Happily Ever After AU - for conning

[abrightboy]

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[abrightboy]

Malcolm grins at Neal in triumph. Their uncertainty doesn't faze him; it's normal.

"We can go home now," he says happily.

[conning]

“Oh hell no,” Neal says.

JT gives an annoyed little grunt as he secures the cuffs around the Bowery Ripper’s wrists. “The art thief isn’t wrong. We need to get statements about what happened.”

“Hell no,” Neal snaps, his words underscored this time by the approaching city sound of an ambulance in the distance.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks from Neal to JT and back, then holds the skull out to JT.

"The rest of the skeleton is in the bottom of the elevator shaft," he says.

[conning]

A wary relief blossoms in Neal’s chest.

“I don’t have to argue you into coming to the hospital?”

[abrightboy]

"No. That sounds exhausting and it won't change anything," Malcolm points out, his energy clearly flagging. There's dirt on his face and he can feel the blood crusting on his collar and in his hair. "Can you help me downstairs? I don't want to go to the ambulance on a stretcher."

[conning]

He gathers Malcolm up again, his frustration at the whole situation snuffed out under concern. “I’m going to be with you the whole time. I won’t let them give you anything that would keep you under.”

He carries Malcolm sideways through the front door of the apartment, eying Dani and JT with aristocratic distaste. “If either of your ‘friends’ feel like making sure you’re okay, they can call my cell.”

[abrightboy]

"We're still gonna need his statement for the case file," JT points out. "That's your contract. You... know you're not a cop, right?"

Dani rolls her eyes. "Just come to the precinct in the morning," she tells him.

Malcolm lets his head rest on Neal's shoulder. He's flagging, now that the case is closed, and it's safe because he knows Neal won't let them keep him.....

[conning]

Neal glares at Dani and JT. “We’re staying home tomorrow. He’s hurt. You want a statement, come and get one.”

He doesn’t give them a chance to answer, bring Malcolm downstairs in time for the paramedics to sweep into the lobby. He gets in the ambulance with them, stays all but glued to Malcolm’s side through the scans and tests and endless waiting in between. It’s not until almost dawn before they’re released, and Neal decides Malcolm’s apartment is the better bet for now. Fewer stairs to carry Malcolm up.

[abrightboy]

"I'm okay," Malcolm tells him, though his legs still feel kind of jelly-like when Neal puts him down. "They let me out. It's just a moderate brain trauma. It has 'moderate' right in the name," he points out, only slurring a tiny bit.

[conning]

"Moderate, which is more severe than mild." He beelines for Malcolm's freezer, grabbing an ancient bag of frozen peas and wrapping them in a hand towel. He very gingerly rests it against the knot on Malcolm's head. "If you sit on the floor of the shower, do you think you'll be okay upright long enough for me to clean you up?"

[abrightboy]

“I’m standing,” Malcolm points out. “I can stand.”

He puts his hand over Neal’s on the peas.

“Oh you found the peas.”

[conning]

"I found the peas," Neal agrees dryly. "And you're going to sit so I don't have to catch you if you suddenly can't stand."

[abrightboy]

“It’s not that bad,” Malcolm insists. “Don’t treat me like a child,” he insists, hand shifting from the ice pack to steady himself on Neal’s arm.

[conning]

"Malcolm please!" Neal's voice breaks, and he doesn't expect it any more than he expected the shout. He forces it back and down and gets a hold on himself. "I'm not treating you like a child. You got pushed down an elevator shaft. Three stories up."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm flinches at the outburst, eyes going wide for a second, then he looks down at Neal's chest and nods faintly at the next point.

"Can I have a chair?" he asks in a low voice, moving his hand from Neal's arm to the counter.

[conning]

"Of course," Neal whispers, stomach knotting with a blend of anxieties he doesn't have the fortitude to pick apart at the moment. He hovers for a moment, mentally switching tracks between which chair to get and why, before he finally settles on one of the bar stools at the island and shifts it into Malcolm's space. "Is this okay? Do you want the couch, or--oh, you meant in the shower."

Well now he feels stupid and guilty.

[abrightboy]

He nods, again faintly because his head does hurt.

"I don't want to sit on the floor." It's cold. "Anything is fine."

[conning]

"Okay. Yeah." Neal lifts his hands in a nervous gesture to run them through Malcolm's hair, but catches himself. "Yeah. I can bring it in there."

He touches Malcolm's cheek. "I'm sorry."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks confused for a moment. "Sorry for what?" he asks.

[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.