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Meet Cute

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“Do you know if there's anything missing after the break-in?” Dean asks.

“I do landscaping, check for graffiti, that kind of thing,” the caretaker answers, twisting her fingers together. “Never even been inside the building before.”

Something's off about the way she says it. Dean studies her for a moment, letting the awkward silence stretch out a little.

Sam clears his throat. Dean looks up and Sam tilts his head to tell him to turn around.

There is a man standing nearby, wearing a black fedora and expensive-looking black suit. He smiles and strides forward as Dean stares. He is, objectively, the handsomest man Dean has ever seen in real life.

“Sir, could you give us some space? This is a federal investigation,” Sam says.

The man's eyebrows go up very slightly. “Oh. Of course, I wouldn't want to be in the way.” He backs up a few steps, still smiling. His eyes are very blue.

A sharp kick to his ankle from Sam jolts Dean's attention back to reality. He turns back to the caretaker. “So you've, uh, never been in here before?” he asks, inanely.

“I just told you that.”

Dean gropes for another question but he comes up empty. He glances at Sam. Sam rolls his eyes. “We'll be in touch,” he says, handing the caretaker a business card. The woman smiles in relief and takes off.

Sam sighs and stands up. Dean follows suit. Speaking of suits, he needs a new one for this kind of thing. His has definitely seen better days. He toys with one of his cuffs as the man approaches them again.

“I'm Neal Caffrey,” the man says. “Which department are you from?”

“We're FBI,” Dean says, trying to match Neal's easy smile. “I'm Agent Young and this is Agent Angus.”

They all shake hands. Neal has the perfect handshake. This close, Dean can tell he smells nice too.

“Good to meet you,” Neal says, making the platitude sound genuine.

“Are you a customer of the deceased?” Dean asks. It's easy to believe that Neal could be rich enough to afford Bela's prices for stolen goods.

“Unfortunately, no. There are some beautiful pieces here. That Delgado alone... but you said, 'the deceased'? I thought the owner was missing.”

“Well, uh, you see,” Dean sputters.

Thankfully, Sam interrupts him. “We really should be continuing our investigation. Nice to meet you.”

Neal's eyes twinkle. Dean didn't think eyes could actually do that in real life. “Before you go, can I see your identification?” he asks.

Sam looks at Dean and he shrugs. What harm could it do? They flash their badges quickly in unison.

“Thank you,” Neal says.

“Neal!” An older man hurries into the room. His suit is a bit dated but he wears it confidently. “You shouldn't wander off—oh, hello.” He nods to Sam and Dean.

“Agent Young, Agent Angus, this is Peter Burke,” Neal introduces.

Dean already has his hand out to shake hands when Neal finishes, “Of FBI's New York white collar crime division.” He feels his friendly smile freeze for a second in shock. The real FBI are investigating a break-in? Why?

“I don't know you. Either of you,” Peter says. The suspicion in his voice makes Dean break into a cold sweat.

“We're from the DC office,” he says, pulling out a business card. “Feel free to call our supervisor.” Bobby is going to yell at them for getting mixed up with the real feds but there's nothing Dean can do about it now.

“I'll do that,” Peter says, taking the card.

“Well, we'll get out of your hair,” Sam says.

Dean stumbles over his own feet a little and Neal helpfully steadies him with one hand on Dean's elbow. “Thanks,” Dean says.

Neal smiles brilliantly at him. “Anytime.” He has very nice teeth.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asks, once they're out on the street.

“Maybe they were tracking something Bela stole?” Dean wonders. They'd be taking their sweet time with it if they were. Bela's been dead for months.

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, I meant... nevermind. Let's go get lunch, I'm starving.”

Dean isn't sure what Sam stopped himself from saying but now that he's thinking about it, he's starving too. He reaches into his pocket for his keys.

His keys are gone. And his wallet. And his fake FBI badge.

“Uh, Sam? We may have a problem.”