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

Raylan hummed a short note into the kiss, lips curling as it broke. God how stupidly lucky he was to have fallen into this. He loved this feeling, this.. he hesitated to say validation but Malcolm showed his gratitude differently than Raylan was used to. In some cases, showing it was the difference itself and Raylan couldn't argue the effect of it.

Picking up his jeans, Raylan draped them over the barstool he was abandoning before pouring what was left of Jessica's scotch into his mug. "I could take more coffee," he said, glancing up and over at the sudden sound of wings.

"Is she trained at all?" he asked, slowly padding over towards Sunshine with a hesitant respect for even the bird's option of choice and space. She was a pretty thing.

"Trained?" He emptied used grounds out of the french press. "No. I think of her as more of a roommate than a pet. She doesn't make me do anything I don't want to do and I don't make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

He looked up suddenly. "Oh! There are some treat sticks under the counter, in that cupboard," he said, pointing. "If you hold one, she'll land on your hand and nibble right off of it; she loves those."

He rinsed the press out and then started spooning new grounds into it.

"Somethin' you need, I've got no problem saying," he replied as he headed towards the cupboard in question. Raylan liked animals, generally speaking, and some part of him was still a ten year old boy with an insistent urge to touch things. Setting his coffee cup down, he dug out what he assumed were the treat sticks, automatically earning a little hop and a careful look from the parakeet.

"C'mere darlin', it's okay," he said, clucking softly as he held out his hand, half of the treat stick. Sunshine chirped and hopped again for a better view before fluttering over onto Raylan's hand to peck at the stick. He glanced over his shoulder with a victorious grin.

"I might have to find a new nickname for ya," he admitted. "I don't want you thinkin' I'm in lover with your bird." Teasing, of course.

He laughed lightly, pouring hot water into the press.

"I've been happy with your choices so far," he called back. He left the coffee to steep and walked around the counter to watch Sunshine around Raylan's shoulder, leaning his cheek against it.

"It fits you, especially in the mornings," he defended with a smile and a glance over his shoulder as Malcolm leaned his weight against him. Sunshine didn't seem to care much one way or the other, with her treat and distraction, about the two large creatures staring at her, but Raylan clucked anyway, figuring it would get her used to the sound and him doing it.

"When I was a kid, I always wanted a dog, but Arlo wouldn't hear of it. Never actually had a pet, besides one goldfish Helen talked him into. Poor thing died in ten days. Still don't know why."

That one was, at least, no one's fault. Goldfish needed more than tap water and a young boy's enthusiasm.

"We can install screens on your window, you know.. cut a slot for the level to open the window itself.. She'll come with you to Miami, right? We should get her a big aviary to replace the small cage she's got here. Maybe get her a friend."

Malcolm smiled into his shoulder, then lifted his head a little.

"You can pet her head," he said. "Front to back with the first knuckle of your first finger works best. Or down her chest, top to bottom."

Helpful information - Raylan didn't hesitate in reaching out and cautiously stroking her chest with a gaining confidence as Sunshine was happy enough to take some pets while she nibbled.

"Kinda wanted to pet her since I came in," he admitted.

Malcolm grinned.

"You should have said something. Sometimes I can make things happen," Malcolm told him happily, resting his cheek against Raylan's shoulder again. "She likes you," he pointed out. "But animals know good people when they meet them."

"Because I've got the treat," he reasoned with a grin over his shoulder. "But I'll take the lie. Maybe I'll figure out the truth of it after seeing her a little more frequently." He knew he was just a face that came by her cage now and then.

Gently, Raylan transferred the treat to his other hand and set it down on the windowsill, followed by his finger so Sunshine could hop down. Turning around, he smiled at Malcolm and slid a hand up his neck and jaw. "You and I have an ocean documentary thing to watch," he declared, kissing him chastely before stepping around him to drop back onto the couch.

Malcolm was sure that his heart was going to burst one of these days, if Raylan kept him around.

He followed, sitting so he could curl up a little closer this time, pressing a little kiss to Raylan's shoulder before resting his head there this time, his knees pulled up and resting against Raylan's thigh, where he draped his arm.

The narrator was talking about the creatures adapted to live in the deepest depths of the ocean, where there was tremendous pressure and almost no light.

"That's what it feels like inside my head sometimes," Malcolm remarked mildly at the description.

"Full of mystery and fascinating creatures?" he asked with a soft tilt of his head before leaning over to press a kiss to his head. "I hope I get to be one of these weird Angler fishes with a lightbulb, bobbing along in your darkness."

Raylan got a full, if watery, smile at that.

"A weird lightbulb in my darkness? That's definitely you," he conceded with a laugh, burying his face in Raylan's shoulder for a second. When he lifted his head, he stilled, staring into a corner by the bookshelves for a long moment before squeezing his eyes shut and ducking his head.

He smiled back but the look faltered as Malcolm stilled. He still didn't quite know what that particular look on Malcolm's face meant, but as soon as he ducked his head, Raylan was sliding a palm across his face, tugging him back into his shoulder so he could hold his head.

"We'll go snorkeling, in Miami," he whispered into Malcolm's hair. "Get to see all these tropical fish up close and in person."

It didn't really matter what he was talking about, it wasn't whatever had caused Malcolm to look like that. It was a distraction to accompany the proverbial curling around Malcolm.

"I've never been snorkeling," he replied in a slightly shaky whisper. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head and looked over to the same corner, then breathed out relief before burying his face back into Raylan's shoulder. "It sounds nice."

Raylan didn't stop him from looking up but as he tucked back in, he slid his hand over his shoulders and rubbed up and down his back.

"Neither have I. But the pamphlets look amazing." He took and let a deep breath into Malcolm's hair as the narrator droned on behind them. A moment or two passed before he eased up and looked down. "You okay?"

Malcolm nodded, though he didn't pull away.

"Yeah. It was just..." He waved a hand vaguely towards the corner and pressed his lips together. "Hallucination," he admitted. He was still worried that they were a step too far. They'd been rare around Raylan, but if they proliferated? That was insane person shit, right? Seeing things that weren't there? "Gone now."

"What did you see," he asked, inisting with a little dip of his head, eyes encouraging Malcolm to bring his a bit higher for everyone's comfort. He sensed the hesitation and the way Malcolm was holding back but wasn't sure why. With a glance at the TV, Raylan picked up the remote and muted it for a minute. He didn't want the distraction of it.

Malcolm met his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment.

"My father," he admitted.

"All we need now is Ainsley, and the whole family will have dropped in," he joked softly, humor running away from his face quickly. "I know you've been told this by god knows how many people but.. He can't hurt you the way he did. Not anymore. You're aware now. Sharp. Keen on his bullshit. You're not ten anymore."

Jessica wanted to keep Malcolm in a padded room, secure from the most mundane of threats. Raylan wanted Malcolm to learn the power of choice - his choice. His choice to rebel against the overwhelming idea of his father that haunted him. Maybe it would help; Raylan didn't know. But he knew there could be better for Malcolm, somehow, no matter how many years it took.

He nodded slowly, taking that in.

"I... didn't see him when I lived in DC. And I didn't see him in my head as much. ...Maybe when we live in Florida.... maybe it'll help." He looked into the empty corner again, then at Raylan and then huffed a self-deprecating laugh down into his lap. "Or maybe I should do what you're saying and call his bullshit."

"Maybe it's both. Maybe it'll take time and practice." Raylan was patient. He could be patient.

"The sooner we get you away from here more often, the better I think it will be." Martin could go another ten years without seeing his darling son. Raylan would happily update Martin to the terms of Malcolm's living arrangement, if needed.

Malcolm took a steadying breath.

"I try to stay away from him as much as I can but... I think there's a degree to which you just can't... pretend you don't come from where you come from, too. And maybe facing him is the way to push past this fear in the end. I don't know."

He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Raylan's cheek. "I promised you another cup of coffee," he recalled, pushing to his feet and padding over to the kitchen where the new pot should be nicely steeped.

"Not seeing him isn't going to change where you come from, darlin', pretending you don't come from where you do." There was something serious there that Raylan thought they might wanna talk about more.

But his flightly lover was up and about again, leaving Raylan to follow him with his eyes. "Put a shot of scotch in it?" he asked, turning his head to follow Malcolm until he couldn't anymore.

He wanted so badly for Malcolm to be okay, and it was okay that he wasn't. But that didn't mean it wasn't a struggle Raylan hadn't realized all the same. He'd have to deal with this feeling every time this happened. It was only a passing thought, but Raylan wasn't immune to his own humanity.

He also had the resolve to overcome it.

Scotch. He could do that.

He got the decanter down and splashed some into Raylan's cup.

"Lately he's been... pursuing me," Malcolm admitted. "And I want to know what happened to that girl, so sometimes I answer him."

He pushed the plunger down on the french press and filled the rest of Raylan's cup.

"But he won't talk about it. He just...spends the time trying to get inside my head and make a mess."

He brought the cup over, setting it in Raylan's hands before curling up with him again.

"I try really hard to keep things on the right shelves in there."

"Once you've got your answers though," he elaborated, shifting on the couch so he could lean one arm over the back and comfortably look at Malcolm as he worked. "You'll get them eventually, right?"

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