LOG - July Catch-All/TDM Prompts (OPEN)

[conning]

Who: Neal and VARIOUS PEOPLE, POSSIBLY INCLUDING YOU?
When: Throughout July
Where: All around Gloucester
Summary: TDM prompts, as well as some other stuff, will get more specific as I write them.
Warnings: Nothing big at the moment tho lord knows that's bound to change. Scopophobia, paranoia, the issues mentioned in the TDM prompts.

Comments

[abrightboy]

"I'm not sure why you think you're responsible for their choices if you don't think it was your responsibility to make them choose something safer," Malcolm says, still gripping his hand. "You didn't make any of them do anything."

[conning]

“I just…” He closes his eyes, the pressure of tears on this throat nearly strangling. “I couldn’t protect them. And now— How am I supposed to help you if I’m trying to manage something I didn’t even know was there? What if it’s not ADHD, what if it’s something actually significant? Or…”

[abrightboy]

"What if it's nothing? You won't know unless you get the assessment." He smiles a little, nudging Neal's knee with his knee. "And who punched the giant in the throat in Wolf Pen?" he teases.

[conning]

Neal snorts. "I could have punched him in the throat. You just beat me to it."

He's more joking than not. Neal squeezes Malcolm's hand. "I don't know why it bothers me. It shouldn't. It doesn't change anything."

The dismissal in his tone is entirely false bravado.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is not convinced that Neal - sweet, sweet Neal - has ever punched anyone in the throat in his life and his face says so.

"It changes everything," Malcolm counters. "It changes everything, but in a good way."

[conning]

Neal has punched people maybe four times in his life. Possibly six? Depends on what you'd count.

Anyway, he chooses to ignore the look on Malcolm's face in favor of addressing the latter part of what he says. With the hesitation of someone who's sure they're about to say the wrong thing, he asks, "How?"

Admitting ignorance has never been his strong suit. All he can see in diagnosis is the potential for imposed limitations.

[abrightboy]

“If you learn how it affects you, especially in ways you’re not really aware of, you can learn how to work with it or around it to be more effective,” Malcolm informs him gently.

[conning]

That appeals to him. He shifts a little in his seat, posture straightening.

After a moment he says, "I wasn't trying to... say something about you. That I don't think you're good enough, that I think I'm better than you, anything like that. I think you're amazing. I really do."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods.

“I know you said that stuff because you don’t really see my disability,” Malcolm acknowledges, “but part of the reason is because I educated myself on it and I work with it so I can… live my best life. If you have it, then you can live better, too, if you figure out how to deal.”

[conning]

"Do you want me to? See it?" It's clear he's not entirely sure what he's asking. Neal furrows his brow. "I mean, not in a bad way..."

[abrightboy]

“That’s… not what this is about. It’s about understanding yourself and accepting everything that makes you who you are. It’s about you,” Malcolm tells him. “It’s not about me.”

[conning]

Neal pauses. "I'm very confused."

He is, on a number of levels, but one of those levels is safer than the others. ...Possibly. "I thought you were angry that... I'm not sure why you were angry, but I thought you were."

[abrightboy]

“I was hurt more than angry,” Malcolm says quietly. “But I’m not now.”

[conning]

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere, if still a little confused. He rests his forehead against Malcolm’s temple. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. And the kindest. The most honest.”

[abrightboy]

“Thank you.” But he doesn’t understand, really. Malcolm can tell. “I appreciate that. When is the assessment?”

[conning]

He sits up again, worry gnawing at him, though it’s not about the assessment. “I haven’t scheduled it yet. Whenever I want it, more or less. That’s what it sounded like.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm watches him for a moment. He’s nervous.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

[conning]

Relief knocks the bottom out of his stomach. “Would you? Yes, I mean, I’d like that, if you want to come. They said it would take at least three hours.”

[abrightboy]

“That’s not that bad,” Malcolm assures him. “I’ll clear an afternoon of all the nothing I’m working on.”

[conning]

Neal snorts. Pauses. “Have you thought about… seeing if their psych teams could use any assistance? I know it’s not profiling, but it could be something.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm makes a face.

“You’re not the first to suggest it,” he admits. “But… I didn’t get into psychology to be a therapist. I’m a cop.” Sort of, anyway.

[conning]

“I know.” Neal grazes his knuckles lightly across Malcolm’s temple. “But it’s a way to help people, at least. A more direct way, without crimes to solve that make sense.”

He kisses Malcolm lightly. “I just don’t like seeing you so bored.”

[abrightboy]

"It feels like giving up," Malcolm says softly. "On what I want to do."

[conning]

“Like hell,” Neal says, almost surprised at his own intensity. “It’s only giving up if you don’t keep looking for another way. It’s something to do in-between.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at him in surprise, then his brow creases.

"But... it's not who I am."