“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.
Malcolm’s fanciful gaze out the window shifts to Neal, trying not to let his sinking feeling of having said the Wrong Thing show.
“They have excursions,” he manages, trying not to sound like his heart is in his throat. “We could go with a whole group. Take a tour of the river with… they serve lunch.”
Neal can hear something off in Malcolm’s voice. He levers himself upright a little, resting his free hand against Malcolm’s chest. “I’d like it, just us. With lunch, and…”
He rubs Malcolm’s skin lightly with his thumb. “I don’t want to be stuck somewhere, that’s all. Not… stuck, that’s not what I meant, I…”
“This is our escape,” Malcolm tells him earnestly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do or even anything you don’t feel like doing. It’s okay,” he promises. “I want you to tell me if you’re not comfortable.”
It’s easier, with his pulse returning to normal, to be reassuring himself. Neal’s not getting dressed to go downstairs and call for a car.
Malcolm presses his lips together once the kiss breaks, then throws his arms around Neal and hugs him tightly.
“Of course I care,” he says, his voice muffled by Neal’s shoulder. He presses a kiss there, then pulls away enough to look up at him. “I’ll get our swimming trunks,” he says, kissing him one more time, then scooting off the rumpled bed to run - naked - down to their suitcase and rummage in it right there in the living room, returning triumphant in his trunks, waving Neal’s at him.
Neal laughs in surprise when Malcolm comes back as he does, getting up to accept his own and get dressed. Mostly dressed.
The walk to the mineral pool is another impromptu tour of Victorian architectural history, one that ends with several people stopping to listen--or stopping Malcolm and Neal to ask a question.
“They should be paying you,” Malcolm teases, shrugging out of his robe as they reach the pool and throwing it on a nearby chaise lounge. “You know. For conducting historical tours of the property.”
Neal grins, the expression one that hasn't seen a lot of use since Mathias. He sheds his own robe a little more self-consciously, even though he's still wearing a loose t-shirt to cover his scars. Malcolm and the doctors are the only ones who have seen those, at least with Neal's consent.
"Maybe they'll give us a discount on the room, since I'm sure you need one."
Malcolm smirks back at him, dipping his toes into the hundred degree water.
“My trust fund runs deep; we could live here for the rest of our lives if we fancied it.”
He steps into the pool and extends his hand to beckon Neal in to join him. He only has the one scar on his abdomen. He’s not self-conscious about it at all, but he’s not judging Neal, either; this is a place for him to be comfortable.
“My mother keeps threatening to cut me off but she and I both know she won’t.”
His grin persists for another moment, until he takes Malcolm's hand and starts to sink himself into the water little by little. It feels amazing. Scalding, but amazing. He kisses Malcolm's temple.
“It’s good, right? Maybe we can go to an ancient natural hot spring some time,” he suggests, sinking down into the water. “I bet you know some good ones.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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“They have excursions,” he manages, trying not to sound like his heart is in his throat. “We could go with a whole group. Take a tour of the river with… they serve lunch.”
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He rubs Malcolm’s skin lightly with his thumb. “I don’t want to be stuck somewhere, that’s all. Not… stuck, that’s not what I meant, I…”
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It’s easier, with his pulse returning to normal, to be reassuring himself. Neal’s not getting dressed to go downstairs and call for a car.
“Do… do you want to go to the hot mineral pool?”
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Neal bites his lip, trying not to tear up. “I believe you when you say that. I believe you, and I even believe you’ll care.”
The last part is said with a watery little laugh. He leans down to kiss Malcolm tenderly. “That sounds wonderful.”
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“Of course I care,” he says, his voice muffled by Neal’s shoulder. He presses a kiss there, then pulls away enough to look up at him. “I’ll get our swimming trunks,” he says, kissing him one more time, then scooting off the rumpled bed to run - naked - down to their suitcase and rummage in it right there in the living room, returning triumphant in his trunks, waving Neal’s at him.
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The walk to the mineral pool is another impromptu tour of Victorian architectural history, one that ends with several people stopping to listen--or stopping Malcolm and Neal to ask a question.
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"Maybe they'll give us a discount on the room, since I'm sure you need one."
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“My trust fund runs deep; we could live here for the rest of our lives if we fancied it.”
He steps into the pool and extends his hand to beckon Neal in to join him. He only has the one scar on his abdomen. He’s not self-conscious about it at all, but he’s not judging Neal, either; this is a place for him to be comfortable.
“My mother keeps threatening to cut me off but she and I both know she won’t.”
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"Thank you. For this."
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