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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"I didn't really understand it until I'd already cut off the connection. I told him one day that I was applying to Quantico and I would never be returning. He lost his temper. A lot of nightmares I have where I'm trapped in his cell are of that day. I bang on the door and the guard doesn't come." He looked at Raylan. "He sent me letters after that. I burned them without reading them."

Raylan bobbed his eyebrows and sat back, glass in hand. "Can't blame you there." He took a deep breath before taking another sip of his glass, eyes settled on Malcolm.

"I know you've got your reasons for sticking with him and New York but honestly darlin, I can't wait to get you away from there. Away from these people that just.. want to use you to make themselves feel better and more valid by tellin' you what you are and aren't."

"I forgot what it was like," he admitted. "Before last week, when we got this place, I forgot what it was like. Breathing."

"I think you got a few years of catchin' up on breathin' to get to." He looked over the dinner table.

"Ruined your appetite, didn't he?"

"It doesn't take that much," he said a little mournfully. He took a breath. "I'm just. Going to get it over with," he said, getting up resolutely. "And then maybe I can calm down. I won't, with this hanging over my head."

He went to the counter, where he'd discarded his turned off phone the previous evening, and picked it up, powering it back on.

There were, indeed, over fifty new messages. He ignored them and dialed Claremont, asking to be put through to Martin Whitly. He put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter, looking across the room at Raylan, clenching his fists on the counter preemptively.

"My boy!" Martin crowed happily as he answered. Malcolm winced faintly.

"Dr Whitly. I got your message. What did you want to tell me?"

"I presume you remember our arrangement. Twice every ten days."

"I still have eight days before I'm late," Malcolm replied evenly.

"Yes. Your... friend? Knew that as well. I understand you've grown quite close since I saw you both together. Though - I have to say - I sensed a spark even then..."

Malcolm cut off his gleeful rambling firmly. "You told Raylan you had information about the girl in the box that you wanted to relay to me. I'm listening."

"Malcolm, honestly. What kind of manners has your mother been letting you get away with, you just jump right to the..."

"Good-bye, Dr Whitly..."

"Wait. Okay. I just wanted you to know that this investigation into this girl you claim you saw... it's getting into very dangerous territory. Dangerous to you. Dangerous to your mother. Dangerous to your friend in Kentucky. You should leave it alone before someone gets hurt."

Raylan couldn't argue that so instead, he collected the plates, swiftly clearing Malcolm's into his own stomach before bringing them into the kitchen with a glance at Malcolm as he kicked the call on speaker and set it on the counter.

The dishes could wait. Raylan didn't want to make any unnecessary or telling noise, so he opted to walk around behind Malcolm instead, wrapping his arms loosely around his middle.

He looked at Malcolm at the warning and held his tongue, letting Malcolm drive this conversation. He shook his head slightly. Dangerous was something he was used to; the threat was nothing concerning, in his opinion.

Raylan's arms around him were like a shield or a secret weapon or a grounding rod. Slowly he unclenched his hands after that shake of Raylan's head, letting them rest on top of Raylan's hands at his stomach.

"Dangerous in what way? Who even cares about this girl except me? Nobody's shown up to claim her in all the months since Christmas."

"There's a reason for that, Malcolm. She's not what you think. You need to stop looking. Let her be."

"You've said your piece. If that's all then..."

"Malcolm. I'm not playing a game here. Believe it or not, I'm trying to be a good father. You need to listen to me."

"I'll take it under advisement."

"Malcolm Whitly, don't you dare..."

"Good night, Dr Whitly." He ended the call, then turned his head to look at Raylan. "That was new."

Raylan was frowning gently. "What could make him that scared? For a guy who doesn't care about you, that was a pretty specific warning." It wasn't even guiding - instead building on Malcolm's long term goal.

"Why try to throw you off questionin' now?" He looked at Malcolm. "What was the last thing you got from him on her? Eve, right?"

"I didn't get that from him. He doesn't know about her, unless Ainsley told him." A beat. "He didn't specifically admit to her existence but the night I stabbed him, he did admit he brought me on the camping trip to kill me."

Raylan had meant more when they'd met but there was no practical reason to correct the understanding.

The camping trip wasn't much help. "I know you told me the bare details of that one." He was curious to know the whole story but he didn't want to make Malcolm's anxiety worse by asking him to recount it.

"He ever use that tone before?"

Malcolm's expression was both puzzled and a little troubled.

"No, not exactly. But he'll use any tone that gets him what he wants. He doesn't have shame. He just needs to be in control."

"New tones suggest either evolution of manipulation or genuine concern," he said quietly, half to himself. "No use in changing that pattern unless he gets something out of it."

But what did he get outta this? Malcolm being more fearful, maybe, but the man was well indentured to it anyway; more weight without a drastic trauma wouldn't change his situation. Raylan gently urged Malcolm to turn around to face him so he could draw him back in and study his face more easily.

"He said dangerous like other people were involved. What kinda connections did your father have?"

Malcolm's eyes wandered Raylan's chest as he thought about it before returning to his face.

"After he married my mother, he moved in high society. So he knew a lot of influential people before he was arrested. They publicly distanced themselves after the arrest. He consults on a lot of difficult medical cases still. He might know influential people whose lives he saved, whose association with him would be a secret." He took a breath. "It's hard to say."

"Public and private are two different things," he mused before frowning again.

"Don't tell me they pay him for his consults." They weren't letting him have gainful employ and income were they?

"I don't know the full extent of his arrangements, but he doesn't have a whole lot of use for actual money. I know a lot of his privileges at the hospital are due to his consults. Including phone time."

And if his expression seemed a little distasteful at that last, it was because he found it distasteful.

"And you saw first hand how deftly he was able to hide correspondance he didn't want anyone to know about."

Raylan could only grunt in disgust. It didn't matter if Martin had a use for money - he knew people. Could get people to do things. Sometimes that took money.

"What happened to regulations," he complained quietly. "Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "They're not here tonight. They're not going to be here tomorrow - you've got nothing worth shutting up yet. We still have 8 days. If we're not poking your bear, that's eight days for us. How does that sound?"

Malcolm smiled brightly, utterly charmed.

"Eight whole days where you finish work and then come here to where I am?" he clarified. He slid his arms around Raylan's ribs. "That sounds really, really great." A beat. "Oh. Wait."

He picked up his phone with one hand and turned it off again, tossing it back on the counter before wrapping that arm back around Raylan.

"Maybe I'll have a bit of Jello. Will you share one with me?"

"Eight whole days," Raylan reiterated with a broadening grin, already more relieved that Malcolm was okay and the tension was bleeding out of the room. He was glad to see Malcolm's phone go back off. New York has gotten enough of him, for tonight.

"I could handle knocking out a cup with you," he said with a nod, pulling back so Malcolm could go do as he liked. As he watched him move, Raylan couldn't help but think about how good this was, this them being together thing. He was happier with Malcolm in his space, no matter what was happening. No matter what Malcolm's family interjected, no matter what work interjected - he was happier for Malcolm being here with him for it. For being allowed to be here with him for all his shit too.

Malcolm got the Jello cup and a spoon and inserted himself back into Raylan's personal space. His presence was soothing, but his touch was an anchor.

He peeled the lid back and took a careful bite before offering it to Raylan. By the time the Marshal had a few bites, Malcolm would probably be ready for another.

"If he finds out we're getting married, he'll try to muscle in somehow. He is not in any way invited," he said firmly. "I'll talk to my sister about telling him my business."

He slid his arms back around Raylan, since he'd handed off the Jello cup.

"But I think the important thing to remember is that we're getting married," he said emphatically. "How do you feel about dark blue?"

His space was here to be invaded, to be honest, and he accepted Malcolm back into his arms with a smile at the way he peeled off the top of the jello. What a stupid thing to smile about, he thought to himself, but it only made him smile all the more. When the cup was offered, he took it, taking his few bites as Malcolm spoke.

"At least how serious we are. I'd love to shout from the rooftops, but I like droppin' these kinda bombs on people like him." It was a massive satisfaction to watch someone piece something together inside a few seconds.

"I like black better," he admitted. "But if you get a dark enough blue, I won't even be able to tell the difference." That came with a crook of his smile as he handed the jello cup back to him.

He nodded. "Black just feels... funereal. Blue, on the other hand, feels... understated, classy...but alive. I was thinking of a deep royal blue more than a navy. Inside it will look almost black, but outside in the sun it'll really pop. Might pair it with grey accents. I'll get some samples for you to look at," he rambled.

He unwrapped only one hand from Raylan to take the spoon, dip it into the cup Raylan was still holding, and then take the bite before giving the spoon back with a cheeky smile and wrapping his arm back around Raylan's middle.

"I hope it's a sunny day that day."

"It is kinda weird that we pick the same colors for both," he admitted, being the first time he'd really thought about it. "I'll trust your taste on it. I like a good deep blue."

He was easy.

"Florida doesn't have many rainy days and we tend to know about those in advance," Raylan assured with a smile. "I think we'll be okay."

"Just so long as neither of us try to lie with white." Neither of them were virgins, by far.

He laughed.

"Well, there are no brides in our wedding, so we're probably safe from some stereotypes," he remarked. There was a little Jello left in the container. He nodded at it. "I can finish that."

Talking about the wedding was a great boost to his mood. Their wedding. Him, getting married. And not some marriage of convenience with An Appropriate Family because he couldn't hope for better. Just infinitely better.

He took the cup and spoon from Raylan's hands.

"We do have prevailing weather trends on our side, as long as we remember not to get married in hurricane season," he said, taking a bite of what was left of the Jello. "What time of year did you get married before?" he asked curiously.

Bobbing his head in concession, he chuckled as he handed over the spoon and cup. That was true - they avoided a lot but he knew they'd run into something, an obstacle to overcome in componstation. It was a little amazing how easily Malcolm was lofted out of that anxiety with the topic shift. Raylan was glad for it, but after they were married, he wondered if that would be enough.

"I should hope not," he said, chuckling about the idea of all of them out there in nice clothes while a hurricane rolls in from the distance.

"Mm, spring. Summer weddings, everyone seems to sweat at, even in Colorado.. We might have to do the same just so no one melts."

He considered that. He didn't really want to do the same. Especially if Winona was going to come, and they hadn't discussed that yet, but they would want Willa there and that might be a package deal.

"What about October or November," he suggested. Weather stayed warm in Florida, but not sweltering. Hurricane season would be about over. It wouldn't be too close to Christmas... "Autumn."

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