tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

"You know I don't know what that is," he replied with a pull of his grin before he kissed Malcolm gently and shifting down enough to lay his head on Malcolm's shoulder to close his eyes.

After a moment, he spoke again, more softly this time. "I can't wait til we can get down to Miami. I want this and the smell of the ocean in the air." He took a deep breath and pushed up, pressing a kiss onto Malcolm's chest.

"Have you eaten breakfast?"

"I never thought much about the future until we started talking about Miami," Malcolm admitted, his fingers absently finding Raylan's hair again. "Now I can't stop."

At the question about breakfast, he shook his head. "What should we have?"

That was the best news he'd heard all day, really.

"I want french toast and bacon," he asserted, suddenly very sure about that answer. "If you order it, I'll clean up."

Fair trade, since Malcolm was going to end up paying for it, right?

Very fair trade.

Before Raylan could get up, Malcolm grabbed his shoulder. "Raylan..."

His eyes wandered the features of Raylan's face a moment.

"I love you."

He hadn't been able to make words work when it came up before, but he wanted to say it.

He had only just started to when Malcolm grabbed his shoulder, bringing his weight the inch back down to settle on him as Raylan watched Malcolm process.. something. When that something came out, Raylan melted a little, face spreading back into a soft blissfully happy smile.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to how much I like hearin' that." Leaning down to steal one more soft but deep and lingering kiss before he pushed to his feet and held his hands down to help Malcolm to his.

After breakfast, where Malcolm had ordered french toast and bacon for Raylan and scrambled eggs for himself, he got them a taxi to Chelsea Piers, leading Raylan into the Field House, where they had large professional batting cages.

He'd never actually been there before, but he was looking forward to seeing Raylan bat again.

"This is supposed to be the best batting cage in New York," he said as they walked in.

The breakfast was good and filling, and afterwards, Raylan changed into one of his long sleeved shirts that clung to his shoulders and got his hat, making sure his badge was tucked into his pocket to match the gun at his back that was hidden by his denim jacket.

The pier was taken in with an almost impressed lift of his eyebrows, an expression that stayed as they came into the batting cage area. He let out a low whistle.

"Not bad. Certainly beats out Miami's too and they're all about baseball. Now are they sayin' their the best, or are customers?" he asked with a finger extended. "That's difference."

It wasn't hard to see how they were set up and after renting a cage, Raylan led them to and into it, slipping his hat off to set it on the provided bench so he could shrug his jacket off.

"You gonna bat this time? We can take it easy on you, turn the delay on the machine up." He wanted to see Malcolm bat again, likely for the same reason even though he didn't know it.

Malcolm laughed lightly at himself.

"Don't go easy on me!" he protested. "I'll bat. Attempt to bat. A full speed." He paused. "Unless I take one in the face or something. Then you can turn the machine down."

He stayed out of the way, to the side, letting Raylan's experience gauge the rhythm of the place first.

Raylan grinned and pointed at the protective gear in the corner next to where he was pulling a bat from. "You, helmet while you're batting. Just in case."

Of course, he walked away empty handed aside from the bat in his hand that he spun as he walked the paces away to the batting machine. They were all by and large the same, even the higher tech ones they had here were easy to figure out and Raylan's success was marked with the first of many air ripping thunk of a ball being launched. He spun the bat again, pleased to be here, doing this, as he ambled back towards the batting plate, ignoring the steady paced pitched balls flying past him.

"First rule of baseball is don't get hit," he teased as he stepped up.

He'd been playing baseball since he was small and he stepped up, bat at the ready. He didn't like the first pitch for timing and let it pass without swining before catching the next one with a crack of his bat. But batting cages wasn't about distance or where the ball went, it was for batting. Raylan let every other one pass him, littering the front of their batting mound with abandoned balls, until he'd hit about five. Then he stepped back and rolled his shoulders, one after another.

"Just remember, you don't have to hit all of 'em. C'mon and-" thunk "-Mind the balls when you're hopping to this side."

Malcolm put the helmet on as instructed, picking up a bat and giving it an experimental swing before carefully making his way over to the side Raylan was on, past whizzing balls.

He held the bat the way he'd watched Raylan do it. He missed the first one he swung at completely. He waited through two balls and swung at the next, just knicking it and sending it foul, straight up in the air. He raised his eyebrows as he watched it fall back down, another ball whizzing past, then looked at Raylan.

He nodded with a crooked smile, one eye closing in a squinted half wink of encouragement. "You hit that one too low, so it went up not out. Do--" He gestured with a finger before saying fuck it and just stepping up behind Malcolm, sliding his hands over those on the bat.

Having a few extra inches was really very good for this.

"The only thing that's not moving is your front, weight bearing leg. It's like golf, at chest level." thunk. His words continued at Malcolm's ear. "I don't know what yoga breathing might apply but pull in when in it's coming."

The next ball that came, Raylan swung for them with a solid connect that went for left field. "There. Try again." He stepped back and propped his hands on his hips, watching again.

"Breathe in when it's coming?" he clarified. "And out when? When I swing or after I swing?"

"Whatever feels best. Personally, I found my breath hitches. Holds as I hit and lets go afterwards. It's different for everyone." He was curious if the yoga would help or not.

"Okay, so after," he murmured to himself. "In when it comes, hold and then breathe out."

Instructions for himself.

He missed his next swing and his eyes narrowed a little in renewed focus. He connected with the next one. It was a grounder that skittered off just inside the foul line, but it was a good hit.

He looked at Raylan.

Better than straight up and down and Raylan grinned at him. "Better! Your adjustments from here are slight, just mind your shoulder when it's fully extended. Push it too hard, you can do some nasty damage."

Which he felt a little silly saying to Malcolm Whitly, who knew more about the human anatomy details than he did by at least three and half miles, but he'd watched a shoulder tear out and it wasn't pretty. The damage it did wasn't pretty either and he'd hate himself if his childhood sports hobby got more dangerous than it already was.

"We'll slow the delay so that we waste less balls but I figure we got another 25 before we recollect and try again."

He knew how a shoulder could tear.

"Show me again; I want to see how you hold your shoulder."

Gesturing for and taking the offered bat, Raylan squared up and let one pass before he swung, utterly unaware of how defined his shoulders were in this shirt when he did shit like this. The ball thunked solidly against his bat and flew back towards the backmost chain that kept the ball in this cage. Only half the power came from his arms, the other half came from the rest of his upper body, twisting into the strike.

He looked over at Malcolm. "Helpful?" He didn't understand watching people like that, he was a hands on doer kind of person, so he had to take Malcolm's word on it.

Because it was easy to see his shoulders in that shirt, it was easy to see what they were doing.

He nodded. "One more time?"

Raylan grinned and twirled the bat again before readying himself and hitting another middlefield ball. Instead of turning around just yet, Raylan cocked and swung again, hitting the following ball in easy succession. Yeah, he was having fun.

And Malcolm liked to see it. He grinned as Raylan hit the second ball in succession, just appreciating his shoulders that time.

"How old were you when you started playing?" he asked, not making a move to take the bat back; it was more fun watching the smooth, practiced movement of Raylan swinging.

"About 6, almost seven. It was-" He swung again, cracking another ball of into the back of the field before stepping back with a roll of his swinging shoulder. "My mother's idea as I recall. Got me out from under Arlo's feet for a little while most days and hell," he admitted with a shrug of his face and a bob of his head.

"I loved it and I got pretty good by the time high school ended. Ladies only cared about the football team though, so it didn't get me anything but a set of cleats in my face a couple of times."

"...Really?" He gave Raylan an assessing look. "Maybe you should have tried wearing that shirt," he suggested innocently.

Raylan smirked at him and hefted the bat up so he was holding the thicker end to hold it out to Malcolm. "Shoulders like these take time, like a good whiskey." The smirk broke into a grin. "I was always a little too skinny, I think, but there were a few ladies that liked that more than anything to do with baseball."

"I bet."

He took the bat, giving it an experimental swing before stepping back up and trying to imitate Raylan's stance.

Breathe in when it's coming, hold it. Swing. Breathe out.

He hit it with a good crack and it still popped up a little but it went almost down the middle.

He looked at Raylan with a little triumph this time.

"A moving round surface hitting a moving round surface is hard to predict, you know."

He lined himself up to try again, letting two balls pass before he swung. It didn't go any straighter, but it went farther.

Malcolm was getting better. It was all about the small adjustments that no one could figure out but the person swinging. His look of triumph was echoed with an encouraging nod of Raylan's head and a small spread of his smile.

"It comes at the same spot each time here. Just work on swinging for center." His grin was spreading as Malcolm lined himself back up, and Raylan enjoyed the view as Malcolm swung again. This was a satisfying companion to him learning how to throw axes. "You can put strength into it later to worry about trying for any home runs."

But this was a good start.

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