tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"I'll have you know I just ate almost a half a bowl of soup. Minus a handful of crackerjacks, and a beer, I'm probably good until tomorrow," he joked, but it sort of wasn't a joke.

He led them back down into the subway to find their train.

He chuckled, but he knew it wasn't quite a joke. It was a bold statement.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. It takes a lot to eat after eating on top of beer; beer's heavy. It's the hops." He jogged down the stairs again, following Malcolm through the process til they were on a platform again. "How long have you been ridin' this thing? Seems like too many stops to keep track of."

"I used to ride all the time when I was younger, but not since I came back to town; I mostly take taxis. When I was young, I guess it was an adventure," he admitted.

"As an adult, it's an adventure," Raylan assured. "And I haven't even ridden it at night."

The train pulled up and Raylan gestured for Malcolm to step on first before following behind. NYC must be a busy city; he still hadn't seen sitting room and he wasn't mad about it. Any excuse to get a hand on Malcolm, some soft connection of reality.

"Taxis seem more... sanitary, if nothing else." As though to suggest that there was a big list of things wrong with the beloved public transport of the Big Apple.

"Worth the price, if you're not stuck in traffic. I read something once that said walking the streets was more time efficient for short travels but they funnel people down here because the sidewalks would be overflowing and unmoveable if everyone was up there."

Malcolm considered that.

"I never thought about it. It is pretty crowded up there," he admitted, relishing Raylan's hand against him in public, even if it was disguised as pragmatism. He knew what it was. "That's very plausible."

"I don't suppose you know the population of the city?" Raylan asked with a lift of his eyebrows. Malcolm was so smart, Raylan couldn't help a little trivia quiz to test that higher education as he stole his indulgences of having Malcolm close to and in contact with him.

"Hell, the fact that they dug these tunnels out is pretty damn impressive. Feat of engineering." Which clearly fascinated Raylan and earned a little bit of his admiration. It was similar to mining. No one working on the line was doing it for the love of the idea.

"About... eight million," he said. "Which doesn't even put it in the top ten globally. Tokyo has something like thirty-seven million," he related.

He glanced around as Raylan mentioned the engineering of the tunnels and put the same two and two together. "Oh, you dug tunnels. You know what's involved."

"Top Ten," Raylan half laughed with a breath. "Feels like New York thinks it's a competition." He grinned crookedly; it was part of the charm of the City and its people. Including the man he had a hand slipped around, a little more bold about it than he had before.

"Well, mines, but they go all kinda ways. Same concept. With the lights and the car and the concrete and the tiles at your stops, you guys cover the fact that you're in a hole in the ground pretty well." But people like him were still, front brain, aware of what they were really in, if you cut out the drapes and bullshit. The 'Security Theatre' of being underground.

"Lots more room than a mine..." He glanced at the pack car. "Almost."

"They probably don't put this many people in a mine," Malcolm noted, very aware of Raylan's hand on him. In public. It warmed him through. "Though I'm not going to lie and say fooling ourselves is practically a sport in New York."

Like before, there was a comfort in anonymity and he'd take whatever excuse to touch Malcolm that he could. He grinned at Malcolm's finish.

"I won't be rude enough to agree." But he agreed. "You're sure you're not going to be bored at this game?"

Malcolm looked up at him, amusement creasing the edges of his eyes.

"Raylan... it's almost endearing that you think I could be bored being with you while you do something you enjoy. Unless you leave me there by myself, I expect to have a very good time."

"No foolin' yourself?" he asked, face curled in amusement as his hand tightened a little on Malcolm's waist. If they weren't in public, he would have kissed him cross eyed.

"So you're just comin' along to watch me turn into a little boy gettin' into a game, huh?"

"And to hear your expert commentary. What I've gathered from Gil is that it's a display of strategy and athleticism and is not, in fact, a bunch of grown men standing around scratching themselves in public while waiting for something to happen," he teased.

"My Expert commentary," he huffed a laugh behind, half squinted eyes habitually drifting over the people in the car before they came back to Malcolm.

"Is that every ball scratch is a sign," he said with a teasing tone back as he leaned in a little with a grin. "There's some athleticism in there, but I don't know about strategy. Skill maybe.."

Malcolm looked up at him with far too much innocence to be innocent.

"Okay, here's the important question: does any of them look as good as you do swinging a bat?"

Oh well, how could he not grin at that, head ducking a little with it as he looked over sidelong. "I don't know. You'd have to tell me."

Malcolm smiled at being able to elicit that response.

"Maybe that'll be my area of academic study during the game," he teased. "I'll have a thesis prepared for the cab ride home."

"A whole thesis, huh? Hell, if it's good enough, might even get you a Pulitzer." Raylan grinned glancing up at the passing station. "Where's our stop, by the way? Since you nearly forgot last time."

Of which he'd take no responsibility for.

"Sports writer of the year, right? The hard hitting stories that people want to read." he quipped.

He looked up at the map at Raylan's prompt with a laugh that admitted guilt. "Two more to go," he told him.

He moved his gaze to Raylan's face. "Does Miami have a team?"

Raylan chuckled. He didn't doubt that Malcolm could be just as persuasive on paper as he was articulate in conversation.

Nodding at the answer, he looked back down to Malcolm with another faint nod. "The Marlins, the team the stadium is currently named after. They're alright, play a good game but I don't get much into the numbers of it anymore so I couldn't tell you technically how good they are. Good enough to waste tickets on, at any rate. I hope Willa takes to likin' baseball." Or.. any sports, really. Raylan couldn't say why but they felt important. Like it trained a body how to survive or run a little faster in this rough world.

"I bet she'll take an interest in an activity she can do with her dad," Malcolm pointed out. "Going to games, learning how to swing a bat, learning to throw and catch. You'll be the one that teaches her; it'll mean something to her."

"I plan on takin' her fishing too.." The gears in his head were already turning for the long future he hoped to have with his daughter.

Raylan glanced down and smiled. "But that's a long time away. I'd hate to miss out on the now, woolgatherin' over things that ain't happened yet."

"Maybe I'm just excited to see you in dad mode with your daughter," Malcolm said with a grin. "Just your face when you think about her tells me it's going to be great."

"Mmhmm," Raylan sounded, obviously a little suspicious of the overwhelming confidence that Malcolm had down pat.

"I'd say I've got Dad jeans down but I think I deserve more credit than that." The subway dinged as they came up to their spot and Raylan let Malcolm lead the way out as he followed.

Malcolm looked at Raylan's jeans as they stepped out onto the platform, then looked at his face.

"What does that mean?" he asked with a laugh as he led the way to the surface.

He thought Raylan's jeans looked pretty damn good.

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