It's good. Simple, straightforward, but heartfelt and that means more. It means more to have Malcolm stop him when he instinctively tries to make it about the other man. It means everything. Neal makes sure Malcolm knows it, too.
It's only mid-afternoon, when they end up curled around each other in bed. Neal traces his fingertips up and down Malcolm's chest, staring into space, content in a way he hasn't felt in he's-not-sure-how-long.
"Thank you," he says softly. That doesn't begin to cover the gratitude he's feeling, but it's something.
"Sometimes you have to get out of your house to get out of your head," Malcolm murmurs, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Anyway, you were long overdue a vacation."
"Both of you," Neal says. "When I met you in Mathias, we were in the town's bookstore. I was new, brand new, trying to... sort myself out. Find some kind of normal. We talked about antiques, and our jobs."
Neal breathes out a little laugh. "You offered to get the anklet off. I guess that one's a constant."
“I don’t trust people, either, but… sometimes you have to take a chance on someone.” He looks at Neal again. “You said we lived together, right? But I was dating someone else? How did that happen?”
Neal closes his eyes. “Bad timing. Or ironic timing. One of the two. Both.”
He pauses, but only long enough to get his thoughts in order. Malcolm asked. He wants to know. “Daisy and I fell in together… pretty early. It was intense, everything was intense, and…”
Neal shakes his head. “A couple of days after Daisy and I decided to… do whatever we were doing, you found me cooking in the kitchen at 1306. We talked, it… came around to the question of whether or not we get to choose who we are. The kind of people we are.”
He stares into space for a moment. “You were kind. Kind, and stubborn, and then you kissed me on the cheek and I… kissed you on the mouth.”
A quietly ironic noise. “But I’d promised Daisy… maybe not explicitly, but I was with her. I didn’t see then who the better choice was. By the time I did, you were with Raylan.”
“Trauma bonding is to be expected in a place where people are under constant duress, but…” He smiles almost shyly and gestures between them. “We almost got together there, too?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “Yes I do. I know it would have been. You’re my best friend. I mean… you were there. I want that to be true here.”
He strokes his fingers down Malcolm’s arm. “We played chess and fenced and talked for hours. You were there for me, always. Always. I’d like to think I was there for you.”
“They have a year round heated outdoor mineral pool,” he says. “An indoor pool. Solarium with refreshments. Spa treatments. Anything tickle your fancy? I think later, for our first night, we should go to the main dining room. The executive chef is supposed to be amazing and it’s supposed to offer breathtaking views. What’s better than that?” He angles his head down to look at Neal. “You’re in charge of choosing the wine.”
“All of the above,” Neal says, referencing Malcolm’s list of amenities. He brightens too at the mention of the main dining room, looking up at Malcolm from where he’s lying. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve been somewhere with a real executive chef.”
"We're going to reset that timer in a few hours," Malcolm assures him. "And every day until... we decide to go home."
They could stay a couple of weeks if Neal wants. Or more. Malcolm finds it less necessary to be at a crime scene when there's something else keeping him out of his head.
"Explore every corridor of this place. Hike in the forest. Go on a canoe trip. There's tons to do."
“I’m sure they have…” He flutters a hand towards the window. “Lessons or something. I was in the rowing club at Harvard for a little while. I’m sure I picked up some transferrable skills.” Before they asked him to leave. “Maybe we can find a private little island out there somewhere and pretend we’re the only people in the world.”
The only people in the world. Neal shudders. He knows that’s not how Malcolm meant it, that he wasn’t trying to stir things up, but remembering Mathias already has things closer to the surface than he usually allows.
Neal turns his face against Malcolm’s chest, shivering again.
“I don’t want to be the only people in the world,” he whispers.
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It's only mid-afternoon, when they end up curled around each other in bed. Neal traces his fingertips up and down Malcolm's chest, staring into space, content in a way he hasn't felt in he's-not-sure-how-long.
"Thank you," he says softly. That doesn't begin to cover the gratitude he's feeling, but it's something.
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“Sometimes I ask myself if I wish it never happened. If I wish I’d never gone to Mathias, never lived through all of that.”
It’s something of a non-sequitor, but for Neal it tracks. “I don’t know. Because if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have met you. Either of you.”
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“You probably would have still met me at that crime scene,” Malcolm observes. “But you might not have noticed me.”
He only gotten so involved because he’d recognized that face.
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Neal breathes out a little laugh. "You offered to get the anklet off. I guess that one's a constant."
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He pauses, but only long enough to get his thoughts in order. Malcolm asked. He wants to know. “Daisy and I fell in together… pretty early. It was intense, everything was intense, and…”
Neal shakes his head. “A couple of days after Daisy and I decided to… do whatever we were doing, you found me cooking in the kitchen at 1306. We talked, it… came around to the question of whether or not we get to choose who we are. The kind of people we are.”
He stares into space for a moment. “You were kind. Kind, and stubborn, and then you kissed me on the cheek and I… kissed you on the mouth.”
A quietly ironic noise. “But I’d promised Daisy… maybe not explicitly, but I was with her. I didn’t see then who the better choice was. By the time I did, you were with Raylan.”
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“Do you think that would have been better?”
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He strokes his fingers down Malcolm’s arm. “We played chess and fenced and talked for hours. You were there for me, always. Always. I’d like to think I was there for you.”
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“You have no idea how much that means to me.”
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“I think I do,” he says. “I know what it is to never be seen. Until one day you are.”
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“I guess you do,” he says, voice soft with affection and irony. A moment of silence, then, “What was that you said about a spa?”
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“They have a year round heated outdoor mineral pool,” he says. “An indoor pool. Solarium with refreshments. Spa treatments. Anything tickle your fancy? I think later, for our first night, we should go to the main dining room. The executive chef is supposed to be amazing and it’s supposed to offer breathtaking views. What’s better than that?” He angles his head down to look at Neal. “You’re in charge of choosing the wine.”
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They could stay a couple of weeks if Neal wants. Or more. Malcolm finds it less necessary to be at a crime scene when there's something else keeping him out of his head.
"Explore every corridor of this place. Hike in the forest. Go on a canoe trip. There's tons to do."
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“No offense, but I’m having a hard time picturing either of us in a canoe.”
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Neal turns his face against Malcolm’s chest, shivering again.
“I don’t want to be the only people in the world,” he whispers.
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