasm had stolen his ability to make a sound. His legs slipped from round Neal’s waist and his right hand stopped and fell limply to his side as Neal continued to fuck him hard and fast.
Neal’s own orgasm approached swiftly. His hips snapped forward another couple of times, the movements jerky and erratic. He was still hitting Dean’s prostate, making him whimper with pleasure from the aftershocks and then Neal came hard, harder than he had in a long time. He rode the sensations that tore through his body. He finally went still and collapsed onto Dean’s chest, everything fading away for a few seconds as he lay entangled in Dean’s limp body.
Neal came back to himself and found that he is still lying on top of Dean, their legs and arms entwined. After several attempts Neal managed to free his arms from where he wrapped them round Dean. He made a Herculean effort to push himself up off Dean’s chest. His heart pounded wildly and he was breathing hard. Neal slowly pulled out of Dean, his withdrawal caused Dean to whimper softly. Neal worried for a moment then Dean gave a contented sigh and turned his head to the side, his eyes closed and Neal relaxed.
Neal removed the condom from his now softening cock, ready to take it into the bathroom once he remembered how to make his legs function. Then he managed to untangle himself from Dean. He got off the bed somewhat shakily, and staggered towards the bathroom. Part of him wanted to take a shower, he could feel the sweat drying on his skin, and maybe he could even get Dean under the hot water again. But he acknowledged to himself there was no way in hell he would be able to stand up long enough, let alone haul Dean with him. He glanced over his shoulder to where Dean lay. The man looked thoroughly debauched, his skin flushed, legs akimbo, come adorning his body like a form of erotic tribal tattooing. Dean’s breathing was slowing down and Neal knew he was slipping towards sleep. He wasn’t surprised, and he wasn’t vain enough to think it was just his amazing bedroom gymnastics which were the cause; more like the war Dean fought was responsible.
He continued onto the bathroom, disposing of the condom and ran the hot tap over a wash cloth. He paused to quickly clean himself up, and retrieved something from the bathroom cabinet before he returned to the figure on the bed. Neal deftly rolled Dean onto his side, so he could pull the bedclothes down. Once Dean was lying on the sheet Neal began to carefully sponge him down.
Dean gave a sleepy mutter of complaint at the movement and the feel of the damp cloth over his overheated skin. Neal just smiled and continued with what he was doing , he wiped away the come on his chest, running the cloth down over his cock and balls, cleaning away the lube that remained. Dean’s cock gave a valiant twitch before giving up the fight.
Neal dropped the now dirty cloth on the floor; he had one more thing to do before he climbed into bed, picking up the tube of antiseptic cream he’d brought with him. He opened it, squeezed some on his fingers and applied it gently to the claw marks along Dean’s ribs; it was more for his peace of mind than any real medical care. If those injuries were infected it would be like taking a water pistol to a forest fire, but it made him feel better.
Dean moaned at the touch, and Neal softly shushed him. Dean turned his face toward him; sleepy green eyes opened and looked up at him, unfocused. “S’alright, Sammy, M’ fine. Bobby took care of me, I’m supposed to be the big brother not you.” The words were faint and slurred but Neal had understood completely what had been said. He knew in the morning Dean would never remember and he would never tell him what he’d said. Happy with what he’d done, Neal put the cap back on the tube and slipped into bed beside Dean. Pulling the covers over them both he turned out the light and moved a little closer to the other man as he turned onto his side. Neal felt his own eyes grow heavy and soon he joined Dean in sleep.
When Neal woke up early, as was his custom, he found himself still wrapped round Dean from the night before. During the night he had been disturbed by the sounds of distress coming from Dean. He had been moaning and whimpering in his sleep in the grip of a nightmare. Without thinking, Neal had moved up right behind Dean and placed his hand on his hip, “Shush now, relax, just relax.” Neal’s whispered words seemed to have the desired effect. Dean calmed somewhat and Neal had curled round Dean protectively. Now in the early morning light, Neal stole away from him carefully, watching for any sign of waking from Dean, but there was none.
Neal had known Dean was exhausted from the dark circles round his eyes and wasn’t surprised by him sleeping on. He knew under normal circumstances Dean would have been awake in a heartbeat when he moved. Neal picked up the cream from the bedside table along with his pyjama pants and silk robe; he went into the bathroom to take a shower. Once he was showered he went out into the lounge. Neal quietly prepared breakfast for two. He didn’t want Dean to just sneak away, and then he moved to where he kept his drawing pad and pencils.
His hand hovered over the pad for a moment, thinking about what he was considering. He glanced back towards the bedroom. His mind made up, he picked up the pad and silently made his way back into the room. Neal moved carefully round the room ensuring that Dean was still asleep. Happy he was, he moved a chair and sat down to draw the man on the bed.
Neal wasn’t in the habit of drawing his conquests. If he had, there would have been enough to open a select gallery; there was just something about Dean that drew him like a moth to a flame. While Neal had been gone Dean had rolled over. Now he lay on his right side facing Neal.
The sheet had slipped low, clinging to Dean’s hip, accenting his slim waist. His right arm was under his head, the left was outstretched to the empty space where Neal had been. It looked as if Dean was searching for him. Neal worked quickly, sketching in Dean’s body with broad strokes. Neal was surprised there weren’t more scars on Dean’s body, considering the life he imagined he led. He knew there was no chance he would forget Dean in a hurry but he wanted to capture him ‘live’ so to speak. When Neal came to draw Dean’s face, he slowed and took his time. He was captivated by the sleeping man, the worn-down expression was gone and his features relaxed, making him look younger and more vulnerable; his full lips were parted in sleep, his long lashes swept over his cheeks. Dean’s short hair was tousled and in the soft glow from the early morning light, he looked positively ethereal. Neal would never have said angelic as he remembered last night, but there was the hint of otherworldly about Dean and in sleep it was more apparent.
Neal was happy with his sketches’ progress, so happy he thought about turning it into an oil painting, and then he smiled at the prospect of Peter seeing it. Yes, the idea had merit, but if he did that, it would be for him alone. Just then Dean stirred in his sleep, a change in his breathing alerted Neal to the fact Dean was waking up. He swiftly stood and moved his chair back, once more slipping from the room.
Dean opened his eyes slowly. Yawning widely, he blinked as he became aware of another presence in the room. Dean sat up slowly and pushed himself back, leaning against the bedstead. Dean grinned as Neal stood by the bed, holding a small cup, “Well, good morning, Dean, coffee?” Neal’s melodic voice greeted him.
Dean stretched, his arms rising above his head, causing the sheet to slip even lower, giving the other man a glimpse of the trail of downy hair from his navel to where the sheet just covered his genitals. But with the way Dean writhed he may as well have been naked. Neal licked his lips at the sight and smiled when Dean dropped his arms and rubbed at his eyes in a rather adorable fashion. His hair was sticking up and Dean looked up at Neal sleepily; he held out his hand towards the cup.
“What’s the magic word, Dean?” Neal laughed as he spoke. Dean pouted at him, his eyes pleading.
“Is that coffee? Oh God! Please let that be coffee.” Dean’s voice was gruff and raw, Neal’s breath hitched at the sound and he handed the cup over.
“That was close enough.” Neal watched as Dean took a tentative sip at the strong black liquid. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he gave the most pornographic moan Neal had ever heard. It was even dirtier than the noises he made last night. Neal watched as Dean all but had sex with the coffee. His lips caressed the cup and after each sip he licked at them suggestively. Moaning again in appreciation he finally looked at Neal.
“Son of a bitch, damn, this is great coffee. Thanks, Neal. Do all your guests get this treatment?” Dean had sat back against the bed again and Neal was enjoying the view of the half-naked man, who was smirking at him.
“No, not all of them, only the ones who let me get them naked and take advantage of them. So you like Italian coffee? Well, there is a pot out on the terrace along with breakfast; you can use the shower if you like.” Neal turned to walk out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean throw the sheet back, revealing his naked form.
Neal paused to watch him. Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed, stood up and gave a full body stretch, his body arching back, flexing his broad back and shoulders. Neal enjoyed watching the muscles flex and stretch. Dean turned round and walked towards him. Dean stepped right up behind Neal; he felt the heat from Dean’s body through the silk.
Dean placed one hand possessively on Neal’s hip and the other hand coiled round the front of him and handed back the now empty cup. Dean placed a soft kiss on his neck, “Thanks for the coffee and really, why don’t you just come out and say I smell. That’s the second time you’ve wanted me to shower.”
Neal shivered at the gentle touch and he looked back at Dean, “Ok, you win. You smell. Now go shower and for God’s sake put some clothes on, you’ll scare the pigeons.” Dean tilted his head back and gave a genuine laugh, his face lit up with joy. Dean took his hand from Neal’s hip and gracefully spun on his feet. As he walked to the bathroom Neal watched appreciatively. The gunslinger’s walk from last night was back. It had been sexy last night when Dean was fully clothed; now it was positively sinful. Dean’s ass swayed and his bow legs moved fluidly. It was all Neal could do not to follow Dean; he managed to drag himself out of the bedroom before he gave into temptation.
When Dean was in the bathroom he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked a little better, the dark circles had faded somewhat. Dean touched at the claw marks on his side and felt a sticky residue on his skin. He knew what it was when he saw the tube of antiseptic cream by the sink along with a brand new toothbrush, and he smiled at Neal’s thoughtfulness. The guy was amazing. He had given Dean everything he had needed, and to cap it all he had managed a good night’s sleep. In return, he’d even stayed still when Neal had crept back into the bedroom and started drawing him. He couldn’t help but wonder how Neal saw him, he guessed he’d never know.
Dean turned on the shower, letting it warm up. He then stepped underneath the warm water, letting it wash away the sweat and smell of sex from last night, easing some of the stiffness in his muscles. When he moved his ass gave a twinge. Dean was happy about the memories from last night and how he had reacted. For once, his body carried a reminder of something pleasurable rather than just pain from constant hunts.
Neal sat on the terrace eating his breakfast, he still had his drawing pad and he was working on yet another sketch of Dean. Neal saw movement in the apartment so he put the pad inside his copy of the New York Times and started to work on the crossword. Dean stepped out onto the terrace, wearing his shirt and pants. The shirt was half open with the sleeves rolled up, giving Neal a glimpse of the wife beater beneath. When Dean sat down Neal caught the scent of his soap and shampoo along with the faint medicated smell of the cream. He smiled at Dean and poured another cup of coffee in hopes of a repeat performance from earlier.
Dean didn’t disappoint him. Once again came the breathy moan of pleasure when he took a drink, he savoured every dark, rich mouthful of the coffee. By the time Dean had finished the coffee Neal had given up all pretence of doing the crossword, “The coffee alright? Help yourself to food.” Neal nodded down at the basket of pastries and the plate of bagels.
Dean eyed the confectionery as if it was it was possessed and he thought about reaching for his flask of holy water, “Sorry it’s not a heart attack on a plate, but try some, you might even like them. I think you’ll like the pain au chocolat.”
Dean picked up one of the pastries and glared at Neal, “I thought at the very least I was worth pancakes. You’re right. I’ve been taken advantage of.”He smirked and took a bite. The bitter taste of dark chocolate exploded over his tongue and this time the moan was even lower and more heartfelt.
Neal just sat and watched possibly one of the most erotic sights he’d ever witnessed, and all Dean was doing was eating a damn pastry. His eyes were half closed, his lips curved into a wicked smile, and every so often his tongue flicked out to lick at stray flakes of pastry on his lips. Neal was convinced Dean was two seconds from coming with the sounds he made. He should know, he heard most of his repertory last night. Dean finished the pastry and grinned at Neal.
“Damn, these are great. Aren’t you having one?” Neal shook his head, lost for words. There was no way he could compete with what Dean had just done, so he was content to let him have another one or three.
Dean knew what he was doing to Neal, and he enjoyed making the calm, unruffled man lose control, so he reached for a bagel instead. Well, he had to play a little fair and he could always have another one later.
“So what do you have to do to get a place like this then? Because I had some real bad career advice by comparison.” Dean leant back in his chair and bit down into the bagel. He looked across at Neal, needing to know if he would have to bolt or would have a chance to maybe coax Neal back to the bedroom.
“Oh, that’s easy. Become an internationally renowned art thief, get caught, escape prison, get recaptured and agree to work with the fed who caught you twice. And you get to wear a lovely fashion accessory like this, which keeps you close by and then this could all be yours.” Neal’s eyes danced with mirth when he watched Dean’s face.
Dean whistled, “Ok, maybe not such bad career advice, after all. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work, then? I’m pretty sure you federal types have to start early.” His feet twitched in anticipation of making a run for it.
“Usually yes, but my partner Peter and I have had a little disagreement and this is his way of punishing me. Sit, stay, until I fetch you.” With that, Neal pointed to his phone on the table.
Dean nodded and continued to eat his bagel, “Aren’t you curious about what I do? I know you found my weapons and you’ve seen my souvenirs from my job.” Dean wanted to know what Neal thought of him, for some reason it was important to him.
Neal looked at Dean and smiled softly at him, “I think I’ll let you keep your air of mystery, Dean. I have a few ideas, and most of them involve acts of daring and heroic rescues of damsels in distress. I’d hate to find out you’re a tax accountant and you fell on a rake.” Neal gave him a teasing smile.
Dean returned the smile but his eyes were serious, “How do you know the damsels don’t need rescuing from me? I could be the bad guy.” His voice was low and melancholic. Dean felt tired again at the prospect of returning to the fight he wanted to stay here just a little while longer.
Neal watched Dean’s mood change and he answered him honestly, “Dean, I don’t know anything about your life, but what I do know is there is no way you’re a bad guy. I read people, Dean and I’m good at it, and I know you may ignore the niceties of the law, but I see a good man sitting opposite me, perhaps even one who would lay down his life for another person. That and you’re spectacular in bed and real bad guys are normally crappy in bed or so I’m told.”
Dean watched Neal as he spoke realizing there were no tricks or lies in his words. He genuinely believed he was a good man. A warmth welled up inside of him, he felt it as if he was worth more than just being Michael’s angel condom. Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face; sometimes you took happiness were you found it.
“Dude, way too chick flick. Have you ever met my brother? I’m sure you two would get on like a house on fire.”
“Is he as good looking as you?” Neal asked.
“No, I got the looks and sex appeal in the family. Sammy got the brains and the ability to cause old ladies to faint at fifty paces. Any chance of another one of those chocolate rolls, I’m starving.” Dean’s grin was there in full force. Neal knew that he remembered what they were called but he downplayed his intelligence, another layer to the puzzle of the man.
Neal passed Dean the plate; he took a pastry and started to eat. Almost immediately the moans started again and once more his tongue slipped out to lick at the flakes of pastry. As Dean continued to eat Neal couldn’t take his eyes off him. Finally he sat forward, reached over the table and brushed at the crumbs on Dean’s lower lip with his thumb and as he did that Dean’s tongue darted out. He sucked Neal’s thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling round it reminding Neal of Dean’s talents. Neal swallowed impulsively, as he felt himself growing hard at this display, and he thought: to hell with it. I’m only human. Neal was about to stand up and drag Dean back into the bedroom when his phone rang.
“You have got to be kidding me; I was just going to have my wicked way with you.” Dean had let go of Neal’s thumb and he sounded disappointed as he spoke. Neal was hoping it was Mozzie but when he looked at the display he saw Peter’s name.
He looked at Dean with regret and answered the phone “Hi Peter, no, I’m not doing anything important. What? An hour? Ok, I’ll see you then. Bye, Peter.” Neal disconnected the call.
Dean was watching in amusement, “So, nothing important. Damn! I’m insulted now, and I was going to let you rip my clothes off again.” He gave a mock sigh but there was regret in his eyes too.
Neal knew that this was going to be goodbye. Dean couldn’t afford to be around when a real Fed appeared. He’d felt the shape in Dean’s pocket and guessed at a fake F.B.I. I.D. He waited to see what Dean would do next. Would he take a risk and head back to the bedroom or go? Neal hoped he would go; he liked Dean too much to see him get caught by Peter.
Dean gave Neal a quick smile, “Well, that looks like my cue to go, Neal. Shame about round two being a bust.” Dean knew he had to go. He didn’t want to get Neal in trouble by being here when his fed partner arrived. He stood up.
“Dean, wait a moment please....” Neal quickly ripped off part of his pad and wrote out his number on the scrap of paper along with his name. “If you’re ever back in New York and you don’t want to drink alone, here’s my number.” Neal held the paper out, wondering if Dean would take it, or even if he would keep it. Neal wanted to offer Dean a safe haven if he came back this way again.
Dean took the offered number, “Thanks, Neal. I’ll do that next time I’m here.”He felt the lie slip out easily. He wouldn’t call because he didn’t want to endanger Neal. People who got too close to him tended to get hurt. He was just about to walk away when he stopped; Dean turned back and bent over the top of the breakfast table. He gently took Neal’s face in his hand and placed a tender kiss on his lips, it was a gentle kiss goodbye. Dean stepped back and walked to the door.
“Dean, good luck wherever you end up next.” Neal spoke softly.
Dean looked back a final time and the smile he gave Neal was wistful, “So long, Neal, thanks for everything.”
Dean stepped back inside the apartment and quickly finished getting dressed. He looked round one last time, committing every detail of the place to memory. He could never thank Neal enough for what he’d given him. Hell, the sex had been awesome but for one night Dean had had real peace. He knew the nightmares had come for him but there had been a gentle voice and a comforting touch and the nightmares had faded. He knew that it was a one-off. You never escaped what he had done but Neal had made him feel alive and in his own way he had given Dean a reason to go on fighting. Shit, the sex and coffee alone was worth kicking Lucifer’s ass for, but Neal’s simple faith in his being a good man made him determined to push forward and clean up the mess he’d started down in hell. He stared down at Neal’s number. He thought about throwing it away, and then he opened his wallet and tucked it away safely. Dean didn’t have the space in his life for keepsakes but he really wanted a reminder of the man sat outside in the pale New York sunlight.
Dean gave a sigh as he switched on his phone and winced at the sheer volume of missed calls from Cas. Ah well, time to get back to reality. He pressed the speed dial “Hi Cas. I was wondering if you could come and get me from....” Dean blinked and stepped back as Cas appeared right in front of him, fixing him in place with his piercing blue eyes. “Dude, how many more times? Personal space.”
Dean gave the angel a nervous smile and waited for him to start, “Dean, I’m not a taxi service for you to summon when you don’t wish to walk.” Cas spoke, his irritation plain in his tone. Dean was suddenly seized by the image of Cas with a bright yellow trench coat and an orange taxi light strapped to his head and tried hard not to smile.
“Sorry Cas, but from the amount of calls you made I thought it might be important and I knew you’d want to get on the road quick. You know time and Apocalypse wait for no man.”
Cas gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. Dean tried his hardest not to smile at the very human gesture of frustration, and “Dean, why was your phone switched off and what are you doing in this man’s apartment?” Dean tried to look innocent.
“Huh? Oh, I... err... must have switched the phone off by accident and I had a few drinks with a buddy. Anyway, what is so important you rang me.....” Dean glanced at his phone and whistled “seventy-five times...what! Has Lucifer taken up residence at Hugh Heffner’s place? Damn, Cas. We gotta hurry and save those poor innocent bunnies.”
Cas drew in a deep breath, attempting to hold onto his serenity when faced with Dean, “There’s a nest of vampires in New Orleans.” Cas intoned, as if it was the most earth-shattering news he’d ever heard.
Dean’s eyebrows raised and he looked at Cas as if expecting some more. Finally “Wow, that’s original. Vamps in New Orleans. Does Anne Rice know? She might want to sue for copyright.”
Cas just looked at him, perplexed at the comment. Dean shook his head, “Never mind. What’s so damned important about a bunch of Vamps in the Big Easy? Hell, they’re almost a tourist attraction down there these days; you know, Twilight and all that shit.”
Cas took a calming deep breath and counted to ten before resuming the conversation. He was using some advice of Sam’s when it came to dealing with Dean. It went along the lines of you can either smack him round the head or count to ten. Cas had taken the non-violent option as he was sure that Sam would be angry with him if he took Dean’s head from his shoulders. Although, by now he was up to over one hundred thousand and he still didn’t feel that much better.
“These Vampires are attempting to combine themselves with Werewolves to make themselves more powerful.” Cas reached out towards Dean, ready to transport them.
Dean held out his hand in a stop gesture, his eyebrows had shot so high it was almost impossible to see them. Then he smiled a crooked smile at the angel and Cas sighed softly, waiting for what was to come.
So does that make them Vampweres or Wolvires? “Dean started to laugh at that.
“Shut up, Dean” Cas placed his hand on the hunter’s shoulder and they vanished.
Neal sat outside, waiting for Dean to leave. He knew it would be easier on both of them if he stayed out of the way while Dean got ready and left. He heard Dean’s voice. It sounded as if he was on the phone to someone. Maybe he was working with a partner and was now arranging to meet up and move on. Suddenly Neal heard the sound of Dean’s laugh in the apartment and the sound tugged at him then he knew Dean was gone; he sat still for a few minutes, gathering himself together to go back into the empty room. He missed having someone round and although he could never imagine Dean being domesticated, Neal knew life would never be dull with him around.
Neal stood up and cleared away the breakfast, he didn’t want Peter to realize he’d had company when he called. Neal worked quickly and soon all evidence of Dean’s night there was gone. All that remained were the sketches and Neal made certain that a couple of them were carefully hidden away. He dressed rapidly and returned to the table. While he waited for Peter to arrive he started drawing again - small studies of Dean, different expressions from his head thrown back, laughing to the melancholy smile he gave Neal before he walked away.
Neal lost track of time as he drew. When the door knocked hewas startled by the loud sound in the silent apartment. He gathered the drawings together and left them on the table, he wasn’t too concerned if Peter saw them. He answered the door and his partner stood smiling at him, “Good morning, Peter, come in, I’ll just fetch my jacket.” Peter stepped in and closed the door behind him. Neal walked into the bedroom to finish getting ready.
“Morning, Neal. Look, sorry about the summons. I really was going to let you have the morning off after your good work on our last case.” As Peter spoke he had wandered over to the table and was flicking through the pile of drawings there. Neal walked out of the bedroom and smiled at Peter as he dropped the drawings, looking a little guilty.
Peter returned the smile and looked back at the drawings. He picked up one of them, it was one of Dean, smiling. “Someone I know? He looks vaguely familiar for some reason.” Peter tilted his head, trying to figure out where he knew the face from.
Neal felt a flicker of panic run through him. Shit! He should have thought about Dean possibly being wanted by the feds, it had never occurred to him when he left the drawings for Peter to see. Now there was the chance he had just put Dean under the spotlight, and, knowing Peter, he would pursue his gut feeling.
Peter continued to stare at the drawing, puzzling over where he had seen the man before, “By the look of the guy I’ve probably seen him on a billboard or even at one of Elizabeth’s parties that I’ve been dragged to. Is he a friend of yours?” Peter was curious and wondered if it was an associate of Neal’s he’d missed.
“No, not really. I met him in a bar last night and we got talking. By the way, sorry about that.” Neal was hoping his trip to the end of his chain would distract Peter from Dean.
Peter waved a dismissive hand in Neal’s direction, “Don’t worry. I was going to say sorry to you for me being a complete ass to you yesterday. Well, actually Elizabeth told me to say sorry. So your little trip close to the wire was the least I deserved. I know you didn’t stay long. I was just getting ready to come and fetch you when you came back here.”
“I only stayed for one drink, realized I was being as ass and came back. Jason had a plane to catch and was leaving; besides I didn’t want to drag you away from Elizabeth.” Neal shrugged his shoulders; he could afford to tell the ‘truth’ because his anklet would tell Peter how long he’d been.
“Jason? Oh him, right? You know there are a hell of a lot of drawings for ten minutes, Neal.” Peter pointed to the pile of paper on the table.
“Jason had one of those faces, very expressive and it’s nice to keep my hand in at drawing.”
“Just promise me you’ll never show any of these to Elizabeth. I couldn’t stand the competition. It’s bad enough having you around.” Peter was sorting through the drawings.
“Now Peter, Elizabeth adores you, you know that.” Neal smiled fondly at the agent.
“Nice of you to say, but she’d drool over this guy. Anyway, why so many drawings? Surely his face wasn’t that expressive?”
Neal smiled. If only Peter knew. He decided to indulge Peter’s curiosity and draw him further away from asking about Dean. “Alright then, when you’re an artist and especially if you’re a forger, some faces stick in your mind. So no matter who you are painting they end up looking like that person.”
Peter nodded in understanding, “Kind of like you trying to fake the Last Supper and Jesus ends up looking like this guy, right?”
Neal laughed at the thought of Dean being compared to Jesus. “Yeah, kind of like that. Well, when that happens I find the best thing to do is to keep drawing the face until you get it out of your system, and you can return to faking the old Masters with absolute freedom and have no worries he will appear in the background somewhere.”
While Neal had been talking Peter had been admiring the drawings. Neal was a very skilled artist and Peter always had a nagging suspicion that there was a Neal Caffrey original hanging in a gallery somewhere.
Peter came to the last drawing; he looked at it and gave a smile. Neal’s stomach dropped a little. Had he inadvertently left one of Dean in bed in there after all? He wondered how to explain that to Peter.
Peter slid the drawing towards Neal; Neal looked down and frowned at it. “Something you want to tell me, Neal?” Peter enquired and he saw a look of genuine shock cross his friend’s features at what he saw.
“I never even realized I was drawing that. Well, I’ll be damned.” Neal picked up the sketch and studied it closely.
“Who is it supposed to be, Neal? And will I be hearing that either the Vatican or the Louvre have suddenly discovered a new Da Vinci or Raphael and are adding it to their collection. I’d hazard a guess at the subject matter...” Peter’s voice trailed away when he saw Neal’s soft smile as he looked at the picture.
“When I first saw Jason I wondered what the great Renaissance artists would have made of him. It must have been on my mind when I drew that one.” Neal shook his head slightly in wonder. He had no clear memory of drawing it as he put it back down on the table.
Peter turned the sketch back to look at it once more, “Well, come on then, don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it? Although the large wing span and fiery sword are something of a clue, which one of them is it?”
Neal pondered his drawing and what it depicted. The figure was a warrior, burning bright with purpose and resolve, and he was surprised how well Dean’s face fitted in with the image. Somehow it felt right seeing him like that, Neal looked up at Peter and furnished him with the answer to his question, “It’s the archangel, Michael.”