THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[conning]

Neal snorts quietly, leaning on Malcolm more than he’ll admit to himself. “Hopefully not for a few hours yet. The sun’s not even up.”

Once he’s in bed with IV lines untangled, Malcolm tucked in against him, Neal closes his eyes again. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For saving me.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shakes his head, which Neal will only feel against the crook of his shoulder.

"You save me."

[conning]

Neal presses his face into Malcolm’s hair.

“When this is over,” he says, and pauses. It will be soon. It really will. One way or another. He shivers, and then winces as his arm muscles twitch. “When this is over, we’re running away together, and all we’re going to say about where we went is that it’s safe and we’ll be back when we feel like it.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn’t sleep, but he stares out the window with his head on Neal’s shoulder, running everything over in his mind. It’s well past dawn when the pounding comes on Neal’s door, making him startle.

[conning]

Neal doesn't mean to sleep, but he's exhausted. When he jolts awake at the pounding, it's from a nightmare, and his muscles cramp at the sudden motion. He gasps, the sound small and pained.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm's hand splays on Neal's chest to steady and calm him. Malcolm stills. He doesn't move to open the door. If it Rachel, she can deal with not knowing whether they're home.

[conning]

He stays quiet, wide-eyes at Malcolm’s reaction.

There’s a pause, then more pounding. “Bright! Open up.”

That’s about when Peter seems to remember that Neal might be sleeping and shifts his pounding to insistent knocks.

[abrightboy]

Peter, not Rebachel. Malcolm pats Neal's chest and gets out of bed, padding over to the door and opening it a small amount, peeking at the Agent through the crack.

"Yes?"

[conning]

Peter scowls. "I got a call from one of my superiors saying that Interpol requested Neal's services for one of their cases, but they wouldn't give any details as to what that case was. The requesting agent's name is William Murdoch. I looked him up. He's the guy who was here last night with takeout."

Neal stays quiet, feeling uncomfortably like a kid whose parent is making a public scene.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s eyebrows go up. “He scouted us out? How wily of him. I wondered why the delivery guy asked so many questions, but as someone who gets a lot of delivery… a lot of them are just lonely and weird.”

[conning]

Peter isn’t expecting that answer. Surprise defuses a little of his temper. “Wh…”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Neal isn’t going anywhere or helping anyone until we know how he’s doing. Let me in.”

[abrightboy]

"I don't think that call is yours or mine to make," Malcolm points out, closing the door to take the chain off, then opening it and stepping back to let Peter in. He follows the agent into the apartment as he continues. "If there's a choice to be had, it's Neal's. And if there isn't a choice, then none of us gets a say."

[conning]

Neal watches Malcolm’s return like someone watching the approach of a mythical animal. He’s never going to get used to hearing those simple declarations that Neal’s actions are his own choice. If there is a choice. There isn’t, really, in this case, but that doesn’t matter so much right now.

Peter draws his attention by clearing his throat. “Glad to see you awake,” he says, soft and gruff.

“Glad to be awake,” Neal says.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm crawls onto the bed to sit near Neal's hip, crosslegged like it's kindergarten story time.

"Hey, you know what? Peter says that the sushi delivery guy last night is really an interpol agent and he wants you for a job."

[conning]

Neal's confusion is absolutely, totally genuine. "The sushi guy?"

Peter scowls. "They want you to help catch someone they suspect of some seriously violent crimes."

Neal looks at Malcolm, then at Peter. He hates how rough his voice sounds. "Why wouldn't I help?"

[abrightboy]

“Yeah, why not?” Malcolm echoes, looking at Peter a little smugly.

[conning]

"After what just happened? After everything that's been happening, with Hagen and now this?" There's genuine worry breaking through the temper now.

"Would it stop you?" Neal challenges him quietly. He eases around so he's sitting next to Malcolm, wincing as he moves. Every muscle hurts, like he's been working at the gym far past the point of good health. "It wouldn't."

Peter can't really argue with that.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks proud of him.

"I'll look after him," he assures Peter.

[conning]

Peter growls under his breath.

"Go home to Elizabeth," Neal says quietly. Insistently. "She's probably as worried about you as she is about me."

"Call me if you need anything," Peter says, once he realizes Neal is right. "If you need anything."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm doesn't say anything because Peter leaving is ideal right now. After the door shuts behind him, he looks at Neal, reaching up to feel his forehead.

"Think you can manage some tea and some fruit?"

[conning]

“I can try,” he says, the thought making him feel a little ill. “Not a good idea to go conning on an empty stomach.”

It’s a weak joke, but it’s a joke.

[abrightboy]

“And you need your strength,” Malcolm informs him. “We’ll be clear of all of this soon. But small bites, okay? Slowly. Eat like me. Just this once.”

[conning]

That draws out a small laugh. He kisses Malcolm’s forehead, then rests his own forehead against the spot. “Just this once.”

He pauses, then tentatively asks, “Could you make it? I think I need to sit down.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm scrambles off the bed and goes to the kitchen, taking an apple out of the fridge, putting one piece of bread in the toaster, putting the kettle on.

A few minutes later, he returns with one piece of toast with honey, cut into four. One apple cut into eighths. A cup of peppermint tea. He sets the tray on the bed. “Try this.”

[conning]

Neal watches Malcolm do it all with silent affection, reaching out to take his hand as soon as the tray gets set down. He tugs Malcolm into a kiss, lifting his other hand to Malcolm's face as they break apart. "Thanks."

He keeps Malcolm's hand in his while he eats and sips on the tea. The toast sits all right. He manages four of the apple slices. The tea is cold by the time he finishes it, but the mint is still a good choice.

He's a little more alert by the time he's done, studying Malcolm's face, strangely fascinated with the fact that he almost got taken away from this man. He almost didn't get to come back to him. "What now?"