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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"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."

Neither did Raylan but options felt.. Limited. If they could get away with having nothing in similarity with his last one, all the better. Raylan wasn't a superstitious kind of man, but it felt better to be safe than sorry.

"We could aim for that," he agreed, smile spreading on his face. "Most of the tourists will be gone, snowbirds will be comin' in.. We won't die in our suits either."

He liked that idea. "We're gonna have to talk about reception. We having that in the house too? Or are we gonna go somewhere else and.. dance or something. I should warn you. I can do a box step and that's about it."

Raylan had warned him about his... lack of enthusiasm for dancing once before and he'd been thinking about it.

"If we have the ceremony on the beach and move back to the patio for the reception, we could have music by the pool and arrange everything so there wouldn't be a big open space for dancing," he said. "I mean, without knowing what the house looks like yet, this is all theoretical, but people will be able to dance if they want to, but it won't be... expected. It'll be set up more for mingling. That's why I was thinking more along the lines of a string quartet than a DJ," he suggested, watching Raylan's face.

"I think we're gonna have to put this one on hold til we see this house and beach we haven't bought yet," he said with a grin as he leaned in to steal a kiss. "Don't wanna make plans, get our hearts set on 'em and have to change it again."

Which is what he'd been trying to do for himself when he was holding back the asking of it all and while that fear hadn't really changed, he had more invested in it and Malcolm in agreement beside him. He had to trust in that.

Malcolm returned the kiss and nodded agreement, finishing the last bite of Jello out of the cup before setting it aside on the kitchen island.

"There's lots of time; it's still pretty far away," he conceded.

He slid his arms back around Raylan's middle to set his head on his shoulder.

"What did Art say? Did he look me up? Does he know about my father?"

Exactly his point; he was glad Malcolm agreed and smiled warmly at him, wrapping his arms a little more securely around as Malcolm settled against him.

"He didn't look you up and if he knows about your daddy then he didn't say anything. If there's one thing Art understands, working this job as long as he has is that not all sons are their fathers reincarnate. He mostly wanted to know if we were sleepin' together and if it was gonna be a problem for the rest of them. I asked him if it mattered. He said only if we do something stupid." Raylan smiled down at Malcolm.

"I told him we'd try our best."

Malcolm turned that over in his head, then looked up at Raylan, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Define 'something stupid'," he teased.

"Mm," Raylan hummed, face curling up again. "Better not. Specificity is what'll get us in trouble," he teased back.

"Let me knock out these dishes, but then if you wanna sit out on the porch with me, we can complain about light pollution or something, hmm?"

Malcolm laughed lightly, then leaned up and kissed him.

"Do you want scotch or bourbon or beer?" he asked, not relinquishing his grip just yet.

"Bourbon," he replied, stealing another kiss before either of them started moving. "Somethin' worth sippin'." Instead of just throwing down his hatch.

Gently detangling them, Raylan went about stacking the dishes, silverware, cups and the pans Malcolm had used. It took him all of less than ten minutes to wash it all, stacking things just as neatly in the dishrack before finding something to dry his hands with, eyes falling on wherever Malcolm was.

It was time to get comfortable. Gone went the tie and the button down overshirt, as well as his boots and socks. Then he was ready to sit.

Malcolm got two glasses of bourbon, then perched on the edge of his chair at the dining room table, watching Raylan work in the kitchen until he was ready to head out to the terrace.

Malcolm had been home most of the day, so was already in black jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up. He'd worn it to hide the bruising when he went to the hardware store, but once home and building, had pushed them up out of the way. He'd taken off his shoes and socks back then, enjoying the sun-warmed concrete of the terrace floor on the soles of his feet as he worked, so he padded out to the terrace with Raylan and handed him one of the glasses.

Raylan hummed a contented note as he took the glass and sat down, arm tucking over Malcolm's shoulders once he'd settled beside him, propping his feet up on the coffee table. This is what he was talking about. A bit of peace.

"We only get to enjoy this for a few more months," he mused. "We're gonna have to find someone to officiate the wedding too.." He looked over. "And I'm guessin' you're not particularly religious."

Which, neither was he, though he'd been to church and knew the scripture.

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