TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

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[abrightboy]

"Gabrielle? We can tell her anything," Malcolm says confidently. "She's been my therapist since I was eleven."

[conning]

Neal nods, still nervous, now that he’s committed. Now that they’re actually going.

They get discharged, they get his meds, they get home. There’s not much rest, and when Neal stirs in the morning—when did he fall asleep?—it’s to the sound of Malcolm and Ellen talking quietly in the kitchen while she cooks breakfast. He eases upright, touching his shirt over the bandage. The area feels tender.

Neal rubs his eyes. “Conspiring to take down the remains of the Irish mob without me?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks over and pushes the french press towards him.

“No, she’s telling me about how she used to make your breakfast into a face with over easy eggs for eyes and a bacon smile. You didn’t find it gruesome dipping toast points in the eyeballs?”

[conning]

That startles a laugh out of Neal, who pours himself coffee as Ellen answers.

“He would paint with the crust and the yolk. I don’t think he ever noticed the poking the eyes out part.”

“I noticed.” Neal sips his coffee and sighs happily at the taste. “I always pretended I was painting what they were looking at. I wasn’t poking their eyes out, I was seeing what they saw.”

[abrightboy]

“I’m not sure what it says about me that I would have been dissecting its eyes,” Malcolm admits.

[conning]

Neal slides an arm around Malcolm’s waist. “That you were interested in what did the seeing.”

Ellen smiles, dishing up over-easy eggs onto a plate. “Neal’s always been a romantic.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles into his coffee at that, but then sees the eggs sliding onto the plate with faint discomfort. He prefers the texture of scrambled eggs, but saying so seems… ungrateful and fussy. He sips his coffee like that will make Neal miss what just crossed his face.

[conning]

“Would you mind scrambling them, Ellen?” Neal smiles apologetically. “Not sure why, maybe because I didn’t sleep well, but texture-wise I’m feeling the need for simplicity this morning.”

Yes, he caught the look on Malcolm’s face. He doesn’t look at the other man to give him away, though.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm lacks Neal’s smoothness and subtlety and he blinks up at Neal in relieved surprise at the request, then glances at Ellen, then into his coffee.

“That sounds good,” he agrees like that whole production didn’t go on.

[conning]

Ellen glances at Malcolm when he reacts, lips twitching into a smile, but Neal’s expression doesn’t change a bit.

“Of course,” she says, still smiling.

Malcolm’s phone pings. A message from Gabrielle’s office.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm assumes it will be from Gil when he picks it up, but it’s not.

“She has an opening at 11; is that okay with you?” he asks Neal.

[conning]

Neal takes a deep breath, steeling himself already. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.”

It’s not good, it’s terrible, this is a terrible idea and he’s half-way to backing out already.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles brightly at him, tapping his response into the phone before setting it aside. He looks at Ellen. “Are you going to be okay here today if we go out for a bit?”

[conning]

That smile. God, he would commit crimes for that smile.

He can do this. He can do it.

Ellen confirms she’ll be okay, and after breakfast and the start of a game of scrabble, he and Malcolm head out. He keeps a white-knuckle grip on Malcolm’s hand all the way there.

“What does she know already? Does she know anything already?”

[abrightboy]

“She knows that I’m seeing an artist that’s an ex-art forger and that you consult for the FBI now and that you went through some stuff that I wasn’t specific about,” Malcolm tells him.

[conning]

He rubs his thumb over Malcolm’s hand. “You really think she’ll believe me?”

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know. What happened to you shouldn’t be possible. But she won’t treat you like a crazy person,” he promises.

[conning]

Neal nods, falling silent for the rest of the ride, and staying quiet as Malcolm leads the way into the office. He keeps his hold on Malcolm’s hand.

It’s not what he’s expecting—the fact that it’s so obvious a kids’ therapy office. As soon as he realizes that, though, he tries to set it aside. Malcolm did say he’s been with this woman since he was a child. His grip on Malcolm’s hand tightens when Gabrielle steps out of her office to call him inside.

“Stay with me.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at Gabrielle.

“If that’s what he wants.” She steps aside to let them into the office, then shuts the door before taking her seat. She looks at Neal. “I assume Malcolm has informed you that I’ve advised him he might be better served by a more age appropriate therapist?”

“Malcolm disagrees,” Malcolm informs him matter-of-factly.

[conning]

“I trust who he trusts,” Neal says softly. He flashes Malcolm a smile, but it fades back to nerves when he looks at Gabrielle. “And I don’t think… I think maybe you…”

He’s not sure how to put the half-formed thought. “It might be easier for someone who works with kids to… not think I’m nuts.”

[abrightboy]

“Malcolm doesn’t trust anyone,” Gabrielle informs him easily. “Except you, apparently.” She tilts her head slightly at Neal’s observation.

“Being thought of as crazy is something that concerns you. Has that been a common reaction to what you’re about to tell me?”

[conning]

“I mean… yes. It is crazy. It’s crazy.”

Except Malcolm believed him. Then June, then Mozzie. But the people at the hospital hadn’t. His team hadn’t, as little as he’d said. He looks at his hand twined with Malcolm’s. “It’s not the kind of thing people believe.”

[abrightboy]

Gabrielle watches them a moment.

“Malcolm believes you,” she surmises. “He’s a highly skeptical person if there ever was one.”

[conning]

Neal can't help smiling at Malcolm a little. "He believes me. He was the first one who did."

[abrightboy]

And then Neal fell in love with him. Quite quickly and quite hard by her estimation.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” she suggests.

Malcolm nods encouragement.