THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[abrightboy]

“How could it be Neal?” Malcolm asks sharply. “I thought you were smart.”

[conning]

"You didn't take him to a hospital," she says, her voice accusing. "Why didn't you take him to a hospital?"

Neal splashes water on his face, wincing a little at the feel of cold water on his skin. Everything feels oversensitive, on top of every muscle aching. He has to brace himself on the sink for a moment after the relative quickness of the motions, but he's definitely got an ear out for Malcolm's side of the conversation.

[abrightboy]

“And put him back at your mercy? He said he’d rather die,” Malcolm tells her darkly.

[conning]

A pause.

"You're lying," Rachel says, voice cold. But there's something else underneath. Something more hurt and less certain.

[abrightboy]

“What do I need to lie about? You’re the one that killed him. The FBI is looking for you now, as a person of interest in the murder of one of their assets,” Malcolm tells her. “That’s going to make moving your merchandise a little hard, even if Mozzie can crack the code. How’s that coming?”

[conning]

Neal has to sit at the kitchen table. He can't make it all the way back to the bed. It's more frightening than the pain. Goosebumps pimple over his skin as Malcolm speaks.

"You're lying," Rachel says again, louder. She stops herself, gathers herself. "Mozzie is gone. I'm guessing you had something to do with that, too."

[abrightboy]

“You really, really want me to be lying,” Malcolm acknowledges, not addressing the accusation about Mozzie. “But you made him suffer and you don’t know much about me if you think I’m too good to watch you suffer in turn. Have you already promised it to someone? What are they going to do to you if you can’t deliver?”

[conning]

He shouldn’t be turned on by this. But he is. Neal watches Malcolm with slightly wide eyes. The iron in Malcolm’s voice when he says you made him suffer makes Neal feel strangely cherished. Safe in spite of everything. He closes his eyes to keep them from filling with tears.

Rachel, meanwhile, stays quiet for a minute before sneeringly saying, “Worried about me? Sweet, but I’ll be fine. Did you just answer to be smug about letting him die?”

[abrightboy]

“What is the answer worth to you?” Malcolm asks her. “To your little puzzle.”

[conning]

A longer silence. “That depends. Are you saying you have the solution?”

[abrightboy]

“I’m not playing your little games anymore. When you want to have a serious conversation, call me back.”

Malcolm hangs up before she can answer, slipping the phone back into his pocket before stepping over to the kitchen to press a kiss to Neal’s forehead.

“Want some more tea?” he asks, threading his fingers through Neal’s hair. “You need to stay hydrated.”

[conning]

“Please,” he says, not bothering to hide the admiration on his face. “That was hot.”

[abrightboy]

“The tea?” He crinkles his nose a little. “I can set the kettle to a lower temperature,” he offers.

[conning]

Neal laughs, then coughs, then kisses Malcolm's cheek because his breath is terrible. "You."

[abrightboy]

“Oh.” He glances down and then back up with a bashful smile. “I haven’t done anything.” He turns towards the stove, then looks back at Neal and holds up a finger. “Yet.” Then he goes to make more peppermint tea.

[conning]

"That was also hot," Neal says.

He drinks the tea, grateful for the freshness and the sharp flavor. He's not quite done with his cup when his phone starts to ring where it sits in the middle of the table. He looks to Malcolm for guidance.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm meets his gaze, then picks up the phone.

"Hello?" he says politely, like he doesn't know who it could be.

[conning]

Silence on the other end for a moment. "Stop toying with me, Bright."

Neal, for his part, is captivated.

[abrightboy]

“Why; do I owe you something?” Malcolm counters. “Do you have an answer to my question?”

[conning]

“You’re the one bargaining. Make me an offer, if you’re willing to do it.”

[abrightboy]

“You’re the one that needs it. Make me an offer. Please don’t assume it can sound too much like begging for my tastes. I could entertain a little light groveling,” he informs her stonily.

[conning]

Another fuming silence. A pause. “He’s not dead, is he. You wouldn’t care about making a deal with me if he was actually dead. You want me to leave him alone? Fine. Give me what I want and I’m gone.”

[abrightboy]

“He may yet survive. The FBI doesn’t know. Nobody knows. But the time to simply leave him alone is well past. We already offered you that chance. It’s too late. It doesn’t involve you suffering for the suffering you inflicted. Try again.”

[conning]

“You don’t care about money. He’s not around to enjoy it. I can’t give you twenty percent of nothing.”

A pause, the next words poisonous. “You want me to kill someone for you? Or give you evidence on people I’ve worked with? That I can do.”

[abrightboy]

“I don’t need you to kill people for me,” Malcolm scoffs like he’s insulted. “I know how to kill people. Your late colleague was blackmailing him. I want the so-called evidence. And I want fifty percent of the take.”

He doesn’t care about money, but he did mention wanting her to suffer.