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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Raylan shook his head with a scoff and a laugh. "Only enough to know that if something is sparkin', to find the fuze box and kill it. I suppose I could learn but there's never been a good reason to bother. Walls I can handle. Deckwork, that kinda thing. Minor repairs."

Malcolm had already seen his work too, in Arlo's wall that had taken him far too long to actually finish fixing.

"I know better than to get my ass shocked with however many volts run in a house."

"One hundred to two hundred amps, depending on the age of the house," Malcolm replied. "It's the amps that are dangerous, more than the volts."

He didn't know anything about wiring, but he knew how a body got electrocuted into a smoking corpse.

He looked at Raylan, suddenly realizing that that was an odd thing to know. "Studied a lot of causes of death," he explained.

He'd find the questioning eyebrow lift, waiting to see if he'd explain how he drew that little bit of information out of nowhere. The answer made him chuckle and nod, mostly with his eyebrows as he looked back out over the view.

"Let's not put that knowledge into practice. Stick to the woodworking. Oh, though you might get a kick out of the possibilities of epoxy. I think we might have to make sure our garage in Miami has enough room for all these tools we haven't bought yet."

"We'll only have one car," he pointed out, "so the other half can be... like a workshop." Okay, maybe he was getting excited for possibilities he'd never even considered. "That'll be fun."

A workshop. Not a 'hobby room'. That was what he father called his 'workshop' and he did indeed work on his hobby in there.

"I bet it smells good after you're working with wood."

"And if I ever lose my mind and buy a street car, it can live in the garage and I'll park the towncar out front." They could totally do this.

Raylan smiled over at him at the musing. "I've always wanted to make like a... a coffee table or something. Something nonintrusive and .. just pretty. Somethin' to look at. Seems to take more time than I've ever got."

Which was part of the reason that he'd enjoy seeing what Malcolm might make. A manifestation of the things he never got around to.

"Maybe we can work in there together on some of your days off," Malcolm suggested. "Slowly build some furniture for our house."

"I'd have to sit down and think of an idea first, but I like it. The idea of us figuring out how to do it and building stuff for the house. Anything we don't like.." Raylan shrugged. "I'm sure lumber isn't that expensive."

He grinned over at Malcolm. "We'll turn you into a builder yet."

"You know, I keep thinking my mother will be horrified, but... she might be pleased if I point out how much time I'm dedicating to things that aren't murder."

"Maybe," Raylan agreed with a nod of his head. "I mean it's not making her any babies, but it's not what she's been expecting you to mess with your whole life. Maybe she'll ease off her complaints about your attention to murder with this." Maybe she'd pile on more because he didn't' choose the 'right' thing.

"You could offer to build her a coffee table. Something to remind her that you're capable in more than just the area of murder."

He laughed down at his knees.

"You know how kids draw pictures and their moms hang them on the fridge where everyone can see them? She never put anything we ever made where people could see them."

He looked at Raylan. "I think I'll save my masterpieces for our house."

"Good. Gives us all the more room to be selfish with."

He couldn't do anything about Jessica, but he would happily benefit and encourage what she clearly didn't appreciate. Arlo never let his even be put up but Raylan still didn't feel right about bringing up past traumas for the sake of conversation. Still, he related.

His brow pinched a little. "Does this mean that you and your mother are gonna get into some kinda... unspoken competition? Do I need to be on the lookout for that?"

Malcolm looked at him a little confused.

"Competition? Over what?" he asked.

"Over how nice your respective houses are. It seems like somethin' she'd care about, anyway." The sentiment was washed down with another drink of his swiftly emptying beer.

Malcolm laughed brightly. "Oh. She does care about that. But I don't. I just... like what I like. And that's what I want in my house," he admitted. "It's a bonus that that stance sort of infuriates her," he joked.

"Parents have a way of drawin' us in." And Raylan could see exactly where it might happen. "We'll see," he said with a nod of his head.

"Gotta say though, I'm glad that Arlo's already 6 feet under. He woulda had a field day with all of this. If you think your mother's harsh, you should seen him when he decided to get goin'." The sentiment alone brought a little smile to his face as he drained his beer and set it on the coffee table in front of them.

Malcolm smiled at that smile.

"You liked riling him up, huh?" he surmised. "Do you think if he was still alive, you marrying a man might be enough to give him a fatal aneurysm?"

"He deserved it, as much as he gave." There was an edge to Raylan's words there, little tonal peeks at the fury that still churned inside of him. He glanced over at the question with a half warm look that was only dampered by the restriction of the feeling in his chest. Still, he curled a dry, cruel, little crooked pull of a smile.

"Maybe his fourth heart attack. The look on his face woulda been worth it by itsself." The words ran together, half pressed out of bared teeth. "'Course, he woulda thought that this was about him. Somethin' else I'm doin' just to be a pain in the ass. Hell, he'd probably try and curse us with AIDS, tell us we're livin' in our own personal Sodom and Gomorrah."

Raylan dared a glance over. "I'd rather deal with your father."

"Yeeaaaah he at least pretends to be nice." He looked at Raylan. "But he will try to come between us. Sow seeds of uncertainty or mistrust. Drive wedges. And if it works, he'll say something like 'My boy! What happened! He was such a good match for you; such a shame that it didn't work out'." He took a breath and managed a smile. "Good thing it won't work," he insisted.

It was a little disquieting how Malcolm could sound like Martin with only words and a little inflection.

"You're right, it won't," he assured with a serious look. "Martin doesn't know nearly enough about me to get under my skin and the shit he'll find with a good investigator is shit people in my office know, to say nothin' of the papers of investigations into me on my file." He was blissfully unbothered by the very real possibility. What Martin might find in the papers would pale to Raylan's file and Raylan had heard all of the different kinds of shit and angle what he did brought.

"He doesn't know what he's messing with," Raylan promised, capturing up Malcolm's hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

That little kiss to his hand charmed him utterly and he smiled.

"He's no match for team us," he agreed. He leaned up to kiss Raylan's jaw again. "He doesn't know what to do against actual love. He needs something to have an angle for him to work."

Raylan smiled. "Even if he found one, he underestimates how stubborn his son can be when you see something you want. If you work that hard to solve murders, I'd hate to be against you in pursuits of love. I remember what you said you said you did to the guy who came in through your basement."

The application of that kind of devotion got Malcolm far, in scary dangerous ways, but realistically, Malcolm could be an unstoppable force if he wanted to be.

Malcolm never thought of himself in that light, but... Raylan made it sound... true.

"Well." He got up on his knees, sliding his arms around Raylan's shoulders. "I want you." He pressed a kiss to Raylan's lips. "More than anything."

Pulling Malcolm over into his lap and wrapping his off arm around to match, Raylan kissed him back with a gentle fervor, smiling as the kiss broke. "I seem to remember sayin' something similar to you out in Harlan. You've got me. Now and for as long as you want. Forever sounds good to me, but dealer's choice."

Malcolm grinned as he landed in Raylan's lap.

"Since I just agreed to marry you, I'd suggest that 'forever' is a good start," he said brightly. He paused. "...You don't think you're going to... miss women, eventually, do you? I mean. This whole thing sort of snuck up; you hadn't really made a conscious decision to... not be with women anymore."

Raylan could only grin. Forever was the best start and every interaction made him believe more that Malcolm really was in this for the long haul. That this marriage wouldn't end like his last one. In heartache and ruin.

The question was something of a blindside and Raylan blinked behind a slight frown as he tried processed where that came from. He'd absolutely made a conscious choice to pursue this relationship and everything that came with it, dedication included.

"You mean will I miss goin' to bed with them?"

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