abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

"Because they might have been in the middle of something and I can't go losing those opportunities," he said, sitting up gently, dislodging Malcolm so he could half turn, one hand propped on the back of the couch as the other laid over his own knee.

"I got the rest of her life, and plenty of open tickets right now on mine. Shit in the country develops pretty rapidly and until I have that hog tied, I cannot take my eye off it. This.. these little blips you and I get aren't even scheduled. Hell, I don't do haircuts, doctors appointments. I don't wanna live my life by a book of dates. That's not how things work out in the field. That's how I end up breakin' promises."

"This isn't a haircut. This isn't even us. But you never answered my question. Who convinced you of that? You or her?" Malcolm asked, carefully watching his face. He had to sit up more when Raylan shifted him off, but he didn't move away.

"There was no convincing, that's just the way it's gotta be right now. She.. isn't happy about it, but she gets it too. I got too much on my plate at work for a schedule right now and once I clear it, that'll change. How is that not what I'm supposed to be runnin' towards?"

He saw it only as a compromise, and one that he largely agreed with because of aforementioned open tickets on his life.

"I don't want them gettin' drawn into my shit. Hell, I'd rather they not even know that I'm a daddy, ever."

Malcolm had to go back to the red flag.

"...She's not happy about it? She's getting everything catered to her whims; what's she not happy about?" he asked.

"Are you purposefully ignorin' the rest of what I said or am I not bein' clear?" he asked, index and thumb coming to meet each other as he gestured softly, emphasizing the high points of his words. "Life ain't as simple as us just goin' back and forth with what we want and how it doesn't fit into the current situation of life. Like it or not other people have a direct effect right now on all I might wanna do."

"Oh my god," Malcolm said softly as he watched that play on Raylan's face. "It's not even that you don't want to answer the questions. You just can't. You can't face the implications of it," he said matter-of-factly. There was no judgement implied in his tone. It was just what he saw there. His face pinched slightly. "I'm so sorry. It's...." He got up restlessly and held up his hands in surrender. "It's not my business to tell you how to live or how to parent. I just..." He sighed. "I didn't realize how deep it went. Was it all her?" He waved that off. "...You probably don't actually know," he conceded.

Pity was not what Raylan was expecting and it showed by the way his face shifted, hand turning out in silent question as he tried to figure out what, exactly, Malcolm was talking about. A look that only settled more as he continued.

Raylan pushed himself to his feet with an, "Okay."

"Look," he started with a sigh, one hand habitually pushing the robe away so it could find his hip, off hand still in full talk/gesture mode. "I don't know what it is that you think you're seein' but there's nothin' there. She'd rather I follow schedule. I can't right now. That's all it is."

It wasn't pity that Malcolm was offering, but he hadn't known anything about Raylan's relationship with Winona except what he learned from Raylan. Primarily that he was still in love with her. But this... told him something different and far more unsavoury.

Malcolm considered what he said.

"She wants to follow a schedule? She suggested it? She wants to bring her over every other week or whatever it is and have full joint custody and shared responsibility and you said no?" he clarified.

"Well not every other week; we didn't get that far down into it, kinda didn't get further once we were arguing, but Winona wanted me less.. occupied by my job in general. It's kinda why she divorced me... And left me.. multiple times. I don't know how much Family Court you've seen but its not no. Just not now."

It had been Just not 'now' for a while though, before Willa was even a thought in their heads.

"Like I said, we got time."

"....So she's saying she won't let you have her regularly until you quit a job she wanted you to quit before you even had a child?" he asked.

Raylan struggled to answer. "When you say it like that.. She's worried about what shows up at my door, showing up and somethin' happenin' to Willa and I know that that means she probably shouldn't be letting me see her tomorrow but something is better than nothing."

Nothing would hurt more than Raylan was willing to look at, honestly.

"I worry too."

Malcolm stepped towards him, setting his hands on Raylan's chest, on either side of his lapels and looking up into his eyes.

"Raylan, I'm saying this out of love, okay, not to... pressure you into handling things one way or another. It's your choice. But.... this thing with Willa? It has nothing to do with Willa. This is about the power dynamic between you and Winona and I really strongly advise that you get some legal recourse to your daughter. If you and Winona are on good terms, you don't need courts and lawyers. You can draw up a custody agreement between you, in writing, and get it notarized and if she decides she needs to tighten the leash... that agreement is still enforceable."

"Lega- Nah, Malcolm, you don't understand, she's not like that."

He was an idiot. Malcolm, you're dating an idiot.

"I know she wants me there and why isn't it right to let a mother dictate her child's whereabouts, considering?" But the argument had less structure, even in tone, than his other ones. There was a nagging worry in the back of his head, specifically around what Winona's mother would do.

Stiff Catholics tended to have an issue with homosexuality.

"What would that even look like?"

"If she's not 'like that', then she won't object to a written contract," Malcolm said reasonably. "But in terms of how it would be worded? That's really up to you and her. I can help if you want. But the gist would be a certain amount of guaranteed access to her and some sort of official guardianship. So Winona can't use her as a bargaining chip to control you."

Raylan had no response to that one aside from a worried downturn of his lips as his hands slipped around Malcolm's naked form under the robe.

"I guess so.. But she knows how much Willa means to me. And I know it means something to her." Winona cared if Raylan cared. The fact that she didn't question it seemed proof enough to him. Raylan wanted to believe they could do this without it getting ugly.

There was a knock at their door, snapping Raylan out of his thoughts. "Dinner." He looked back at Malcolm. "We were supposed to be celebrating." He sounded sorry for having introduced anything that diverted that.

"Raylan..." he said, holding on to his robe to prevent him going to the door straight away. "I know what she means to you and I don't want to see you get hurt. That's all." He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Let me get that," he murmured, then headed to the door himself.

It was only Malcolm's grab that stopped him, dark worried eyes coming down to meet his and the soft kiss that he was given. He knew Malcolm meant well and wouldn't be saying anything if it wasn't important; it was a hard pill to even consider swallowing.

With the door opening, Raylan turned around and headed to the bedroom to slip on his boxers and jeans, leaving the belt on and unbuckled. He didn't opt for a shirt and didn't lose the robe, coming back into the suite room a moment later, trying to focus more on food than how he felt.

Malcolm brought the food in and started setting it out on the table, pausing as he glanced up and noticed Raylan had gotten... somewhat dressed. Not getting dressed had been his idea. Malcolm had made him feel the need to put his armour back on.

He'd started enough discomfort for one night; Malcolm did not point it out. He resumed setting the food out and slipped into one of the chairs, prying the lid off his bowl of soup, watching Raylan to see if he'd sit.

It had been his idea, but there was something deep in him that told him having these kind of tense arguments while he was all but naked wasn't the smartest thing in the world. Having pants on did great things for his general confidence.

He was planning on siting, but first -

The champagne bottle. He pulled it out of its ice bath and turned it over to look at the label, reading it out without any of the French rolls he assumed it was probably meant to have. He looked over at Malcolm.

"Should we still open it?" Were they still celebrating or had he soured the night?

Malcolm perked up a little when Raylan pulled the champagne bottle, smiling at his French, leaning forward a little, but his expression faltered into uncertainty when he asked if they should open it.

He didn't think it was Raylan that soured anything; Malcolm was the one known for that by means of being incapable of shutting up. He'd pushed.

He looked at the bottle and then at Raylan. "Do you not want to?"

Raylan smirked a little and pulled off the fancy tin wrapping from the cork, followed by the cork cage and, a moment later, successfully popped the cork without the rushing overflow that movies told everyone happened.

It wasn't his first time opening a bottle like this.

Glass by glass, Raylan poured them both out a measure and stuck the bottle back into the ice bath before setting Malcolm's glass in front of him, sitting down himself with his own.

"We're still moving in together tomorrow, aren't we?" His smirk spread into an easier smile. "What kinda soup are we eating tonight?" he asked as he opened and started to dig into his own.

Malcolm couldn't help breathing some relief as Raylan opened the bottle, tension easing out of his frame as he sat. He was trying to dispel the notion that he could ruin this with a misstep; by saying the wrong thing or by saying too much. His limbic system hadn't completely bought into it yet.

Raylan's easy smile laid the rest of his internal bracing to rest and he firmly nodded his answer to the first question. At the next he looked down into the bowl. "Vegetable," he concluded, dipping his spoon in for a tentative bite. He watched Raylan for a second while he swallowed it, his spoon hovering over the bowl.

"You're not mad at me?"

Vegetable. Good. Raylan nodded a little as he cut into his steak and popped a bite into his mouth, nodding again. Steak. Also good. He was still hungry, despite everything. Appetite waited for nothing. Most of the time.

"Hm? No," he said, face pinching in his earnestness. He didn't want to elaborate. "You're tryin' to figure it out and it's hard enough for us, bein' in it."

He shook his head, shaking away the topic.

"You really think you're gonna find a bed that suits us in a single day?" Raylan knew money moved things along but he wasn't sure how quickly that really was.

Malcolm smiled, letting himself fall into the deflection. It was much more pleasant and present.

And they were celebrating.

"Yes. I'm certain." He grinned. "I'm very determined."

"I figure most of it can be resold and we can buy again in Miami. Stuff that will actually fit whatever house we end up with. Except for pieces we like." Like the bed that would allow him to lay down next to Malcolm and all his restraints without one cutting into his side when Malcolm started thrashing.

"You'll have to remember the sound proofing. I can install that when I get home. Shouldn't have any trouble findin' it." He popped another bite into his mouth.

"Your mother isn't gonna have an issue with this, right? I know it's just a few days where you're not up there, but... the whole renting and furnishing an apartment.. Seems like she'd have something to say about it." And hiding things from Jessica was always 50/50, depending on what they were. Some things, she just didn't need to know.

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