Jan/Feb Catch-All Log for Neal Shenanigans, and a Network Post

[conning]

Who: Neal Caffrey, OTA
Username: johnrobie
When: Jan/Feb
Where: ALL AROUND, and on the Network
Summary: Neal poses a question about housing to the off-world folks, offers help with money management, and invites them to a house warming party. And tangles with the TDM prompts from January and February (tba). ...Also, he proposes to Malcolm. And invites Rue and Hob on a double date.

Warnings: N/A at the moment other than Neal and Malcolm probably being gross.


NETWORK POST (post-reboot) - UN: johnrobie

Question for the assembled:

If you could have any kind of living space, ADI sponsored or not, what would it be? Asking for a couple of reasons. One being that I've been here for almost a year and a half and while communal living is nice and everything, a genuinely private space is--to me--preferable.

I've been thinking about the people who came here from other places and have ended up staying long-term. Where they live, why they live there, what the trade-offs are. And whether or not it could be worth it to invest in ourselves independently to create some housing that's, y'know, ours.

And to that end: House warming party on the 31st, bring a favorite dish or drink. Standing invite to anyone who can see this. If you're one of us, you're welcome to come. Alcohol is also welcome. (Non-alcoholic beverages will be available and people can bring whatever else they want.)

Oh, and: if people want to talk at any point about how I was able to buy a house, I'm happy help with financial advice. I only started out a thief in a past life.

[Insert address and time here.]

[PROMPTS BELOW]

Comments

[abrightboy]

"You never do that," Malcolm points out. There's a beat and then he looks at Neal again. "Did you think I was going to do that because I feel bad for not getting you anything?" His eyes widen slightly. "Or is it because when we got together I was trying to eat cakes so people would like me better?" He holds up a finger. "I was off my meds at that point." He had gone off them intentionally as part of his campaign to be a Normal Person. "Or both together?" he asks, surveying what's actually on the table.

Always probing the whys of things; he doesn't even know he's doing it.

[conning]

Neal grins. He can't help it. "The former."

He sits popping the tops off of the tupperware to reveal the still-artfully-arranged choices within. Fresh, light, crisp flavors, with a few small rich things to compliment and give a little burst of heavier flavors that won't make Malcolm sick.

Yeah, if Malcolm has ever expressed out-and-out enjoyment of a food, that food is pretty much guaranteed to make an appearance in some form. "Bon appétit."

[abrightboy]

Finger food sized portions. Malcolm takes three different ones, putting them on his plate.

"How did you get them to let you use the whole theatre?" he asks, picking up the wine to skim the label.

[conning]

"Theater people are romantics at heart." That's really the full truth of it--he asked and they let him, because they thought it was romantic. His grin turns into a fond smile. "I thought... it would be nice to have something in the space where we had our first date. And there wasn't a show happening, so... Next best thing."

He spreads a paper napkin politely in his lap and takes his own sampling of food, then reaches back across the table to hold out his hand to Malcolm.

"I love you," he says quietly.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm puts the bottle down so he can take that hand, eagerly.

"I love you, too," he promises. "Thank you. For... doing all this. For. Caring so much."

[conning]

The thanks is heartbreaking, even now, and Neal promises himself he’s going to do things like this every possible opportunity for the rest of their lives. “You’re easy to care about.”

He is. Neal gives Malcolm’s hand a little squeeze and lets to go pour the wine.

When Malcolm has had enough to eat—when Neal has had his own fill—he gets up with the excuse of getting dessert from the theater’s private break room fridge.

What he does is go change into costume.

Before he steps back out on stage, he flips the switch on one last bit of theater, and a spotlight hits the floor right on the spot where they’ve replaced part of the flooring, just beside Malcolm’s chair. Not in his face, but highlighting where Neal will stop when he’s done with his monologue.

“I swear to thee by Cupid’s strongest bow,” Neal says, voice resonant and soft at the same time. “By his best arrow with the golden head, by the simplicity of Venus’ doves, by that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, and by that fire which burned the Carthage queen when the false Trojan under sail was seen.”

He stops beside the chair and leans down to kiss Malcolm before bending down onto one knee. “By all the vows that ever men have broke, in number more than ever women spoke. In that same place thou hast appointed me, tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.”

It seemed like the right choice, given all Malcolm’s fears.

He draws a little velvet box from his pocket and opens it up. There are two bands inside of different sizes, simple silver rings, each one studded with three stones. A diamond, with tiny rectangular emeralds flanking it like leaves on either side. Malcolm will recognize the stones. They’re from the earring Neal stole the day they met.

“Happy anniversary, Malcolm Bright. Will…” He falters as nerves catch up with him mid-performance. “Will you marry me?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s first thought when Neal emerges in costume reciting poetry is that he really has to go out tomorrow and get Neal an anniversary present. He’s trying to remember what day they get paid when Neal strides over and kneels. Malcolm blinks at him, his brain starting to catch up.

He stares at the rings, then he looks at Neal. In lieu of an answer, he blurts out “You want to marry me?”

Malcolm Bright: probably the only person in Gloucester surprised by this.

[conning]

Neal thinks in retrospect that he should have expected that response. Instead of a direct answer, he takes the slightly smaller ring out of the box, setting box and twin ring on the table. "I think the more relevant question at this particular moment is if it's mutual."

[abrightboy]

“Of course it is!” he blurts out quickly.

Oh no, is he going to rescind the offer? ‘Of course’ isn’t very romantic. He knows poems; why can’t he think of any poems right now? Does he take the ring and put it on? Does he give Neal his hand so he can put it on?

People don’t prepare for a day that was never going to come.

He goes to take the ring, then pauses, starting to offer his hand, then he pauses again.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers apologetically, like he doesn’t want the audience of empty chairs to know he forgot his lines.

[conning]

Neal half-laughs, the sound soft and fond. "You're doing it perfectly."

He takes Malcolm's hand lightly to slide the ring onto it, then offers him the little box. "Would you do me the honors? I... wanted them to match."

Is it presumptuous to have bought his own engagement ring? Maybe it is. He's not sure. But clearly neither is Malcolm, so maybe that's okay.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm breathes relief so raggedly as the ring slips onto his finger that it's just short of being a sob of relief, but then he smiles - surprised, almost disbelieving, but purely happy - as he plucks the other ring from the box and slides it onto Neal's finger.

He does recognize the stones, now that he brain has unclouded. He looks up from Neal's newly adorned finger to his face. "Robin Hood," he says softly.

[conning]

"The obvious response is Sherlock," Neal says, looking at his own finger in slight wonder for a moment before looking back up at Malcolm's face. "But I think Dupin works better. You're more than worthy of the first modern detective hero."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs. “Gil calls me Sherlock Freud,” he admits. He reaches out and touches Neal’s collar. Fine fabric, beautifully made. It’s nicer than what they saw in the play.

“They let you borrow their good costume too? You are a smooth talker.”

[conning]

He ducks his head in a little grin, the kind of motion that Malcolm by now knows well. Pride, hidden behind an attempt to not show he cares too much about his efforts being noticed.

"I commissioned it, actually. Rue helped me--a newer resident."

[abrightboy]

"The owl on the network that makes clothes?" He smiles, running a hand along Neal's shoulder. "It's beautiful. Do... do you get to keep it, then?" Because if he's still wearing it when they get home.....

[conning]

"I do," Neal says, and kisses him. "Why?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm tilts his head slightly, a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth.

"Because... I like it. In a way I'm not comfortable expressing in a public place," he says looking up at Neal from under his brow.

[conning]

Neal grins slowly, kissing Malcolm again with a little more heat. “Well, then,” he murmurs. “Should we pack up?”

[abrightboy]

"As long as I'm not... interrupting anything else you had planned," Malcolm tells him with a shy smile.

[conning]

Another kiss. "No. All the important things have been covered. At least, all of the important things that have to happen outside the house."