Chapter 37

It was obvious from the look on Peter's face that he'd had his fill of babysitting 'too happy for his own good Neal' and he gladly passed the baton to Sara, suggesting that he and El make tracks back to Brooklyn. Before absconding, however, he helped Sara get Neal ready for bed, supporting him as he stood in front of the toilet and peed for what seemed like three whole minutes, now having moved on to a few classics from 'Evita'. Neal gave Peter a nice big, juicy kiss on the cheek, thanking him for everything he'd done for him and he let himself flop onto the bed while Sara walked the Burkes to the front door with a prediction that Neal would be calling with his apologies in the morning.

Sara expected Neal to be sound asleep when she returned but he was on his back, still singing, a stupid smile on his face as he gave her a come-hither look and crooked his finger, inviting her to join him. She changed out of her clothes and into a nightshirt and she climbed into bed next to him, figuring she'd give him a few minutes to settle down and fall asleep.

Apparently, that was not what Neal had in mind.

He looked up at Sara with his best puppy dog eyes as she settled in the bed beside him, sitting up and grabbing her book from the bedside table. Despite their little quarrel and the fact that he'd actually kicked her out of bed for the last two nights, she didn't want to leave him alone on the off chance he did something crazy – well, crazier than what he'd already done. He lay on his pillow, his neck craned up so he could see her reaction and he waited for a response, which was not forthcoming. She certainly didn't want him choking on his own vomit but she hadn't quite forgiven him for acting like a petulant child for the past three days.

With great effort, Neal turned towards her in the bed, pulling his legs into position so he could lay on his side, his head landing firmly in Sara's lap. She smiled grudgingly at the gesture, rolling her eyes and watching as Neal placed his arm snugly around her hips, hugging her close as he made a mewling sound she wasn't quite sure what to make of. He continued with the unfamiliar noises, finally lifting his heavy head and trying to make eye contact with her.

'You're sooo beau-ful' he mumbled incoherently.

'That's nice, honey' she said as she ran her hand dismissively through his hair in an effort to keep him calm. With any luck he'd fall asleep and she could get back to her book.

'No, no, no, no, no, no... you think I'm drunk and I dunno wha'm saying but I do' he added trying to focus his eyes on hers.

'You're beau-dee-ful' he repeated slowly. '…as beau-dee-jul as the first time I laid eyes on you.'

'Oh…' Sara said, amused. 'Because you remember how I looked the first time you saw me at your trial… twenty-five years ago?'

Drunk or not, it was her job to call Neal on his shit and she took that responsibility very seriously.

'I remember 'xacly what you were wearing that day' he answered triumphantly.

'You think you can remember what I was wearing... twenty five years ago?' she repeated, incredulous, as Neal began to drag her down onto the bed to keep from having to crane his neck up to look at her.

She let herself slip down, her book tumbling off the bed, until her head was safely on the pillow next to his, their faces mere inches apart. Neal nodded excitedly; he had this one.

'You had on a pencil skirt, navy blue and a silk blouse with some blue and beige design thingy – and reaaaally hot strappy navy blue shoes' he said dramatically, his arms waving.

Sara listened as she tried to recall that day; her face beginning to come alive as she realized he was right. She remembered those shoes – her very first pair of Louboutins bought with the proceeds from her very first recovery at Sterling Bosh. She couldn't quite believe it – surely it was just a lucky guess.

'I remember everything you wear' he claimed, confidently.

'Oh yeah? What about...' Sara thought, eager to catch him in a lie – or at least an exaggeration '...that day we had Chinese food on the roof of the FBI? What was I wearing that day?'

Neal rolled his eyes as if it were a no-brainer. 'Really?' he asked, his speech slurred.

Sara stared expectantly, figuring he was just stalling for time.

'A flowy white sleeveless thing with a lil belt and dark pants - you had a chunky gold necklace too' he said with a smug look on his face.

'You are so full of shit, Caffrey' she said as she allowed herself to laugh.

'Assme anything' he insisted feeling pretty damn sure of himself.

Sara thought for a moment – trying to give him a bit of a challenge.

'Okay, what about the night you proposed?' she finally asked.

'Sara! At least give me a hard one' he replied, rolling his eyes with exaggeration.

'I knew it. You're bluffing' she said, now having fun with the impromptu game.

'Roy-al blue maternity dress – my favourite one' he recited without missing a beat.

'All right, all right wise guy, one more' she said playfully as she gazed into Neal's smiling eyes.

They hadn't laughed together like this in quite a while and this amusing little competition was helping her relax after a few days of brutal tension. She thought for a moment, remembering the eventful night Neal had told her he loved her for the very first time, the night that Hope was conceived. It had been June's 75th birthday dinner and she was dressed to the nines, hoping to impress her hostess. He'd had quite a bit to drink that night and she figured he'd had other things on his mind - like getting her out of that dress and into bed.

'What about the night of June's 75th birthday party?' she finally asked, her eyes playful.

Neal laughed and she figured, once again, that he was deflecting, stalling for time.

'The night I told you I loved you?' he asked.

She nodded and waited, figuring she finally had him up against the ropes. Neal got a very faraway look in his eyes as he seemingly struggled to recall that night.

'That was one of the best nights of my life' he began.

'Finally stumped you, huh Caffrey?' she said, pleased with herself.

He shook his head, his eyes returning to hers.

'It was a beautiful, shimmery emerald green dress, short and when you moved... it was magical' he finally said triumphantly, a smile returning to his face.

'What are you? The Rain Man of clothes?' she asked, laughing heartily.

His face relaxed for an instant at the sound of her unguarded laughter and suddenly, he turned serious lowering his voice as he gently touched her face.

'Babe…' he said with such urgency that her eyes were drawn back to those deep pools of blue. 'Please don't let me push you away.'

She shook her head in disbelief. 'Oh, Neal! Why do you do it? Why do you push me away?'

He gave her that look, the one that left her totally weak in the knees, unable to argue with him, unable to fight back; that little boy look that said: I know I've been an idiot but please love me anyway, love me despite myself.

The next thing she knew, he was kissing her, warm and wet, a sloppy kiss that lacked finesse but was just so sweet and sincere that it was infinitely sexier than when he turned on the Caffrey charm full blast. That look of pure innocence and sincerity was just too sweet to ignore and she gave in to him as Neal began to make whiny, needy sounds and continued to kiss her messily. She could taste the fine whiskey on his tongue and she began to relax as he continued to explore her mouth, the sounds continuing to grow.

'Neal! Neal!' she said urgently as he came up for air. 'Remember what the doctor said - don't push yourself, don't start something you won't be able to finish.'

He snorted in response, a sneaky smile on his lips as he took her hand and brought it to rest at the edge of his sleep pants.

'Says who?' he asked with a grin, apparently proud of himself.

Although certainly not up to his usual standards, he'd begun to get more and more sensation back and he was feeling particularly cocky (pun intended) as he waited for her reaction to his feat. Sara let her hand linger on his groin, noticing he had started the party without her and she gave a few hesitant strokes which only served to bring on some louder, more insistent noises.

'Shhhh' she whispered as she brought her finger to his lips. 'Quiet! The kids are upstairs.'

For all the weakness in the lower part of his body, Neal was still a strong man and, without so much as a moment's hesitation and with great effort, he returned to lying on his back and he proceeded to lift his wife and deposit her on top of him as she continued to argue.

'Honey, I don't want to hurt your chest' she said as he winced in pain – or was that pleasure?

'You lemme worry about that' he whispered dismissively as he placed her onto his hips, taking her legs and positioning them on either side of him, instantly creating friction they were both exceedingly grateful for.

It was her turn to let out a soft moan as she came into direct contact with his body. She sat up, looking down into his darkening eyes, reacting to the whiskey he'd imbibed and, she hoped, the sensation of her body pressed up against his.

'Can you feel that?' she asked lovingly.

He just stared back at her, sighing deeply, an unmistakable look of pleasure in his half-hooded eyes.

'I missed you…' he moaned languorously as he began to pull at the nightshirt she was wearing.

Although it wasn't rocket science, in his present state, it took a moment for him to figure out how to lift the damn thing over her head and he smiled impishly at the sight of her in naked splendour once he finally succeeded. He ran his hands across her belly, up to her breasts as he squeezed one of her nipples between his fingers, expertly pinching as Sara bit down on her lip, moaning in response.

'You're gonna... have to move babe' he murmured breathlessly as he took her into his mouth, making those sloppy wet noises again that were so uncouth, yet so hot.

For a brief moment, she thought he meant she would have to get off of him, but feeling his hands positioned firmly on her hips, she realized he was urging her to start rutting up against him, something she gladly began doing. He didn't have full range of motion and if she didn't get something going… well, nothing was going to happen. She leaned over and positioned herself, looking down at him and biting down on her bottom lip to keep from moaning. His hair hung in his eyes, making him look years younger and she could feel the unmistakeable tingle settling in the pit of her stomach at the sight of her husband looking so disheveled and intense, more so than when he was in full control of every inch his body.

His upper body, however, was apparently totally under his control and he traced her neck, her breasts and ran his finger playfully over her belly button, his hand on a mission to reach between her thighs. She let out a little gasp as it finally reached its destination. He might have been impaired but he instinctively knew what to do with his fingers and he began to expertly grind them in just the right spot, watching as she began to squirm, letting out small, guttural grunts.

'Shh!' he said, with a mischievous look in his eyes. 'The kids!'

'Shut up and keep doing that' she responded breathlessly.

Neal obliged, enjoying the sight of his wife moving erratically against him, her hair shimmering in the moonlight as she gyrated, finally stilling with a sharp intake of air and a muffled scream. Still in the throes of passion, she began to rub furiously and she let herself fall on top of him, pulling him close as her orgasm lingered. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled, bringing her mouth to his ear and uttering a variety of alliterations of the words 'yes' 'fuck' and 'Caffrey'.

She lay there, his arms tightly wound around her as she finally came down from her orgasm and the room stopped spinning. Within seconds, she felt Neal's body start to relax against hers as his arms fell away and he began fade both above and below the waist.

By the time she'd collected herself enough to sit up again, Neal was snoring, sound asleep.