Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
A/N: I had this hiding out in my documents for awhile, so I decided to post it. I love these two! Title comes from the Florence and The Machine song, which is also not mine.
Neal woke up in a darkened room with his head pounding. Vision hazy, he blinked a few times before his surroundings came into focus. The room was somewhere high in the New York City skyline, the scattered lights visible from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows to his left. It would have been a picturesque image if it hadn't been for the shooting pain in the side of his forehead, where he was almost certain blood was trickling down his face. The next thing Neal became aware of was the metal cuff around his wrist, the other one linked to the chair's arm. He could slip out of that easy, but Neal's curiosity got the better of him. He decided to wait this out, see what—or rather, who—had brought him here.
A few feet away, a table stood with half burned candles adorning the surface, along with a couple of wine glasses. Neal quirked an eyebrow. Another chair had been placed on the opposite end. Neal was left silently wondering who it would belong to. He didn't remember much previously; a quiet stroll well within the perimeters of his anklet—which was out of range now—and a blow to the side of his head, rendering him unconscious. He hadn't even seen the attacker. And, as it seemed, he didn't have to wait long to learn who it was. The door handle twisted, and with a creak, opened to reveal a lean figure drenched in shadow. Neal squinted. The outline looked familiar.
"Ah, you're awake," a roughened voice proclaimed from across the room. The door closed and locked. "For awhile there I thought I'd hit ya too hard. Got a little over zealous…adrenaline rush and all that."
Definitely familiar.
"Keller," Neal said evenly.
A flame burst to life, illuminating Matthew Keller's face in a warm orange glow. He moved from the doorway to the table, lighting up the candles waiting on the surface. Neal spotted something else in his hand that looked suspiciously like a wine bottle.
"You were expecting someone else?" he said with a laugh. Same cynical tone.
"No," Neal replied. "This…this makes sense. But you know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask."
Keller placed the bottle of wine onto the table along with his lighter and sauntered over to Neal wearing a smug grin.
"And you know that's not exactly my style, Caffrey."
"Knocking me out cold isn't really the key to getting on my good side."
"Maybe a little wine'll change that."
Neal shrugged, allowing a half-smirk to break onto his lips. "It might."
Keller moved back to the table to uncork the wine bottle and began pouring generous amounts into each glass. They had a full bottle, a room to themselves until Burke and the others decided to come after Caffrey, and he was interested to see what would happen. As always.
"Gotta admit," Keller observed, "The bruised and bloodied look is good on you."
"I'm not so fond of the splitting headache."
Keller pushed a glass of wine into Neal's un-cuffed hand. "You won't feel a thing after awhile."
"Never thought you were the romantic type, Keller," Neal said, amused, taking a few liberal sips.
"You live and breathe the whole hopeless romantic thing, don't you?" he retorted. "But hey, I have my moments. I like to impress once and awhile. Like the view?"
Neal laughed sheepishly, tugging against his handcuffed wrist. "I can get myself out of this."
"Of course you can." Keller walked toward him again, one hand around his wine glass, the other stuffed casually into the pocket of his suit pants. "Question is, do you want to?"
Neal gave him a clear smirk. You asshole.
Keller tried again. "So, how much time do you think we have until Burke shows up?"
Neal downed some more of the wine. "Oh, I think we have plenty of time."