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.

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"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.

"I'm not totally sure, but twenty year olds seem to have some very serious opinions on it," he admitted with a pull of his smile as he followed Malcolm back into the sunlight. "Though I suppose with you next to me, no one is gonna be lookin' at my jeans."

Malcolm smiled at the sweet compliment, then looked at them again, then lifted his eyes to Raylan's face. "I think they might, actually."

Raylan could only lift his eyebrows at Malcolm with a squinty amused looked and chose not to argue.

"We gonna charge 'em? Come outta this with a profit?"

"I was thinking of just letting them eat their hearts out," Malcolm said with a grin.

The stadium came into view as they turned a corner.

"Do you want to get a picture?" he asked, gesturing towards it. "I can take one with your phone."

"Hearts and livers." Livers because they weren't the ones standing with him.

Raylan looked up as they turned the corner and scoffed a laugh as he looked over at Malcolm. "I'm not exactly the scrap booking type, and no one in the office cares where I've been. I think I'll be fine without a picture." He was sure the stadium would be around in twenty years, if Willa was interested.

"I'm not that kinda tourist and I'm more interested in a beer and what kinda seats we got." The closer they got, the more light there was in Raylan's eyes - an astute attentiveness that normally came with a tense jaw as he was looking for a bad guy, but today, there was no bad guy. Just good old fashioned baseball with a not so old fashioned companion. Partner. Boyfriend. The term still made him twist inside, argument verses argument that still hadn't settled and still brought him a hot rush of youthful excitement when he thought about it.

Malcolm walked along beside him, watching him sidelong, watching his face change as he took in this place that was legendary to his passions.

Malcolm took out his own phone and - with no warning - snapped a picture before tucking the phone away again.

With a smile he noted "I can see it's going to fall to me to document our family life.l

He crooked a lazy grin at Malcolm's picture insistence, eyebrows lifting a little at his declaration.

"Is that gonna be the first one? 'That one time we went to a game together'? Or 'My first real vacation in New York," he teased, one hand coming out to gesture the words across an invisible banner. "There's just never been much to document," he clarified to soften his tease. He wasn't making fun of the idea, not really.

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