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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Malcolm smiled broadly. "I hope it's super gruesome; those are always very distracting. Until I can come down to Kentucky," he added, looking over at Raylan, still smiling.

The next day, after they spent much of it at the Library and Times Square, they headed to Jessica's townhouse for what was - ostensibly - Ainsley's celebration dinner. Malcolm hoped that it really was Ainsley focused. He straightened his tie before opening the door and letting Raylan step in first.

There was no stopping Raylan's laugh at Malcolm's need to be contrary. Moments like this made him sure they could make it.

The next day, he dressed in one of his better shirts, basically dressing for work, for Jessica and adjusted his hat with a sigh at Malcolm's invitation.

"Hello to the house," he called, unable to just walk in. He didn't have any idea what he might expect to find here, any given time he came.

"Sir," Louisa acknowledged as she came into the entrance hall, Malcolm showing up a moment later behind Raylan's shoulder as the door shut behind them. "Mrs Whitly is just in the parlour," she said with a gesture to the sitting room they'd found her in the last time. "Would you like a drink?"

Raylan glanced back at Malcolm before turning his attention onto Louisa and then the archway into the sitting room. He bobbed his head with a 'Thank you' followed by an almost apologetic ask for some scotch.

"I'm sure she'd rather see you first," he said quietly to Malcolm, gesturing for him to go first this time. He was still just a guest and the manners taught to him in his youth were something he wasn't going to buck easy.

Malcolm slipped past him, heading into the parlour.

"Hello, Mother," Malcolm said as he stepped into the room.

"Ah, darling, you made it," she said with a pleased smile, getting up and spotting Raylan behind him. "And you brought your friend. Good," she said with a slightly more forced smile.

Jessica's forced smile told Raylan all he needed to know about how the night was going to go and he gave her his sweetest closed lipped smile. "Jessica," he greeted with a slight tip of his hat. "Decided to stay for an extra night and Malcolm invited me along. I hope it's no intrusion."

God it was almost a dare.

"Is the guest of honor here yet?"

"An intrusion? No, of course not," she replied with every ounce of socialite she could muster as she looked at Malcolm, who looked back at her with wholly too much innocence to be true.

At his question, she looked at Raylan again. "No, of course not. She needs to sweep into the room fashionably late," she lamented.

"I wonder where she gets that from?" Malcolm noted as Louisa came in and set a tumbler of scotch in his hand and Raylan's.

"Have a seat," she told them, seating herself back on the sofa where she'd been, leaving them a couple of chairs not too close together. "Unless you'd rather skulk off to the basement again," she added, giving Malcolm a look.

He just gave her an expansive shrug as he sat, like he didn't know what she was talking about and took a sip of his scotch.

"Oh wonderful," he said, taking off his hat and helping himself to a seat before she could offer, setting his hat on it's cap on the nearby side table. Louisa was given a soft 'thank you' as he took his glass, taking a sip of it as his long legs crossed one over the other.

He looked very comfortable, anyway. More comfortable than Malcolm shrugging off Jessica's jab.

"She's getting anchor position, right? Desk is a big job but she does great on TV." Not that Jessica didn't already know that.

"Better than beating the streets like a salesperson," Jessica agreed dramatically, half side-eyeing Raylan's comfortable sprawl. She didn't mind it preceding her invitation, though she was starting to see how it was going to be with Raylan. Maybe he could handle Malcolm. She still wasn't sure it was the direction she wanted Malcolm going.

Malcolm glanced over at him with a small smile, grateful for his steady presence.

"It's prestigious. She might get picked up by a bigger network if this goes well. Something national."

"National is good," he replied, head nodding a little bit. "Safer at the desk than out in the field. You seen Anderson Cooper?" He clucked and shook his head once to one side before taking a sip of his drink.

"You must be proud," he directed towards Jessica, undeterred from his general level of assholishness. How was it that she was hosting a celebration dinner and couldn't focus on that instead of sneering at what preceded it?

"Of course I am," she said, taking a sip from her glass of wine that she picked up off of the side table. "It's a step in a better direction for her," she said with a wave of her hand.

Malcolm could elaborate that having a celebration dinner at all was a demonstration of pride. They'd never celebrated any landmarks in Malcolm's career. She hated it. She hated his obsession with solving murders. She hated the potential danger of it. She hated that he used it to pay penance for his father's crimes because he thought a ten year old should have stopped them sooner. She hated that he was following in the footsteps of a father that wasn't his father, even if he was better for Malcolm. There was nothing about his career she didn't find either embarrassing or terrifying.

"I'm sure it..."

The door closed and Malcolm turned in his chair to look over his shoulder. Ainsley.

She entered the room halfway through 'Sorry' when she spotted Raylan and smiled brightly. "I didn't know you were still here!"

It didn't sound like a jab, the way she said it.

"Nobody did, dear," Jessica answered flatly. Ainsley waved her off.

"Thank you for coming!" she added happily, turning back to Raylan.

He'd thought she'd sound more proud, but she didn't. She sounded like this had always been expected and anything less than what she imagined was shit on her heel. He didn't like that, one bit.

Whatever was going to follow was interrupted by Ainsley's entrance, and there was no arguing with the peppy bright way she greeted him. Clearly this was a genetic thing that the Whitly children shared. Raylan grinned at the enthusiasm, even as he glanced over at Jessica and her quip.

"Well someone besides Malcolm has to be here to be happy for you. Journalism is the only place where a desk job is good news, anyway. Congratulations. You excited?" He knew she was.

Jessica raised an eyebrow in Raylan's direction, but didn't comment. He was getting bold.

Ainsley laughed. "Well, I suppose that's true," she conceded, though she glanced from Raylan to Malcolm and back. "But they do call a desk job a 'promotion' in your line of work, right?" she teased. "Not that I can picture either of you doing anything that involves sitting still." She looked at Jessica. "Who does a girl have to kill to get a glass of wine around here?" she joked lightly.

Jessica gave her a dark look, but didn't scold her. She got up from her seat. "If we retire to the dining room, I'm sure you'll find there's wine on the table."

Ainsley flashed Raylan another bright, cheeky smile and headed in that direction.

Ignoring Jessica's eyebrow entirely, he kept his focus on Ainsley. "Only on paper," he assured with a grin and a glance at Malcolm. But she wasn't alone in her inability to see them at desks; it wasn't a look either one of them were really into.

Pushing to his feet, Raylan left his hat where it was and slid an arm loosely around Malcolm as they headed towards the dining room, breaking off from him to idly pay more attention to the walls and what was on them. He doubted they were going to sit down directly and his last look was a little hasty. It was a pretty house, an impressive one, despite where it was located. Ornate even, and though the paint was kept modern and tasteful, he could still sense the age of the house under it all.

Raylan's arm around him was like a tether that grounded him to their life as this one threatened to sweep him away. He drew up beside Raylan as he looked at the paintings, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him.

"That one's a portrait of my great great aunt Lucy."

"I know the Givens line goes back a while, but Arlo only ever talked about his daddy and he hated the man. Wouldn't keep any pictures and no one seemed to like the man anyway. Frances only had a few polaroids of her family up the mountain.. It's almost impressive how many greats you could probably trace.." Raylan looked over. "She ever look into it?"

'She' being Jessica.

"I don't know," Malcolm admitted. "But their portraits are all over the house and she knows all their names," he pointed out. "I don't think she'd admit to any sort of academic study of our genealogy, but I'm pretty sure she's also got a really good handle on it."

Ainsley sat at the table and poured herself a glass of wine. She looked over at Raylan and Malcolm as she took a sip, speaking quietly between themselves.

"He didn't drag you into any murder investigations since the last time we had dinner, did he?" she asked Raylan with a mischievous grin.

"Hmm." That was an interesting answer. He assumed that meant that there was something in the family history that was a little sordid and shameful; why else would she not tout it like she did everything else that she could within reason?

Questions for later as Ainsley spoke up from the table. Raylan looked over and quirked a smile. "Nah, I kept him busy with somethin' just as fun. Baseball. Well. Batting, anyway. He's pretty good for a guy who's only done it a few times."

Reaching around to pat Malcolm's hip, Raylan stepped back and towards the dinner table so it didn't seem like he was avoiding her, or their mother, or anything else, for that matter.

"So what got you this promotion? If I dare ask." The most innocent things seemed.. so complicated with this family, Raylan wasn't sure where that line was.

Malcolm moved with him towards the table, but at the question, he looked at Ainsley a little grimly. She ignored him pretty pointedly.

"Well, my interview with my father ran nationally and then they started giving me more prestigious assignments until the anchor position came up," she explained.

Malcolm stepped around Raylan and slid into his seat.

"He does get attention," Raylan conceded, glancing at Malcolm before choosing the chair nearest to him to sit down in himself. "Not a bad way to climb the chain. Is the desk the end goal, or do you got somethin' bigger than that planned?"

Generally, Raylan didn't care for journalists. They were.. annoying, to say the least. But he could find room enough to be pleased for Ainsley's achievement.

"Well. Not this desk," Ainsley said coyly. "I want a national newscast," she told him eagerly. "CNN. MSNBC. Something with reach."

"That mean you plan on stop going out to the field?" A little disappointing, that, but she had a chance to redeem herself. "Somehow, sitting still doesn't seem to quite fit you either. I caught that 'interview'." Is that what it was called? He wasn't sure - it was a unique situation.

"The desk is the door to getting the really big exclusive interviews," she said, leaning forward. "Important people, controversial people... they don't want to talk to the news girl on the street. They want to talk to the most recognizable anchor," she pointed out.

"So more Barbara Walters than Anderson Cooper. Well good. Keeps you largely away from the terrible in the world. Except whatever's on the paper they put in front of you. Once you go national, even I'll be able to catch you on the tv." He gave her his best grinned smile.

She'd be alright.

And so could Malcolm, once they lived in Miami, but there was no way he was mentioning that.

His expression seemed calmer, though. Less like a rabbit on alert, as that thought came to mind.

She grinned back at him. "Good; tell all you friends," she teased, picking up her glass to take another sip.

"See?" Jessica said to him. "I told you it was a step in the right direction." She picked up her own glass and tilted it towards Ainsley. "To steps in the right direction," she proposed. Ainsley giggled and clinked her glass against her mother's.

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