Fluff - Malcolm

A third helping had been put in front of me, and I was a goner. Hazel had fed me until I couldn’t move, and when it came to the dishes being cleared, I could only make a half-hearted attempt to get up and bring my bowl to the kitchen. That is, until Hazel swatted me and practically shoved me back down. Who was I to dare and tell the queen of her own house that I thought she needed help?

Lounging in front of the fire, the lights down low, I had the rare opportunity of observing what the Albright house would have been like in the younger years. Malcolm and Hazel were both in the kitchen now, cleaning the dishes and putting the leftovers away. Hazel was swaying and dancing to something that the wisps were humming, while Malcolm occasionally bobbed his head along to the beat. I smiled softly as I watched the two of them sneak drinks from a little bottle that I knew was not filled with water. As if the two of them were young enough that they needed to still steal a sip or two when mom wasn’t looking.  With their heads bent together, they whispered old secrets and rare jokes, giggling like children. It made my heart swell to see it.

I had closed my eyes for only a minute when suddenly the lights were lower, the wisps had moved on, and the door down in the apothecary opened and closed, signaling Hazel’s journey into the garden to do her nightly inspection. I blinked, trying to rouse myself. A heavy pair of hands settled on my shoulders, pushing me further into the couch cushions, while a pair of thighs bracketed my hips.

Instinctively, I reached out, holding onto Malcolm’s hips. “Hi?” I laughed.

His hair was down around his face in messy waves, eyes narrowed with relaxation. “Where ya going?” He had a mischievous grin on his face. One I hadn’t quite seen from Malcolm before.

“Thought we should probably get going. Hazel usually crashes after her evening stroll.”

Malcolm hummed a little, slotting his hips against mine. “She’s gonna be a bit.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cause she’s drunk. She’s gonna do the same check three times over just to make sure she hasn't missed anything.”

“Oh?” Reaching up, I brushed his hair behind his ear. “I don’t think she’s the only one who has maybe invibed tonight.”

“Psh. It was nothin’. Water, practically.” He was brushing his cheek against my palm, kissing it sloppily.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you really drink before.” Maybe a sip or two here and there. A glass that would never be finished. But Malcolm was far too reserved to ever truly drink. He didn’t trust people enough to let loose in front of them. Here, in his childhood home, however, with his sister and his lover, it appeared things were different.

“Didn’t drink a drop,” he said. “Can’t prove it either.”

“I saw you and Hazel sneaking drinks from what looked like the olive oil bottle.”

He snorted. “Yeah.” It was adorable how quickly he confessed. “Used to hide it in there so Lucinda didn’t know what we were doing. She hated if we drank. Said it was a poison to our body. So I did it a lot.” His face had that red flush to it and his eyes were dark. “I’m a lightweight now, turns out. Barely had nothing.”

He was loose and pliant on top of me and if it was anyone but Malcolm, I wouldn’t have believed the statement. But, Malcolm was not a liar. “Come on,” I told him, grazing my hands up and down his back. “Let’s get you home,” I suggested, wondering how navigating the market was going to be.

Malcolm practically flopped on top of me then. “I’m not movin’. Your lap is comfortable.”

I wrapped my arms completely around him to keep him from tipping to the side. “Mal,” I laughed. “We can’t just camp out on your sisters couch all night.”

“Why not? She’ll think it’s adorable. Coo over us and everything.”

“And do you want that?”

I could feel him thinking, a frown forming against me where he pressed his face against my neck. “We’ll sneak out in the morning.”

“Mal,” I grinned, reveling in the feel of him. Yet, I knew I needed to be the responsible one. “Come on. Let’s get you home. To a bed. To somewhere soft where you can sleep this off.”

“Sleep it off on you.” And true to his word, he was snuggling into my neck, pressing sloppy kisses against my collar bone. “Did you know you smell like light?”

“Light has a smell?”

“Yeah. It smells like life and warmth and vanilla.”

I scooted down onto the couch, settling myself in for a lap full of drunk Malcolm. It was doubtful I would have many moments of this in my life, and I wanted to enjoy it. Responsibility was apparently quickly going to fly out the window. Tomorrow, however, I would take care of him when he inevitably had a headache and wanted to burrow under the blankets in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t aware that light smelled like vanilla.”

“It does. I used to take a vanilla bean and rub it against that lantern in my room so it would smell nice. Covered up the smell of other things.”

“Oh? What other things?”

“Was a pot head,” he giggled. “Wasn’t even good stuff. It was oregano and whatever else I could nab from the garden.”

I tried to imagine it. A young and angry Malcolm with a rolled cigarette in his hands, rubbing vanilla beans against the heat of a lantern, taking sips out of olive oil bottles with his sister and drawing late into the night until his fingers were stained with charcoal.

“A very different life you lead now,” I commented to him.

“Had to shape up,” he said. “Needed my Lamplight.”

“You have your Lamplight,” I reminded him. “For always.”

He twisted a bit, settling himself against me. “I want to draw you,” he murmured.

“Tomorrow,” I told him. 

“Draw better when I feel like this.”

“And how do you feel, Malcolm.”

For a moment, I didn’t think he’d answer. His lashes fluttered against my skin and his body grew heavy and soft.  I kept my touch soft against him, soothing him into his drunken sleep. The wisps were only small flitting lights outside the window and somewhere in the garden, I could hear Hazel singing.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back, content to hold him. And that’s when I heard it.

“Happy,” he breathed. “I feel happy.”

I smiled. So did I.