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abrightboy

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From:

abrightboy

"You know I never will."

He turns on the heating pad.

"Where does it hurt the most?"

From:

conning

“I don’t know. Everywhere.”

And it goes on and on and on.

He falls asleep from exhaustion before the pain fully fades, barely conscious of the fact that—naked and human—he practically climbs onto Malcolm’s lap on the bed before falling asleep again.

He doesn’t stir until morning, except to make tiny protests whenever Malcolm tries to get up.

From:

abrightboy

"Neal," he whispers, trying to shift him. "I really have to pee now. I'll leave the door open. Okay?"

From:

conning

He didn’t know a person had so much room in them for exhaustion, but he feels it. Neal grumbles, the noise a mix of protest and fear, but he slowly lets go enough that Malcolm can get up and go to the bathroom.

He almost follows the other man to the bathroom, but the prospect of standing right now makes him want to cry from fatigue.

From:

abrightboy

"Just rest!" Malcolm calls from the bathroom. "Try to get under the covers, if you can." He's going to be chilly now. "I'm going to come in there and make sure you're bundled up safe, then I'm going to go make you tea and toast. You need your strength!"

From:

conning

He is chilly. The mention of the covers brings his attention to it. Neal squirms under the blanket and shivers in relief at the weight and pressure of the blanket, trying to shake the sense wrongness that ripples through him every time he moves. It’s not the wrongness of transformation, there’s no pain in it this time, but he just feels off. Like his physical existence has missed a step and is trying to catch itself before it falls.

Malcolm is going to make him tea and toast, though. His fiancé is going to make him tea and toast after coming to make sure he’s safe. The reality of that makes his eyes blur with tears again, but they aren’t unhappy ones this time. As soon as Malcolm makes it back to him, he reaches out from under the blankets to try and grab his hand. His reach falls a little short, but it’s clear enough what Neal wants.

“I love you so much.”

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm closes the distance by reaching out with his own hand and grasping Neal's laying it on his chest, but still held tight in his own.

"I love you, too. You didn't think some pointy ears could change that, did you?"

From:

conning

He blinks a few times to get the welling tears under control. Then he admits what he never admits, ever, to anyone.

“I was so scared. I didn’t want… I didn’t want to be stuck like that. I would have considered a deal, to not be stuck like that.” He drags Malcolm’s hand up so he can press the other man’s fingers to his face, smell his familiar odor that somehow hasn’t lessened even though the weasely nose is gone. “I was so scared.”

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm stares at him for a moment.

"What do you mean, a 'deal'?" he asks.

From:

conning

“With something out there.” He’s ashamed to say it, and the shame is clear enough. He’s too tired to hide it.

From:

abrightboy

"No," Malcolm tells him. He doesn't let go of his hand, he doesn't pull away, but he's firm. "Never. Never do that. If you turn into one of those... they kill for fun, Neal. They kill innocent people. Do you understand that a killer like that... that's the only thing you can turn into that would mean I can't be with you? So if you ever get tempted by it again, remember you have to choose it or me."

From:

conning

He squeezes his eyes shut and starts to cry again, hating the fact that he can’t seem to stop. “Please don’t say that right now. Please don’t leave me.”

From:

abrightboy

"I'm not leaving you. Don't leave me."

That's what it would be.

He tucks the blankets carefully around Neal.

"I'm going to go make your tea and toast and then I'll be right back. I can read to you, if you want."

From:

conning

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

When Malcolm tucks him in he’s too tired to push the blankets off, even if he spends the whole time Malcolm is down in their kitchen listening to every step, clatter of dishware, scrape of the toaster. He’s on high alert for any silences that shouldn’t be there, but then he hears Malcolm climbing the stairs again and starts to relax a little. More when the other man walks into the room.

He doesn’t know why he’s so afraid to have Malcolm out of his line of sight right now. But he is, and he’s too fatigued to pretend. Everything in his body feels wrong. Like it could start moving again at any moment. Malcolm is right. The only simple good thing Neal has.

“Lie with me,” he says, a fragile request in spite of the phrasing.

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm sets the toast and tea within Neal's reach on the bedside table, then steps around the bed to crawl onto it next to him.

"Eat something," he urges.

From:

conning

God, he is hungry. Neal eases himself upright, still achy and fatigued but now also aware of a lightheadedness that likely comes from the fact that he’s pretty much eaten a couple of cheese crackers in the last twenty-four hours and that’s it.

He demolishes the toast and sips his way through half the tea before his stomach gives a warning cramp, and he stops. Clearly not one hundred percent yet. Maybe that’s why everything looks and feels subtly wrong around him as much as inside him. Still naked, he shifts to look down at Malcolm on the bed, smiling a little at the sight of the other man. Neither of them looks their best, he’s sure, but what he sees is beautiful.

From:

abrightboy

It’s not that Neal’s never looked at him like that, but his gaze has lingered longer than usual.

“What is it?” Malcolm asks softly. “Do you need anything?”

From:

conning

“This.” He lies down, snuggles close. Neal gets the strange sensation that their bodies aren’t fitting quite right, but unlike the rest of what he’s been feeling, it’s not unpleasant. “Just this.”

He nuzzles Malcolm’s neck, not really paying attention to the fact that it’s a motion he picked up while he was fuzzy.

From:

abrightboy

It tickles. It makes him laugh in soft delight; a sound that hasn’t been heard since they left for the mission.

From:

conning

Neal sighs, content and comfortable even if there’s still that pervasive offness under his skin. “I love your laugh.”

A little nip of a kiss. “I guess we have to get up at some point.”