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.”
"A green velvet Stetson Zephyr fedora. Vintage--one of the few I didn't actually get from June." He closes his eyes, playing with the baby hairs at the back of Malcolm's neck.
"I found it at the back of a closet I was hiding in during a case." A little chuckle. "Technically I knew who it belonged to, but we arrested the guy, so I didn't think he'd need it. Clearly he hadn't missed it to begin with."
Malcolm smiles. "Anything else like... the way you smile when I eat something or... how good you look in a suit?" he clarifies, lightly teasing, fingers fidgeting at Neal's sternum.
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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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The shower. The dinner.
"I always like seeing you in your natural element. Like someone putting a familiar hat back on after a long time."
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“What did it look like?” he asks.
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“Where did you get it?”
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But of course he’s already considering where he might get one.
“I’m actually looking forward to dinner,” he admits. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
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“Well, don’t push yourself too hard—eat to enjoy it, not because of anything else.”
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"If those things help you enjoy the meal, then by all means." He kisses Malcolm lightly. "Don't feel obligated, is what I'm saying."
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