Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[conning]

"For snapping like that," Neal says quietly. "You're hurt. It's bad enough that Dani and JT didn't seem to care. You get to care."

He works on the buttons of Malcolm's shirt with unsteady fingers. "Let's get you cleaned up."

[abrightboy]

"They care," Malcolm says looking up at Neal from under his brow. "They're the best friends I've ever had."

He watches Neal's face.

"You're scared. I'm not going to die," he promises.

[conning]

“You could have,” Neal whispers. “Very easily.”

He rests his fingertips against Malcolm’s now partially-bare chest so he can feel the man’s heartbeat. “You could have. You could have been in critical condition. There was no way to know while we were there.”

[abrightboy]

"But we know now," he points out softly. "We do know now."

[conning]

“We know now.” Neal’s voice rises again a little, though there’s no frustration in it this time. Not with Malcolm. “We didn’t when JT said he needed a damn statement.”

[abrightboy]

"Oh. That. Well. I insisted I was okay," Malcolm points out weakly. "I usually go right back to work when... things happen in the field."

See? It's all Malcolm's fault.

[conning]

Neal makes a little noise that doesn’t do very well as a laugh. “They should know better than to let you.”

As though Peter would have any luck with him in that situation.

“They at least should have… made sure you were actually okay.”

[abrightboy]

"I mean... I guess there's no precedent for this. The last time I fell three stories, I landed on Gil's car, which... the car crumpled and absorbed a lot of the impact. The bottom of the elevator shaft didn't. I don't feel good," he admits. "I just. Don't want to sleep."

[conning]

"The l... the last time? Did they... they took you to the hospital, though, right?"

He forces himself to focus on Malcolm's buttons again, undoing the last of them and moving to pull the shirt down off Malcolm's shoulders gently. "We don't have to sleep. I can read to you. We can watch a movie. Something."

A pause, then, "What's wrong? Why don't you want to sleep? Other than... sleep being what it is."

[abrightboy]

"Oh," he waves off the hospital suggestion. "I was fine. My suit got dirty. I missed my flight. But I had another suit in my bag."

He watches Neal's face when he asks about the sleep.

"I was trapped. Down there. But not down there." He gestures to his temple. "In here."

[conning]

"You were f...." Neal closes his eyes, shakes his head, decides not to fight that particular battle right now.

He exhales a horrified little breath of understanding as Malcolm goes on. He hadn't even thought of that. He hadn't even considered it. He'd been so focused on everything else, injury-wise. "Well. You're here now. You're safe."

[abrightboy]

“You’re safe,” Malcolm tells him. “You were even safe in there. Except…” His voice trails off. He shrugs. “Anyway I think this suit’s a write off. Worse than the white one from last time, which is the real crime.”

[conning]

Neal blinks, surprised in spite of himself. “You dreamed about me?”

[abrightboy]

"I dreamed about everyone I know. But you were the most... the same as you are," Malcolm explains.

[conning]

Neal blinks, a pang of worry making him say with mock-cheerfulness, “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

He guides Malcolm toward the bathroom, trying not to linger too long on the bruises darkening his back.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him over his shoulder, almost hitting the shower doorway with his shoulder.

"It wasn't bad. I just knew he wasn't you. In the end."

[conning]

“Somehow: not reassuring.” He sits Malcolm on the closed toilet for a moment to go and retrieve a chair that won’t get ruined being under a shower, carefully positioning it and making sure it won’t slide around when Malcolm goes to sit down. He’s being neurotic. He knows he’s being neurotic. But he can’t stand it, the thought of losing this, losing them. He comes back to Malcolm, looking him over with worry.

“Do you need help to finish undressing? I can help.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks up at him, still a little dazed, then looks down at his belt.

"Um yeah. Maybe... yeah."

[conning]

Neal helps him up again, unfastening the belt, going through the motions without comment or complaint. "Tell me about it?"

On the one hand, it's meant as a distraction. On the other, Neal is genuinely, wildly curious.

[abrightboy]

"About... the dream?" Malcolm verifies. He frowns faintly. "I should have known it was wrong but you never know when you're in a dream that it's messed up."

[conning]

That makes him even more curious. He guides Malcolm into the shower, turning the water on to a warm and gentle setting. "How did you figure it out? Who the Bowery Ripper was? Did you see him when he pushed you?"

[abrightboy]

“No. I just saw his boot prints. It was just… a bunch of clues my brain put together.” He watches Neal for a moment while he adjusts the water.

“We were married.”

[conning]

Neal looks at him, wide-eyed. "We were? I can't imagine your NYPD associates were very happy about that."

A tiny smile from Neal, though. An almost shy half-joke. "Maybe you should tell them about it. Give them a little exposure therapy, or whatever it's called."

[abrightboy]

“They were fine with it. It was normal. For my family, too. My dad wasn’t a killer. You were friends with him,” Malcolm says.

[conning]

He's wetting a washcloth to start cleaning some of the grime from Malcolm's shoulders and arms when Malcolm says that. Neal makes a strangled noise. "We were friends?"

But if his dad wasn't a killer...

Neal's mind flicks to James, his own fragile hopes and doubts. He shakes his head, wringing out the cloth and adding a little soap to start wiping Malcolm down. Gently. He's got scrapes everywhere, and where there aren't scrapes, there are bruises. "I think we won't be doing anything that married people do for a while. Not until you've had plenty of opportunity to recover."