Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

Malcolm, with a head injury, is a little bit stupider than normal. He looks at Neal with some confusion and, when he hits a particularly tender spot, a bit of a wince.

"You mean like adopting?"

[conning]

Neal fumbles the soap in his surprise, managing to catch it, lather up the cloth a little, and place it back in its dish without letting more than brief surprise show.

"Did... in your dream, we had...?"

[abrightboy]

“We just had the interview,” Malcolm tells him, then pauses. “…That’s not what you were talking about,” he surmises.

[conning]

"I was thinking about the more immediate and physical," Neal says ironically. He takes extra care as he finishes cleaning the spot that made Malcolm wince. It's hard to tell, a little bit, what's dirt and what's bruise. "...I wouldn't... object to that, though. Adoption. At some point. I think you know that."

[abrightboy]

“Some part of my brain knows that,” Malcolm agrees. “I must have met you earlier in my ideal reality. For us to be married already.”

[conning]

"Yeah." Neal half-smiles, sponging a bit of grease away from Malcolm's neck gently. "How do you think it happened? You were at a gallery opening, maybe, and I was casing the place."

[abrightboy]

“Why are you assuming you were a thief?” Malcolm asks him. “You had your own exhibit opening in the dream.”

[conning]

That catches him by surprise. "I had an exhibit? Not a gallery? I could see having a gallery."

[abrightboy]

"No, it was definitely an exhibit of your own work," Malcolm tells him. Neal brushes another tender spot and he winces again.

[conning]

Neal grimaces in sympathy, going over the spot again more softly. "What did I paint? Or was it a different medium?"

[abrightboy]

"I don't know," Malcolm admits. "I didn't get to see it. You didn't even go to your own opening because I fell down the elevator shift."

[conning]

"Well, I'm glad that version of me has his priorities straight at least."

It's teasing, but there's a slight bite to the words as he thinks of Dani and JT.

[abrightboy]

"You were the only safe place," Malcolm tells him. "At least once I figured it out, except..." He stops short and looks at the floor of the shower.

[conning]

"Except what?" He brushes Malcolm's cheek with his fingertips, wiping away a little streak of warm water that's instantly replaced.

[abrightboy]

"When I told you it wasn't real, you didn't believe me. That's how I knew it wasn't real," Malcolm explains, only lifting his eyes up to Neal's face at the end.

[conning]

Something about that ties a knot in Neal's throat. He can't make words happen around it.

He kisses Malcolm instead, unintentionally soaking himself, not that it really matters. He's only got jeans on at the moment.

[abrightboy]

“If I didn’t make myself wake up, the elevator would have crushed me like the man whose skull I found down there.” He looks up to find Neal’s face. “Are you mad at me for going there?”

[conning]

Neal blinks. "What? No, of course not."

He starts to check Malcolm over carefully, making sure he's cleaned him up and that any smudges left are bruises, not dirt. "I wish you'd called me. But of course I'm not mad."

[abrightboy]

"Gil's usually mad. My mother is usually mad." He watches Neal as he examines him. "Are you sure all the married people stuff is off the table? That kiss barely hurt at all."

[conning]

Neal smiles at that, turning off the shower and kissing droplets of water off of each of Malcolm's cheeks. "I can be pretty creatively gentle."

[abrightboy]

"I'd take the chance to ask if this means I'm getting breakfast in bed, but I'm not a big fan of bed or breakfast." He pauses. "Though you're changing my mind about both..."

[conning]

Neal laughs. "Good."

He draws Malcolm out of the shower, dries him off, carries him to bed.

Very gently institutes some married people stuff.

After, when they're curled up together, he says, "Call me next time? Please? I want to be there if you need help."

[abrightboy]

"He was missing a cufflink. In the interview with my sister, he was missing a cufflink. I just wanted to look for it; I thought I'd be two minutes," Malcolm tells him. "I never thought I'd need any help."

[conning]

Neal exhales a pained little laugh. “Fair enough.”

He strokes Malcolm’s hair away from his face, studying every scratch, the purple-red of the scrape and bruise where he hit his head. “Maybe I should invest in a way to track your phone.”

A pause. “That’s a joke.”

He’s not about to treat Malcolm like someone whose radius needs to be monitored.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles.

“Are you starting to understand Peter’s compulsion to watch your anklet tracking?” he asks. It’s not a judgement, but it’s not a joke, either. He’s genuinely interested in how people tick. All people. Especially this person.