Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[conning]

"My apartment," Neal says softly. "It's as close to neutral territory as we're going to get."

And he's not taking James anywhere near Elizabeth.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods.

"We should get out of here, then."

Malcolm is careful to keep James between them, without seeming like he's trying to keep James between them. He wants one of them to have an eye on him all the time.

Not that he doesn't trust him.

He brings up the rear as they head up the stairs to Neal's place.

[conning]

Neal called Peter on their way. He's waiting in the apartment already, facing the veranda, hands on his hips. He turns around as the door opens, scrutinizing James with suspicion.

It's weirdly reassuring, the expression on Peter's face, and the fact that it's not directed toward Neal himself.

"This him?"

Neal shuts the door behind Malcolm, taking a deep breath. "James Bennett, Peter Burke. Peter, this... is James."

He can't bring himself to say my father.

[abrightboy]

"He was assauled by the Irish mob," Malcolm fills in helpfully. "Is that still a thing around here?"

[conning]

"Not really," Peter says, frowning. "I don't think so, but I don't have the latest, either. Organized Crime isn't my biggest fan."

"Or mine," Neal adds helpfully.

That prompts a genuine-sounding laugh from James, which gets Neal's startled attention. He tries, he really tries not to be too pleased with himself.

Peter notices then that James isn't the only one beat up. "What happened? You both got attacked?"

He sees Malcolm's bruised head. "All of you? How many were there?"

[abrightboy]

“Just the one ambush,” Malcolm says looking pointedly at James. “Mr Decades On The Run let a mobster wannabe follow him to a secret meeting, apparently,” he adds with a snort, always keeping half an eye on James to gauge his reaction and whether it’s the one he was hoping to elicit.

[conning]

Neal feels a strange impulse to defend James, but he doesn't. Malcolm isn't wrong, and the flash of anger that comes and goes in James' eyes makes Neal uneasy.

He goes to the fridge, pulling out two beers--one for Peter, one for James--and then retrieving a bottle of wine and two glasses for Malcolm and himself. "Malcolm got hurt on a case, before this."

Glances Malcolm's way, concern briefly clear before he turns back to the wine. James tracks Neal's look, expression dark.

Peter clearly hasn't decided yet how to read the room.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs lightly. "Oh yeah." He looks at Peter. "A suspect pushed me down an elevator shaft, but here's a secret: you shouldn't push the police into an elevator shaft you've disposed of victims in before." He taps his nose. "If they don't die, you have twice as many problems."

[conning]

Peter makes a startled, amused noise. Apparently Malcolm's alliance against James is enough at the moment to make him a friendlier presence in the man's eyes. Neal's anxiety unknots a little at that.

He brings Malcolm the wine, then hesitates with a frown. "Should you drink this, actually?"

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know,” he concedes. “Did I take the pain killers?” A beat. “Well, I mean, strictly speaking, I should never have that,” he admits. He looks at Peter. “I’ve always taken the benzos; anxiety is a bitch.”

[conning]

“You didn’t,” Neal says, with a tinge of exasperation. “You never do.”

He kisses Malcolm’s forehead gently, but James frowns.

“Benzos? For anxiety?”

Neal puts an arm around Malcolm as soon as he has a free hand to do it. “That’s not your concern.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs again. It’s possible he’s exerted himself a little too much on his very recent serious head injury.

“Right? But. You know, there’s anxiety… and there’s anxiety,” he clarifies. “Like. You know. There’s feeling nervous and on edge and there’s feeling like a million bees are screaming inside of your head non-stop. Plus, I just. Need the downer, or I crawl up the walls,” he explains, mimicking rock climbing. “Like in the Exorcist.” He looks at Neal. “That was the Exorcist, right?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, did I tell you I investigated the murder of an exorcist a little while ago and the killer was an artist with lead poisoning? He was doing restoration. I bet you’d be great at restoration, but just don’t get lead poisoning. That guy went cuckoo. I had to call a mission oriented serial killer to find out how to do an exorcism to calm him down. It was a whole big thing.”

He looks at James. “Friend of my dad’s in prison. Runs the inmate bible study.”

[conning]

Neal doesn't have a chance to answer the question before Malcolm is off and talking again, and he's weirdly charmed in the midst of his worry. He's had limited exposure to this kind of tame mania from Malcolm, and it's a bit like watching someone get very excited about a familiar movie.

Peter and James, meanwhile, now have somewhat similar expressions on their faces.

"I'd love to do restorations," Neal admits, and almost at the same time, Peter says, "No one would let him anywhere near a restoration room."

James eyes Malcolm. "You called a friend. A friend of your dad's in prison. To help you with a case."

Neal's defensiveness snaps back into place. "He uses a criminal consultant. That's what I am."

"Were," Peter says.

"That's different," James mutters.

[abrightboy]

“Not really,” Malcolm points out to James. “You use a forger to catch forgers and an art thief to catch art thieves and a monk that tortured everyone in his monastery to death to catch extremely religious spree killers. Like. What? You’re going to call a pickpocket to catch someone who pickles his victims’ faces as souvenirs?” He snorts. “Good luck with that. I’ll tell you how you catch that guy,” he explains, waggling a finger in James direction. “You find out what makes him feel safe.” He looks at Peter. “It was cicadas. And meat hooks.” He glances around. “Can I make anyone a cup of tea?” He’s already moving into the kitchen and he starts riffling in a cupboard.

[conning]

"You, tell Peter what happened," Neal says coldly. The tone of his voice takes Peter by surprise, but Neal is more concerned about Malcolm right now.

He follows the other man into the kitchen area, trying to get a look at his eyes. "Maybe you should sit down. They have beer. They're fine. Or I can make tea."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm stops rummaging like a squirrel on caffeine to look at Neal, grounded by his voice.

His eyes stay on Neal's face.

"You're worried about me. Because I hit my head?" A beat. He looks over his shoulder at where James is talking to Peter and they're both keeping half a wary eye on him. He looks at Neal. "It's too much? I'm too much right now. Dial it back, right? Just. Dial it down." He takes a breath.

[conning]

He frowns, confused. “Dial it… no, you’re fine, I’m—I mean I’m worried you’re not fine. That you’re pushing too hard.”

[abrightboy]

He glances back at them again, then looks at Neal, leaning close to whisper "Am I freaking everybody out?"

[conning]

“I don’t care if you are,” Neal says gently, and presses a hand against Malcolm’s cheek. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks up at the cupboard, then looks at Neal.

"Can we still have some tea?"

He looks over at James and Peter.

"I fell, like, forty feet," he tells them apologetically.

[conning]

"I'll make it," Neal says, smiling a little. "If you'll go sit down."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him, then looks over at Peter and James, between him and the couch, then nods hesitantly and goes all the way to the bedroom, to the chair in the corner by the half moon window and sits, pulling his feet up under him.

[conning]

That wasn't where Neal had intended for him to go, but he doesn't protest it. He's not going to push Malcolm toward something that makes him uncomfortable, even if he doesn't think that James and Peter would be physically hostile with Neal himself right there. He sets the water to heat as James finishes telling Peter about their so-far-limited conversations, stiff and wary.

Peter is about the same. He looks Neal's way. "I'm going to make a call. See what I can find out about the Flynns."

[abrightboy]

"They have a relationship with someone. Someone who put them on to James being in New York," Malcolm calls across the room. "That's who you want to find. The string-puller."

[conning]

Peter almost snaps something—probably something about how he knows how to do his job—but catches Neal’s eye and sees something there that makes him… not. He shakes his head and pulls out his phone. “I’ll have to be careful how I ask. Your FBI friend is already watching me. Trying to anyway, not very well.”

Neal makes a face. James frowns, swiping at some blood on his lip with a thumb. “Another FBI friend?”

“Malcolm’s. And she’s less friendly.”

Neal pulls the kettle off the burner as it starts to hiss and makes Malcolm his tea first, a high-end brand made to half-remembered Mathias specifications.