Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Art was suspicious right off the bat when Raylan took a week off with the express note that his phone would be Out Of Order til the next Monday, but the Chief Marshal wasn't going to look gift horses in the mouth. Not when it suggested he'd have a few days of peace, until Raylan caved to turning his phone back on again. Still, he watched the younger Marshal walk out of the office and promised himself to check into the state of Harlan within 3 days to make sure that the place wasn't on fire. The smoke would reach him before he called, he was sure.
But Art didn't have much to worry about - Raylan had no plans on staying in the state for his vacation, beyond one day spent closing up Arlo's and securing it the best way he could before getting on a plane to New York City. He wanted to surprise Malcolm - it'd been near two months since they'd last seen each other and frankly, Raylan was tired of missing him. They'd called and texted, stayed in a fairly consistent, if odd houred, touch but it wasn't the same.
Once he landed, Raylan rented a car and navigated his way towards Malcolm's apartment, stopping to grab a bouquet of flowers. It was.. Extra, but Raylan didn't want to show up empty handed, just in case. Thirty minutes later, Malcolm's door buzzer was being hit, like Raylan was here to deliver something. Well, he was, but that was half the fun.

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"You've never barbequed?" Raylan scoffed. "Considering all of what you don't normally eat, I shouldn't be surprised. We're gonna have to take care of that as soon as possible. Mine isn't as good as you'll get up in places like Nobles holler but I've always felt mine at the very least stands up to it for a few bites. It's the only way to break in a patio. Might even spring for a smoker, but I'll have to find friends to help eat it...
How do you feel about Poker Nights?"
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And with that hand around him. It was a tiny gesture and it was also everything.
"Poker is a psychological battle of wits more than a card game," Malcolm informed him. In other words, he was intrigued by Poker Night. "Though I've barely played it, I do know the rules and I've played people.... like, a lot."
HES GONNA TURN INTO TIMMY O MAKING DRINKS IN THAT VIDEO
"You're going to be my secret weapon once I find people to play with. And until then, we can get a lotta work outta that patio." His cheeks almost hurt from the amount of grinning he was doing, but he loved it. "Put in a small bar, a place to store ice.."
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"Oh my god, we're going to have to make friends." A beat. "I'm not usually helpful for that."
He didn't look worried, though. Raylan was very personable.
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They'd be fine.
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People did find him irritating. Especially at first.
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"I'll be fine? Like. By normal person standards? I'm not sure the sun works like that," he teased, grinning down at the floor.
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"There actually are a bunch of them," he admitted, pleased that Raylan guessed that so astutely.
His boyfriend was so clever. It sure did make him even hotter.
"Oh, we have to get off at the next stop," he said, glancing around to check where they were. He almost got carried away and forgot to pay attention.
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The train dinged and came to a stop and Raylan filed out behind Malcolm, keeping his hand lightly where it was until he could pull up next to him freely. His stomach rumbled, and he ignored it with only a passing rub over it.
"I hope that all this today means that we get to stay home tomorrow. I could do with a day inside after this. Not to mention however sore we're both gonna be." It was a good statement, he was enjoying himself and was looking forwards to the game later, but a day in would balance it out nicely.
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"The restaurant's just there," he said, gesturing. It was slightly upscale with white linens and real silver. Once they stepped inside, they were led to a table near the windows.
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"Nice place," he said, as though Malcolm didn't know. "Don't suppose they serve fried chicken, do they?" He was teasing now, no way in hell an upscale place like this did something as low rent as fried chicken.
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"They have... chicken," he said, looking up at Raylan from under his brow. "But I know they have fried chicken at the stadium," he offered. He unwrapped his cutlery and set his napkin across his lap. "I may have googled it."
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"Only thing safe worth eating a stadium is the beer, the hotdogs and it's alway 50/50 on the popcorn. Unless they've got their own stall.. Then I'll consider it." He liked supporting small business.. Mainly because you could better see who you were actually dealing with.
"You googled their food amenities?"
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A waiter came and poured water into their glasses and noticed Malcolm's coffee cup turned up as he set menus on the table. He looked at Raylan. "Would sir like coffee as well?"
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He waited til the waiter stepped away before looking back down at the table. "Any other silent language things goin' on here that I need to know about?" How many forks did he have?
He'll look at the menu afterwards.
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He also didn't usually drink coffee so late, but he hadn't been sleeping well all week.
"Which stadiums have you been to?" he asked curiously, since he seemed to know what was generally good there.
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"I went to Marlins Park in Miami a couple times. Dodger Stadium in L.A. Lexington technically has a stadium, but it's a Little League park in comparison to any context you've got." It wasn't like he hadn't ever gone - he wasn't twenty something anymore.
"I feel like I should ask about ballet theaters now, since you clearly weren't goin' to baseball. Not that I've got a lot of context for that but.." It came to mind. If Malcolm was willing to go to a baseball game with him, he was fine with being asked to go to ballet with Malcolm.
Raylan didn't love classical music, but he could appreciate the fervor of it.
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"The New York City Ballet performs at the Lincoln Center," he replied. "I haven't been in a long time." He straightened his napkin in his lap. "Maybe next trip we can fit it in." He glanced up. "If you want."
He was still distinctly uncomfortable with the notion of anyone knowing he enjoyed ballet. A ritual of after school beatings drove the point in. Intellectually, he knew Raylan was safe. His limbic system would have to get used to it.
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"So what's good here?" Honestly, since he was being given a chance, Raylan wasn't being dicey about the prices and was actually looking at what they had that he might not have had in some form or another, before.
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"What are you ordering?" He peered over like Malcolm's menu would highlight his soup of choice, like might also consider it even though he totally wouldn't.
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He paused and looked up impishly "and 'than me' was correct; it's the object of the preposition. 'I' is nominative."
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"Smartass," he accused out loud for the first time, face curled in amusement as the waiter came back with a silver coffee pot and creamer to pour out for Malcolm before asking for their order. Raylan actually took Malcolm's suggestion and ordered the ahi tuna steak, flipping the menu closed and handing it over with a friendly smile.
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AHHH SO MUCH ROLLING
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THAT ICON IS CHEATING
THAT ICON IS TRUTH
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