THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[abrightboy]

“Come to my apartment tomorrow evening, but not until I tell you to,” Malcolm suggests. “I’ll text you the address.”

[conning]

"All right." Still reluctant, but mollified. "I look forward to speaking to you both in person."

Neal waits until Malcolm signs off before raising his eyebrows. "He's really just... letting us do this?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at him.

"What choice does he have?"

[conning]

Neal pauses to consider. The only other option is tanking the whole thing, really, and he's not sure how he feels about the realization that Peter might go that far. That he's not sure, could see the possibility of Peter destroying his own life and Elizabeth's in pursuit of the law instead of justice.

"None, I guess."

[abrightboy]

“He can get what he wants or he can be petty, but not both. He’s smart enough to know that and he wants it bad enough not to risk it,” Malcolm explains. “Today, though, you’re going to drink tea and eat soup and get your strength back. You’re going to need it. You’re the only one that can do this, but I’ll be with you, okay?”

method rp

[conning]

Neal reaches out with both hands, muscles aching, feeling the effort of holding up his own weight. He cups Malcolm’s cheeks in his palms. “Thank you. For everything. I’m never going to be able to say it enough.”

That scares him, that fact. That owing. It would scare him more with anyone else.

[abrightboy]

“You don’t have to thank me,” Malcolm tells him matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t owe Malcolm anything, either. He’s doing this because seeing Neal free is the right thing. He’s been wronged. Badly. Malcolm wants to help.

[conning]

“I know,” Neal murmurs. “I’ve never had to not thank someone before.”

He squints at his own words. “Did that make sense?”

He can’t tell.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm huffs a laugh.

“Yes. It does. Do you want to rest on the couch or the bed?” he asks.

[conning]

The rest isn’t totally restful. At least not mentally, even though he does have Malcolm close at hand or snuggled up against him for most of it. When he’s awake he’s worrying, trying to eat in small mouthfuls, trying to get more fluids to stay down. Neal sleeps fitfully, painfully, muscles still spasming on occasion and his whole body aching between occasional disorienting swathes of dream. At some point the next morning he wakes up and stays conscious long enough to realize that’s what he is, staring at the freshly refilled IV bags on the stand next to the bed. He lifts a hand to wipe his forehead and his fingers graze over a thick dusting of stubble on the way there. He hasn’t shaved for what, three days now? Ugh.

“Malcolm?” Neal grimaces at the chalky taste and sound of his own voice.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm isn’t far. He’s on the couch, his feet pulled up under him, but he practically leaps off of it when Neal calls for him, perching on the edge of the bed, picking up the water from his nightstand to hold it out to him.

“How are you feeling?”

[conning]

"I'll keep." He eases upright, taking the water with slightly numb fingers, holding on a little too tight to make sure he doesn't drop the glass while he drinks from it. He at least drinks slowly, feeling less dried out, if no less thirsty. It's weird. "I'll be fine."

He lifts his free hand to trace his fingers over Malcolm's skin, worry squeezing at his gut. "My fingers are a little numb."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods grimly. “That’ll clear up as the toxin flushes out of your system,” he says. “Keep taking fluids.” He takes the hand from his face and rubs Neal’s fingers between his fingers. “Do you have enough sensation to do the work that needs done to solve Rebecca’s puzzle?”

[conning]

"Yeah?" A wash of relief goes through him. He nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on the pressure of Malcolm massaging his hand. "Yeah. It's math, at this point, not any detail work or art recreation. Geometry."

[abrightboy]

"Okay. Well, we meet her and gather the materials on our terms, not hers. She's already killed you; we have reason to distrust her," Malcolm points out.

[conning]

“I hope I can do this.” It scares him that he might not be able to. That they might come this far and he’ll fail at the finish line. He opens his eyes to search Malcolm’s face. “What if I can’t?”

[abrightboy]

"I know you can. You're the only person I believe in right now," Malcolm tells him.

[conning]

That’s a little alarming. But Neal believes him. He believes him, and it’s heartbreaking. He draws his hand away from Malcolm to hold his face gently in both hands. “I wish that wasn’t true. I mean I wish there was someone else, too.”

[abrightboy]

"I don't need anyone else. We're going to get you out of this and then we'll be free," Malcolm tells him with conviction.

[conning]

Neal nods, suddenly a little afraid of the pressure in a whole new way. Malcolm only believes in him. What happens if he fails that faith? What happens to Malcolm's heart, his stability, if Neal can't keep it together?

He leans forward to kiss Malcolm, starts to, then hisses a little in pain and leans forward even more, doubling up a little as muscles in this stomach and back twitch involuntarily.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm winces. "Yeah that's... still going to take some recovery. But we'll go somewhere tropical for that," he assures Neal.

[conning]

Neal smiles a little, voice strained with pain. "I can't imagine you enjoying a beach. That's not an insult, just an observation."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs.

"Well. Can you imagine me enjoying you wearing swimtrunks?"

[conning]

“I can imagine myself enjoying you taking off my swim trunks imaginatively,” he says. “How’s that?”

Then he winces. “Mmh. Probably sexier when I don’t back it up by twitching with pain.”

Still. They have work to do. Neal eases to his feet, using Malcolm to stay balanced.

[abrightboy]

“Pain doesn’t do a whole lot to mitigate your sexiness. Let’s get this over with,” he says, grasping Neal’s elbow to keep him upright. “Remember: you call the shots. She’s got nothing without you and she knows it.”