TRAUMABEANS AU

[conning]

boop

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[conning]

Neal follows behind them, watching the other mothers, the nannies, the kids. Something about the way their interviewees talk gives Neal the crawls, like they've somehow disconnected from reality even more than he has.

He drifts over to the nannies instead, making small talk while Gil and Malcolm work their way through the moms, slowly getting absorbed into playing with the kids. Piggy back rides and airplanes and temporary baby duty while one of the nannies takes care of the baby in question's older sister. That's where Gil and Malcolm will find him when they're done talking to the last mom, in fact, bouncing a toddler on his hip and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow quietly.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is captivated for a moment, but snaps out of it as the nanny explains that those ladies were crazy. "Like, too crazy for Bravo, crazy."

He's still a little distracted through questionning, though, and as they walk outside, he falls back beside Neal.

"How did you get experience with babies?"

[conning]

Neal smiles down at his shoes. "Lots of babysitting when I was a teenager. I needed money to shark at a local pool hall, once I got tired of someone older taking a cut of everything I made. Then I just... found out I liked it."

He glances back toward the building, expression fond. "Kids... give them the chance, and they'll believe anything is possible. Give them the chance, a little encouragement, and stand back far enough..."

He shrugs and looks back down again. "To quote the Prom Queen of Soul, 'teach them well and let them lead the way.'"

[abrightboy]

“I bet that was fun.”

There was no way that Malcolm, in his youth, would have been trusted to dogsit, much less babysit. Another thing normal kids got to do that he could only press his face against the glass for.

“And gratifying, to be trusted with the responsibility. You must have been… mature.”

Because that was what he was told was required that he lacked. He wasn’t mature enough.

He fidgets faintly, realizes he’s doing it, and forces himself to stop.

[conning]

Neal takes Malcolm's hand as Gil unlocks his car, grumbling about the key fob and missing having a real key.

"What is it?" he says softly.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shrugs his shoulder like it’s no big deal.

“My mother still thinks I can barely look after my parakeet. Are you sure you could ever trust me with a child?”

[conning]

"I would trust you with anything." He presses a kiss against Malcolm's temple. "And you take great care of Sunshine."

[abrightboy]

“She doesn’t have that many needs,” he says quietly. He takes a breath and crawls into Gil’s car, tugging Neal along with him, then staring out the window but clinging tightly to Neal’s hand, like he might run away if Malcolm lets go.

[conning]

Neal hangs on, quietly afraid of the opposite. He watches Malcolm with worry on his face, wanting to say something, wanting to comfort him or reassure him or convince him again that he’d be a good parent. He would. Neal knows he would.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Gil clears his throat. “Did I miss something? You two all good?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at the back of his head.

“We’re okay,” he says. He hesitates uncomfortably, then scoots forward to lean between the seats. “My mother doesn’t think I can take care of myself, much less anyone else. Sometimes I worry that that’s true,” he confesses.

And what good is he to someone like Neal if it is?

[conning]

Gil meets Malcolm’s eyes in his rear view, frowning. There are a few ways he can answer that question. He chooses the most supportive.

“Is that why you were asking if I ever thought about fatherhood? You’re thinking about it yourself?”

His tone stays even and non-judgemental, even as he considers the prospect of the two men on his back seat as parents and his brain comes to a screeching halt at the thought.

[abrightboy]

“Not… per se. Not… tomorrow. But in an abstract sort of way… it’s more like… seeing it happening everywhere and thinking about whether it could be for me. Some day.”

He’s sure that JT’s behaviour in the briefing and at the crime scene means Tally is pregnant. The victim. The suspect. Neal playing with the babies.

[conning]

“Malcolm…”

When Gil pauses, Neal’s grip on Malcolm’s hand tightens. Is he going to have to step in? Is he going to have to start an argument? What would Malcolm do if he does?

“I think your mother doesn’t give you enough credit sometimes,” is what Gil finally says. “And I think something like fatherhood is far enough down the line—or at least it had better be—that you’ve got plenty of time to figure out if it’s something you want to put your life toward. Because that is what you’d be doing.”

[abrightboy]

“Do you think it’s more or less worthwhile than what I’m putting it towards now?” he asks honestly.

Murder. Almost exclusively murder. But saving people. He’s only ever wanted to save people.

[conning]

That answer is easy at least. “I’m not the one who decides that for you. I can’t be. No one can.”

Neal relaxes a little. It’s not a bad answer, all things considered. And it’s honest.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm sits back in his seat, looking out the window again, most thoughtful than ruminating this time.

[conning]

Neal leans over and kisses his besuited shoulder, voice low enough to be just for Malcolm.

“You’d make a good dad, Malcolm Bright. You would.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him. Really looks at him.

“You believe that. You really, really do. You’re sure.”

[conning]

Neal scoots closer to him, seatbelt more or less ignored so he can rest his head on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Of course I’m sure,” he says softly.

Gil eases to a stop at a red light. “Do you two want me to take you to… somebody’s apartment, or back to the precinct?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm gives him an almost irritated look in the rearview mirror.

“We’re working on the case,” he says. Because it seems like Gil is asking whether he wants to drop the case.

[conning]

Gil holds up a placating hand, pulling forward again as the light turns green. He glances pointedly at Neal. “I know that, but it’s late and you’ve had a hell of a long few days, if the water cooler talk is even half true.”

“We’ll be fine,” Neal says, sitting up again. He’s not going to risk falling asleep on Malcolm’s shoulder and proving Gil’s point.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s brow creases.

“What ‘water cooler talk’?” he asks suspiciously.

[conning]

“That scuffle with Kramer after the commutation.”

Gil glances back, not sure if he should be amused or concerned. “What did you think I meant?”

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know what people talk about,” Malcolm points out. “They don’t talk to me. But, if you want to know what happened, I went down to the FBI office and handed Kramer his ass in front of all of his subordinates. I’m not sure ‘scuffle’ is the word I would use,” he explains almost haughtily.

[conning]

The way Malcolm declares his isolation like it’s obvious makes Neal want to put bees in every desk in Major Crimes. Gil doesn’t seem to notice. He chuckles.

“I wish I could have seen that. I wonder if the CCTV has sound.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Neal says.