A/N: I have no excuse.
Warning: Contains mild slash; don't like, don't read!
Neal barreled around a corner, wincing as Italian leather scraped against the rough concrete. Dropping behind a dumpster for a quick breather he checked his anklet, which was still blinking infuriatingly green.
Cursing under his breath, he darted out of his flimsy cover, hearing a shout behind him. A soft click sounded and a silenced shot pinged off the brick of the building next to him.
Neal really only had two things going for him at the moment. One, he was fast. Two, the guy chasing him was a poor shot.
I hate guns. Another shot zipped past and Neal swore his heart skipped a beat when he realized how close it had come to hitting him.
Gaining a little distance from his pursuer, the ex-con swerved into another alley. There! Catching sight of a rather intimidating man, Neal came up with a plan that Peter would definitely yell at him for later. It only had a small chance of working, and from the looks of the guy he'd kill him afterward, but…
Morgan was not having the best day. Of course, it was technically never a good day when the team was on a case, but today was particularly bad. The unsub was clearly intelligent, and had been leaving false trails for them all week. And now Morgan was standing in an empty alleyway looking for a nonexistent clue as to his whereabouts. It wasn't the first time, but the agent swore it would be the last. He was sick of this guy pulling all the strings.
Emily stood some distance away, giving Hotch the bad news over the phone when he heard the rhythmic sound of shoes hitting the ground. He frowned, about to draw his gun when a blur slammed into him.
Morgan gasped as his assailant pulled him harshly. He barely registered the confusion of the movement, whoever it was having pulled him flush to his body so that he'd effectively pinned himself to the wall. While that certainly worked in Morgan's favor –
Warm lips suddenly smashed into his, drawing the agent into a passionate kiss. Morgan froze in shock, then heard something behind him. He made to turn, but the guy who'd grabbed him simply held harder.
"Have you seen…" the voice trailed off with a disgusted grunt before more footsteps signaled that the second guy was leaving. Soft lips stilled against his own and pulled back slightly.
Morgan whipped his head around, barely catching sight of a pistol in the man's hand as he ran out of the alley.
Harsh breathing came from the body he was still unwillingly pinning to the wall and the hands holding on to him dropped.
"Is he gone?"
Morgan stared at the man that had been kissing him just seconds ago. Bright blue eyes gazed back with a cheeky grin. "Oh, good. For a second there I thought that wouldn't work. Thanks, man." Then he took off in the opposite direction of the other guy, and damn if he wasn't fast.
"What the hell just happened?" Morgan asked no one in particular, too shocked to move.
"I have no idea," Emily gaped, gun drawn but angled at the ground. Had she seen…? "But that was hot."
Morgan had no idea how she'd done it, but Garcia had managed to find the sole camera in that alleyway and had hacked the tape. It was now sitting cozy on her computer, where she was watching what was, conveniently, a perfect shot of a random guy kissing Morgan with 'desperate, soul-searing passion.' Or so she said.
Morgan was rather disinclined to believe in such a… romantic explanation.
He stared hard at the guy in the video clip, trying to ignore the generally amused expressions of the rest of the team. (He almost couldn't believe Garcia had shared the tape, but he supposed his last… interaction with Kevin had been just a tad mean.) Well, most were amused, anyway. Reid had the gall to look fascinated. The women, aside from finding the tape funny, had gleams in their eyes that he frankly did not want to decipher.
Hotch cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough. Back to work, guys. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to head over to the local FBI office and see if you can talk with one of their consultants. Take this with you," he said, handing them a file, "I want to see if he knows who made the ID for our unsub."
"Yeah, sure." Anything to get away from the tape for a while. "Who's the consultant we need to talk to?"
For a second he could have sworn Hotch's lips twitched. "Neal Caffrey."
Neal almost choked on his coffee as he saw the guy from the night before walk into the office. He would probably have been less surprised if Peter had decided to take on a life of crime (well, maybe not). But what was he doing there? The ex-con edged a little closer to the bullpen, where Peter was talking with their two guests.
"We need to speak with Neal Caffrey, if he's available," the dark-haired woman said, business-like, but not without a hint of friendliness.
Neal might have worried if he hadn't heard 'if he's available.' That was good. That probably meant they weren't about to accuse him of anything. Hopefully.
He saw Peter sigh and gesture up to the conference room, where Neal had been hanging out for the past half-hour or so, trying to avoid the stack of boring cases he'd been given earlier. Deciding he should probably just get whatever this was over with, he slunk down the staircase.
"Someone call my name?" he asked brightly.
The woman's eyes widened and the dark-skinned man just kind of stared. Oh. Couldn't be about last night, then.
Peter cast him a sharp glance that plainly asked what the hell he had done now. "These are Agents Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss of the BAU," he introduced.
Prentiss nodded, lips twitching suspiciously. She handed him a file. "We heard you might know who made this," she said, keeping her voice admirably professional.
He took the file, flipping it open as casually as possible. "Yeah," he said, after a minute or so of inspecting the fake ID. "I can contact him for you…?"
"That's alright, we're not after anyone for forgery at the moment. If you could just give us his address, that will be fine."
Neal nodded and reluctantly wrote down the address. "You didn't get this from me."
"Of course not."
"Great!" he said, "I'll just get back to work now, Peter, nice meeting you –"
"Hold on just a minute," Morgan interrupted.
Morgan watched Caffrey carefully as Emily showed him the ID. From the start, his initial lack of reaction to their presence pegged the man as someone who was good at hiding his emotions. His exuberance, scripted though it was, was normal enough to not garner any extra attention. His flashy clothes indicated that he was used to and liked to be the focus of things. Smooth talker, suave; he was a womanizer, most likely. For a guy like that, it would be hard to pay him back for the night before without something drastic. And public.
Morgan had no intention of letting him off Scott-free, however.
Even if it cost him a little extra embarrassment.
"Hold on just a minute," he interjected, just as the consultant was about to walk off.
Stepping forward, he grabbed hold of Caffrey's shirt and yanked him closer, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Vaguely he could make out the rest of the office freezing to watch the scene in shock, Emily included. Agent Burke looked torn between throwing him off and getting popcorn.
Smirking against the other's lips, the agent drew back.
"That was for last night," Morgan said huskily. "I had a great time. See you tonight, Neal."
Mission accomplished, Morgan strode out of the office, Emily in tow.
For once, Neal was speechless.
Unfortunately, Peter was not. "Something you want to tell us, Neal?" he asked. Oh Peter was going to milk this for all it was worth, wasn't he?
Jones and Diana looked at him expectantly. Neal picked up his fedora from where it had fallen to the floor and decided, what the heck, why not?
"What can I say? I sure know how to pick 'em." With that, he swaggered back up to the conference room, plopping in front of a few open files and ignoring the ensuing, loud discussion down in the bullpen.
"What? You can't just leave it at that! Get back here! Neal!"