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[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

"Sometimes. But I can also make one hot chocolate and one tea. Neal's taught me some kitchen skills," he jokes.

Baseball bat. Pfft. But Tim has never seen Malcolm break out his hidden self defense skills.

"I'm glad you're here. Do you know Gil is back? He's staying with us for a bit."

[ployboy]

Or Malcolm could make two teas, but Tim is still working on catching up to his own thoughts.

He nods. Yeah, he's met Lieutenant Arroyo. Having him back will be good for Malcolm. Maybe.

(To quote Oscar Wilde, to lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.)

"I'm not waking anybody up, am I?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks over at him. "There's nobody in this house that would be inconvenienced by that," he says. "We're always happy to see you."

[ployboy]

That doesn't answer his question and Tim makes a small annoyed sound because of it. He's also fighting to keep his composure, whatever that may be, because of the never-ending feeling that he's intruding no matter what someone tells him. This house, the inside of it, is new territory for Tim.

He makes himself busy scouting it out, committing halls and rooms to memory.

"I... thanks. Uhm, yeah, I saw the Lieutenant a few days ago. I didn't follow up. I think I got distracted."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn't actually know the answer to Tim's question. He wasn't sleeping and nobody else has appeared. That doesn't mean they didn't hear the noise. At any rate, his answer was the most information he could give on the subject: if Tim woke them up, they wouldn't care. They'd be glad he came.

"Well, you can see him in the morning if you stay for breakfast." He looks over as he puts the kettle on. "I understand you've seen Jeff."

[ployboy]

He's not sure if leaving Urianger alone is the right call but Tim nods in acknowledgment. He doesn't go to sit, instead choosing to linger near Malcolm with the pretense of inspecting the kitchen.

It saves him from that deer-in-headlights look.

Everyone in Gloucester is a goddamn hopeless gossip.

(Himself included but.)

"Yeah? I mean, yeah."

He has so much to say. He hops on a countertop to sit. He jerks his head to Malcolm's... Malcolm. And Tim's guard drops and his eyes are bright beyond the haze of himself. And he says, "Hey, show me the ring."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at Tim at the request and beams at him, holding out his hand as he steps closer so Tim can inspect. “It’s the same as Neal’s. Did he tell you what they’re made out of?”

[ployboy]

"His and his matching rings," he coos in a light sing-song. It's endearment and not anything else bleeding through, and Tim can't help but reach out and initiate touch. He can count on one hand the amount of times he's done so with Malcolm. He takes Malcolm's hand, leaning forward ever so slightly.

He has no idea what he's looking for, he thinks idly, as he takes Malcolm's ring finger and feels a warm smile tug at his own cheeks. Yep, he thinks, that sure is shiny.

This is why he'd never marry, he thinks.

The thought itself is funny to Tim and besides, he's riding the pleasant wave of congratulations to a... brother. He laughs a little. "I don't know? Maybe. Tell me anyway."

[abrightboy]

The prompting makes Malcolm smile.

“The first time I saw him, this rich lady was rude to the barrista at the coffee shop and he stole her earrings. I saw him do it, though she had no idea. I used it as an excuse to talk to him.” He taps his ring. “These are the stones from those earrings!”

[ployboy]

"Oh my god?"

What is wrong with you people.

The story is as ridiculous as Tim had expected, and the laugh bubbles out again, puckish. Tim releases Malcolm's hand with a light swat. Like it hadn't been his idea to grab hold like some skinny chimpanzee.

He swings his legs.

Apologies to the shelving his heels hit.

"You're both crazy."

A match made in heaven.

(Maybe.)

The kid sobers up just enough. "Hey, Malcolm? Congrats. I'm glad you found someone like Neal."

[abrightboy]

‘You’re both crazy’ makes him smile, and his face creases with warmth at the next part.

“I never thought I would,” Malcolm admits. “I never thought for a minute I ever, ever would. And marriage? …It surprised me when he asked. I mean. I know he likes me, but. There’s a difference between liking someone you meet in a… a pocket dimension and wanting to marry them.”

[ployboy]

Yeah, there is. There's empty wistfulness in Tim's very person; he'd been in love before, he thinks. He's pretty damn sure. And she had loved him back, he thinks. He's pretty damn sure. And then Time marched on and tainted the love and ruined them. And here's a pocket dimension where good men are doing good things for each other.

Tim thinks, in this pocket dimension, he might like- really like-- but love is off the table--- what Tim does to others isn't out of love. That's always a recipe for the inevitable tragedies. But he's captivated by the warm feeling of Malcolm. Here. Now.

Tim asks, "Would you have asked him? Or is it like, if Neal hadn't been the one to propose you'd've..."

Just let it go.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him for a long time.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “Maybe a time would have come where it felt possible and I would have? Maybe I could have come around to the idea on my own that someone like me could really end up with someone like him.”

[ployboy]

He's this close to adding that Malcolm doesn't have to answer, but past the silence is an answer Tim can relate to all too easily.

I don't know.

Maybe.

Tim kicks at Malcolm. From his perch, it means his foot taps Malcolm's hip.

"You have such a bad habit," he says, "of holding yourself back from what you want. And, uh, not to criticize your skills in the kitchen, Chef, but the kettle's been rumbling for a while now."

[abrightboy]

Oh.

He takes the kettle off the heat and takes down two mugs while shrugging a shoulder.

“What I want has never wanted me before. I guess I don’t know how to just…” He scoops chocolate powder into one cup and drops a herbal teabag in the other. “Give myself to the experience.” He pours water into the cups, then turns to hand Tim’s to him. “I get all up in my head.”

[ployboy]

He debates the masochism of gulping down hot hot chocolate, because Tim Drake is a bottomless pit of a person and food and drink will never not win him over.

In the end, he says his thanks to Malcolm and envisions Alfred looking on disapprovingly if he was to burn his mouth over a drink he just saw get off the stove.

"I think I get it," Tim mutters. It's not some mystery that he loses himself... constantly, now. He blows on the chocolate.

What would Meredith say about all of this?

"Marriage, huh... it's something you're supposed to give yourself to, like, entirely, right?"

Hell if he knows. Hell if any Drake knows. Jeff talked about a family, one that had sounded so nice, but.

"Neal thinks too much, too. And you're giving him what he always wanted for himself. I think you'll both have a lot of work with, like... what's it called? Grounding?"

And

Or

That whole,

I love you more

No, I love you more

No, I love you more

thing.

It's so freaking gross.

"I don't know."

[abrightboy]

They don’t argue about that. They’re open about that.

“Grounding.” He looks over. “You think we’re… dreaming?”

[ployboy]

Waiting period over, Tim takes a reckless drink out of his cup. He does indeed burn his mouth. He's fanning his half scorched tongue when Malcolm turns back to him. Elsewhere, Alfred Pennyworth despairs and knows not why.

"Nuh?"

Which is to say, "Nah. Not in a bad way? When you really care about someone, you really worry about them. And you're both worrywarts to begin with."

[abrightboy]

“This is a dangerous place,” Malcolm points out.

[ployboy]

Tim would like to kick at Malcolm again. But he'd like to keep his cup of hot chocolate in one piece even more.

"I don't want you guys to just feel worry towards one another."

He never really figured out why his parents would scream at each other so much. He had made it a point to tune out the noise. But even years later, Tim suspects the impending split hadn't been only because of business. Right? And it's killer. To just suspect things about people.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him, then smiles warmly.

“That’s not all we feel towards each other. It’s not even the most prominent thing.”

Malcolm is even less clingy lately, since their friends started coming back.

[ployboy]

Reason 273 why he and Steph never worked out. Reason 163 why he and Zo never worked out. Reason 313 why he and Tam definitely didn't work out.

"Okay."

Well, now he doesn't know what to say.

"Cool."

[abrightboy]

“You’re going to be in the wedding, right?” Malcolm asks. “We’d like you to stand with us.”

He hasn’t talked to Neal about it, but he’s sure he agrees.

[ployboy]

Oh.

His heart somersaults.

Large blue eyes search Malcolm, tiny voice begging him not to become Malcolm wouldn't make a joke out of this. He wouldn't be so cheap. And that's the story of the start of red on Tim's cheeks, and the pulling sour at the roof of his mouth that makes it a little hard to breathe.

Yeah, he wants to say.

He finds himself with the back of his hands wiping obvious at his eyes, fat tears that pool and fall contrasting the heat in Tim's face with cool tracks.

God, he hates insomnia. It makes everything... more.

God, he's such a sucker because he loves

"Yeah, but fair warning," he sniffles and oh my god he's sniffling and his voice is small and wet and

"I tried to get away with wearing a Reptar tee to my dad's wedding. I don't dress as good as Neal."

[abrightboy]

“Nobody does, so it kind of takes the pressure off,” Malcolm says. “He’ll let us know what to wear.”