tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

He chuckled and let Malcolm pull him into the water, settling his hands on Malcolm's hips as he watched him wash him off. There was a jump of his stomach, eyes closing with a little rumble from the back of his throat as Malcolm cleaned between his legs. It only took a lean of his hips to bring theirs together, humming again as Malcolm wet his hair.

"Moods, huh? Can't all be as well behaved as yours, with all that product keeping it in place." Raylan smirked. "I'll let you choose, how about that. In all your good taste."

"You'd think, but the product has its hands full and can't even always manage it."

He chose a boutique men's shampoo that smelled faintly of sage and squeezed some into his hand before threading his fingers up into Raylan's hair to work it in.

Raylan stepped back out of the water, bringing Malcolm into it so he could echo the movements Malcolm had just taken, washing his stomach clean before smirking as he watched the water try to get through all of Malcolm's hair. Still, he only needed one hand to change that.

"One day you'll let me see it all clean and wild and unmanaged, right? For longer than it normally takes you to get somethin' in it."

He tried and failed to suppress a smile.

"You said you were going to be here a week?"

Casual. Like he didn't remember vividly. Like he wasn't already counting the seconds.

"You might catch me with natural air-dried hair," he said coyly. "At some point." Like all afternoon after the shower. Like the next morning. "Rinse," he warned, stepping so Raylan was under the water again.

"Few days shy of, yeah," he answered, unable to stop his smile from cracking at the spread of Malcolm's. His smiles were terribly infectious.

Raylan moved back into the water, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back and worked the suds out of his hair, making quick work of it. With a few extra strokes of his hands, Raylan stepped back.

"Conditioner? Which of these do you use anyway?" He wanted to know what he was smelling on Malcolm, since he had the chance.

"Sometimes I pick one... sometimes I mix them," he said in a tone that suggested it was a trade secret. "I particularly like mixing these two," he said, setting two bottles to the side. "One smells like bergamot and one is predominantly lavender. It's supposed to be calming." He considered that. "I think it works to some degree." He picked up a different bottle and squeezed some conditioner into his hand. "This smells like neroli." A beat, then he started sliding it through Raylan's hair. "Okay, basically all the scents I have in here are supposed to calm anxiety. I don't have a lot of non-anxiety-mitigating aromas in this shower."

Raylan watched, eyebrows lifted in his amusement, letting Malcolm go on without interruption or influence. It was cute when he went on about something that wasn't gruesome or ugly.

"Is there one that makes someone more anxious?" he asked, tone lifting at the end like it might be possible. "Like.. patchouli?"

He laughed lightly. "Well. It's not a favourite of mine," he admitted. "It's not that some fragrances cause anxiety, per se. But some energize you, while some calm you. Citrus is really energizing... peppermint...." he noted as he continued to massage the conditioner into Raylan's scalp. "Iiiiii generally need to come down," he confessed. A beat. "You probably noticed." He rinsed his hands off, but made sure Raylan stayed out of the spray. "Let it soak in." He gestured towards Raylan's head. "Neroli is supposed to be good for insomnia. Not that it's helped with mine, but mine has extenuating circumstances."

His either - Raylan avoided smelling like hippies and weed/head shop when he could. Talkers weren't normally something that Raylan really tolerated - the trunk was a better place for dumbasses that couldn't stop their mouths from rambling, but he enjoyed watching Malcolm go on about nothing.

"You got a favorite scent?" He leaned against the shower wall to watch Malcolm, arms crossing over each other.

Every place was a good place for a lean.

"I like bergamot a lot," he said, squeezing liquid from one bottle into his hand and then another. "It's what lends most of the aroma to earl grey tea," he explained, working the mixture into his own scalp, still talking. "But, like I said, I prefer to mix it. It pairs well with a lot of fragrances. Oh, I like sandalwood, too. That pairs nicely with lavender."

"Sandalwood and Lavender, I know; the first one I've never heard of," he said, reaching for Malcolm to kiss him, a subtle and soft reward for being himself.

"And I don't think I've ever paid attention to the smell of tea, any kind."

The unexpected kiss delighted Malcolm and he beamed at Raylan, holding up a foamy hand for him to smell if he wanted, getting bergamot and lavender foam on Raylan's shoulder with his other hand. "It's the scent in here that isn't lavender," he said, staying close against him.

He did want to smell, and did so as he kept eye contact with him. "Absolutely nothin' you do is normal, is it." It was the furthest thing from an insult.

Malcolm didn't take it as one, smiling softly up at him.

"I'm not sure I can judge. I don't really know what 'normal' is," he admitted.

He leaned up to press another gentle kiss to Raylan's mouth before backing himself under the spray to wash the shampoo off.

"You know what not normal is. Don't take much to extrapolate out the possibilities for all the various kinds of 'normal'. Isn't that what... Havard? Paid for?"

Once Malcolm finished rinsing his hair, Raylan maneuvered him into trading spots so he could rinse out his own real quick before stepping forward and out of the shower spray.

"You finish up, I'm gonna towel off and get dressed so that one of us looks decent before this food gets here," he declared, reaching to steal another kiss from Malcolm before stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.

"Intellectually, I guess..."

Raylan's departure from the shower was unexpected, but he was probably right about the time. He took his time with conditioner and body wash and then dried off, wrapping a towel around his waist to head out to the bedroom and grab fresh sweatpants and a clean t-shirt, just in case that was the moment the delivery person was in the doorway.

Once he dried off, Raylan walked naked out into the apartment and got into his clean clothes, having bought his first pair of 'sleep pants', a dark charcoal grey, in years so he had an option that wasn't his jeans. With his strappy undershirt, he collected the food and was laying it out as Malcolm came out of the shower.

"Just in time," he praise. "Hasn't been here but a minute. Don't know about you, but I've worked up an appitite."

"I could eat," Malcolm agreed with a smile, drawing up next to him to press a kiss to his shoulder. "I hope you like it; I was guessing."

Glancing down, he noticed Raylan's pants. He gave the waistband a small snap.

"Do these mean you're going to try yoga in the morning?"

Raylan smiled at the kiss and eyed the food nodding. "A hungry man will eat and-"

The snap of his waist band made him bend away from it a little in a playful way with a smirk as he picked up his fork, happy enough with Malcolm guesses so far to not question this one.

"Don't know.. Maybe." Raylan glanced at him coyly. "If I were to, would you go easy on me?" He'd almost said 'An old Man' but he couldn't bring himself to do that yet. Early Forty somethings was the prime...
... right?

Malcolm would be happy to confirm that Raylan was very, very prime. He opened the container of plain rice and picked up his own fork, gesturing towards Raylan.

"Beginners start at the beginning," he noted. "But I think you'll find your... core strength will lend itself well."

He ate a small bite of rice, then got a glass down and filled it from a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge.

"Want anything to drink? I have a few beers in there, if mineral water doesn't sound good."

A six-pack, actually, of the brand Raylan had at Arlo's. Untouched.

"Since when have you stocked beers?" he asked, face curling in amusement. Probably as long as Raylan had stocked Jello. "Tap water is fine, thank you. The beer can be for later in the day." He didn't always drink, after all.

He took a bite of his food and watched Malcolm move about, speaking again once he'd settled. "Thought it might do to have something other than my jeans to slack around your house in. Walking around in just boxers here seems like a very dangerous decision."

Malcolm huffed a laugh. "Wise decision. I like to think that one day my mother will learn to knock, but her version of knocking is rattling the door and shouting at me to open it if the chain is on." He picked up his glass of mineral water to take a drink, then paused. "Okay, in fairness, I don't normally have a sex life to speak of. I don't think she's been worried about walking in on anything like that so much as walking in on me hanging myself from the rafters." He put his glass down and his finger up. "I'm not suicidal. She just... has concerns based on... I don't know. Whatever books she's been reading about helping family members through mental illness."

That was something Raylan was sure Malcolm wouldn't miss down in Miami. He knew he wouldn't miss it and it only happened rarely to him in Lexington.

Raylan's eyebrows lifted at the hypothetical, happy that Malcolm was quick to add that important addendum because he was going to have worried questions if that was something he had to mind. He nodded as he worked another bite onto his fork.

"Well. Can't say I blame a mother who's worrying..." He eyed Malcolm. "Maybe she'll calm down in a few months." Once she learned about them, once she saw the effect Raylan had on Malcolm. Maybe.

He laughed lightly, then took a drink.

"Twenty years in, I'll wear her down eventually." He looked at Raylan. "I promised you a tour of the townhouse. She'll be there. Is that okay?"

Raylan nodded behind his bite, loading another one on. "Seems like that's a better question for her, seeing how as it's her house but I'll be fine."

He didn't know how he'd be - probably awkward and a little too polite but he'd burn that bridge when he gets to it.

"And on my best behavior." Well, as best as he could manage that, considering what happened last time.

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