Neal Caffrey || Log || September/October Catch-All

[conning]

Who: Neal and OTA/some for existing CR
When: September/October Catch-All (with one backdated August thing)
Where: ALL OVER ZE PLACE
Summary: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER CATCH-ALL. Neal being bovvered by the sleep stuff and rescuing people/needing rescue, Evil Twin TDM prompts, sleepwalking after his murdered adoptive aunt, painting at Bonnie's, a couple of SOL prompts, DEATH BREAAAD both lead-up and hypersensitivity, some talk about mental health.
Warnings: HORROR STUFF.... Awful deaths, possibly drowning, murder of loved ones, gun violence, suicidal ideation, some ableism might crop up in the mental health threads. Toplevels will be labeled with likely subjects.

Prompts TBA below as they're finished! Feel free to PM me or message me at researchboner on plurk for specific prompts or with questions.

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[abrightboy]

Malcolm peels himself off Neal and the floor, fishes the chair out of what is now several inches of water and resumes his panicked assault on the front window. There is, indeed, something else behind it.

[conning]

The glass finally shatters, Neal still on his side, dizzy in the rising blood oozing into the sub.

But the glass shatters, and a red rush of gore crushes its way into the tiny space, throws Neal against the console hard enough that he feels something in his back snap. Just before the darkness hits, he sees what’s in the blood sea beyond the window, the twisted serpent, a staring eye.

Then he’s screaming awake in their bed, next to Malcolm.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is in a ball, shaking, staring at the wall. He’s half in shut down and half reeling.

[conning]

As soon as Neal orients on where he is, as soon as he sees the state Malcolm is in, he wraps him up in a tight hug.

“We’re okay. We’re okay, we’re awake, we’re out.”

His forehead still aches and he feels numb below the waist, but he can see his toes move under the covers.

[abrightboy]

“I think I killed you,” Malcolm whispers. “I was scared and I did the wrong thing and I hurt you.”

[conning]

“What?” Neal shakes his head, presses his lips against the back of Malcolm’s neck. “No. You didn’t, I’m fine. We’re fine, we’re both okay, Malcolm.”

[abrightboy]

“We didn’t know it wasn’t real,” Malcolm protests. “I’m usually… but… my claustrophobia and the water… I panicked. I saw you fall. I killed you.”

[conning]

Neal shakes his head, too relieved at being back in their living room. It’s still morning, it’s still—hopefully the same day. He’ll figure that out in a minute. Doesn’t matter. He rubs the other man’s arms like he can warm him up.

“You didn’t kill me, Malcolm, I’m right here.” He presses his forehead against Malcolm's. "We didn't know, maybe, but it wasn't real. We're both okay."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm lingers there for a moment, where he can feel Neal’s breath.

“…You’re not mad at me?” he finally asks very, very quietly.

[conning]

"No." He smooths his thumbs over Malcolm's cheekbones. "No, of course not. No."

[abrightboy]

“You told me to stop,” Malcolm whispers.

[conning]

"You panicked. You weren't thinking. You didn't mean to. We're both okay."

He hugs him tight. "What happened? That wasn't... you never panic like that."

[abrightboy]

He wants to blame the claustrophobia, but he can’t. It makes his blood race but he generally manages not to lose his senses.

“They’re all gone. Gil and Ainsley. Tim, Meredith, Jeff. Someone told me they must die when they leave here. What if that’s true? And you were going to die. What if I just end up here alone?”

[conning]

Neal drags in a slow breath. He wants to punch whoever told Malcolm those people are probably dead. He wants to punch them for a lot of reasons, for a lot of names he’s holding onto hope toward.

“There’s no evidence that says they’re dead. None.” He presses a kiss against Malcolm’s temple. “And I’d make a deal with one of those things ADI keeps warning us about before I ever let you be here alone.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks up at him, eyes wide with hope but also fear.

“I don’t want you to get devoured by one of those things,” Malcolm says, fingers fidgeting in Neal’s shirt. “But I really don’t want you to be gone.” His expression creases. “That’s selfish, isn’t it?”

[conning]

“If by selfish you mean human.” Neal pulls Malcolm over to the couch and sits down, hanging onto Malcolm’s hands. Trying to encourage him to sit too. “Where’d you get the idea that you’re not allowed to be selfish?”

[abrightboy]

“Under no circumstances do I want you to suffer to make me happy,” Malcolm tells him bluntly.

[conning]

Neal blinks in surprise. “No. I would never think you wanted that. But you’re allowed to feel things you don’t really want.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks down at Neal’s knee.

“What I feel has to be… controlled.”

[conning]

“Okay. Sure.” He puts his fingertips gently under Malcolm’s chin and tries to coax him into looking up. “But you’re allowed to feel selfish things. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

[abrightboy]

“…Are you sure?” Malcolm asks uncertainly, searching his face.

[conning]

“Of course I am.” Neal kisses him. “If it did I’d be the worst person in the world.”

Said with a tinge of irony, but still to his mind the truth.

[abrightboy]

"Well... you're not even a little bit of a bad person," Malcolm says, logicking it out.

[conning]

He snorts. "I'm at least a little bit of a bad person."

Still. He pulls Malcolm against him, hugging him tight. "But we're okay. We're all right."

[abrightboy]

“Not even a little,” Malcolm says, muffled by Neal’s shoulder as he clings tightly back.

But Neal sounds sure that it’s okay. Malcolm’s breathing starts to even out in his grasp.