That question takes Neal a little by surprise, as though Malcolm should know the answer to that one by now. “Because you’re amazing.”
He shifts a little to hug Malcolm against him. “Because… you didn’t look at me like that. Because you’re funny and kind and smart. We could talk about anything. And…”
He traces his hand up and down Malcolm’s arm nervously. “Even when we fought, I wasn’t scared that you’d leave because of it. I wasn’t afraid you’d give up on me.”
“Not a lot.” He has to think about it, beyond the obvious. “We disagreed sometimes about how Ainsley treated you. Particularly right after she got there. We only had two really big fights, which I guess is… still a lot for three months. The first one was after I died the third time. You were upset that Negan and I put ourselves at risk that way, but you said you were sorry as soon as you saw me again. Then… Raylan, when it all came out. When you said you’d stay with him. I tried to convince you that you deserved better, and I don’t… think it was just because that’s true.”
That gets Neal to relax. He smiles a little. “It’s about time someone did, then.”
For a second he studies Malcolm’s face, tracing all the similarities between this man and the one he knew first, all the little differences. He touches Malcolm’s cheek.
“I would be his friend,” Neal says abruptly. “The Malcolm I knew first. I would be his friend, if he showed up here. But I don’t know if I’d be something else.”
“I want to always be a safe place for you,” Malcolm tells him. “Even if… I mean. Even if you have to make choices I don’t… want. I still want to be a safe place for you, always.”
Malcolm puts his feet down, but stays wrapped up in him.
“Neal, you can’t make choices just because they please me or anyone else. I think we want the same things, but… if that changes… I want you to make choices because they please you.”
Neal kisses him, equally earnest, one hand tangled in Malcolm's hair and the other around his waist. He speaks against Malcolm's skin when they stop to breathe. "Let's go inside and be happy for a little while."
“I’m always happy when I’m with you,” Malcolm says a little breathlessly. Neal is good at that: stealing Malcolm’s breath. A master thief. “But inside things sound nice,” he adds with a smile. He pauses and glances at the drawing. “Do you think you’ll come back to it later?” he asks.
Neal’s heart does that little dip-and-swell thing where it feels like he’s been knocked off his feet and lifted up at once.
“I will. I promise.”
Malcolm isn’t the leader in bed this time, but it’s still gentle and simple and intimate, and afterward Neal stays curled around Malcolm. He strokes the other man’s bare skin gently. “Want to shower? In a little while. So we can do the fancy dinner downstairs.”
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“I’m not sure,” he finally says. “I think… maybe around the time I fell in love with you, though I’m not sure when that was either.”
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"If you don't know when that was... do you know why that was?"
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He shifts a little to hug Malcolm against him. “Because… you didn’t look at me like that. Because you’re funny and kind and smart. We could talk about anything. And…”
He traces his hand up and down Malcolm’s arm nervously. “Even when we fought, I wasn’t scared that you’d leave because of it. I wasn’t afraid you’d give up on me.”
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He's very curious but trying to sound casual.
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That last part is quietly ashamed.
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“I… Yeah, I guess so.”
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A vague little gesture. “When I tell them not to say things about you?”
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“Sometimes it surprises me, because nobody’s ever stepped there before, but it’s not an overstep,” he promises, giving Neal a kiss.
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For a second he studies Malcolm’s face, tracing all the similarities between this man and the one he knew first, all the little differences. He touches Malcolm’s cheek.
“I would be his friend,” Neal says abruptly. “The Malcolm I knew first. I would be his friend, if he showed up here. But I don’t know if I’d be something else.”
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“What makes you think so?” Malcolm asks quietly, somehow, even though he feels like he’s holding his breath.
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"I don't know." He leans in and up to kiss Malcolm. "I just... know."
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“I’d want to help him. I’d have to. He’s… my best friend.”
He closes his eyes a moment, leaning his forehead against Malcolm’s arm. He’s confusing himself again trying to think through this. “But you’re.”
Guilt squeezes at him, makes breathing hard. “You’re… safe.”
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“I want to make choices you want,” he says, wondering if that’s somehow the wrong thing to say.
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“Neal, you can’t make choices just because they please me or anyone else. I think we want the same things, but… if that changes… I want you to make choices because they please you.”
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For a second he’s more than simply distant. He’s somewhere else entirely, seeing a different world.
Neal snaps back to himself with a deep breath, then looks at Malcolm. “I can think of other things I’d like to get out.”
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“You’ll tell me if you need help?” he asks.
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“I will. I promise.”
Malcolm isn’t the leader in bed this time, but it’s still gentle and simple and intimate, and afterward Neal stays curled around Malcolm. He strokes the other man’s bare skin gently. “Want to shower? In a little while. So we can do the fancy dinner downstairs.”
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