Work Text:
Neal woke up in his bed, Special Agent Peter Burke snoring next to him. Neal smiled, reveling in his accomplishment. It had been a long road. Ever since Kate’s death, he’d only had one goal: getting free. His mourning wasn’t a ruse, but it had been a great way to reel Agent Burke in. Build his trust. The sex had never been the point, but the leverage it provided was a nice perk.
Agent Burke stirred beside Neal. “Morning, baby,” Neal whispered. “I’ll put some coffee on.” Neal pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, like a real lover would, and got out of bed. He stretched as he walked to the kitchen, knowing the agent’s eyes would be on his naked body. “You’re going to have to leave soon if you’re going to go home and change.”
Elizabeth was out of town. She was supposed to return the night before, but all the flights got canceled. Damn Midwest winter. Agent Burke had gleefully taken the chance to spend another night with his criminal informant. The affair was totally secret, which Neal liked. He kept several backups of the filthiest texts. Peter Burke was the only person who’d ever managed to catch him. The farther he was kept from whatever team would be looking for him, the better. Neal had filmed a video confessing how the mean FBI agent coerced him into an extrajudicial relationship, tracking his location and showing up at odd hours, threatening him and refusing to leave until Neal satisfied him. It was a great performance. He’d even squeezed out a few tears. When Neal ran away, the FBI would search June’s. They’d find a thumb drive with the texts and the video. He’d already given Mozzie a copy of both for safekeeping or eventual release. Agent Burke had ruined his life. Neal was going to return the favor.
Burke was smart enough to catch Neal, but dumb enough to trust him.
As Neal brewed the coffee, Agent Burke’s phone rang. He picked up with a, “Hi, hon.” Neal thought Peter and Elizabeth’s relationship was sweet in a boring way. “I miss you too. The house is so empty without you.” Apparently, Agent Burke also found it boring. “They’re already canceling the flights? Jeez, I hope you can get back soon!” Neal scowled at the coffee machine. “Love you too.” Agent Burke hung up and climbed out of bed. “The weather’s bad enough that they’re canceling all of today’s flights. El won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Neal turned, fixing his face into a smile. “I know what that means,” he said. He could play at domestic bliss for as long as he needed, for as long as it took. Someday, they would take his anklet off and let him out of their sight for long enough to get his go-bag and leave the country, never to be seen again. He didn’t doubt that Agent Burke would be heartbroken. Good. “The coffee’s going to be a few minutes.”
“Is there time for a shower?” Agent Burke asked.
“As long as it’s quick,” Neal snarked, practically batting his eyelashes.
“You could join me,” Agent Burke said.
“I have to watch the coffee!” Neal said, hiding his revulsion with ease. He didn’t want to suck Agent Burke’s dick in the shower any more than he wanted to help the Feds catch criminals. He didn’t want to do any of this. But he was close now, closer than he’d been in years, to his freedom.
Agent Burke walked away. Neal heard the bathroom door close, then the shower running. Burke had left his clothes in a pile on the floor, the philistine. Neal grabbed the agent’s tie and slid it between his mattress and the headboard. When they searched the apartment, they would find it, covered in both men’s DNA. Neal reconsidered. He fished the tie back out, then wrapped it around his face like a gag. He bit into the tie, leaving teethmarks and saliva on the fabric. He held it in his mouth while he got dressed, then unwound it and stuffed it back into its hiding spot. This way, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind. He returned to the coffee just as it finished brewing. He poured himself a cup and sat down, reveling in the Peter-less quiet.
Neal had no idea that Agent Burke was attracted to him until he was patting Neal down, all those years ago. His hands lingered just a little too long in regions where they shouldn’t have. Neal had held onto that pat-down for over half a decade, knowing that it would become pertinent someday. He’d played it well, showing the agent his soft side immediately upon his recapture, acting like a lovesick puppy, all the while finding excuses to touch Agent Burke, to meet his gaze across a crowded room, to give him a once-over and smile. He loved Kate, he really did, but he knew her mind was made up, and he knew he’d have no shot with her while he was on the FBI’s leash. Peter’s leash.
The shower turned off, snapping Neal back to the present. He got up, scowling, and poured Agent Burke a cup of coffee. It was humiliating, making his captor breakfast, letting him fuck him in the ass, pretending to love him. Some days, the only thing that got him through was the constant weight of his anklet.
Agent Burke emerged from the bathroom, toweling off his hair. Neal brought him his mug, like a servant. “Here, baby,” he cooed. If it wasn’t for the anklet, Neal would’ve poisoned that coffee weeks ago. The brute wouldn’t have been able to taste the difference.
Burke accepted the coffee and took a sip. “Oh, delicious.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’d better get going,” he said, picking his rumpled clothes up off the floor. He put on his pants and undershirt, picking up his button-down in a crumpled handful.
Neal took Burke’s mug and gave him a kiss on the lips. “I wish this was every morning,” he lied.
Agent Burke frowned, a wistful look in his eyes. “Me too,” he said. Neal was sure he felt guilty about carrying on behind everyone’s back. Good.
“See you at work.” Neal opened the door for Burke, shutting and locking it as soon as the agent left. Finally, he could enjoy his morning.
***
Two hours later, Neal was sitting in the briefing room, listening to, you guessed it, Agent Burke. So much of his time was taken up by this man! Neal was half-listening to the plans for tomorrow when Diana said, “What about Caffrey?”
Agent Burke took a deep breath, then said, “We’re going to have to cut his anklet.”
Everyone looked at Neal. He didn’t jump for joy. That would be gauche. He just said, “I’m not complaining.”
“It’ll be for three hours, max,” Agent Burke said.
Three hours was a long time, but was it enough? Neal did the math. He’d have to get his bag, get into the airport, and get on an international flight as quickly as possible. He could do it, he thought, if he could stash his bag somewhere close. But how could he get the bag there with Agent Burke at his side all night? He couldn’t cancel now; Burke would get suspicious.
Later that morning, when Neal was sure nobody was watching, he stepped outside and placed a phone call. “Moz,” he said, “how fast can you get somebody from Indianapolis to New York?”
Agent Burke approached Neal around lunchtime. “El’s getting back tonight.”
Neal feigned disappointment. “Did her flight get rebooked?”
“No,” Burke said. “She made friends with a punk band who are driving to the city, and they let her hitch a ride.”
Neal wanted to laugh. Leave it to Mozzie! Neal would miss him. They’d stay in touch, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. “Very Home Alone.”
“Yeah,” Burke said. “I’ll miss you tonight.”
“Wait, Peter,” Neal said, laying his hand on the agent’s arm. “When’s she getting home?”
“Nine or ten,” Burke replied.
“If she gets back at nine, you could get home at eight. She wouldn’t know the difference,” Neal said. Neal didn’t want Agent Burke to come over, but he didn’t want to give him reason to suspect anything. “It wouldn’t be the whole night, but…” Hopefully, his conscience would kick in and he’d turn Neal down.
“I don’t want you thinking you’re just a quick fuck,” Agent Burke said.
“I don’t,” Neal replied, honest for once. He knew he was a fascination, an obsession, a symbol of Agent Burke’s power. To catch such a criminal would be one thing, to turn him another, but to fuck him? To watch him as he sank to his knees in supplication? That was a private show of dominance, put on to boost the agent’s ego. “Come over after work. Bring takeout from that Thai place I like,” he said. It was one of Neal's favorite restaurants. This was one of his last meals in New York, and he wanted it to count.
“Really?” Agent Burke asked.
Neal looked around, making sure nobody else was paying attention. He moved his hand to Burke’s chest. “I’m hungry,” he whined. This was the decoy con. If Burke already thought Neal had an ulterior motive, he wouldn’t go looking for another.
“All right,” Agent Burke said. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
Neal smiled at the agent, the kind of smile that suggested Neal had gotten one over on him. “Don’t worry,” Neal said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
The rest of the work day passed without a hitch. Neal headed back to June’s, where he went through his go-bag for the last time. The unassuming carry-on had three different passports from three different countries, a burner phone with a few extra SIM cards, four days’ worth of outfits, toiletries, a book for the plane, and cash. Lots of cash, from all over the world. Anything else, he could get wherever he was going. He shoved it back under his bed, then changed into a tight t-shirt. He put one of his many half-finished canvasses on his easel and worked on it until Agent Burke arrived.
Neal opened the door and greeted Burke with a kiss. “Come in,” he said, holding the door for the agent and his takeout bag.
Burke set the bag on the table. “What are you working on?” he asked.
Neal laughed. “It’s not a forgery, Peter,” he said. “It’s an original. I started it a few months ago, but I lost the spark. For some reason, it called to me again today. It’ll take at least a week, but I think I’m going to finish it.”
“What’s it called?” Agent Burke asked, always the interrogator.
Neal started unpacking the takeout. “I haven’t decided yet. How about you help me name it when it’s done?”
“That’s very sweet of you,” Burke said. “I think it’s great that you’re building your own career as an artist, rather than forging other people’s work.”
Neal managed not to roll his eyes. “You inspired me. Should we eat?”
Neal and Agent Burke ate, and then it was time. Burke pulled Neal in. As they kissed, Neal could taste the Pad Thai on Burke’s breath. Neal unbuttoned the agent’s shirt, then his pants. Neal slid the pants down Burke’s legs, lowering himself to his knees as he did. Neal pulled Burke’s boxers down, revealing his erect cock. Neal looked up at the agent and smiled. “Told you I’d make it worth your while,” he said before licking up and down Burke’s shaft. “Give it to me, Peter,” he breathed, then wrapped his lips around Burke’s cock.
Agent Burke grabbed a handful of Neal’s hair and began to thrust into Neal’s mouth, slowly at first. Neal didn’t like giving head. He especially didn’t like getting fucked in the face. He didn’t let Burke do it to him often, but the man needed to be appeased tonight. As Burke’s cock slammed into Neal’s throat with increasing speed, Neal found comfort and delight in his knowledge that Burke had no idea. No idea that Neal was leaving, no idea that this was a sham, no idea that Neal hated his guts. Neal was going to win, and if that meant enduring a rough blowjob, well, that was what it meant. By tomorrow evening, Burke would be professionally embarrassed and personally devastated. A week from now, his marriage would be in shambles and he might face charges. This was worth it.
Burke’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket. “Can you grab that?” Burke asked Neal. “If it’s my wife, I’d better take it.” Neal groped around for the phone, then handed it up to the agent. “Shit, it’s her,” Burke said. Neal began to move back, but Burke kept a firm grasp on his hair. “I didn’t say you were done,” he said, continuing to thrust. “Hi, hon,” Burke said into the phone. “Oh, that’s great!” Neal began to choke on the agent’s cock. Burke looked down, lust and power in his eyes, and held a finger to his lips. If Neal wasn’t so close to escaping, he’d have bit the man’s dick straight off. Instead, he continued to let Burke have his way, even as tears began to stream down his face. “I’ll see you soon.” Burke pulled Neal’s head up, making eye contact as he said, “I love you.” The only good thing about having Burke’s cock in his mouth was the fact that Neal didn’t have to say it back.
Burke tossed the phone onto Neal’s bed. “You’re so good to me, Neal,” he said, his gentle words incongruous with the rhythm of his thrusts. “I have to leave soon, but it’s not because of you, Neal. I wish I could spend every night, every morning with you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me-” Burke came. Neal dutifully swallowed, then finally caught his breath.
Neal stood and stretched. “I liked that,” he lied.
“Me too,” Burke said. “Let’s do it again some time.”
“Whenever you want, baby,” Neal said.
Burke began to put his clothes back on. “Are you sure it’s okay if we take your anklet off tomorrow?”
Not this again! Jesus. “I sucked your dick while you were on the phone with your wife, and you still don’t think you can trust me?” Neal asked. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve. Honestly,” Neal said, dishonestly, “it hurts my feelings when you say things like that.”
Agent Burke’s face fell. “Oh, Neal, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to Neal’s cheek. His captor, his jailor, the holder of his leash.
Neal didn’t laugh. He didn’t shout. He didn’t knee Burke in the crotch. “Go home, Peter,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then, as soon as Peter left, Neal got to work.
***
The plan was simple. Neal, who had been posing as a low-level federal employee, would go to a would-be briber’s house for a meeting in his hot tub. The Feds would camp out down the street, then swoop in when Neal agreed to the bribe. Neal had planted his go-bag in the alley behind the house, and, if everything went right, would have a cab waiting to take him to the airport. Then it was straight to Toronto, then whichever international flight left first.
Agent Burke took his anklet off in the van as Neal slipped a notepad and pen into his pocket. Neal walked the few blocks, steeling himself. It was finally here, after all those years of waiting. He could do it. He could escape. He took one last deep breath and knocked on the door.
Dave Brooks, corrupt businessman, opened the door. “Mr. Halden! Thank you for coming.” He welcomed Neal inside.
“How’s it going?” Neal said, scribbling on his notepad.
Dave raised an eyebrow, but said, “Living the dream! How are you?”
Neal showed Dave the notepad. Don’t say anything. You’re bugged. “Couldn’t be better,” he said, as he wrote, I work for the FBI. We don’t do the deal, you let me out the back gate, we’re both free and clear.
Dave looked at Neal suspiciously. I’m a CI. I want out, and I’ll get you out, too. Neal raised his pant leg, showing off the imprint the anklet had made on his shin. Tracking anklet. “What do you say we get in the hot tub?” Dave asked, still eyeing Neal. “It’s just this way.”
“I’d love to,” Neal said. Please, he mouthed.
Dave nodded, leading Neal to the backyard. “Here’s the tub,” Dave said.
The hot tub looked warm, inviting. If Neal failed, the consequences would be immense. He could probably bring Burke down, but he still had no intention of spending the rest of his life behind bars.
Dave unlatched the back gate, which opened into the alley. Thank you, Neal mouthed, pressing his hands together in gratitude, before slipping into the alley. He grabbed his bag and ran to the idling cab, pulling out his earpiece and crushing it underfoot as he got in the car.
“JFK,” Neal said, “as fast as you can.” The cab sped off, delivering Neal from his captivity.
***
Neal stared out the window at the sun setting over the Atlantic Ocean. He wished he could sleep, but his mind was racing. His EU passport should get him through the Amsterdam airport quickly enough, unless Interpol was already waiting for him. Was the manhunt already on? Would his picture be on the news? Would they have used a good picture of him? Should he have shaved his head in the airport bathroom? He’d bought the tickets under two different names, both of which Neal knew were unknown by the FBI, but they could find him if they combed through the security footage. He’d have to change his look in Europe. Maybe he’d go blonde, or grow out a beard, or pierce his nose. No, he wouldn’t pierce his nose.
His thoughts slipped to Agent Burke. Where was he now, six hours after Neal slipped out of his grasp? Was he at June’s, staring at the painting on the easel and the suits in the closet? Was the team scouring the apartment for clues? Had they found the thumb drive? Was Burke reading all the lewd texts he’d sent? Watching Neal sob out half-truths? Was he crying? Realizing how deeply he’d been tricked, how far Neal had been willing to go, how absolutely fucked he was?
Or was he angry? Had he figured out Neal’s plan? Was he on the phone with Interpol right now? Neal pictured him storming off of the FBI plane, stalking Neal through the streets of Amsterdam, snapping those handcuffs around Neal’s wrist once more.
Neal’s chest was tight, his breathing shallow. He was exhausted from the planning, the running, the paranoia. He needed to snap out of it. He climbed over his neighbor in the aisle and went to the airplane bathroom. He gripped the counter and stared at himself in the mirror. “You’re safe,” he told himself, splashing cold water on his face. “He can’t get you.”