tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

He considered that, looking up at Raylan's face, a little playfulness returning to his expression in the comfort of Raylan's arms.

"Or you could come with me," he pointed out like it was a logical solution.

"Or you could go and avoid having to explain why you're involving the US Marshal's service into some random case in New York. You know I'll still be here when you get back, right?" That's what Raylan assumed the core of this was - a fear that Malcolm would lose sight of Raylan and come back home to an empty apartment.

"Worried I'll riffle through your underwear drawer or something?"

He shook his head faintly. "No. You're welcome to my underwear," he teased back. He sobered a little. "We don't get a lot of time together. It seems like... I mean, there will be cases when you're gone, but if I take a case... I can't get back however many days with you."

"Days with me aren't worth the lives that you save by catching bad guys. That's the way this job works, Malcolm. Feelings don't change that." This problem he'd well handled long ago. Their needs, their desires, their happiness, was less important than the work they did.

"Darlin'," he started, remembering how he'd reacted last time to that fond name, reaching up to capture the side of Malcolm's face and command his attention with the insistence of eye contact. "If I have my way about it, we're going to have every day once we're done. Life doesn't stop for us or anyone else. Pretending otherwise only invites guilt and problems."

It was somehow more real, that word, when he was completely awake. He hadn't dreamed it. And it definitely grounded him.

Raylan was right, of course. He probably would have talked himself into that, too, if Gil really called... but as a hypothetical situation? He was trying to make the math fit the answer he wanted. But they couldn't do that.

He leaned his face into Raylan's hand, then closed his eyes.

"I know," he admitted softly.

He opened his eyes, meeting Raylan's again. "I guess all we can do it make the best of it, right?"

Daydreams had their place, so long as they took reality. It was the one thing they couldn't escape from, no matter how much they might want to.

"And every second we get together," he affirmed, sealing the promise with a soft kiss. "Can we start this over? I had to fight an old jewish man for these flowers; strangest interaction I've ever had this week."

A bit of an embellishment, but if there was a chance it would break the seriousness, he'd take it.

It worked; it made him laugh into Raylan's shoulder.

"Then we definitely can't leave them to die on the counter."

He hugged Raylan tightly one more time, then let go of him to resume his hunt for a vase.

"Can you put the chain on the door?" he asked over his shoulder, his tone absent of any tightness or uncertainty it had previously acquired. He took down a simple cylindrical glass vase. "Let's keep out any actual intruders."

He filled the vase with water, then unwrapped the flowers and set them in it.

Raylan smiled at the laugh and hugged Malcolm back before glancing back at the door and ambling over to as asked, with only a look back at Malcolm at the inflection of 'actual'. Point taken.

"How long have you been off case? Long enough for Ainsley to come check on you or did I come in on an interesting conversation?" Once he got back to the counter, he picked up his glass, off hand propped on the island behind him as he watched Malcolm move around.

"I wrapped my last case the day before yesterday," he said, straightening the flowers a little. He looked over. "She interviewed this ex-con yesterday and she wanted my opinion on a couple of things he said. If I thought they were lies."

Satisfied with how the flowers sat, he put the kettle on the stove.

"I couldn't see his face; it would have helped if she brought the footage but..." he shrugged. Then paused. Then looked at Raylan. "Maybe she was checking on me," he realized.

It was good to be back in Malcolm's space, especially after so long. Raylan wasn't going to let two months go between visits again, even if it meant bending a little around work. His hands had been itching since Malcolm had left Kentucky; an effect that eased the moment he got his hands on Malcolm again.

"You do need checking on, now and then," he reasoned. "But now she's got more to think about and less reason to worry.. Though I wonder how quickly it's going to get to your mother, and then what," he asked teasingly. "Did she.. already know?" Ainsley that was, not Jessica.

"She knows what she saw last time you were here..." He took a mug down from the cabinet. "She knows I went to Kentucky a couple of months ago for no professional reason." He held up a finger. "And was a little put out I didn't bring her, because, and I quote, 'he invited me too'. I have neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions. So yeah. She knew. She isn't stupid." He sighed, dropping a herbal teabag into the mug. "I'm sure she's talked to my mother about it before now. She would hint at knowing something, my mother would grill her... and that would be breakfast." He glanced over. "My mother hasn't said anything to me about it. She's more concerned about me seeing my father and investigating murders."

Raylan's eyebrows lifted a little at that. He maintained that there had been nothing to see; the Whitly women just happened to be right about it all, in the end. But he could imagine her stomping her foot at her brother with a pout and Raylan smirked.

"You tell her that she really doesn't, considering the people?" Yes, 'Train Hobos' was still kicking around in the back of his head.

"How's that going, you and Martin? Probably better if he doesn't know shit." Because Raylan might have to punch him again.

"I cannot warn her about the people. She'll want to go even more."

Interviewing unsavoury types was sort of her Thing. Though he was confident that, unlike Malcolm, she'd have had them eating out of her hand and offering their life stories to television.

"But I've only seen Dr Whitly twice since then. The first time, he asked me if I'd investigated the 'assault' on him. I told him I was looking into why he didn't get punched more often and concluded that it could only be because he gets so few visitors in person." Malcolm poured hot water into his cup. "He didn't bring it up again."

Raylan scoffed an understanding sound and bobbed his head. His mistake. He avoided Journalistic types and the cameras they tended to bring with them, generally speaking and put too much weight in people doing as he told them. Most of the time.

The curl of Raylan's satisfied smile over the edge of his glass was all he needed to say about Martin and Malcolm's response to it. Perfect.

"You look good," he said softly after a moment.

He glanced down, then smiled self-consciously, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt.

"This is not what I would be wearing if I knew you were coming," he admitted.

Raylan looked... well. As rugged and sexy as he always looked, except even moreso, somehow.

"You look good, too."

Understatement of the year.

He picked up Raylan's hat and settled it on his own head.

"And you clearly impressed my sister with your hat."

"The hat impresses everyone, far as I can tell." Malcolm wearing his hat was still just as almost adorable as it was before, clothes not withstanding, and Raylan took another drink from his glass before setting it down and stepping forward to reach for and gently tug Malcolm back into his arms.

"That doesn't look bad on you, ya know. Little low rent on your hundred dollar haircut," he teased. "But not bad. I'm sure you could make it fashionable enough to pepper New York runways.."

Easily letting himself land back in Raylan's arms, he smiled up at him.

"I think what impresses everyone is how the hat frames an imposing, tall man who looks distractingly good in jeans," he admitted, taking the hat from his own head and setting it on Raylan's.

Resting his hands on Raylan's chest, he leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Mm," Raylan hummed thoughtfully behind a smile that broke into a little grin as his hat was replaced on his head. Leaning down to meet the kiss, he kept their faces close when it broke, amusement still dancing in his edges.

"You didn't look bad in those either." He stole another kiss before straightening all the way again, happy enough to keep his hands spread loosely around Malcolm's waist. "What were you planning to do today? Anything important?"

If not, well.. Raylan could think of a few things to spend their time on, not all of which involved Malcolm's bed.

Holding Raylan's gaze, he shook his head happily.

"No plans at all. We can do anything you want. New York is your oyster."

His smile broke into a grin. "I still haven't seen Time Square or Central Park. Or those batting cages you promised me were here. Bet they're a lot more impressive than Lexington's cages."

The ones that looked more like hand me down buildings, minded by 20 year old kids who barely knew their ass from a hole in the ground, much less what to do properly with a bat.

Oh, Malcolm would shortly be googling the best batting cages in the city, because that was where they would be going.

"And Yankee Stadium. I believe I promised you a game," he pointed out, tilting his head just enough to brush Raylan's nose with his nose. "It is baseball season, right?" he teased.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there's a game," he murmured before stealing another kiss. Get that close and that cute and that's what happens, Malcolm. "I don't have a lotta time to keep up with it like I used to."

He liked to try, when he did have the time, there was just never a lot of it.

"Should I put my bag up anywhere specific? Unless I'm relegated to your couch again."

"In the bedroom, please," he told him, kissing him one more time before letting go of him so he could do that. "There's a mostly empty drawer in the bottom of the dresser, if you want to put your stuff in there."

He picked up his phone, wandering towards the livingroom.

"Gil? It's me. I need Yankees tickets. How do I get them?"

"Hi to you, too, kid."

"Hi. I assume you don't have anything for me or you would have called. Where do you buy baseball tickets?"

"Why do you need baseball tickets? You've never been interested in baseball."

"A friend of mine is visiting from out of town. He likes baseball."

"Does this 'friend' happen to be a US Marshal named 'Givens'?"

Malcolm just blinked for a second. "....How do you know that?"

"I'm a detective, kid. Also, your mother called asking me if I knew him and what I thought about him. It was funny, because it doesn't seem like that long ago that Deputy Givens called me asking me if I knew you and what I thought of you."

"Ha ha," Malcolm answered flatly. "Should I have asked Google where to buy Yankees tickets?"

"Actually, I know a guy who has season tickets and owes me a favour. I can get you better tickets than you can buy at the box office."

He breathed out. "Thanks. Let me know when to stop by and pick them up." He glanced over at Raylan, then turned and lowered his voice. "What did you tell my mother?"

"I told her I've only spoken to him a few times but he seems like a standup guy."

"Right. Okay. Thanks. Talk to you soon."

He hung up before Gil could really answer and turned to look towards Raylan. "Got Yankees tickets!" he called over triumphantly, as though that was all that happened on the call.

Raylan hummed at the kiss and the direction, adjusting his hat back onto his head, wisps of salt and pepper hair sticking out on each side as he reached down to snag to his bag from it's handles. He glanced up the stairs and back at Malcolm before minding where he was going, clicking a soft greeting to the parakeet as he went past.

There was no helping the slight ear hustling he did as Malcolm made his call, but Raylan tried to not imagine the other side of the conversation while he squatted down and started to unload the couple of shirts, extra pair of jeans, his suit pants and undergoods. The bag was folded and tucked next to it all once he removed his shaving/tooth travel bag, rising with the small leather bag left to dangle on his fingertips, smile curling at the way Malcolm announced his success.

"That was almost suspiciously quick. Gil have connections to the stadium or something?" Raylan asked as he stepped into the bathroom to drop that off before heading back towards Malcolm.

"He knows a season ticket holder," Malcolm informed him. "Which makes them good seats, apparently." He dropped his phone back onto the counter and tilted his hand back to glance at his watch. "Are you hungry? I can order some lunch in or we can go out..."

He tried to observe normal meal times when he was with other people. But the brief walk was far enough on his own and he found his way back to Raylan's side, sliding a hand around his ribs to tuck himself against him and look up at him.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject