"There's very little you couldn't talk me into," he says. He tilts his head to look at Neal. "And I like that I know - I know - they would never be things that would hurt me."
"Yes." Neal closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Malcolm's fingertip against his skin. "I'll even try to participate. Or watch you being attractively bendy from the sidelines."
"You don't want to bend with me?" Malcolm teases with a pout. "Do you need me to show you some bends before we go?" he offers with a lift of one eyebrow.
"Early morning bending lessons followed by early morning bending. You're going to need a big breakfast," Malcolm tells him, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead before snuggling up against him.
Neal hums a little note that's half-thoughtful, half-pleased. "I'll do my best with the terrible menu available."
Sarcasm, clearly.
They settle into quiet, talking off and on the way they always have--the way he did with the first Malcolm, the way he still does with this one. Malcolm is actually the first to fall asleep this time, which surprises Neal, but he's not unhappy about it. The soft sounds of his breathing, the distant noise of the breeze and what has to be an owl--there are things alive here. Alive and at peace.
He's starting to doze into his own fitful nightmares when Malcolm stirs.
"It's okay," Neal murmurs. He pulls Malcolm close. "You're okay, we're both okay."
He's never going to get used to those screams. It's not the first time he's thought as much, won't be the last time. Neal kisses Malcolm's temple. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I didn't hurt you?" He looks at his hands like he's expecting to see something on them, but then frowns faintly and slumps against Neal. "It was. Um. That... weird... shadow figure that you showed me. It attacked you so... I attacked it."
Goosebumps rush over Neal's arms and he clings a little harder. "You--"
That thought terrifies him. Malcolm attacking the Shadow Man. What could happen if it isn't just a dream, what that thing could do if it manages to get inside Malcolm's head. Neal shivers.
"Next time run," he says softly. "Even if it does attack me."
He kisses Malcolm. "Thank you, though. For trying."
“Neal, he didn’t crawl out of the drawing,” Malcolm says gently. He runs his fingers through the hair at Neal’s temple. “Did you want to get some more sleep, or try your hand at some bending?”
“But he could,” Neal whispers, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on the touch before he opens them again in paranoia over the darkness. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
Neal shivers lightly. He nests his face against Malcolm’s neck, trying to let that feel true, but it’s harder in the dark with Malcolm fresh from a nightmare. “You’re right.”
He says it again, like that will make it more real. “You’re right.”
Deep breath.
He shifts to kiss Malcolm. “I think a little light bending might do me some good.”
Malcolm smiles, then kisses him, once and then again, before untangling from Neal and the blankets and opening the curtains to the pre-dawn view of the mountains.
“Come on,” he beckons, waving Neal over to the floor between the bed and windows. He pushes an armchair out of the way.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"There's very little you couldn't talk me into," he says. He tilts his head to look at Neal. "And I like that I know - I know - they would never be things that would hurt me."
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"Can we go to the sunrise outdoor yoga in the morning?" he asks.
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"Early morning bending lessons followed by early morning bending. You're going to need a big breakfast," Malcolm tells him, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead before snuggling up against him.
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Sarcasm, clearly.
They settle into quiet, talking off and on the way they always have--the way he did with the first Malcolm, the way he still does with this one. Malcolm is actually the first to fall asleep this time, which surprises Neal, but he's not unhappy about it. The soft sounds of his breathing, the distant noise of the breeze and what has to be an owl--there are things alive here. Alive and at peace.
He's starting to doze into his own fitful nightmares when Malcolm stirs.
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Disoriented in the still unfamiliar dark room, he casts around, eyes wide with terror.
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He's never going to get used to those screams. It's not the first time he's thought as much, won't be the last time. Neal kisses Malcolm's temple. "Do you want to talk about it?"
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That thought terrifies him. Malcolm attacking the Shadow Man. What could happen if it isn't just a dream, what that thing could do if it manages to get inside Malcolm's head. Neal shivers.
"Next time run," he says softly. "Even if it does attack me."
He kisses Malcolm. "Thank you, though. For trying."
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You should, he thinks. What he says is, "I couldn't either. If it went after you."
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“I know,” he says earnestly.
His hand, he realizes, his clutching Neal’s forearm. He lets go, but lets it rest there.
“It’s probably just because we were talking about it. You know. About how it got in Other Me’s head.”
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He says it again, like that will make it more real. “You’re right.”
Deep breath.
He shifts to kiss Malcolm. “I think a little light bending might do me some good.”
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“Come on,” he beckons, waving Neal over to the floor between the bed and windows. He pushes an armchair out of the way.
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“I was never actually much of a yoga guy. Before Mathias.”
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