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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"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?"

"Among... everything else that you appreciated about them. I know you want this. I know you do," he clarified. "I'm not worried about that. I just... wondered if you thought about... never touching one again."

"Choosing to not go to bed with any woman again in my life is no different than choosing to only sleep with one for the rest of my life. This is the same thing. I miss the car I drove when I was 30 but I don't cheat on my towncar with it."

Had he thought about it? No. But the choice was simple to him. He traded sex with women and a lonely like for great sex with Malcolm and happiness that he hadn't been sure was possible.

"I don't think that marriage can be that different between.. people like this, right?" He'd stalled a little there, unsure where to place them. Where to place himself.

He smiled. "No, I don't think that it is," he agreed. He studied Raylan's face for a moment. "You're happy with... our physical relationship, though, right? It's okay?"

It was blowing Malcolm's mind on a regular basis, but he credited Raylan for that. Was he getting as much out of it? Malcolm hadn't been sure how to know.

Raylan's face didn't change much. He was too used to there being a trap or a hidden fight hidden in these questions to take them on their face. Had he been doing something wrong?

"'Course it is. Sex with you is...." He struggled to even quantify it. "Amazing. Hell, the fact that you even let me is amazing. I don't know how you do it. Women either. It's not somethin' I really think about." A surprise to no one.

"Am I.." Was he disappointing?

No fights or hidden traps or even judgement. Just curiosity and a brain that thinks too much.

'Let' him struck Malcolm as an odd turn of phrase to describe consent. It felt more mutual to him than one person 'letting' another person touch them, but as he rolled it around in his mind, it made sense with what he knew. Even going all the way back when he likely witnessed Arlo helping himself to Raylan's mother whether she felt inclined to 'let' him or not. Abusive assholes ruined their children in a lot of ways. It was some kind of miracle or some kind of testament to who Raylan was in his soul that he emerged more respectful of his partners than most people and not less, like his father was. The children of abusers often became abusers; Raylan had broken the cycle.

"I'm glad," he said with a smile, leaning into him a bit more. "I didn't really know what you were... expecting it to be like, I guess. I just... I knew you enjoyed it in the moment; I wanted to know what you thought of it after the hit of dopamine wore off, as it were..." he explained at a ramble, until he realized Raylan had started asking a question. He looked up, all open curiosity. "Sorry, are you what?"

There was power in sex. It was given, it was taken, it was allowed or stolen. Raylan hadn't ever really thought about it in any different way and since that included its own form of mutual consent, it worked well with the way things worked out here.

"I didn't know what it'd be like," Raylan admitted, ignoring the question for now. "Dirtier, maybe. There's some kinda difference in my head - without.. penetration, it reads as mutual masturbation. So I got eased into it. You made it easy." Malcolm had made it safe, somehow, to even dare to cross that line.

He smiled with the end, deciding it was better to not ask. He might not like the answer he got.

Malcolm reached up, brushing the backs of his fingers along Raylan's cheek.

"You told me what you needed. All I had to do was listen to you," he pointed out. "Which has worked out well for me. I didn't know sex could be this good. I thought... it's nice enough, but I don't know what all the fuss is about." He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I know what the fuss is about now," he admitted with a self-conscious laugh. He searched Raylan's face for a moment. "But what were you going to say?" he asked.

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