conning | Once Upon A Time In A Multiversal Nightmare Far Far Away.... (Village Wrap-up Post)

I tried.

“You… you did,” he realizes. “Try. And you made that pie. Waiting for me after Raylan confessed.” He frowns faintly. “Why couldn’t I see it? Does… does Raylan know?”

Neal nods miserably, still staring at the tea, the idea of which now makes him faintly queasy. "He's--"

He almost, almost glances up at Malcolm's face, but he aborts the action half-way through. "When we were fighting, he... I didn't know, not really. But he pointed it out. He realized it was why I was so mad."

It doesn't help. He may not blame her, but that's not about to stop her from blaming herself. She shakes her head violently, her ponytail flying.

"I promised!"

He'd trusted her. And she'd failed him.

"I should have seen the fire sooner. I should have found a way to put it out."

“He’s better at assessing people than he’s given credit for, though I think he likes it that way. Being underestimated.”

Malcolm reaches out and strokes his fingertips through Neal’s hair.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He closes his eyes at the touch, whispering, "No," instead of shaking his head.

"I can't stay mad a you," he says, even quieter. "I just. Want you to be happy."

“Is that why you felt like coming home with me made you some sort of consolation prize? I don’t want to make you do something that makes you feel like you don’t matter. You matter. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to think that you’re some sort of… second fiddle. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. That’s everything. That means everything to me.”

"I shouldn't have said that." His voice is still very, very quiet. "I didn't mean it, not really. I know you'd never..."

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter against tears. For a second he feels dizzy with sleeplessness, but that isn't what's important right now. "I still want to go with you. I don't want you to think... I wouldn't be happy if I did. I would."

Malcolm watches his face for a moment, then crawls closer and carefully wraps his arms around Neal's shoulders, hugging him tightly, burying his face in the artist's hair.

He hangs on to the tea with one hand, his other going up to cling to Malcolm's arm. Not to pull it away. Just to hang on. He leans in against the embrace, eyes still shut tight.

"I love you," he says quietly. "I would love you even if I didn't feel..."

How can he even put it?

"I just love you," he says, more quietly.

"I love you, too," Malcolm murmurs back. "Maybe things would have been different if..." If Neal had snagged his heart in the kitchen that day? Hard to say. Malcolm had a crush on Raylan already but he also thought it would never come to anything. "If things were different."

Neal almost makes a joke about how everyone else seemed to know about his crush before Malcolm, but he doesn't. It doesn't feel like it would hit the right note. And it hurts a little too much.

He turns his face to press against Malcolm's chest. "When--"

Neal stops. He doesn't want to screw things up, not more than he already has.

Malcolm presses a kiss into his hair.

"When what?"

Neal bites his lip for a moment. "When we get out of here. When we get back to your New York. You think we might have a shot at..."

He shakes his head. "I don't care if we don't, I don't. I want to go with you either way."

Malcolm looks at him for a moment, then shifts and gives him a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"If we leave here and you come back to my New York with me, I think I would be a very lucky man if you'd have me."

Neal leans forward as Malcolm starts to lean back, catching his mouth before he's out of reach. It's not passionate, but it is tender.

"When. When we leave. When we get to your New York."

"When we get to my New York. Together." He squeezes Neal's forearm as he sits back. "Drink your tea. You need to get there alive."

"I know. I heard."

She eyes them both, picking idly at the leather of her arm bracer.

"What is it, a fable?"

"No. We were the best thing that happened to this town. I would have never met any of the people I had met here had I stayed in Purgatory, and I would not have wanted it any other way," Doc says with a small, rueful smile. They didn't choose to come to Mathias, but they are here, and there is little they can do to escape. They might as well make the most of what cards they had been dealt with.

"Other than shelves that refill themselves, of course. I wouldn't mind some of those at home... or the liquor cabinet, in the bar."

"He's just fine," Doc reassures, letting his touch trail down Neal's forearm and linger for a little while when it seems to keep Neal on the calmer side. Of course, Doc doesn't actually know how Malcolm and Raylan are getting on, but with the confidence and the warmness with which he says it, Neal wouldn't have known otherwise.

"How are you feeling?" Might be a bit of a rhetorical question considering 'not good' would pretty much cover it. "Can I make you some tea or, are you hungry?"

"Maybe you will... life likes to deal shit hands sometimes. Not fair. Not right." But it is what it is. You either had to try to make peace with it or not. He lets out a sigh, tilting his head down thoughtfully.

He looks up at that last bit though, his eyes drawn away from cleaning and dressing Neal's hands. He needs to finish that job. He knows he does. This'd be a nasty place to get an infection... and nothing's pretty about watching someone die like that.

Not that he's been any safer with his own wounds before.

He manages a smile though. "'Course you do. Who wouldn't miss me?"

It's an attempt to deflect, an attempt to joke it off, even if there's nothing especially funny lately. "I'm cool as hell."

Goddamn, but Negan's instantly drawn to the way Neal kisses like he knows exactly waht the fuck he's doing. No amount of pleasant smells from the kitchen distract his thoughts from trailing somewhere else when teeth tug on his lip in a way that sends a jolt right down south.

It's easy to press in against the other body, to feel the solid weight against his as one hand slides up to tangle into dark hair. Negan's always been tactile - loves touch, he loves enthusiasm. Those wicked fingers sliding down to his ass kick his pulse up a notch as lips part to welcome his tongue in. Feels like his skin's almost buzzing wherever he's touched, a pleased rumble leaving his throat and then--

"Goddamn." He's almost a little breathless when teeth catch against his skin again, words are murmured against his ear. It's a fucking chore to not say 'however will get you into bed faster', but he should have some fucking class.

"Uh-- medium rare," he manages after a moment, licking his lips. "You always a fucking tease like this, Neal?"

Once Upon A Time In A Multiversal Nightmare Far Far Away.... (Village Wrap-up Post)

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