abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

"BBQ every weekend, you might get tired of it," he reasoned with a smile. "I think about it too. Probably more than I should. What are we gonna do when we run outta things to talk about?"

He had a feeling they wouldn't.

Malcolm laughed at himself.

"I kind of meant sitting on a patio of some sort watching sunsets," he clarified. He looked over at Raylan. More than he should? He still had some doubts that it could happen.

Well. It did seem too good to be true.

He smiled at the question. "Don't worry; I've never run out of things to talk about yet," he teased self-deprecatingly. "The problem will happen if you get tired of all the talking, I think."

"I don't think we'll get tired of that, at least not any time soon," he assured with a faint lift of his eyebrows as he took a shallow pull from his beer bottle.

It did seem too good to be true. Hell, this seemed too good to be true. He didn't want to put all his eggs and hopes into one basket and have them kicked down the road by life.

Raylan couldn't help but chuckle at Malcolm's answer. "Nah. And if I need a little quiet, I'll tell ya. You talk a lot but you don't annoy the shit outta me like a lotta talkers do. You aren't just talkin' out your ass, I think it what it is. Normally, I put people who talk too much in the trunk of my car."

Malcolm smiled with a slight lift of his eyebrows and then a tilt of his head.

"I can't believe I didn't even have that experience the first time I was here," he said. "It usually takes some time for people to warm up to me."

"I try to reserve it for assholes and criminals," he half defended with a shit eating grin.

"But you proved yourself useful. If nosy." The admission was given with a fond glance over. "Smart enough to not talk out of your ass too. You might hit buttons, but you're not lyin'." And that Meant Something.

Malcolm chuckled. "You know, the not lying is usually the part that doesn't go over well," he pointed out.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Raylan's mouth.

"And that still makes my knees as weak as the first time you did it," he admitted, resting his head on Raylan's shoulder to look out at the city. "So no shortages forthcoming in that department either."

"Mm, I think a lot about that too," he said, bottle propped on his knee. "Part of me expected you to shove me off, slap me maybe, and tell me to go somewhere else." He curled a smile down at Malcolm.

"Guess I'm lucky you didn't." Considering he had a good idea of what his life would be like without this. He'd sort of scared himself with that leap, so it ran around in his head a lot more often than he would have bet on.

Then again, they hadn't exactly taken that leap slow. He still blames the whiskey, but with a tone of fond appreciation.

Malcolm shifted to look up at him, a little surprised.

"You thought I might not be interested? I thought I was being really unsubtle. Like, 'reign it in, Bright, you're going to make him run fast and far' unsubtle," he admitted.

"How's that? By bravely touching my arm to keep me from yellin' at your mother? Which was brave, by the way. Most people would just sit there and wear worry on their face. You were always a perfect gentleman, I promise," he reassured with a widening of his smile. "Or is it the whole talkin' me into stay at your place while we were there? Though, if I'm honest, I mighta smudged the truth a little to do that.."

"I thought it was my facial expressions that would give me away, actually. I thought you might figure out that I... was attracted to you. Apart from wanting to be friends. And that it would make you uncomfortable. But... smudged the truth? Tell me more. You're hard to read, you know," Malcolm told him.

"Mm any hints I mighta got were pushed under to just how you were," he admitted. "Bright." His smile spread a bit. "Maybe a little friendly, but that was.. already outside the New York norm."

There was a lotta 'HEY, IM WALKIN' HERE' going on. They couldn't all be Whitly's.

"The Marshal's Service already had a room for all of us. I didn't have to stay." He met Malcolm's eyes. "Seemed rude to say no, after having you in mine, for some reason."

"Well, I figured the others stayed somewhere," he admitted. He held Raylan's gaze. "Did it start as just a social obligation, then?" he asked.

"The social obligation was just a good excuse to get you back into my space again. We didn't talk about happy things at Arlo's and somehow I still almost enjoyed the conversation. That ain't nothin'."

Malcolm set his glass on the table and turned to lean his forehead against Raylan's temple, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheekbone, sliding his hand up to thread fingers into his hair.

"How far into your space is ideal?" he murmured.

Smiling, Raylan tilted his head into all of it before looking over sidelong while his hand settled down almost tightly around Malcolm's waist. "You're gettin' warmer," he husked as impulse took over to kiss Malcolm again with all the feeling he couldn't really articulate. When it broke, he continued.

"And it's real dangerous, bein' all in my space, especially for you.. And that chicken."

There'd never be a question of want here; Raylan's answer would always be an emphatic yes.

"I don't care how we got here. All I want is the rest of forever with you too." Not too much to ask, right?

God, that kiss. He was definitely learning the ways Raylan expressed feelings he had a hard time talking about.

He grinned, sitting back slightly, but staying close.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Except Miami, with you."

He pressed one more kiss to his mouth, then sat up a bit more. "No distracting the chef until after dinner. Got it," he said with a bright smile.

As much as he would try, Raylan would always be a man who showed, rather than talking, and he was very confident in how clear he could make himself without words. Or with as few as possible.

Raylan let out a sighed soft growl as Malcolm pulled back the second time and he knew if he didn't get up and keep his hands busy, they were going to have take out and a promise to never tell Winona what Willa was in the room for. Maybe tomorrow, when Willa was back with her mother and they were blissfully alone.

"Dangerous dangerous man," he accused as he got to his feet and headed over to check on Willa with a hand she grabbed and threatened to gnaw on before he gently took it back.

"If you wanna help, I forgot tongs and the sauce on the counter?" It would give them both something to do.

In the meantime, he'd peak under the hood of the grill to check the meat and start the clean up he should have done as soon as everything was on the fire.

Malcolm grinned at the accusation and did not deny it at all, the expression softening to a happy warmth as Raylan checked on his daughter.

"I always want to help," Malcolm assured him, taking a drink from his glass before heading inside. He delivered the tongs and sauce to Raylan, then went back in and set two places at the table and adjusted Willa's high chair before joining Raylan outside again.

He drew beside him at the grill, quietly watching Raylan turn the meat, paying attention to how it looked and what he did. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He was transfixed on the lesson and he didn't look at the call display as he answered it pretty much on autopilot.

"This is Bright."

His expression became slightly grim as he looked at Raylan instead of the grill.

"Hello, Mother." A beat. "Yes, I am," he said plainly. He frowned faintly as he listened. "So tell them we'll be down there on..." He paused. "No, tomorrow isn't good for me." A frustrated huff of breath. "Don't bring him into this; of course I'll come." A beat. "I know." Another beat. "I know. Okay. See you then."

He disconnected and slid the phone back into his pocket, looking at Raylan miserably. "I have to go back to New York in the morning. I'll probably be gone before Willa is."

He turned and stepped back to the coffee table, picking up his glass and taking a large swallow.

Edited 2020-08-17 18:33 (UTC)

The tongs and sauce were taken with a soft, fond 'thank you' and Raylan's eyes followed Malcolm back into the house. This felt normal and being the greedy man, he wanted more of that too. Tomorrow, he reminded himself.

The corn, he kept turning every few minutes and it was the first off the grill before he could get into any saucing, but once he had, he leaned his weight against Malcolm as he worked. It'd only be a few more minutes, now.

Raylan glanced over at the call being answered, expression falling a little hard and dry at his greeting. It was never good news. Was she capable of having that? He didn't know. But the suggestion that Malcolm was leaving early had him pinching his eyebrows together as he turned, staying where he was next to the food, eyes on Malcolm.

"What? Why?"

"My mother needs me to go with her to see my father about the stabbing. He has to give the police a statement. We have to talk to him before they do. They're moving him back to Claremont in the morning."

He drained his glass and put it down, then stepped back over to Raylan at the grill, looking up at him.

"We have to make sure he agrees to the same story we've told before they take his statement."

Raylan's lips tightened and his gaze fell to the ground before coming back up to glance at the chicken and met Malcolm's eyes as he stepped over.

He wanted to protest. They had plans. Yet more plans that had to be put off for one reason for another. There was no hiding the disappointment, even through his stoic masks.

"Guess I'm goin' to work tomorrow after all," was his only response before he started off loading the chicken onto the clean plate.

"Don't tell me when you gotta leave until later." Let him enjoy a few more hours of fantasy.

It was a good thing that Raylan didn't want him to go, right? But he felt a tightness in his chest that wasn't there before the phonecall as he watched Raylan retrieve the items from the grill with a sad nod at his request.

"Are... are you just going to say Winona picked her up early?" he asked, staying near his elbow as he worked and as he moved.

Tearing and folding a clean piece of foil, Raylan pulled off Malcolm's lone nonsauced piece before turning it all off and leaving the hood open to vent as much heat as possible.

"She is." So it wasn't a lie. "They're used to her changin' her mind." Hell sometimes they knew things about his ex-wife before he did. "It'll be fine," he assured, pulling up his casual southern small talk charm. "I'm sure Art'll enjoy the extra time leacturin' me on how to not fuck up my daughter."

He headed inside.

"Dare I ask what your mama said about me?"

Malcolm picked up Willa from the playpen and followed him. No point making Raylan make two trips while he sat on his ass.

"She asked if I was with you. And when I said tomorrow was bad for me, she asked if I was really going to abandon my family in an hour of desperation to stay here with you. But she was saying something about me, not you, really." He bounced Willa slightly as he lingered just outside of Raylan's elbow room. "It was tempting to say 'yes'."

Setting down the plates, Raylan hot fingered one piece of sauced chicken and a cob onto his plate without much reaction beyond a faint lift of his eyebrows.

"Might do 'em some good, if I'm honest," he replied darkly as he grabbed a napkin to wipe off his fingers before walking to the kitchen to grab a baby spoon and a couple of jars of food for Willa.

"But she's probably right about needing you up there, considering the situation. Much as I hate to say it."

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