abrightboy | Happily Ever After AU

abrightboy

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From:

conning

Oh right. His dad.

Neal looks at his phone and grimaces. “He wants to meet. I’ll say we can do it in the afternoon.”

He wants to know what James thinks he’s discovered. Desperately wants to know. But he’s not going to drag Malcolm out of bed now that they’re finally settled.

From:

abrightboy

"Are you sure?" Malcolm asks. "I'm... I'm okay."

He's concussed and bruised. But he's sure he's fine if Neal needs him.

From:

conning

"He can wait," Neal says firmly. He kisses Malcolm's forehead. "You need rest."

From:

abrightboy

He's not wrong. It's hard to argue with genuine sincere love and protection. With a jingle of restraints, he snuggles up into the crook of Neal's shoulder.

"You'll stay with me?"

From:

conning

"I'm not going anywhere. Not tonight." He holds Malcolm close, gentle enough not to put pressure on any hidden bruises. Almost thoughtfully, he adds, "You saved more lives today. Including your own."

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm turns his face against Neal's shoulder and smiles into his skin.

"Maybe I just wanted to see the you that listens to me again," he points out, but he knows that's not all it was. He always wants to save people by putting killers away. His whole identity revolves around it. "Don't leave without me tomorrow?" he murmurs sleepily. He doesn't trust James and he doesn't want Neal left vulnerable in his presence alone.

From:

conning

Neal makes a soft noise, pretending to be amused instead of touched. He breathes in the smell of Malcolm's clean body pressed close to his, the scent of his dry cleaned pajamas. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He kisses Malcolm's crown. "Now sleep. The me that listens to you will be right here when you wake up."

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm does stir in his sleep, but he doesn’t outright thrash and it’s almost six hours later before he wakes up, his eyes fluttering open with a soft gasp while he grapples for purchase on whatever is under his hands.

From:

conning

Neal sleeps through the stirring, emotionally exhausted himself. When Malcolm gasps he twitches into half-wakefulness, enough that he's reaching out to touch Malcolm's cheek as the other man scrabbles at him and the sheets.

He means to say, "You're okay."

It comes out kind of like, "Yurrickay."

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm blinks at him, glancing around, coming to his sense enough to realize he's home, safe, in bed.

"I dre..." He trails of, scrubs his hand over his face, then tries to fumble the buckle open on the cuff. "Anyway. I'll. Make coffee."

From:

conning

Neal catches Malcolm's hand, unbuckling the cuff himself so he can lift Malcolm's fingers and kiss them. "You can tell me."

From:

abrightboy

"I couldn't find you," Malcolm says. "I mean. You were here, but it wasn't you and I couldn't find you."

From:

conning

For some reason, that makes Neal's skin crawl in a way that other nightmares haven't. Maybe because it's too close to something that could happen in that other place, or... he's not sure. It just disturbs him in a visceral way he can't explain. Neal shivers, kissing Malcolm gently.

"I'm here. The real me. The me that listens to you."

From:

abrightboy

That makes Malcolm smile and he leans up to steal one more kiss.

"You'll always be here when I wake up," he says. He looks at Neal's phone on the night stand. "Your dad. We're supposed to go see your dad." Look how well his brain is working. "In a bit. Coffee? I'll make coffee."

From:

conning

“In a bit,” Neal confirms. As Malcolm moves to get up, Neal holds him close. “You can stay with me in bed for a little while first. That’s allowed.”

From:

abrightboy

He doesn’t know if Neal needs the intimacy because of what’s going on with his dad or if he’s just worried about Malcolm and his injuries rushing into things, but staying in bed with him a while longer sounds like heaven and Malcolm curls back up against him, holding out his other wrist to be freed.

From:

conning

They stay that way for a while. Eventually Neal starts singing to Malcolm, quietly, trying to coaxing him into singing along.

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm doesn't think of himself as someone that can sing, but once he realizes that that's what Neal wants, he does give in a sing along, laughing self-consciously part way through when he flubs the words.

From:

conning

Neal grins as Malcolm laughs, carrying the tune on until the other man falls into it again. When the song trails off, Neal rolls over enough to kiss Malcolm before sitting up with a groan. “I think I need coffee before I start getting a caffeine headache.”

From:

abrightboy

"I'll get it!" Malcolm volunteers, bounding out of bed but almost immediately wavering and reaching out to steady himself on the edge of the bed.

He looks immediately, guiltily at Neal.

"Just a little dizzy. I'm okay."

From:

conning

"Sit," Neal commands gently. He scoots to the edge of the bed, gently touching Malcolm's cheek as he gets up. "I'm going to make you breakfast, coffee included."

From:

abrightboy

“I’m okay,” Malcolm protests weakly. “I can help.”

But he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed because he’s not okay and he probably can’t help.

“I might go back to work.”

He absolutely shouldn’t.

“After we meet with your dad, obviously.”

There is no human way to stop him from coming to that.

From:

conning

"You can help," Neal agrees. "But you're not okay. So the best way you can help is letting me take care of you right now."

He's not going to argue with having Malcolm there to meet his dad. He wants Malcolm there. He will argue when it comes to the whole 'going back to work' part, but that's for later.

Right now: tiny blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs.

Also coffee, of course.

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm gets up slowly and carefully shuffles over to the kitchen island, getting up on a stool to watch Neal cook and, if honest, staying near him.

His dream combined with the hallucinations he had while unconscious may have shaken him a bit.

From:

conning

Neal takes every momentary opportunity that presents itself to come around to Malcolm’s side, giving him a gentle touch here, the brush of a kiss there. Reassurances for both of them as he cooks.

He’s still shaken, himself, over everything.

When he dishes up two tiny pancakes and a wee serving of scrambled eggs, he kisses Malcolm’s forehead. “Don’t force yourself to eat more than you can manage.”