abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

He stole a kiss while he worked but once Malcolm was cleaned, Raylan pitched the rag towards the bathroom, wincing a little at the wet sound that it made when it hit the doors. "I hope you're paying extra for housekeeping," he chuckled, before turning back, one leg draping over Malcolm's as he turned his attention back to the man in his arms with a deep and satisfied breath. relishing the hand lazily combing through his hair.

"Maybe it's good we're forced to take things slow, we might never leave the house otherwise."

Edited 2020-06-28 01:18 (UTC)

Malcolm smiled broadly, still idly stroking Raylan's hair while his other hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm glad to know all our sacrifices are at least for the public good," he joked. He sighed contentedly. "When we have out own place, we can still end days of serving the public good like this," he noted.

He liked behind like this, draped intimately over and around Malcolm, talking in the softer tones that almost all lovers took in the afterglow and he settled his free hand on the low of Malcolm's chest.

"Mm, yes we will." Not can; Will. Raylan was resolute. He smiled crookedly. "I haven't hired a realtor but if you don't like the places I've already found, my feeling's won't be hurt if we have to get one. I'd like you down here sooner rather than later, as nice as these hotel rooms are."

Malcolm smiled.

"It is my mission to find something tomorrow. Possibly before you even get back from work, so don't forget to leave me your list," he said firmly.

Raylan couldn't help the bubble of soft laughter that came with the sudden firmness and goal orientation of Malcolm's response. "We'll run to the bar in the morning so you can at least see where I've been layin' my head while I get 'em. Then you can do whatever you'd like," he said, smiling as he leaned down to steal another kiss.

"I don't know about you darlin' but I'm beat. You ready to go to bed or should I figure something out?"

"Oh, I'm ready," he said, untangling from Raylan - stealing another kiss halfway through the process - to get up and go over to his bag, pulling out sweatpants and restraints, stepping into the former before working on untangling the latter as he padded back over to the bed.

Even if he wasn't tired, he was going to take the opportunity to curl up in Raylan's arms while he fell asleep. Out of all the things he missed when Raylan wasn't around - and he missed everything profoundly - he missed that the most. He couldn't remember ever feeling so safe and warm. He must have, a long time ago, before the arrest but he barely remembered. It was normal then, not something to note. Twenty years of waking up screaming and thrashing and always all alone... when that changed it was definitely something to note. It was something he hadn't even thought possible. The first time he and Raylan slept together, he'd told the Marshal it was impossible for him to sleep in Malcolm's bed. He had never been happier to be proven wrong through sheer stubbornness and will.

He hooked up a restraint on his side of the bed frame. The nice thing about nicer hotels was the furniture tended to be a little higher quality and he could get away with attaching his restraints to the frame of the bed itself. It was a little more comfortable that way. Then he moved around to Raylan's side and secured the other.

The eagerness, and the stolen kiss, only made Raylan smile more broadly as he pulled himself up off the bed so he didn't get into the way. Taking the opportunity to go and rinse his mouth of whatever food and whiskey debris he could, when he came back, he pulled on his boxers and didn't bother with anything else. Leaning against the wall, he watched Malcolm til he was almost done and when he was, crossed the short distance to wrap his arms around the smaller man and lean into his back as he pressed a kiss into Malcolm's hair.

"It used to bother me a little, to watch you set all this up. Like a reminder of what you suffer every night, but that's gotten a bit less oppressive. I still like to think that one day, way way off in the future, you might not need 'em to get through a night."

Malcolm smiled faintly, trailing his fingers along Raylan's arm around him until his hand came to rest there, just before his wrist.

"If you ever worry that you don't help that whole... situation.... you help a lot," he said softly. "Even if that doesn't get me out of restraints, it's still everything."

"Sometimes," he said softly, pressing another kiss into his hair "But reassurances like those do help keep me confident." Raylan kissed Malcolm's neck.

"Climb in, I'll kill the lights." All he wanted to do was lay down, wrap Malcolm up as best he could with the restraints and relax. He knew it wouldn't take him long at all to go to sleep but the laying down and the relaxing next to Malcolm was the best part of it.

Malcolm gladly climbed into the bed while Raylan got the lights, strapping himself in.

"Did they have a lot of windows, the places you found?" he asked as they settled in.

"I'd ask you to define a lot," Raylan started, as he crawled into bed, pulling the sheets halfway up them both as he got settled and scooted closer to wrap an arm around Malcolm's waist. "But I don't think I'd make it through the answer."

Raylan leaned over and stole one last, lingering kiss before laying his head down with a yawn. "There's a few windows, but none so big you're gonna throw yourself out of them, if that's what you're worried about."

Malcolm laughed lightly.

"That's not what I'm worried about. I like windows. Well. I like natural light. Artificial light is kind of depressing."

He looked at Raylan, his eyes following the line of his cheekbone in silhouette in the half light, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you," he said with a soft smile.

"Might be okay then," he murmured softly. "Front rooms got windows." He watched Malcolm watch him back and smiled softly at the kiss to his forehead. "Love you too," Raylan said with a deep, happy sigh as his arm tightened a little around Malcolm.

It wasn't but 30 seconds later that Raylan's breathing was already changing and shifting into a lighter, more even draw.

He hadn't been kidding about being tired.

It took Malcolm a couple of hours to drift off, not because it wasn't late, but because he was so wired. Between the job he accidentally walked into the middle of and possibly outing them to Raylan's office (or at least to Tim) and the apartment search and the absolutely divine feeling of Raylan's soft, even breathing beside him, his mind was all over the place.

Raylan probably got in just over five hours before the screaming started.

Even as Raylan came up sharply in response to the sudden screaming, he could tell it'd been longer than normal - he knew, at this point, what 3 hours of sleep felt like, very specifically.

"Malcolm!," he started, voice firmer and louder than usual in his start of adrenaline, one hand coming up to pat his face with not much softness. "MALCOLM!" The first call never worked, but it didn't panic Raylan anymore. Crazy as it was, he was getting used to this, to what he had to do for Malcolm and for his own sanity.

Those screams were haunting, however brief they were.

Malcolm struggled for a few moments, but he jolted awake suddenly, mid-struggle, until Raylan's face swam into focus in his vision.

Breathing heavily, he reached for him, restraints jangling as he moved, hoping the day wouldn't come when Raylan was tired of holding him after being rudely awoken at odd hours. Part of him was still deeply afraid that this would get wearing on the Marshal over time and he'd choose not to deal with it anymore. At the same time, he knew Raylan loved him. Him, the way he actually was. He could see the truth of it in the other man's face when he said it. What if he didn't get fed up with it? What if he stayed and if Malcolm had to be assaulted in his sleep, he could wake up like this?

He clung to his neck with the arm that could reach, the other splayed at his ribs, burying his face in Raylan's shoulder, letting the tangibility of him and the scent of him bring Malcolm down from the adrenaline and cortisol rush of panic.

There was no resistance to Raylan being pulled down into Malcolm's tethered embrace and he whispered soothing soft things as one hand found Malcolm's far wrist to release the strap. Honestly, Raylan had thought a lot about this - the screaming, the short nights, the nightly shot of adrenaline to his system and whatever it might do to the health of his heart. He didn't know how he was going to take it long term, but in the short term, it was something he could more than handle.

He would rather focus on that and the way Malcolm felt clinging to him like he was a raft in some unseen storm. He was, he supposed but it only made him feel more needed. Not something he could argue much with.

"You okay?" He'd stopped asking if it was bad, it always was, but he wouldn't stop asking Malcolm if he was okay or giving him space to talk about what his brain had tormented him with that night.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

"I... thought you were gone. I woke up here and I was alone and she came up from under the blankets and tried to strangle me." He lifted his head slightly to look at Raylan's face guiltily. "She said I let you die like I let her die."

Raylan shook his head, hand coming up to cup and stroke his thumb across Malcolm's jaw. "You aren't lettin' me do anything other than wake up with you. I'm still here and kickin'," he said softly, coming down to press a soft kiss to Malcolm's lips before propping their heads together.

"You're no quick draw so I think I'm safe from you, as far as that goes," he reassured.

He laughed weakly at that, but it came out as half a sob of relief, too, and he buried his face in the crook of Raylan's neck.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. He felt like a particular wreck this time and he felt like that made him somehow more of a burden or more annoying. Maybe because of how his worse episodes had always been received by people around him. "I'm... I'm okay." He sat up, swiping tears hastily from his face with one hand like that got rid of the whole emotional outburst. "I'm okay," he lied again, trying to take a steadying breath.

Malcolm's sobs never failed to undo part of Raylan and he frowned softly at the apology, an expression that got deeper as Malcolm sat up and wiped away his tears. Even if he wasn't a Marshal, Raylan would have caught that lie but instead of confronting Malcolm about it, he shifted up himself and ran a hand up and down Malcolm's back.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for Malcolm," he promised, leaning down to press his lips on Malcolm's shoulder, just letting the weight of his head settle onto it. "It's okay, no matter how you are." His asking hadn't meant a referendum of what Should Be and if he had to reiterate that, he would.

He attempted a small smile.

"I just..." He pushed his hair back from his face. "I just feel like a lot of trouble... when I'm like this," he admitted.

'Like this': the code everyone used to mean symptoms of his mental health issues.

"Lay back down with me," Raylan urged softly, sure that Malcolm would better see sense wrapped up in his arms. "Let me decide what trouble is once the sun is up." His decision still wouldn't change, but if the suggestion of it would help Malcolm not buck against what Raylan could only assume he took as lipservice, then he'd do that too.

"Unless being like this means you need to go jog a lap or three or something." Did he need time to himself? Raylan didn't know. He wasn't going to be pushy, but he wasn't going to trap Malcolm by not providing alternate options.

He shook his head at the offer of jogging, already moving to curl up tight against Raylan.

"I know what started this," he admitted in a soft voice. "And it's stupid. It's just..." He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to order his breath. "I was having dinner at my mother's house after my father woke up and Ainsley couldn't make it so there wasn't any kind of a buffer. She asked how you were doing and it led into one of her stream of consciousness rambles and it was just... a throw away comment. She said she hoped you were prepared. That you were... the right kind of person. And I thought she was being classist, but it was so much worse. She said I needed to be with someone nurturing, because I'm going to be a burden on them for the rest of my life. The implication being that they had to like that sort of thing and...intellectually, I don't really buy it; I don't. I know I'm capable of looking after myself. But I just..." He swallowed and let his fingertips wander along Raylan's chest. "I don't want you to end up feeling like... you're stuck with some sort of emotional invalid." He ventured a look at Raylan's face. "I know I should just let it go in one ear and out the other, but sometimes things get stuck." He pressed his lips together and took another careful breath. "And I don't want you to go."

With a quick shift of their pillows, Raylan was comfortable and wrapping Malcolm against him, happy enough to have his arm serve as support for the bit of pillow in between. He listened as he rested his lips onto Malcolm's head, grateful for the slight privacy it brought him.

When Malcolm's head tilted up, Raylan pulled back enough to be drawn into focus and study Malcolm's face in return.

It tumbled out of him before he could stop it. Maybe it was the soft bit of morning they often found themselves in, maybe it was how often his brain had circled around it, maybe it was Raylan's need to claim someone and kiss them in public and be the way he wanted to be in whatever given moment, as much as things would allow, but once the words were out, he didn't regret them and it was a promise he'd break himself to keep.

"Malcolm, when we're settled, when things are right, I'm gonna ask you to marry me. Not because you scream at night or because you're tormented, but because you're a good person who makes me feel.. loved. You make me happy. These... It's fifteen minutes out of my night, and being a rock for you is something that makes me feel good and maybe that means she's right and I'm.. messed up somehow. But I'm messed up by a lotta other old measures that don't count for shit. Nightmares and five minutes of screamin' doesn't make you an emotional invalid. It never will, not in my book."

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