abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

"Add Smilin' onto that list, and yes." All yes.

"I like either. Or black. Black is easy." Raylan's fingers carded out and slipped down Malcolm's neck. "All done." Now for his own hair. Unless Malcolm took that over - he was in the way currently, after all.

Malcolm slipped around him to get him under the spray; he would not be deprived of the pleasure. He slid his fingers up into Raylan's hair, working the conditioner out.

"I'll see what they have."

The expression on his face as he carefully rinsed Raylan's hair wasn't fully a smile, but it was peacefully thoughtful. Peace was another emotion not often seen on his face. Raylan was setting records all over the place.

Once he was done, he pulled the curtain back, letting Raylan get the water while he grabbed the towels, passing one to Raylan when he was ready.

"What's your favourite book?" he asked. Yes, he had been thinking about that library request.

Keeping his head at a careful angle, Raylan kept his eyes cracked so he could see Malcolm, however blurry around the edges it was as his hair was rinsed out, fingertips propped on his skin as he worked. Peace looked almost as good as Malcolm's smile - Solid second place.

His eyes followed Malcolm as he stepped out and with one last rake of his hands through his hair, Raylan turned around and turned off the shower before taking the offered towel. Opting to dry off the worst of the wet in the shower, Raylan stepped out with a hum as he rubbed his hair mostly not sopping wet.

"Favorite?" He shrugged with his face. "Got a few but.. I wore out a copy or two of Battlefield Earth. Ender's Game. Louis L'amour.. I like Asimov."

Raylan wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked in the corner to secure it on his lean hips. "Don't know how that stands up to anything else, but they got me outta my head when I was younger." He eyed Malcolm. "What about you? What do you read that isn't textbooks or files?"

Malcolm laughed delightedly at the question.

"Not that I'm not a huge fan of textbooks and files," he allowed, dropping his towel on the floor to grab a robe off the hook. He offered the first one to Raylan. "But I've always loved Dumas. Verne. And detective stories. When I was little, I had every Hardy Boys book, but I eventually graduated into Agatha Christie and Conan Doyle and PD James."

That was the biggest difference between them as readers - Raylan had to work though textbooks and didn't care much for files, but anything outside of that, he could sink his teeth into with gusto.

"I can't see you doing any other job, with those titles," he said with a chuckle as he took the robe and slung it on, adjusting the belt a little but ultimately leaving it open as he waited for and followed Malcolm out of the bathroom.

From the floor, his phone dinged and he frowned at it before stepping around Malcolm with a light passing touch to fetch it. He lit the screen with a button press and then sighed and looked over at Malcolm.

"It's Winona. You okay if I take this?" He wasn't going to step out of the room or ask Malcolm to leave but he wanted to make sure Malcolm could.. he wasn't sure. Handle it.

Malcolm looked over from tying his robe at the question. "Hm? Yeah; go ahead," he said.

He bent over and picked up his towel, tossing it into the shower.

With a press of the button, Raylan was lifting it up to his ear.

"Winona. Everything okay?" There wasn't enough volume for her answers to carry. But as the silence in the room stretched on, Raylan frowned softly.

"Yeah, sure. No, no, I can.. figure it out. Tomorrow?" He looked over at Malcolm. "Can you do the day after? I got a thing tomorrow." Another too long silence passed, more than would ever be needed for a simple answer and Raylan sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Sure. No problem." He hung up and stared at his phone for a minute before looking back up at Malcolm.

"Well. I don't know if you're ready for this but.. Winona is droppin' off Willa for a few days, tomorrow evening. I said I'd watch her."

Malcolm looked at him. "You're going to have the baby when you come home tomorrow? Do you need me to pick anything up for her? A... playpen or something? Where does she sleep?" he asked, a little excited.

It didn't occur to him that Winona might drop her off at their apartment in the evening; he assumed she'd drop her off with Raylan before he left work.

"Babies tend to travel with their own playpens. Winona will bring the supplies, though extra wipes probably wouldn't be bad to have. Apparently," he explained, as he reached for Malcolm, hand sliding around his neck as he stepped close again, "-we can never have enough."

Raylan watched Malcolm carefully as he continued. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Meeting her? Dealing with a baby?"

"Well," he conceded frankly, "this isn't how I pictured our first night in our own place, but I'm excited to meet her." He smiled, setting a hand on Raylan's chest. "I'm fine with it. Honestly." He kissed Raylan gently. "It'll be fun." Another quick kiss. "I'll order dinner," he said, heading out into the suite to call down.

He didn't look entirely convinced, face still creased in a soft worry that ebbed slightly with each of Malcolm's earnest, gentle kisses. Malcolm was, inarguably, a patient man but he already had concerns about Willa and Winona, and there was no way to quiet the echo of words in the back of Raylan's head.

Well, nothing to be done about it until it was done, Raylan supposed and, after checking his phone again, he dropped it onto the nearby desk and rubbed his face before walking back out into the suite to Malcolm.

Helping himself to the couch provided, Raylan put his feet up on the little coffee table and looked back at Malcolm as he finished his call. "How long do we have?"

"About half an hour," Malcolm said, sliding onto the couch and curling up against Raylan's side so he could rest his cheek against Raylan's shoulder.

After a pause of thought, he asked "Are any of your visitations scheduled or are they all... when she needs a babysitter?" he asked.

Raylan hummed as he wrapped an arm around Malcolm's shoulder as his weight came in, pressing a brief, fond kiss into his damp hair. They'd be alright, right?

"Hm? Oh. It's kinda hard to schedule around my schedule. Crime doesn't take 'I want to spend time with my daughter' I.O.U's. The solution, so far, is to call me when she can't take it anymore and her sister needs a break. She's not even living in Lexington, ya know. Outside of town by about 2 hours. We're.. trying to avoid court and joint custody hearings, if we can help it."

And Raylan trusted that it was the right thing, blindly overlooking how badly that could fuck him later if Winona got vindictive.

"I imagine that it'll get a little more stable once.. Well, once I'm not living out of a motel room and dealin' with the impossible to predict shitfire that is Harlan. So Miami, maybe."

Malcolm lifted his head to look at Raylan's face, but his hand was still splayed on Raylan's stomach, where it had come to rest. They would be all right, no matter what happened. But he had questions and he wanted to see Raylan's face when he answered them.

"Did she convince you that dropping her off with no notice, whether you're free or not, is easier than scheduling visits or did you convince you?" he asked carefully.

Raylan frowned a little, more a furrow of his brow than anything else but it was clear he'd never really thought about it like that.

"Neither, really, it just.. Keeps me.. honest. Involved in some way. And between Art and Rachel, having to take a day or two for Willa, they take like I've told 'em I've won the lottery." AKA - his bosses also thought he should spend more time with his daughter and not causing trouble, no matter his reasons.

"'Sides, I feel bad that I'm not able to do a fairer share of raising her. I figure I've got at least a little time, she's only seven months, but.. the concern is still there."

"Raylan, please don't... take this the wrong way..." The last time he started a sentence like that, he'd followed it with 'do you need money'. This topic wasn't any less uncomfortable. "But... if Art wants you to take time off to be with your daughter and you want to do more of the job of raising her.... doesn't setting up regular, scheduled visitations actually accomplish that better? On both counts?"

Yeah, the last time he started a sentence like that, they had an argument. His brow stayed furrowed.

"And Boyd? Or his crew? Or the next set of innocent people he blows up? The sooner I get Boyd put away, the sooner I won't have any conflict from stoppin' me doin' just that. I don't want him takin' away more time from my life. Any part of it."

"Okay, I get that. But... Okay, she's bringing the baby tomorrow night and leaving her with you for a couple of days. So... the day after tomorrow, you're going to be off. Whether shitkickers are kicking shit or not. Right? So.... what's the difference if you scheduled that a month ago? Either way you're with Willa tomorrow instead of them. Except it has structure and you can be more involved, like you want. I know we're both waiting on the day that we're through our current... situations so we can start living our 'some day', but Willa isn't going to stop growing up in the meantime. So how is this current arrangement beneficial to you or her? Or even Art, who has to deal with your absences with no notice? The only person it does seem to benefit is Winona, I guess." He frowned, realized he was going on a bit and paused. "Feel free to stop me if I'm out of line."

Edited 2020-07-09 21:23 (UTC)

"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."

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