abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

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No One's Born Broken

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tinstar.

Gil came and went. Dani came and went. Ainsley came and then left with their mother, who refused to even hear him out about telling the truth. He stared through the window at the motionless man in the bed for some indeterminate amount of time, his hand clutching his phone in his pocket.

Finally he let his eyes leave the figure through the window and he took his phone out of his pocket. He stared at that for a long moment, then scrolled through his contacts until one name rolled onto the screen: Raylan Givens.

He looked through the window, then looked at the name. Then he pressed it.

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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.

Malcolm shrugged a shoulder. "It's my life." He took a bite of soup. "I want to be with you. She won't actively try to stop me from doing something I want to do or from, quite frankly, anything that removes me from proximity to my father."

Raylan watched him sidelong as he cut another bite, nodding softly. They had enough shit to worry about down here; neither of them needed Jessica coming down with her criticisms.

Even Raylan wasn't sure he could handle that gracefully with the stress of everything else.

"Good. I can't say I blame her, on the last part." But his feelings on Martin Whitly were already well clear.

"Will you be inviting Ainsley down at any point? Do I need to prep for that or are we keepin' everyone away until we're settled in Florida?"

"I haven't thought about it," he admitted. "Maybe we should wait until Florida. You're still... laying a little low here, in regards to us. It'd be a bit weird to have my family visit while we're keeping up the pretence of being just friends."

He focused on cutting another bite, trying to not feel guilty and failing.

"If you think so. Figured everyone's got family so it might not be a big deal. Maybe you're right."

"Based on how they reacted when I walked into the office to say 'hi', your friends already think it's weird that I come here," Malcolm told him.

He looked up from his bowl and caught the slow slide of guilt across his features.

"Raylan, I understand why you don't want them to know. It's okay. It's hard to break the conditioning of a lifetime. Not just your own, either."

"They're not going to be at our house, at any time," Raylan pointed out. He wasn't going to argue the friends part, even if he didn't really consider them his friends as everyone else understood the word.

He shook his head at the concern, neatly packing it back into it's box without another glance at it.

"It's just a situation I've gotta be careful in." More to Malcolm's point, anyway.

"Your job follows you home sometimes; they could conceivably be in our house," Malcolm said reasonably.

"I know you have to be careful. I understand why. I'd never push you to jeopardize your job. ...What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. It was okay with him. "It's not forever. And even if it were...being with you is worth it. It really is."

"Maybe."

Again, he wasn't going to argue it.

"Nothings wrong," he assured with a lift of his gaze and a little lift of his edges of his lips. "Let's talk about literally anything else."

"Is there anything you want in the apartment that we haven't talked about yet? Furniture-wise or... supply-wise?"

"Might wanna get a rack of some kind. I liked the way my hat looked on you hooks in New York, and no one is gonna accidentally sit on it. And that shampoo conditioner that you use." He wanted to be able to still smell Malcolm when he went back to New York and that felt like the easiest way.

"Probably a toaster oven too."

Malcolm smiled widely, pleased.

"It's coming together," he said. I can see it all up here," he told Raylan, tapping his temple. He paused. "You're not sleeping in jeans, right?" he clarified, taking a bite of soup. Another brief pause. "Oh! Do you like to sleep on the couch when I'm not here or is that just an Arlo's thing? Should I be shopping for a sleepable couch?"

He smiled and huffed a little sound of a laugh at the first question. "No, it just felt weird to eat naked for some reason. Didn't think about that beforehand." He'd been too wrapped up in the Bubble Mirage that was happiness with Malcolm to worry about logistics like that.

The couch question got a much more honest bubble of a chuckle. "That's just an Arlo's thing. I'd much rather sleep in a bed. Just not there. But if the couch is comfortable, then it's already a sleepable couch. Nothing to stick to or be eaten by. I feel like we should put out a warning to the shops that you're coming."

Raylan drained his champagne glass and poured another, lifting the bottle mouth in question at Malcolm.

Malcolm scooted forward in his seat to hold out his glass for a top-up.

"Don't warn them," he said conspiratorially with a smirk. "I want to catch them off guard."

He abandoned his spoon in his bowl, then pulled his chair around the table to sit next to Raylan, holding up his glass.

"To all the good things to come," he proposed.

Grinning, Raylan filled his glass up and set the bottle away with a glance towards Malcolm as he shifted seats. When he sat back, one arm found a spot over the back of Malcolm's chair.

"And all the days we get to have together," he finished, gently clicking their glasses together and taking a small sip before letting his arm slide onto Malcolm's shoulder and pull him into a gentle sidehug.

"No matter what happens, darlin', I'm glad we're together." Just in case Malcolm was even fractionally worried.

Malcolm was always fractionally worried that he would become Too Much, somehow. That abated a bit at a time as Raylan remained resolutely at his side, but some part of him still worried like a background hum that nobody could take his nonsense forever.

He pressed a kiss into Raylan's shoulder, taking a sip from his glass before resting his head there.

"I think I'll just get one bookshelf to start with. When we get to Miami, we can expand it to a whole wall."

He hummed at the kiss and turned his glass this way and that before looking down at the statement and curling a smile.

"That's probably a good idea. Books are heavy and all." Raylan took a deep breath and let it out. "I don't think it'll really set in that this is real until tomorrow when I'm walkin' in the door."

"That's why it has to be perfect when you walk in the door," Malcolm said, taking a sip without lifting his head from where it rested against Raylan's shoulder. "This is the dress rehearsal for Miami and I want it to make you happy. Like a personal paradise to go back to whenever you leave the office, even if I'm not there and it's only a few hours."

"Malcolm, as long as you're there, I don't care what it looks like. You are a personal paradise, you know that, right?" he asked with a serious look at him. "You already make me impossibly happy, I doubt you can top yourself."

His smile spread delightedly as Raylan spoke.

"But it won't stop me from trying," he pointed out with a laugh. He lifted his head, pulling his legs up so he was sitting on his knees on the chair facing Raylan, still holding his glass. "I'm going to get a laptop for the apartment so you can video chat with Willa from there instead of your office," he explained excitedly. "Then you can video with me too."

He couldn't from the Marshals' office for obvious reasons.

"So I can see you when I'm not here."

That brought a different kind of smile to his face, one that warmed his eyes a little differently than just his standard loving gaze.

"Far be it from me to stop you then," he said, smile breaking slowly into a grin. "You want to video chat?" It was charming, somehow. A bridge he had to cross to see his daughter getting used to keep him close to Malcolm. He didn't know why he didn't think about it.

"Sure you're not gonna get sick of seeing my grainy face?"

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