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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"Jesus," he muttered softly as Malcolm clarified and laid out the details he was looking for, and realized that he very nearly lost Malcolm and he would have had no idea. That didn't sit well at all and his arm tightened briefly around Malcolm's shoulders.

"Talk about a busy night with weird people." His face pulled a little. "Guess those hallucinations in your head are good for something." Tell him what his innate senses already were, but that wasn't the point. Sub talking to Consciousness wasn't always a bad thing, apparently.

"But they pulled their triggers, Malcolm. You didn't force 'em. Men who aren't strong enough to withstand a little needlin' probably shouldn't have a gun anyway." He wasn't joking - This was all very serious for the Marshal, all of a sudden.

Malcolm took a breath and let it out a little shakily. "I guess," he conceded. "They were violent people. I didn't... brainwash an innocent or something. But. They thought they were friends and comrades in arms five minutes before they killed each other. It's kind of... making me think."

He hadn't blinked at nearly getting killed, but possibly having a hand in killing was stressing him out.

"Trust me darlin', they weren't friends if five minutes had 'em shooting each other. You prey on insecurities that people have. It's on them how effective you are. They don't havta listen to you. They choose to. You helped Violent people find a violent end." And he could still get why that view of it was heavy.

"Are you stayin' for a few days?"

He nodded at Raylan's explanation. He was right. It was just... hard to beat Martin's voice back inside his head. Psycho. Killer.

He looked up when Raylan asked him about staying and then shifted to lay his head on Raylan's shoulder again. "I hope so. Providing nothing drags me away again." He sighed. "I don't suppose you'll get a day off again, huh? I knew when I left last time that we were losing a rare opportunity."

They still hadn't had a day to themselves in their apartment.

"But you'll let me know if you catch this guy, right?"

Raylan would be more than happy to be the shoulder angel to balance out Martin Whitly's influence if he was able. The cowboy only hummed a little and rested his lips onto Malcolm's head.

"'Course I will," he started, like that was a no brainer. "As soon as I do, I'll get to come back home. They'll probably give us a day off after that. Dependin' on how it goes." He let a beat pass. "I don't know if I'll be home tonight, or if I am, how late. I don't like leavin' you here."

"Oh... I'm... fine. There's... a lot to do...." He smiled a little. "Though I noticed you finished painting the bathroom," he observed.

"Good use of the time we were supposed to be spending together." Raylan pulled his head back a little. "Why don't you come with me. We can figure out the reason on the way, but at least you won't be here on your own."

He was sure Malcolm could survive, but he also knew that quiet and isolation wasn't the healthiest for the smaller man.

"Get you your own vest and everythin'."

Malcolm perked up considerably at the suggestion, sitting up.

"I do have notes on the case. I can consult."

He'd even happily wear a vest if it made Raylan feel better.

"I can help you get ahead of him."

That made Raylan smile crookedly as his free hand reached up to slip around Malcolm's jaw and draw him over for a gentle, chaste kiss.

"And tonight we can come home, order in, and pass out for a good ten hours. If you promise to not get shot." Or at least he would sleep that long; Raylan could stay up for days but when he crashed afterwards, he crashed hard. Sighing, Raylan ran a hand through his hair and considered his coffee cup before taking a drink.

"Can't happen soon enough." He'd really just like to stay here please.

The kiss only buoyed his spirits further and as Raylan considered his coffee cup, Malcolm shifted to climb into his lap, straddling his legs carefully so he didn't dislodge the coffee, looking warmly down into his face.

"I can really come with you?" he asked, part of him convinced such an invitation was too good to be true.

His coffee cup got a lot less interesting as Malcolm climbed into his lap and he set it onto the floor without looking, dangling it from his fingertips with just enough reach to put it down without dropping it. Face happily angled up, he slid his hands around Malcolm's waist, automatically wishing he wasn't dressed so Raylan could enjoy bare skin.

"Wouldn't have offered it if I didn't mean it," he answered with a slight shift of his head on the back of the couch. "They like you, ya know. They'll take a push of 'You're there to help.'" How benevolent of Malcolm, his tone said. "Like an angel."

Like an angel. He'd never been called that before. They liked him??

He grinned and sunk against Raylan to give him a more thorough 'hello' kiss.

As it broke, his face stayed close to Raylan's. "If we're going, I should change. I've been wearing this suit since..." He lifted his hand from Raylan's shoulder to tilt it outwards languidly so he could see his watch.

"Oh," he said, jolting more upright. "It's late. I have to take my meds," he said, all but bouncing out of Raylan's lap to grab his bag and pull out four pill bottles he lined up neatly on the counter. Then he systematically opened each one and, one by one spilled a pill from each into his hand, then walked around the counter with them clutched in his palm to fill a glass with tap water, swallowed all four down with it in one go, then walked back around to close the bottles and straighten the tidy line they made on the counter.

It was a ritual Raylan usually missed.

From a responsible light, Malcolm getting up was the best option. He had the power to drive Raylan to a distraction that would not urge him to be on time in the slightest. It didn't help that he could still almost feel Malcolm's fingers on his wrist.

He did still want his coffee and picked it up before he pushed to his feet, only to settle on the arm of the couch so that he could watch the ritual that he always slept through.

"How long did it take for you to master that? More than one pill down the hatch at a time. Best I can do is two without water."

Malcolm chuckled. "I don't really remember. I think some time in high school." He bent down and pulled the tray of cards out of a pocket on the side of his bag and pulled out the front one.

"Today I create a wonderful new day and a wonderful new future." He nodded thoughtfully. "I think we're actually doing that," he told Raylan, setting the card on the counter. "I'm going to get changed," he said, stepping over to press one more kiss to Raylan's mouth before heading to the bedroom.

It was Raylan's turn to feel a little breathless and blindsided by the whirlwind he still had every intention of marrying one day as he swept out of the room, in the full fashion of his mother. Raylan would never utter that comparison though, he knew better. But with Malcolm out of the room, he could return to some sense and get himself together.

Starting by downing his coffee and stripping off his shirt and tie from the day before that was just as dusty as he had left them when he fell asleep. He stepped into the bedroom too to drop them in the hamper. "Dress in somethin' you don't mind getting dirty. Shoes too. We're goin' out into the wilderness today."

Getting a fresh undershirt and overshirt, black, as the one he'd deposited had been, but a different, almost artistic tie from the dresser, Raylan slipped them back on before headin' to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take care of the full bladder he was sporting. When he came out, his hair was more neatly palmaded back into place and he looked pretty fresh for a guy who'd only slept 4 hours.

They were going to be working. Malcolm picked a grey suit and light brown shoes. They'd show the dust less. A white shirt and light blue tie finished the outfit. He shrugged into his jacket as he stepped out into the livingroom, stopped in the bathroom to fix his hair, then patted down his pockets to make sure he had his phone and keys before looking around for Raylan.

"There's a little coffee left in the press if you want to put it in a travel mug," he said.

Having left Malcolm to get himself the rest of the way dressed, Raylan buttoned up and pulled on his boots, not having nearly enough time out of them for his liking, and tucked his gun at his hip. By the time Malcolm came out, he'd restacked the files and gotten both his hat and badge on.

He looked over with a faint pull of his lips. "I don't do travel mugs. They spill, get the console and me all sticky when my car is hit. It's not worth it." The smile pulled. "You ready?"

"Ready?" he echoed with a grin. "I live for this!"

He tugged his jacket straight. "How do I look?" he asked, heading for the door.

Raylan grinned and headed for the door too, stopping Malcolm before he could get all the way out with a soft 'Hey', so he could hook one hand on Malcolm's elbow to pull him into soft kiss. Once it broke, he smiled. "Now we can go."

--

The black town car pulled up to a collection of SUV's in a parking lot about an hour outside Lexington, Marshals standing around talking to each other as everyone got ready. Raylan's car got the attention of about half the group but only 3 faces stayed turned towards them. Art, Tim, and Rachel, all watching to see who Raylan had with him.

He adopted his usual affable and unbothered expression as he slid out and adjusted his hat, heading towards them with Malcolm in tow.

"Did I miss the party invite where it said plus one?" Art asked with a confused look.

"Nah, but he showed up and I figure-" Raylan shrugged. "Why not put 'em to use. We got a spare vest?"

Rachel opted to look at Malcolm. "Mr. Bright. Another vacation?" There was the faintest curl around the edges of her full dark lips, and a glint in her eyes. Vacation, her ass.

"Actually," Malcolm said, holding up a hand, "I heard that guy who killed all those women in Chicago was hiding out down here and I thought I'd, you know. Come find him," he explained with a cocky grin. "He found his purpose in life when he killed the women in his office. He's taken on a mission of cleansing the world of what he sees as women who tempt men into sin, or so he tells himself as justification. He's addicted to the power rush of taking life and that dopamine hit is a high with diminishing returns. He's been escalating since he started. He won't stop. It's almost certain his kills will become more frequent or more violent. Or both."

Edited 2020-08-14 18:33 (UTC)

"You heard, huh?" Art asked, looking at Raylan in time with the rest of the team before Tim's gum popping broke the passing, brief silence.

Raylan looked over at Tim like he might be more helpful. "Vest?" he asked, gesturing out one hand, index and thumb having come together at some point. Tim cracked a bare little smile from under his ball cap and turned around with a jerk of his head towards the back of his SUV.

Raylan glanced at Art and Rachel before heading that way as he shrugged off his jacket.

Rachel continued. "Didn't think we could handle it, or can you just not stay away from the fun?" She was starting to get a sense of what kinda man Malcolm Bright was.

Raylan came back a few seconds later, sans hat and jacket, wearing a vest that read 'Police' across the chest with a matching one in his hand. "Here, put this on," he said, free hand propping on his gun as he held out the vest.

Malcolm laughed almost self-consciously at Rachel's question, tilting his head in concession. "I did tell you that I brake for cases," he reminded her.

When Raylan handed him the vest, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it in the back of Raylan's car before pulling the vest on in its place.

"Has he been spotted recently?" he asked the team as he tightened the velcro fastenings.

Rachel only arched a very amused eyebrow at him. Alright white boy.

Raylan asked a few questions while Malcolm stepped off, turning his head to watch him step back up as he strapped himself into a vest. Good, now they could work.

"About 3 this mornin' the local PD got a call about a murder that fits his style and a few hours later, we caught a call to his New York lawyer from a farmhouse about five minutes from here. We're already sittin' on the roads in and outta the hollar, so now it's just about flushin' him out from whatever building around the house that he mighta holed up in. We're gonna start at the house and go from there. You ever seen the Marshals hunt down a man in force?" Asked Art.

Edited 2020-08-14 23:33 (UTC)

"In a video they showed us at Glynco when I was with the FBI and attended an interagency course there on fugitive tradecraft," Malcolm said distractedly. "Who was the woman he killed last night?" he asked with much more laser focus. "And who lives in the house he made the call from?" A beat. "And who's his New York lawyer?"

'Glynco' got a lift of Art's eyebrows as he looked over at Raylan. What were the chances then, that Malcolm mighta been there when both Art and Raylan were teaching?

Rachal continued, answering Malcolm's questions. "A young woman, about 22. Did a number on her too. The house is owned by a windower, a Yvonne Gene, age 50."

"And the lawyer?" Raylan followed up as Rachel opened her notebook.

"Andrew Walker, Herfings Law offices."

Raylan looked over at Malcolm. "That name ring a bell?" Since he knew that the Whitly's saw a LOT of lawyers.

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The woman owner of said farmhouse will not be having a good day, or any days now

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