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English
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Published:
2021-02-25
Completed:
2021-02-28
Words:
3,680
Chapters:
2/2
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2
Kudos:
38
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The day after

Summary:

A typical 'day after' catching a killer for Gil and Bright.

Notes:

Rin is going through a tough time and asked for 'Broyo fluff.' Hopefully this little three-part series (Morning, Afternoon, and Evening) will deliver :).

Chapter 1: Morning

Chapter Text

Gil woke up slowly, inhaling the scent of home. For a moment or two, he thought he’d forgotten to set the alarm, but then he realized both he and Malcolm were on a brief hiatus from the precinct after yet another of Bright’s stunts.

Unfortunately, the kid was like a cat--Gil loved him to pieces, no matter how obnoxious he was. Bright was currently curled up in his arms, mouthguard in place but with no restraints. Gil had managed to help him work through the night terrors, and now Malcolm slept...well, more soundly. He didn’t think Malcolm would ever end up sleeping eight hours a night.

“Mrow?” Soot pawed at Gil’s face while meowing loudly. Gil tried to push the feline away with one hand, but Soot just shifted position and came at him from another angle, tapping his face repeatedly with his front paw. At least he hadn’t resorted to using his claws yet.

“Mmm?” As soon as Gil moved, Malcolm woke. He glanced around, then sat up and spit the mouthguard out onto the night stand with an accuracy born of long practice. “Where’s Smudge?”

“I am sure she’s waiting next to the food bowls, letting Soot do the dirty work for her,” Gil replied, voice roughed from sleep. He sat up slowly, and the black cat took a flying leap off the bed, presumably heading for the drawer where they kept the cat food.

Malcolm leaned over to give him a soft kiss. Gil returned it, sliding a hand behind Malcolm’s neck and rubbing the small hairs on the nape of his neck with his thumb. “What do you want to do today, Bright?”

“How do you feel about cold cases?” Bright asked him, closing his beautiful eyes and leaning into the touch. Sometimes Gil couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have the profiler for a husband.

“I think that we should not do anything that results in us re-entering the precinct for the next 48 hours. What else?” Gil finally let go of Malcolm and got out of bed, yawning before making his way over to the drawer where they kept the cat food. Soot was already rubbing up against it, while Smudge was sitting on the counter next to the food bowls looking innocent.

“I guess...I do have some other reading material,” Malcolm admitted. “If you want to watch TV.” He knew Gil read too many reports to want to join Malcolm in his literary escapes.

“That works. What do you want for breakfast?” The coffee machine in Bright’s loft was annoyingly automatic, so Gil couldn’t go through the still-familiar routine of making himself coffee before he fed the cats.

“Shower before breakfast?” Malcolm pleaded as he began taking his pills.

“All right,” Gil allowed. He filled two bowls with cat food, and then carefully took the stairs to the upper part of the loft, which they’d turned into a huge caged area with cat trees and toys. One of these days, Soot and Smudge were going to trip him while he was going up and down the stairs and he was going to fall and break his neck, but at least he’d die happy. He put the cats’ dishes in the cage and, after they went in, locked the door behind them. “All clear.”

“Thanks.” He could hear Malcolm pouring coffee, and then Sunshine’s excited tweets as Bright opened the door of her cage and let her out.

She flew past Gil on his way back down the stairs. “I swear, she loves tormenting the cats,” Gil said fondly, watching her land on top of their cage and twitter.

“I wish they could both be out at the same time,” Malcolm said. He looked up past Gil at Sunshine as he handed him a cup of coffee.

“Me too,” Gil said, rather than pointing out the fact that they both knew that that wasn’t possible. He sipped at the coffee, and sighed internally. Bright had spoiled him with expensive fair trade organic fancy-schmancy something or other coffee, and he knew he’d never be able to go back to Folger’s. At least he still took it black.

Malcolm was also caffeinating himself, and walked over to lean against Gil as they drained their cups. That done, they went through what little they could of their exercise routine given the profiler’s newest injuries. “Shower?” Bright suggested when they’d both finished.

“Sure.” Gil smirked at him. “Though we cannot engage in our usual activities, what with your back.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “It’s only a few stitches,” he retorted. “I’m not made of glass.”

“Malcolm, just how many stitches have you popped in your--no, I take that back. How many stitches and sutures have you popped in the last year?” Gil mock-frowned at him.

“Five--oh, no, wait, there was that time with the… and then…” Malcolm glared at him. “Shut up.”

“Right.” Gil hugged him gently, then patted him on the ass. “Shower.” Thankfully, they were past the point in the relationship where they needed to jump each other’s bones every five minutes, or even the abbreviated workout would have turned to pure cardio, injuries or not. Bright looked absolutely delicious after his workout.

Not that Gil was staring at Bright’s ass or anything as he led the way to the bathroom.

Once inside, they shed their clothes, and Gil adjusted the water temperature. He checked the waterproof bandage on Malcolm’s back to make sure it was still intact before pulling the kid under the spray with him.

“I love you, Gil,” Bright murmured, and Gil hugged him a bit tighter before releasing him.

“I love you too. No stretching,” he chided, as Malcolm reached for the body wash. “Let me do it.”

Bright huffed, but dropped his arm. Gil picked up the wash, squirted some into his hands, and began working up a lather. “Turn around,” he said, putting the tiniest hint of command in his voice. Malcolm obeyed, and Gil started washing his husband, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumbs. Malcolm was soon leaning into it, making pleased noises. Gil washed him from top to bottom before switching spots with him and washing himself. “How do you feel?” he asked as he scrubbed his own hair.

“Floaty,” Bright replied, and the look on his face tickled Gil enough that the older man had to lean over for a kiss. “Happy.”

“I like you happy, kid.” Gil eventually shut the water off, helped Malcolm out of the shower, and then toweled them both off. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Crepes?” Malcolm was getting better at learning which foods his stomach could handle this early in the morning and which it couldn’t. He had not, however, really learned how to work within the limitations of Gil’s cooking abilities yet.

Gil sighed. “I’ll try, kid. Those are like pancakes, yeah?”

“Kind of,” Malcolm allowed. “I’m sure there’s a recipe online.”

“Fine, go get dressed,” Gil told him, hanging up their towels. “Actually, no, wait, I’ll come help you.” He was still worried about Bright pulling his stitches.

“Gil, I’m fine.” He could only see Malcolm’s back, but could hear the rolled eyes in his tone.

“Kid, all of these injuries are going to catch up to you one day and you’re going to feel older than I am,” Gil replied, walking over to the dresser. He helped Malcolm dress--in sweatpants and, after Bright insisted, one of his own turtlenecks, which, what with the length of the arms and the difference in chest size, made him look like a child trying on his older sibling’s clothes. Gil, meanwhile, pulled on a sweater and slacks.

Malcolm picked up a book and wandered over to the couch, while Gil retrieved his phone and looked up how to make crepes. It didn’t seem too hard, so soon he was lost in the domestic act of making their breakfast. He cooked eggs as well as crepes, knowing the kid would take at least a bite or two of them if he put them on his plate; it had taken him a while to learn that Malcolm wanted his eggs scrambled and nearly burned, with no hint of grease on them.

Gil was pleased when Bright came back into the kitchen, actually seeming as if he were looking forward to breakfast, and made them more coffee. The detective slid Bright’s eggs and a couple of crepes onto a plate, added some strawberries from the fridge, and then began cooking more for himself. “This smells really good,” Bright said, rummaging in a drawer for a fork before sitting down at the breakfast bar. “Thanks, Gil.”

“You’re welcome, babe.” Gil walked over to stand behind his husband for a moment, running his hands carefully up and down Malcolm’s flanks. The kid craved touch, so Gil made an effort to physically connect with him as much as he could--at least, when they weren’t solving cases. As Bright had always maintained, the turtleneck was extremely soft, and Gil let himself get lost in the feel of it covering his husband.

Before his food burned (a lot), Gil kissed the back of Bright’s neck and then slid the licorice twist he’d palmed onto the table beside his partner as a reward for letting Gil help him. Bright crowed and immediately took a big bite of it. Gil had to bite back a snarky comment about Bright being such a child; the kid more than deserved it after what Martin had done to him.

Gil moved back to the stove to finish cooking his breakfast. He then searched for a fork of his own and sat down next to Malcolm. Today was a good day; the kid had already eaten half of what he had made for him.

They chatted about precinct politics over breakfast, and then Malcolm did the dishes. Gil headed for the couch, made himself comfortable, and found something he could watch (NOT a police procedural; he always shook his head at exactly how much paperwork the stars never had to do and how fast forensic tests got done).

Malcolm settled himself next to Gil with his book; he then pulled his legs up and put them in Gil’s lap. The detective rolled his eyes, but automatically started massaging the kid’s legs. Sunshine flew down and perched on Malcolm’s shoulder, twittering happily.

It was, Gil thought as he worked the knots out of Malcolm’s calves, going to be a good day.