tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

"Guess I'm gonna have to set alarms again." Clearly, something he already did when Malcolm was gone. He didn't mine.

"Better that you get your entire morning routine back." He was steadily working through his meal, somehow evenly going between them. "But don't be afraid to wake me up if you need me. I don't mind."

Malcolm looked at him with practised innocence.

"But if I wake you up whenever I need you, you'll never get any sleep," he noted. "I'm not sure that's good for your health," he added with an impish look, cutting a small sliver of chicken and poking it towards Raylan's plate with his fork before putting it in his mouth. "Did that really turn out okay?"

Oh he caught that and his face curled in amusement as he took another full forked bite. Charmer.

"You're better for my health overall, I think," he argued conversationally. "And it did; it's delicious," he assured with another lift of his eyebrows and a pointed bite. "We'll turn you into a cook yet. You can cook dinner for me anytime the urge strikes you."

"That could be a lot if it makes you smile," Malcolm observed. He ate the last third of the bean and started cutting up another. "I guess if I take up cooking, I'll have to take up eating, huh?"

"That might be part of the plan but I won't tell anyone if you won't. Gotta admit, it's a pretty slick one, huh?"

Like this whole thing was some secret ploy to get Malcolm to eat more. Raylan grinned behind another bite.

"At least to taste the food, if not in a meal."

"That's a relief, because I'm almost certain I can't manage more kinds of food and more volume of food," Malcolm said good naturedly.

He watched Raylan for a moment while he chewed another third of a bean.

"We should make sure the house in Miami has a decent kitchen if we're going to make a go of cooking on a regular basis."

"I would never ask you to," he replied, eyes dancing above another bite.

"We can't order out all the time and I'm not havin' some chef come in night after night.. No offence. The meals at your mama's were pretty but.. Too pretty. Too small, really. Too many courses, ect ect.." He nodded. "I think cookin' will be good for both of us, for different reasons."

"I don't want staff in our house, Raylan," Malcolm assured him with a laugh. "Though I can see why you'd want to clarify that situation," he admitted gamely. "Working on life things, remember?" He sliced off a small bite of chicken. "I just want... a reasonable sort of a life."

"Good," he replied with a faint nod as he cut another bite. He liked where this 'Working on Life things' seemed to be heading.

No more babysitters or maids or servants, no matter what the elite rich called 'em now. Raylan didn't begrudge people making a living by any means, but it seemed just as backwards as Harlan was sometimes, just with Money.

"Though I don't object to caterin' when the situation calls. Still.. When your mother and Ainsley are there, we got plenty of good joints to pick from. She's traveled, right? Your mother?"

"Oh, sure. When we were kids she used to take us to the south of F..." He paused. "Actually, I'm not sure her travels really qualify for what you're asking," he conceded.

His face curled. "Maybe not. I doubt France has much range of culinary skills outside the continent, or if they did, it'd be covered in butter and pastry. Then again, I never got to see it from beyond the airport."

"She always means well, though. It can be hard to remember, which is why I remind you," Malcolm said. "Sometimes it's my mantra when she leaves my apartment after an uninvited visit. 'She means well she means well she means well.'"

"If she didn't, she wouldn't have taken you to the South of France," Raylan agreed. He didn't blame or condescend to Jessica because of her wealth, only because of the way she looked at people who didn't have it. People like him.

"I know she loves you. I know she means well." But Good intentions paved the road to hell or some shit and it looked just as damaging as what his father had done. But as a son who'd lost his own mother, he would tolerate all her shit, for Malcolm's sake.

"Which is why we'll take her into high class restaurants instead of pulling up at a food truck and watching her turn a different shade of pale."

"I think we should eat at our house," Malcolm said matter of factly. "When we visited her, she invited us to what makes her comfortable. When she visits us, she can join us at our table, eating what makes us comfortable."

"It's an option. If that's where you wanna start," he said amicably. It wasn't his decision to make and a very large part of their relationship was Raylan letting Malcolm make his own decisions. He wasn't here to raise him.

"How do you feel about a hotel for her? Just so she can have her own space." He didn't know how many rooms a house the size Malcolm was thinking had, nor the habits around staying with family when you were in town. It was an exploratory question.

"She might prefer that," Malcolm mused. "I'll offer her the option. I don't know if we'll have a guest room. I mean. I guess we should. But if we can only have two bedrooms, one is ours and one is Willa's and that's it. If we can get one or two more... then we'll see."

He nodded. "Fair enough." God he was happy he didn't have to worry about Arlo anymore. And that Malcolm was still making considerations for the daughter that wasn't here right now.

"You know that you've got the lead when it comes to her and the rest of your family, right? I'm not gonna get in the way." Regardless of how he sometimes wanted to. Sometimes did.

Jessica started it.

"I just wanna see you happy."

"I am happy," Malcolm said. "I... know how I want to handle things with my family. But. I think sometimes I'll need help. It's..." he took a deep breath. "I can't always maintain my resolve."

"Just don't change any plans on me too suddenly so we're both goin' the same direction." Malcolm had a solid rock to lean back against and Raylan would try his best to not overstep the lines drawn.

He took the last few bites of his plate and sighed contentedly as he sat back.

"You're going to spoil me like this ya know."

The lines of tension that started to creep in talking about his family faded immediately and he grinned.

"That's the idea," he exclaimed. He pushed his plate away and got up. "I want to show you the rings," he said, glancing around until he found where he'd left his bag that morning. He stepped over and grabbed his laptop, opening it up propped on his arm as he walked back over to Raylan.

"Yes," he said, propping one arm out over the neighbouring chair as he watched Malcolm walk around. As he got in range, Raylan pulled the chair out, inviting him to sit next to him so they could both see.

"I want to know what kinda tastes you've got for it."

"I kept it simple," he promised, "but look what I found." He pulled up a picture on the computer, setting it where Raylan could see. "They custom engrave these. What you do, is we'd both get a simple ECG and then they engrave our actual heartbeats on them." He looked at Raylan. "Your ring would have my heartbeat on it and mine would have yours. You can choose from different metals. You can get yellow gold so it doesn't clash with your other ring."

"Gold is for rich mobsters and assholes," he quipped as he leaned in to peer a little closer at the image provided before looking at Malcolm. "They can do that? .. Huh. That's.. really cool."

It was so far out of the box that Raylan lived in that it was a bit of a shock, but in the best way.

"I like that. A lot." He looked over at Malcolm. "A symbol of us carrying each other with us no matter where we are."

He hoped Malcolm felt the same way, believed that he did, but the way he felt was inarguable. He'd find a way to bring down the moon if Malcolm asked.

Malcolm breathed out relief at Raylan's opinion.

"Oh thank god. I was hoping it was as romantic as I thought and not... weird."

He considered Raylan for a moment. "What metal would you want?"

"It's not," he assured with a smile before looking back at the screen. "Silver, I guess. I don't know what dark metals are up for consideration. I was lookin' at wood rings but I don't know. Seems like it'd be more fragile that way. More chance for me to break it."

Which clearly, he didn't want to do.

"I'm open to suggestions if you've got 'em but silver is normally my go to."

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