Author's Note: All right, guys, last chapter is finally here! I just want to thank everybody who read and reviewed this story - I loved getting all of your feedback. I will hopefully be working on a sequel, more in the suspense genre, so stay tuned! Without further ado, here's the scene you've been waiting for:

One hour earlier.

The second Mike had departed from the balcony, leaving nothing between him and Neal, Peter was filled with an all-consuming sense of panic. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn around and run, to push his feelings for Neal back into that same dark corner where he had been storing them for months and try like hell to keep them there.

But Harvey's words, echoing in his head, kept his feet firmly in place: If you don't tell him now...you will lose him forever. Firm in the knowledge that losing Neal was quite simply not an option, he took a deep breath and a few steps forward.

"Hell of a party, huh?" Peter said, in a tone he prayed sounded casual, leaning on the railing next to Neal.

"Clearly the social event of the season," Neal agreed, shooting Peter a brief smile before returning his gaze once more to the darkened skyline. "I think at one point I saw Diana grinding with a former Supreme Court justice."

Peter let out a nervous laugh that ended up lasting a good ten seconds longer than he'd intended it to, lapsing into silence only when Neal shot him a quizzical look, containing an undercurrent of what Peter hoped was amusement.

As the seconds wore on, Peter would have sworn he could hear the empty space where him saying something should have gone; he reached up to tug on with the knot of the purple silk tie Neal had lent him, idly wondering what errant deity had chosen to replace the habitual chill of an October night with this oppressive warmth.

"You feeling all right, Peter?" Neal asked, turning to focus his full attention on him. "You look a little rough around the edges."

"Oh, I'm fine," Peter said quickly, waving Neal off, "It's...it's nothing, I'm fine."

"I'd feel better if you weren't standing so close to the edge," Neal said, cupping Peter's elbow and gently tugging him away from the railing. "Just in case."

The comforting feel of Neal's hand on his arm and the concern evident in his eyes untied a few of the knots in Peter's stomach and gave him the courage to blurt out, "Neal, I have to tell you something."

"Okay," Neal assented, not moving his hand from Peter's sleeve.

"You..or rather you and I...er, we, that is - we're friends, right?"

"Yes, Peter," Neal said patiently, "I think we can agree on that with a relative degree of certainty."

"Yes, good," Peter said quickly, aware that he had begun to babble, but in too deep to stop, "and it is...er, good that is. But lately, I don't know, things have changed. And suddenly good just...isn't good enough."

Peter nervously cleared his throat and shifted his gaze to the terrace floor, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get through the next part otherwise. "And, I guess what I'm saying is that, well, Neal, when the rest of your life wants to spend you with someone, then...no, that's um, that's not right, is it? W-what I meant was that I'm just a boy standing in front of...a-a boy and asking...that is, asking him-"

Peter was saved from having to finish by Neal swiftly pressing his lips to his. Peter instinctively froze in place, unsure of what to do, at which point he realized in a blinding flash that in his haste to tell Neal how he felt, he had completely forgotten to consider what would happen next.

As one of Neal's hands tangled itself in his hair and the other slid up from his elbow to the side of his neck, however, Peter was surprised to find his fight-or-flight response from earlier conspicuously absent. If anything, this new, unexpected proximity was so insufficient compared to his sudden, intense need to have Neal much, much closer that his hands shot out, seemingly of their own volition, to wrap themselves around Neal's waist and draw him in so their bodies were pressed tightly together.

It was at this point that their natural tendency to work in perfect tandem took over, and suddenly all the fear and uncertainty swirling around in Peter's mind just...stopped. For the remaining moments of the kiss - whether a few seconds, minutes or hours Peter could not have hoped to guess - there was Neal and only Neal.

When they finally broke apart, Peter's head was spinning, though whether from the intensity of the moment or the oxygen deprivation he wasn't entirely sure. Consequently, any follow-up comments he might have been planning were limited to a weak exclamation of "Wow."

"Wow, indeed," Neal agreed, also trying to recover his breath. "God, I should have done that months ago."

"Maybe you would have if I hadn't been such an oblivious idiot," Peter pointed out, feeling guilty all over again. "I'm sorry, Neal. I've been so stupid."

Neal gave him a warm smile that made Peter's stomach do little flip-flops. "Don't be sorry," he said quietly, leaning forward to give Peter a lingering kiss before adding, "You're here now - that's all that matters. Even if you did steal your big romantic speech from a Hugh Grant film."

"I thought I'd heard it somewhere before..." Peter muttered, cursing under his breath.

Neal grinned. "Don't worry - your utter hopelessness in the flirting arena is one of the things that I love about you." He reached down to grab Peter's hand, prompting the other man to flinch instinctively and let out a small hiss.

"What happened to your knuckles?" Neal asked, looking concerned as he gingerly examined Peter's outstretched hand.

"I attacked a bookcase," Peter admitted a bit sheepishly, wincing a little as Neal pressed a cold glass of champagne against his fingers to reduce the swelling.

"Were you incensed by any particular volume, or just feeling resentful toward literature in general?

"If you must know, I was defending your honor," Peter replied with a sniff.

"Against a bookcase?" Neal inquired, looking very amused.

"It's a long story," Peter said with a sigh, "which I promise I will tell you later."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Neal said with a smile, returning the champagne to its place on the railing. "That any better?"

"Much," Peter said gratefully, testing out the flexibility of his fingers. "My hand thanks you."

"Well, perhaps your hand can make it up to me later," Neal said mischievously, causing Peter's cheeks to heat up in a way he hoped desperately wasn't visible. It was this idle thought that led him to a disturbing realization.

"Oh God," he said suddenly, whipping his head round toward the terrace door, "I just realized - we have to go back in there to leave. I don't know if I can handle the combined smugness of Harvey, Diana, and Jones. Too much to hope you're wearing a harness under that vest, I suppose?"

Neal laughed before replying wistfully, "If only I'd worn the other jacket..." He strolled toward the railing, continuing, "I mean, maybe I could rig something up -"

Upon reaching the edge, however, he stopped mid-sentence, and to Peter's surprise began to stare, transfixed, at something just below them.

"I was kidding," Peter said quickly, not liking the thoughtful expression on Neal's face one bit, "Neal, I was kidding. Don't even think about -"

"Look!" Neal insisted, cutting him off mid-stream, "Come look!"

Now intensely curious, Peter took a few steps forward to stand beside Neal at the railing and, as soon as he had followed his partner's gaze downward, was completely taken aback by what he saw. "But that's..."

"A window-cleaner's scaffold!" Neal finished excitedly. "Come on, help me pull it up!"

"Why not?" Peter asked, throwing up his hands and reaching down to help Neal raise the apparatus, "It will be perfectly in keeping with the utter bizarreness of our stay in Specterland."

As they pulled the scaffold higher, however, Peter realized things were getting stranger than they had first appeared. "Is that..a bottle of champagne?"

"Hello, boys," Neal read aloud from the card affixed to the bottle, "Thought an alternate exit route might be in order. Enjoy the bubbly! XOXO, Donna."

"She can't be serious," Peter said, shaking his head in astonishment. One look at the mile-wide grin on Neal's face had him adding, "You can't be serious."

"Come on, Peter, live a little!" Neal shouted, nimbly vaulting over the railing.

"Would you get down from there?" Peter demanded, looking around with concern. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"If you're so worried," Neal teased, "Then I guess you'd better come and get me."

Peter rolled his eyes, resigned himself once again to complete insanity, and carefully maneuvered his way onto the scaffold.

"If we die..." Peter began threateningly.

"Ooh, let me guess," Neal quipped, playfully tracing a hand over Peter's chest "You'll take it out on me?"

"Worse," Peter whispered conspiratorially, "I'll take it out on your tie." As if to prove his point, he wrapped a hand around the accessory in question and used it to tug Neal toward him for a kiss.

Neal, meanwhile, took the opportunity to reach his hand back for the lever and set the scaffold into abrupt motion, causing Peter to instinctively clutch at him for the ten seconds it took him to realize they were not actually plummeting to their doom. "Oops," Neal said casually, giving Peter a small shrug and a bright smile, "Must've bumped the lever."

"Uh-huh," Peter said skeptically, crossing his arms, though not before giving Neal a hard whack on the shoulder.

"Oh, look, it's our stop!" Neal said quickly, shooting Peter another winning smile before scampering over the balcony of the seemingly abandoned apartment below Harvey's. "You coming, Butch?" he asked, extending Peter a hand.

"Right behind you, Sundance," Peter said, unable to keep the smile from his face as he took Neal's hand and followed him through the apartment, then out into the hallway, down the elevator to the lobby, and finally out into the balmy night air.

Peter had just slipped one arm around Neal's waist and raised the other to hail a taxi when he caught sight of a long, black car came speeding at them from out of the darkness. He instinctively tightened his grip on Neal and was just reaching for his cell phone when the tinted window of the limousine rolled down to reveal a smiling face.

"Hello!" the driver exclaimed with a cheery wave, "A very pretty lady said you fine gentlemen might be in need of a lift."

Peter let out an infinitesimal sigh of relief as Neal called out, "You're a godsend, Ranjit!" and climbed into the backseat.

"I'm beginning to seriously consider the possibility that Donna is some sort of sorceress," Peter muttered, shaking his head in amazement as he let Neal tug him into the limo.

"Probably best not to ask her," Neal murmured as he began slipping Peter's jacket from his shoulders, "You know, just in case. Don't want her turning you into a frog or anything. Now, where were we?"

Peter let out a self-conscious laugh, suddenly very aware that they were not alone, and called out, "Umm..Ranjit?"

"You need not say a thing, my friend," Ranjit said, turning to give Peter a wink, "Ranjit knows all. I shall let you know when we have reached Mr. Caffrey's apartment." With that, he pressed a small button on the dash, and the partition between the front and back seats began to ascend. Just before it closed completely, Peter could have sworn he heard a pleased voice whispering, "Ranjit is never wrong, no, never wrong."

"Now, where were we?" Neal inquired, not waiting for Peter before answering, "Oh, yes, that's right - I was recklessly undoing all my painstaking handiwork from earlier." With that, he unwound the necktie from Peter's neck in one expertly choreographer move and tossed it onto the empty seat opposite them.

"And after all that fuss you made about my suit," Peter replied as smugly as he could manage under the circumstances. "Seems a bit hypocritical to me."

"So sweet of you to be worried about my integrity," Neal murmured, lingering over Peter's top button. "I can stop if you like."

"It just seems awfully prejudicial," Peter reasoned thoughtfully, "My suit being in pieces while yours remains pristine.". Before Neal could think of a reply, Peter shoved him lightly onto the seat and dexterously slipped off his tuxedo jacket in an effort to even the sartorial score.

It seemed that he had only lowered his lips to Neal's for a few seconds when Ranjit's voice called out, "Home sweet home!"

Peter's attempt to disentangle himself from Neal as quickly as possible, in case Ranjit should decide to lower the partition, resulted in a small collision between his head and the top of the limo, which in turn resulted in him uttering a loud, "Ow!"

Neal let out an instinctual laugh, which he immediately attempted to stifle upon seeing the look Peter was shooting him as he rubbed a hand over the aching area. As if in way of an apology, Neal leaned up and gave him a drawn-out kiss before gathering up the discarded items of clothing, tumbling out of the limo with habitual grace, and hauling Peter out after him.

"Thanks, Ranjit!" Neal shouted, slamming the door of the limo behind them. Ranjit rolled down his window and gave them a jaunty tip of his hat and a cheery wave before driving off into the darkness once more.

Though he understood intellectually that they should just spend the five minutes it would take them to make it to Neal's apartment, Peter nevertheless found himself grabbing Neal around the waist and pulling him in for another breath-taking kiss. It was some minutes later that he felt a familiar buzzing sensation in his pocket.

"Hold on, my pants are vibrating," Peter said, reluctantly pulling away from Neal as he reached into his pocket.

"Mmm, I've been told I can have that effect," Neal murmured, kissing the side of his neck in a way Peter found distinctly distracting.

Peter rolled his eyes as convincingly as he could under the circumstances and pulled out his phone with the intention of switching it off. When he caught a glimpse of the screen, however, he exclaimed, "Oh look, Harvey's texting us."

Neal promptly snatched the phone from Peter's hand and began typing a reply, a devilish smile appearing on his face which gave Peter a distinct sense of foreboding.

"Hey, give me that!" Peter exclaimed, trying in vain to snatch the phone from Neal's grasp.

"There!" Neal said triumphantly, shutting the phone off. "I've ensured we won't be disturbed further."

"Oh God, what did you say?" Peter demanded, contemplating it with growing horror. "Neal, give me that phone right now."

Neal merely held the phone above his head, shouted, "If you want it, you'll have to come get it," and sprinted laughingly toward June's townhouse.

"Really? Are we five now?" Peter asked exasperatedly. Of course, this didn't stop him from darting after Neal as fast as his legs could carry him.

Peter finally caught up with Neal in the little hallway leading to his apartment and, pinning him to the door, exclaimed triumphantly, "See? I warned you, Neal - if you run, I'll always catch you."

To Peter's surprise, Neal laid his hands lightly on his shoulders and looked up at him, eyes full of hope and uncertainty. "Promise?" he asked quietly.

Feeling suddenly surrounded by an intense warmth, Peter gave in to his instinctive desire to stroke Neal's cheek and whispered back, "Yeah, I promise," before closing the distance between them one final time.