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[conning]

"It's Caffrey. Remember the value of plausible deniability. I'll get back to you."

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[conning]

“I do feel bad about it, but that’s not why.” The uncertainty in his voice cranks up a little bit, the tone of someone who thought they did one thing but is pretty sure they’re about to get in trouble for something else. “I want him to know that even though I wanted him to be safe that doesn’t… change that he hurt you. I don’t know how that will go, it seems like loyalty for him has always been drawn in black and white, but… He needs to figure out the grays. And if he’s mad at me for being protective of you too, that’s not… not really my problem.”

[abrightboy]

"You don't have to risk your friendship to prove anything to me, Neal. I mean. You're welcome to come, but it's done. You know Reid loves to talk about how much restraint Lestat showed in only giving me a potentially fatal wound, like that was a favour. But if it was that, then it wasn't a favour for me. That was for you. That was his acknowledgement of your feelings if it was restraint."

He pours hot water into a teapot instead of a thermos, since Neal is on the way over.

"I'm fine."

[conning]

“Malcolm, if he’s not okay with me being upset even when he shows the restraint of ‘only’ hurting someone I care about a little, our friendship isn’t strong enough to stand anyway. You’re not fine and you don’t have to be.”

[abrightboy]

He looks up as the door opens and puts down his device, turning to take teacups down from the cupboard.

"I'm going to stick it out until you and Will graduate," Malcolm tells him. "I don't want you to end up with someone worse. At least you know what to expect from me."

[conning]

That was not what he expected to hear walking in the door. That black-hole-in-the-stomach jolts back into being and Neal stops dead.

"Wait, what?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm still and looks up at him.

"I said I'm not going to leave until you graduate and get your deal."

[conning]

"But then you are." That is not what he expected to hear. Or wanted to hear. Or... anything.

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know,” Malcolm admits. “If you’re all really being kept here under a constant reign of terror… like I said: that’s not what I signed up to do.”

[conning]

"So you're going to leave without trying to fix it?"

It's not accusatory, more... anxious. Neal recalibrating the team he has to work with in realtime, like he's on some kind of job and they're suddenly a man down.

[abrightboy]

“…Fix it?” Malcolm echoes. “Fix it how?”

[conning]

"Get the Admiral to change things. Get the Wardens to get the Admiral to change things. Get the Wardens to change things whether the Admiral likes it or not. Maybe you can't alter the way this place functions on an overarching level, but you can change the way people act on board."

He leans down to unclip George's leash and let the cat loose, keeping his eyes down so Malcolm can't see how pale he's gone.

[abrightboy]

“Neal… you were just in a meeting with a bunch of the most reasonable Wardens in here. Explain to me how that works?” he asks.

Too bad, but he’s noticed the pallor anyway. He pours tea and pushes it towards him.

“I thought you were leaving after you graduated anyway.”

[conning]

And for the second time, Malcolm is privy to Neal’s small outburst of violence. He grabs the cup on impulse and throws it, glass smashing against the wall above Malcolm’s sink. Scalding washer splashes his hand, and he hisses, cradling it against his chest and swearing to himself guiltily as George scrambles to cover.

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm closes his eyes, takes a breath, doesn’t notice his hand is shaking.]

Take the package of peas out of the freezer and put them on it. Running water can damage scalded skin. You can take them with you. I have some cream in the bathroom you can put on after it cools down. Take that too. If you came here to fight… I can’t…… I can’t do it right now.

[conning]

Neal winces, guilt tightening in his stomach.

“I didn’t. I really didn’t. I came here to make sure you were okay, not to have a tantrum and destroy one of your dishes. I’m sorry.”

[abrightboy]

“I don’t care about the dish; I care about you,” Malcolm says. He opens his eyes. “Please put ice on your hand. You don’t want it to blister.”

[conning]

He should let it. He’d deserve it. But that would just upset Malcolm more.

He goes to the fridge, fishing the bag of peas out and forming it gently around his burned hand. Neal grimaces at the sting.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I just—”

He doesn’t know what he didn’t. He doesn’t know what he just. There’s so much noise in his head, and none of it is useful.

[abrightboy]

"It's not your fault," Malcolm says quickly. He takes Neal by the elbow and steers him towards the bathroom. "I'm just... having a hard time downregulating after... all that. I was just. Really holding everything in. If he held me there for, like, one more minute I might have... Well. Done something I regretted. Said something terrible. Hurt him."

He takes a salve out of the medicine cabinet and lifts the peas carefully off the wound, tossing them in the sink before gently dabbing some of the salve on the burn.

"Burned friendships. Burned new acquaintances. Burned my chances of still... existing here."

[conning]

"Existing how?" He winces again, but doesn't pull away. The touch is gentle and soothing and as close as he'll get to intimacy of another kind with Malcolm. A pause, and he adds with hesitation, "What does downregulating mean?"

The hesitation is both from his reluctance to admit ignorance and a strange worry that it might be something he already understands.

[abrightboy]

"Because, in general, people don't forgive anger," Malcolm says simply, matter-of-factly. "It's socially costly."

He rummages in a drawer for a non-stick gauze pad and some medical tape.

"Downregulating means controlling your emotions like normal people do." He looks up from Neal's hand to his face. "You haven't read the book I gave you. Various types of neurodivergence have some overlap in emotional dysregulation. I had to take myself back to my FBI days to put a lid on them for that meeting and they tested it."

[conning]

When Malcolm looks up, Neal is clearly embarrassed and a little bit sheepish. "I keep forgetting I have it."

[abrightboy]

"Happens."

After he finishes bandaging the hand, he tilts his head towards the kitchen and picks up the peas from the sink.

"Do you still want tea or....?"

[conning]

"Yeah. Please. I think I'm dried out from... being sick."

He squinches up his face, quite forgetting the whole conversation he had with Malcolm about training himself not to throw up.

Yeah, he felt that anxious.

[abrightboy]

"That can happen, too." Contrary to popular belief, he didn't have to call out every self-protective lie. He pours a glass of water and puts it in front of Neal to tide him over while he takes down another teacup and fills it. "I'm sorry, though. To you only. If I gave you the impression that I left because I didn't care about you."

[conning]

Neal sips the water, then takes a deeper drink as he realizes he is in fact thirsty. He makes a choked noise and shakes his head mid-slurp.

"No. Absolutely not. You didn't."