TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

Comments

[conning]

Neal studies him a moment, perched on the rock in the sun in sweat pants like some kind of tiny, unassuming guru.

It fits.

He sits down next to Malcolm, turning a little to kiss his temple. "What do you feel up for?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles and closes his eyes, tipping his face into the still golden early morning sunlight.

"Fresh fruit? Maybe some yogurt. Plain yogurt." He opens his eyes and looks at Neal. "Coffee," he adds with a grin. "Do you want to go to the dining room or order up to the room?"

[conning]

"The room," he says, and reaches up to stroke a fingertip across Malcolm's temple, pretending there's a bit of hair that needs brushing back. "I can figure out what kind of drawing I want to do."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm leans over and kisses him.

"In the room. You can tell me what you want me to wear."

He hops off the rock and heads up the trail. "I'll call for the room service. Do you want... croissants or something?"

[conning]

“What if I don’t want you to wear anything?” Neal says teasingly. He falls in beside Malcolm, enjoying the air, the sounds of the forest. He’s a little out of breath by the time they reach the resort building—he hasn’t put as much focus as he should on recouping the stamina he lost in Mathias. He’ll start work on that while they’re here.

“Nothing too heavy,” he says, catching Malcolm’s hand in his own. “I might stick to fruit and yogurt myself.”

[abrightboy]

"I mean, we are doing it in our room for a reason," he teases.

He decides to get croissants. He might have one later. He clutches Neal's hand.

"Are you going to add in some of the architecture around me?"

[conning]

"I could." He studies the building as they walk inside, clear appreciation of the space on his face. "I have to wonder what kind of hidden spots a building like this has. Servant halls, bootlegging tunnels... The amount of history that people probably don't even know is here could be unreal."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks over at him with an expression of excited mischief.

“We could look for them,” he suggests.

[conning]

Neal grins slowly as he realizes Malcolm is being sincere.

“Kitchens are always a good place to start hunting. Older buildings would use below-ground spaces as cold storage, and it was really easy to add tunnels and hidden areas to them with minimal extra chaos.”

[abrightboy]

“Now we know what we’re doing after dinner,” Malcolm tells him happily.

When they reach the room, he places the food order, then looks for Neal. “Where do you want me?” he asks.

[conning]

"With me," Neal says, a joke but also very much not one. He considers the room, the view, Malcolm.

He touches Malcolm's cheek, temple, studies his eyes. "If I weren't here, what would you be doing? If you were vacationing by yourself. Or if I was busy painting."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considers that.

Well, the second part. It’s very unlikely he’d come here without him.

“I’d probably be reading? I brought some books…”

[conning]

"Pick a book." Neal kisses him. "I want to see you in your natural habitat. Or... natural-ish habitat."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm grins.

"You just want me to read? In the sweatpants I would be wearing if I weren't trying to impress you?" he teases.

[conning]

Neal grins in response. "You impress me every time you open your mouth."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm grins. "So what do you want me to wear," he laughs.

[conning]

This time, though, Neal actually considers the question.

“Exactly that,” he says, more serious. He brushes his hands back through Malcolm’s hair. “I want to draw you.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles at the carpet, then looks at Neal. "Okay."

He goes to the dresser and changes his trackpants for sweatpants and picks out a t-shirt he hasn't sweated through. Then he grabs one of his books and pulls the big arm chair back in front of the window from where he'd shoved it that morning for yoga, curling up in it.

"Like this?" he asks, looking over.

[conning]

Neal comes over to kiss him on the lips, then the forehead. "If you're comfortable, then yes."

[abrightboy]

"Do you want me to really read this?" Malcolm asks, looking up at him. "Or do you want me to, like, stay really still?"

[conning]

“Really read.” Neal brushes a stray hair back from Malcolm’s temple. “Relax. Be on vacation.”

[abrightboy]

"Okay," Malcolm says, watching him for a moment before turning his attention to the book. He glances at Neal, then looks at the book again.

[conning]

Neal busies himself doing little nonsense things until Malcolm is genuinely involved in his book. Then he goes to get the smaller sketchbook he bought, not wanting to look at the picture of Mathias from yesterday without Malcolm there with him, so to speak.

He settles in his own chair, pencils arrayed at his side, and picks up the lightest to start tracing light shapes onto the page.

[abrightboy]

After a little while - Malcolm doesn't know how long; he's been absorbed - he looks over.

"Am I still doing it right?"

[conning]

Neal blinks out of his own hyperfocused space, giving Malcolm a confused look for a moment before the words register. Then he smiles. "You're doing fine. You don't have to do anything in particular, really."

He looks down at his sketchbook, the faint etchings of Malcolm's surroundings, the action lines shaping his body. For some reason he's drawn in more of details of the room around Malcolm than Malcolm himself yet.

He takes a deep breath, pushing the squeeze of anxiety he can't explain down before focusing on Malcolm again. "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want a break?"