abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

Malcolm handed some money up to the front seat before sliding out of Raylan's door, lingering on the curb next to him, watching him a moment like he wanted to say something before walking up to the door and unlocking it instead, letting them in off the street.

He didn't look pleased with himself at all as he opened the inner door, shrugging out of his coat and scarf to hang them on the hooks there. He turned and looked at Raylan as he heard the door shut.

"That was out of line. I'm sorry," he said in a soft, chastened tone, despite no chiding having happened. He was more than capable of chiding himself. He lashed out because he'd been operating under some sort of misapprehension and he couldn't put that on Raylan. "I've been on edge. There's no..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "There's no excuse. I don't have any business telling you what to do," he admitted. "And I understand why you didn't want to tell me. And then when you did, I didn't exactly create a safe space for you to tell me things in the future and... that's not what I want," he added, waving off the notion with both hands. "For you to feel like you can't tell me things."

If Malcolm had attempted to continue this on the street, Raylan would have directed them upstairs anyway, so it was better that Malcolm chose that route, cowboy in tow. The door shut and Raylan took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, following with his hat before pulling the jellos out of his pockets.

"But you believe the things you said," he stated with assumption as he walked past Malcolm towards the kitchen where the jellos were set on the counter. "I am sorry that I'm not out there flyin' some Gay fuckin' Pride flag and screaming about us from the rooftops, but that is my daughter. Who I decide to go to bed with or make a life with doesn't change what I feel my responsibilities are. Unless you're going to adopt her, I still have to worry about what she might see comin' to her when I finally catch the wrong bullet. She's not a fallback." The statement came with tap of his index finger on the counter before he was turning around and getting a glass from the cabinet to match the scotch he suddenly desperately needed.

He lifted his hands helplessly and let them fall.

"I meant what I said but... that isn't what I meant. I wasn't talking about Willa, either, except for that you said you wanted me to be part of that and I thought you meant..." He stopped himself and shook his head and looked at the floor. It didn't matter. "It's obvious you still have feelings for Winona. I don't read people on purpose but... I do it. And you don't even need actual skills to see that." His eyes wandered the floor from where he stood, still just a few steps from the door, to the kitchen island, to inside the kitchen where Raylan was pouring scotch. "And she lives in Miami. Which is good, because you'll be able to see your daughter, and I think you should, as much as possible. But... you'll also see her. And maybe she'll feel differently by then. And maybe that would be easier for you than the sideways glances and crude pejoratives and snide knowing glances you'll get by being with me in public."

The two fingers were downed in one go and he poured another two before capping the scotch and putting it away. Instead of answering, Raylan strode back over and reached for Malcolm, one hand sliding around his neck as the other one wrapped around his waist to tightly hold them together. It didn't matter that his lip started drumming again in soft pain. When it broke, Raylan pulled back only just enough to put Malcolm into focus in his vision.

"I don't need to put back anything for you. You're covered. I don't need to put back anything for me. I'm fine. Everything I'm putting back, it's for her. Winona can take care of herself and yes, I still love her. I always will. But the fifth time will not be the charm and I am tired of her leaving me. I am happy with you. In a way I wasn't with her over six plus years. More time in Miami isn't going to change that. It's not going to make me love you less or make me want this less. I'm.. I'm working on my part."

Malcolm breathed out for possibly the first time since they'd closed the door when Raylan's arm went around him.

As he processed all that, the first conclusion he drew was that Winona was crazy. She had multiple chances to have Raylan's utter devotion in her life and she threw it away?

Crazy.

He frowned faintly, one hand gripping Raylan's arm and the other holding a fistful of his shirt just below his shoulderblade.

"But...she'll be taken care of. The best schools, any college she wants. I don't have kids, except for whatever role you let me play in her life. She can have it all when I'm gone. Who am I going to give it to?"

"Darlin', I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money and if that's what you want to do for her, I'm not going to stop that either. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted you in her life, that I needed help, and monetarily is not what I meant, but that does not mean that I am against the idea."

Raylan searched Malcolm's face with a heavy sigh and a pinch of frustration at himself in his features. What if all this fell apart? Where would Willa be if Raylan's trusted source wasn't there anymore?

"I just.. I gotta have a back up plan." He'd blame his job if he thought about it. "Something I know can't be taken away from me."

Malcolm bit his lip as he watched Raylan's feelings play across his face.

"What if I put a... not insignificant amount in trust for her straight away? Then, no matter what happens, it will still be hers; nobody can take it from her."

If one or both of them died, if it didn't work out between them...

"She'll be okay and you won't have to overextend yourself. You know, scientifically, you are a lot more likely to be killed in a situation you would normally be capable of handling if you're exhausted and worn down. Did you know that all studies on human productivity show the same results for the last one hundred years?"

He frowned at himself. "I need to take my pills," he admitted. "But the point stands - and I'm sure Willa would agree with me - that you not getting killed would be the ideal outcome."

"If it makes you feel better, then yes." If it fixed.. this, then yes. He could shut up and let Malcolm do something inarguably unnecessary and wholly too good for Willa's future. "But only if you think about it in the morning when you're more.. level."

Raylan reluctantly pulled back, one hand sliding down Malcolm's arm to tangle their fingers together so he could pull him towards the kitchen, letting him go so he could tend to his pills.

"I'm not exhausted and worn down, but I take your point." Well, if he had been anything other then that, he might not have lost the fight that started this argument and so prettily colored his face. "This isn't gonna kill me, Malcolm. I can handle some drunks."

"I'm not worried about the drunks," Malcolm said, systematically opening each pill bottle. "I'm worried about the mafia gunman the morning after the drunks."

He popped all four pills into his mouth, then went to the sink and filled a glass with water, downing it all.

"And for clarity's sake, you and Winona won't be able to access the funds even if you want to; it's Willa's and Willa's alone. And I'll think about it in the light of day if you want, but if you'll stop moonlighting yourself potentially to death, my mind won't change.”

And it was the minimum she'd get. There was also the rest of Malcolm's money and whatever ungodly sum he'd eventually inherit from his mother.

Recollecting his glass, Raylan took a shallow draft of it as he watched Malcolm take his pills. As much as he might want to argue, the mafia gunmen in the morning was a valid concern, no matter what way Raylan might feel about it.

"Come back down to Lexington once this thing is done with your father. Help me find an apartment. As long as I'm above the bar, I'm gonna end up keeping the peace, money or not. It'll give me enough time to tie up some loose ends and explain to the guy renting me the place. We had an understandin'."

Malcolm put the lids back on his pill bottles and straightened the row and then stepped over to Raylan, sliding his arms around Raylan's ribs; grounding himself in his presence.

"There's a difference between putting your life on the line to protect people and being reckless with it. People accuse me of being reckless all the time, but I'm not. I know I could lose you to a bad day on any day; I accept that because I understand why you do what you do. But I can't accept added danger if I can do something about it. You wouldn't just let me do something needlessly dangerous. We're doing this together. That means everything," he said earnestly.

Edited 2020-06-08 01:30 (UTC)

He was greeted with Raylan's arm around his shoulders, fingers coming up to settle in the ends of Malcolm's neck hair as he studied the endlessly blue eyes that met his.

"We are in this together. Doing this together. And I know what statistics tell you but by those numbers, I should already be down. I wouldn't put myself in unnecessary danger; it's a collage bar. I lost because I'd been drinkin' a little too much Jim Beam. That's not to say that I'm tryin' to put off anything, I'm not." He just wanted to explain, somehow.

"The older I get, the less I sleep. I don't know if its stress or what, but I can get by on four hours, if I have to, with a nap in between. I am not unaware of the ramifications of exhaustion."

Malcolm nodded, setting his head on Raylan's shoulder.

"I'd love to come to Lexington after..."

After his father lived or his father died. Well. It had been nice not thinking about that for half an hour. Maybe that was why he'd clung to something else so doggedly once he found it.

He swallowed and lifted his head. "I'm overdue anyway. I should have come weeks ago, things have just..."

He frowned faintly, glancing around. He'd thought Raylan would come to bed with him, was about to start heading them in that direction, but it suddenly occurred to him Raylan hadn't brought a bag.

"You're not staying," he realized. "No," he said quickly, "of course. I know you can't drop everything every time I have a nervous breakdown," he said with a weak laugh. "Nobody in the world has that much vacation time. When are you leaving?"

Because if it was soon enough that he'd slip away while Malcolm was asleep, maybe he wouldn't sleep.

Raylan let Malcolm run him and his half finished sentences out in his own time, nodding in a quiet understanding of how crazy things could get. He knew, he understood, and since there was no hard get out date, it was okay.

Malcolm's realization and nonasked statement made his brow pinch, a faint frown curling on his features. He had dropped everything to come up. "Not til tonight." And considering it was coming on 7 am, that was a good number of hours away.

"Not til I know you're settled and.. more okay than you were, at least." Raylan took a deep breath and ran his hand up and down Malcolm's shoulder. "You need to sleep, c'mon," he said, jerking his head a little towards the bed.

He did need to sleep and he let Raylan guide him towards the bed, even as he gestured around. "You didn't... you didn't bring a bag," he pointed out. "I thought... maybe you were going to go. While I was sleeping."

And he didn't want him to go without saying good-bye.

"Are you going to sleep too?"

He'd come in the middle of the night; he couldn't have slept.

"In the rush onto a plane, I forgot it in my car," he admitted with a soft curl of his smile. "Considering how little you sleep, that's a real short escape window." He shook his head a little. "I'm not gonna leave without saying goodbye."

The bed was glanced at before he nodded. "Yeah, I could use a little shut-eye. I'm startin' to run on fumes." Raylan patted Malcolm's ass to get him going and free up his hands so he could tug his open tie undone and start unbuttoning his shirt. He might not have sleeping clothes but that didn't mean he had to go to bed with layers more between them.

At the welcome physical encouragement coupled with the reassurance, Malcolm stepped up onto the platform that served as his bedroom, for a given value of 'a room' and pulled some sweatpants and a t-shirt out of the dresser, changing into his standard 'what if I break out of those restraints and run into the street?' nightclothes before heading into the bathroom to clean up.

"You should keep some things here," he said as he returned to the main room. "A toothbrush. Some clothes. Then you don't have to carry a bag back and forth. I'm going to keep things in Lexington when we find a place."

"I hope so," Raylan said as he pulled off his plaid overshirt, leaving him in his jeans, boots and undershirt. His gun stayed on his hip because, well, Raylan wasn't thinking the best and frankly, with a killer having just gone after the Whitly family, he felt better with it at his side.

"Next time I come up, I'll leave my bag here, toothbrush, clothes and all. Maybe my spare hat. It's not gonna get shot up or stolen in here." Ambling over to the bed, he sat down and pulled off his boots and socks with a dad!groan and a sigh of relief when his feet were bare. "My breath is gonna peel the paint off your walls in the morning," he threatened playfully, only not flopping back onto the bed because he knew he'd have to move again in a few seconds. Once he laid down, that was gonna be it for him.

"I can survive that," Malcolm told him. "Worth it. Though I have mouthwash in there if you want a rinse now or then or both."

He crawled onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Raylan from behind, resting his cheek between Raylan's shoulderblades.

"Are you going to sleep in jeans, though? You won't be uncomfortable?"

He could take them off. Malcolm was willing to help.

Raylan's head followed Malcolm around as far as he could, humming softly as he felt the arms slip around him and sliding his hand up Malcolm's forearm. This, this warmth, this solid weight against him was worth whatever argument they had to have.

He'd mouthwash in the morning.

"Which onna those you want me to answer first," he asked with a curl of a smile. "I've slept in my jeans often enough that they're not uncomfortable and we're not going to be down long enough to really make it worth it." That was okay too. He wanted to lay down but he also didn't want to break the contact so he opted to just wait a minute and enjoy it. Even if his breathing started softening quicker than he anticipated.

He lifted his head to kiss the side of Raylan's neck, then shifted over to his spot on the bed.

"Okay, then let's chain me up before the benzos kick in," he said cheerfully, pushing the covers back to get under them.

He hummed again at the kiss and pushed to his feet to walk to the foot of the bed, fitting one cuff after the other around Malcolm's ankles and trying not to think about the idea that they'd long left in the back of his head too much. Once Malcolm was all strapped in, Raylan got onto his side of the bed, unhooking his gun from his belt to set it on the nightstand, button popped just in case he had to draw before settling down around Malcolm with a heavy sigh.

Long day had been long.

Malcolm fell asleep easily as his anti-anxiety medication kicked in and Raylan's warmth comforted him. He slept heavily.

Just before 9:30, the door of the apartment opened and six inch stilettos clicked across the hardwood floor. Jessica Whitly glanced towards the bed to ensure it was occupied, but paid it little mind as she moved to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The attempts to not fall into a deep sleep had been lost and Raylan was dead to the world, the only explanation for him not hearing the door close, but the sharp clicks were more than foreign enough to jolt the Marshal out of his sleep with sharp inhale. He moved out of instinct and on reaction, easily snagging his service weapon from it's holster from his position on his back as he popped up, barrel trained on..

He blinked blurrily, gun lowering slowly. "Jessica?"

"Raylan," she gasped, a little startled, if the fluttering hand at her chest and her wide eyes were any indication. "You won't be needing that, I assure you," she told him in the overly gracious tone she used to cover for when she wasn't feeling as confident as she wanted to sound. She busied her hands with a teapot and a diffuser and some cups. "I apologize; I didn't know you were here. But the nurses at the hospital this morning told me my son was there late and I thought I should check on him."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject