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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They'd had a tough night. They were both clinging to their rock in a storm.

Malcolm gasped and coiled, trying to keep his hips rocking even as he curled inwards, shuddering through his climax before renewing his efforts with vigor.

Raylan grunted, letting out fragments of his breath as he curled up into Malcolm as he tightened around him and climaxed with a shudder. His hips slowed in time with Malcolm's until they were still and heavy in their bed panting. Raylan slid his hands up around Malcolm with a sigh as he leaned his head onto his.

"I love you Malcolm. Just so you hear it today."

Malcolm give him a tender, lingering kiss.

"I love you, too," he murmured.

He carefully pushed himself up. "Wait here," he said, padding naked to the bathroom to wipe himself off, then returned with a warm, damp cloth to clean Raylan up. He tossed it into his discarded sweatpants and crawled back into bed to snuggle up to Raylan, sliding a hand along his chest to rest there.

"How are we doing for time?"

Raylan's whole heart was put into that lingering kiss and he shuddered again as Malcolm withdrew, staying where he was only because Malcolm asked him too. A soft smile was given to him as he was cleaned up and the smile broke into a grin as Malcolm crawled back in to snuggle.

"Ya know. It's the craziest thing but I do not care how we're doin' for time. Art can handle me bein' late if I am." This was for them. This time was for them and he would fight Art for it too.

Looking down his chest, Raylan ran his fingers over Malcolm's blooming wrist, silently going through how he could have done things more softly. How he'd do things more softly next time. Yes, Malcolm was here for his firm grip. But he was also hurt for it. Raylan could do better.

As Raylan's fingers ran along his wrist, he turned his hand palm up so he could catch them when they arrived there. He gave them a squeeze. He saw something cross Raylan's face; he could guess what.

"I'm okay, you know. Better than. You didn't do anything wrong. You protected me. The horrors in my head put up a hell of a fight. I could have hurt you. I could have dragged us both over the railing. I could have pushed you over the side. Imagine if I woke up and I'd pushed you over the side," he said pointedly. "How could I live with that? Restraining me is the only way to protect me if I fail to restrain myself. With whatever force is necessary."

He leaned up and kissed him gently.

"Most people don't want to see or deal with this... part of my life. You're the only person I know who'll fight it for me. The only one."

He kissed him again.

"Good thing you're the one I'm going to spend my life with, huh?" he added with a self-conscious smile.

Raylan looked over at the squeeze, the faint worry and guilt plain on his face. He knew all the logical reasons and arguments and had nothing to say against them. Malcolm was right; he subverted the worse.

The kiss helped, though the hand around Malcolm's side might have hinted to a little desperation he felt.

"I'll fight whoever you want darlin'. Includin' you, if I have to.. but maybe I can do it a little less rough. I hate seein' these on you and knowin' I caused it." He glanced over at Malcolm. "The good outweighs the bad but that don't mean I can't do better next time."

"Martin Whitly caused it," Malcolm said firmly. "Let's remember who the bad guy is," he added, shifting up onto his elbow so he could kiss him more easily and linger there in his space. "And it's not you."

There was so much trust and belief in the eyes above him and Raylan couldn't find it in himself to argue. He wasn't the bad guy per say, just.. He didn't know. It had to stew.

"It's not you either then." But the argument in whole didn't sit right with him. Scapegoating some of the responsibility off onto a soul that would relish the attention of it, good or bad. It was giving Martin Whitly more credit than he deserved.

Raylan reached up to draw Malcolm down into a soft kiss. "He's not welcome in this bed either. You ready for some coffee?"

He smiled as the kiss broke, nodding and then kissing him one more time before getting up to turn and sit on the edge of the bed to look around for his shirt. A fresh bruise was blooming in a straight line across his back, a few inches below his shoulder blades. He spotted the shirt and picked it up, considered it for a moment before tossing it onto the little pile with his pants and the washcloth and padded over to the dresser to get a fresh set of both.

Raylan pushed up onto his elbows as Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed, finally noticing the bruise across his back too. He followed Malcolm out of bed, stopping him when he got to the dresser with a soft touch.

"You've got another one here," he said, fingers drifting oh so gently under the line of bruise. "Don't do anything crazy with your back or yoga." Raylan pressed a kiss to Malcolm's shoulder before stepping to the side to pull out his own clean clothes, boxers and jeans.

He still had to go to work, after all.

Edited 2020-09-04 14:17 (UTC)

Malcolm twisted in an attempt to see over his shoulder, but even he wasn't that flexible. He pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants. "What did I do?" he asked. "How did I manage that?"

He rummaged around to find a clean t-shirt and pulled that on too.

"Slamin' yourself into the railing I'd imagine," he said as he stepped into his jeans and pulled out an undershirt to pull on, doing so as he padded towards the closet to pull out a working shirt.

"We're gonna start lockin' the terrace door too," he continued as he pulled the shirt on, leaving it open as he came past again, stopping to kiss Malcolm and head for the bedroom door.

"I'm going to start the coffee."

Malcolm trailed after the kiss just a moment before Raylan was heading to the kitchen.

He slipped into the bathroom and pulled up his shirt so he could look at his back in the mirror.

Hrm.

He looked more closely at his wrists. It would be obvious to anyone with minimal training that the marks were made by human hands. Long sleeves today. Especially if he went out to get supplies for the herb garden or to get a tea.

He wandered into the living room after freshening up, leaning over the island to watch Raylan work on the coffee.

"How...how are you feeling?" he asked.

Raylan looked over his shoulder at the question while he sat the filled kettle on it's warmer and turned it on, busying his hands afterwards with scooping coffee into the press.

"You mean after last night? Tired, mostly," he admitted easily. "If nothin' too crazy happens today, I won't be sorry. Though I imagine I should expect to be given some shit for yesterday," he continued with a smirk as he turned to lean on the counter as the water beside him started bubbling.

"Where you think you're gonna start your day?"

"I wa..." He started to gesture towards the terrance, then paused as his brain caught up.

"Shit for yesterday?" he echoed, looking at Raylan with slightly wide eyes. "What? Why, because of last night?" How would anyone know about that? "What kind of shit?" He was babbling. Shut up, Bright.

The sudden ramble of ideas is what made Raylan smile crookedly, not the slight panic on Malcolm's face, though that was hard to overlook.

"Because of yesterday. Probably good natured shit, but you never know. We mighta offended Art by goin' around his plan. Next time, by the way, they call the shots, not me." Well.. Most of the time. "Art's the boss."

"I know Art's the boss," he said. "But I don't think he objected." He frowned faintly, running back over the day in his head. "I don't remember him objecting; did he object?"

In New York and in the FBI, Malcolm Bright did what Malcolm Bright felt compelled to do and if someone in charge objected, they had to speak up.

Sometimes he listened.

He wrinkled his nose a little. "Did I get you in trouble?" he asked before Raylan could answer.

"Nah, it won't be trouble," he assured, starting with the last question first as the kettle turned off and he turned to pour the hot water into the french press carefully. "But I imagine he'll have some questions." He set the kettle back down and looked over.

"I'm not gonna lie to him about it."

Art had objected but not loudly enough with a foot stomp - Raylan assumed it was to watch Malcolm work himself, instead of just having to read reports. Still, Raylan saying he wasn't going to lie meant there was no telling what mood he'd be in when he got home.

"I didn't lie to him about it," Malcolm said in agreement. "I didn't... volunteer any details and I tried to be vague, but only because it's your situation to gauge."

He paused and leaned forward a little. "You won't lose your job, right?"

"You don't have to. He's a Marshal. The man can read bullshit a mile away. One day I'll tell you about the time Winona stole cash outta evidence and Art found out by virtue of lookin' at me too hard."

Raylan took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't think so, no. Art.. wouldn't do that." He hoped. He prayed, anyway. He was nervous about it.

Malcolm scooted around the island and applied himself to Raylan's side, pressing his cheek to Raylan's shoulder. He could feel his unease but there was nothing he could offer to do anything about it.

"Stole money from evidence. Is that the 'actual theft' we have on her if she gives you a hard time about Willa?" Or, probably more accurately, about Malcolm.

For once, it was Raylan that needed the hug and he took it willingly, wrapping that arm around Malcolm's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. A hug was plenty to offer.

"Yup. I mean, we put it back. We didn't get caught outright but.. Art knew. Mighta punched me over it. This won't be that bad." Can't be that bad, right? Raylan wanted to believe the idea that it didn't matter, but life had a way of fucking him over, and he couldn't dismiss the possibilities.

Figuring the coffee had steeped long enough, Raylan reached out with his free hand to press the plunger down in a slow, measured pace.

"...He punched you?" Malcolm clarified, looking up at him, his arm sliding across Raylan's stomach to grip his waist. "Then that was it about it?"

"Mm," Raylan said, neither confirming nor denying except the pull of his face clearly declared it as a yes before he broke into a half grin with a huff of a chuckle. "No," he replied, eyebrows peaking with the word as he wrapped his now free hand around Malcolm to gently trap him in.

"He gave me shit work, closed me off on cases, stuck me with desk work. Basically until he decided what to do with me. Which was not kick me out of his office."

"You didn't do anything except stop her from stealing," Malcolm said with some consternation. He looked up again. "When I... ambiguously confirmed his guess about us, he didn't seem horrified or disgusted or even really surprised," he admitted.

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